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Dystopian Rebellion Roleplay If you are neither of the names in the title, please do not post in this forum. - Thank you ~ ~ ~ Type Bounty hunter x Leader of rebellion Pairing MxM |
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Noah Valentine Torrence "We're all running from something. I might be a hunter, but I'm not an exception." Theme: Run Boy Run - Woodkid Name: Noah Valentine Torrence Age: 19 Gender: Male Sexuality: Homosexual Role: Bounty Hunter Race: Caucasian Nationality: American Appearence: Physically, Noah doesn't look like much. Standing at around 5'7, he doesn't exactly tower over the majority, but Noah has always had a tendency of somehow turning everything into an advantage. Beneath his usual black attire, he hides a lean and agile body with a few scars here and there, each with their own story behind it. He has fair skin, the bags under his eyes and calloused hands a clear tell of the kind of work he does. Blue eyes are complemented by long lashes and darker eyebrows with a small arch at the ends. He also carries a defined jaw, but his cheeks are slightly more chubby. Some would say that his overall body is more to the elegant side. Noah's workaholic mind would prefer the word stealthy instead. On the top of his head, he has dirty blonde hair, that is just long enough to fall in front of his eyes and if wet, would become wavy and darker in color that resembles the one of his brows a lot. He seem to also have a constant seriousness to him, which proofs evident in Noah's overall facial features. Especially his otherwise thin, pink lips that tend to turn more into a pout or a thin line, than a sincere smile. Personality: | Reserved | Serious | Stoic | | Hardworking | Proud | Determined | (Survivor's Guilt) | | Intelligent | Strategic | Observant | | Stubborn | Passive-aggressive | Independent | Strengths: Quickness Weaponry Close Combat Endurance Determination Weaknesses: Physical strength Stubbornness His Mother Survivor's Guilt Deep water Affiliations: Finnegan Alan Beauman ; (Former) Childhood bestfriend - Male - 20 y/o Donovan Black ; Bounty Hunter - Male - 24 y/o Isaac Fletcher Jones ; Bounty Hunter - Male - 20 y/o Andorra Torrence ; Sister - Female - 20 y/o Chris Torrence ; Father - Male - 48 y/o Backstory: Included throughout RP. |
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Finnegan Alan Beauman
Finn
"Oh, piss off."
Name: Finnegan Alan Beauman
Age: 20
Sex: Male
Sexuality: Bisexual, has no preference
Role: Rebellion Leader
Race: Caucasian
Nationality: Australian-American
Appearance: Finnegan, an otherwise charming and handsome looking man, is man who holds himself with pride and a certain determination that lingers in his eyes. He stands at roughly six foot three, having an already tall family to begin with. He has a fit and athletic body, clear muscle lingering beneath his skin. Speaking of which, his skin is fair with minimal blemishes, but of course the common freckle or mole lingers, scattered throughout his entire body. His skin color is a warmer color, a bit more on the tan side because of how often the man spends his days outside. His body is shaped like that of a reversed triangle - his shoulders being broad while his torso is more slim. He has slight muscle protruding through his chest, his torso being defined. He has major definition in his arms mainly.
Finnegan's face shape is easily described as a square, though with a slight ovular twist. He has a defined jawline, mostly seen when his jaw is clenched. His face is accompanied by a straight nose coming from his forehead, which is a bit distant from his hairline, though it isn't oddly large by any means. It comes to a rounded point, his nostrils being a bit on the larger side. At times, they will flare when angered or even in normal conversation. Below that are his lips, which are on the thinner side of the spectrum. When talking or smiling, the right side of his top lip will raise more than the other, making him look a bit lopsided. His eyes are an almond shape, a bit on the rounder side, being colored with an interesting hazel that sometimes look a bit more brown or green some days. They are rimmed with thin, yet long and dark eyelashes. He has dark eyebrows, which are not thick but are not thin either. They have a slight arch at the end, and he is constantly raising them subconsciously while talking.
Finnegan's head is covered with dark, jet black hair. His hair is a bit more on the thinner side, though it isn't entirely obvious. He has is parted on the left, so his hair mainly lays to the right. It just looks like a mound of black on his head, honestly. To be fair, he doesn't do much with it other then well, wash it like any other person would. There are times some pieces may fall stray and fall on his face. The length of it is short, as he doesn't like growing it past his ears, and is faded on the sides. The top is the longest, being maybe two to three inches long if you wanted to get technical with how long a strand was.
Personality:
Calculating || Witty || Cunning
To start off, Finnegan is probably the most calculating asshole you will ever meet in your lifetime. He has absolutely no limits when it comes to think of his next move, next scheme, or even whatever rude glare he's going to send your way for no reason. He is absolutely ruthless when it comes to planning things, and for this, he is surprisingly organized. Most would be taken back by this at the fact he comes off as some asshole on the street who would in fact flip you the birdie for no reason, but beside that, he does like to have some sort of order in his life. That being said, he's still rather chaotic anyway.
Finnegan is very, very witty. Like, it might as well be his trademark. While he is just a fast thinker in general, it comes with anything. His responses (normally sarcastic, honestly, just to piss other people off), his actions, his entire thought process is described as 'witty'. But it still stands - being witty is literally is humor. He is quite amusing in this sense, especially if you get him going. Now, he could be nice, which is rare (but possible), but nine times out of ten Finnegan is definitely going to be a dick to you when it comes to his remarks and comments.
Finnegan, if you couldn't already tell, an asshole. A cunning one at that. He is knowing and sly, always working around the rules and honestly can become a bit of a liar due to this nature. He's manipulative, yes, but he's also just a con artist. Finnegan knows how to deceive people, and honestly, he might as well deceive himself. He truly has no limits, nor has he ever came close to testing them. If he wants something, he will get it, and that's a promise. Finnegan simply does whatever it takes to get something that he wants - craves - or even in the slightest bit just wants cause he can. For this, he might as well be considered greedy.
Tempered || Violent || Fierce Temper and rage is one of the things that honestly drives Finnegan. He has a rather short fuse and simply becomes an even bigger asshole when pissed off. Normally he would never admit that temper is something that motivates him, but it's one of the things that does. That truly does. He expresses it through fighting and killing and whatever else he has to do - yelling, destroying things... he becomes rather destructive and violent. Perhaps it's his impusive-ness, or maybe it's just who he is.
Finnegan is rather violent if you couldn't tell. He'd commit murder to the entire world if he could, watching it all burn around him. He does not like to talk things out and nor is he really reasonable. Granted he is a skilled fighter, but he's never been known as a pacifist. At least not anymore. Finnegan has always been taught to get through your problems and not run away from them, so instead he runs towards them hot-headed. It's not the greatest strategy, but hey, he's not dead quite yet.
Finnegan can also be easily described as fierce. He's intense and powerful and destructive, though he stil manages to get the job down. Because of all of these things, he's a man to fear, but to him, it's simply his own identity. Finnegan has never thought of his own fierceness as a bad thing. In fact, he figures it helps him make choices when need-be.
Sarcastic || Blunt || Selfish
Finnegan's main source of humor is sarcasm. He thrives off of it and has a comment for just about anything. Just ask anyone he knows. While he could be considered a 'comic relief', it isn't that in most cases. In most cases, it's unnecessary and probably rude and excessive. But hey, anything for entertainment, right? To be fair, Finnegan is quite funny anyway. Give him a few to drink, maybe even some girls (or guys) to impress, and he might as well have you rolling on the floor laughing. If you don't piss him off, that is. Otherwise he might have your dead body rolling out of the bar you walked in to in the first place.
Finnegan is quite blunt. He doesn't like to beat around the bush and is always rather forward. He doesn't lie... Okay, take that back. He doesn't lie all the time, but he is a pretty damn good liar in all. That being said, it is kinda hard to read whether or not when he's telling the truth. But normally if he's being straightforward and you can definitely tell, he's more than likely telling the truth. However, he may impulsively lie for his own sake because he's just like that.
Finnegan is quite selfish. You'd think leading a rebellion would change that and he'd be fore the people, but he really isn't. At least not actually. He portrays this version of himself that is quite selfless and would do anything for his people, but in all, he's just the guy who kinda likes the power and fame he as, albeit not very good fame. He does most things in the interest of himself, though he could care about someone if they really made an impact on him.
Strengths:
Persuasive
Honorable
Witty
Physical Strength
Weaknesses:
Hunted
Temper
Quickness
Reckless
Impulsive
Affiliations:
Noah Valentine Torrence - Male - 19 y/o - (Former) Childhood Bestfriend
Wessen Phillips - Male - 22 y/o - Second-in-command of Rebellion Group
Benny North - Male - 40 y/o - Father-like Figure
McKenzie Hust - Female - 15 y/o - Member of Rebellion
Backstory: There's not much to it. Finnegan grew up with two older brothers, both moving out by the time they were at least 20. He moved to the States when he was roughly fifteen, and has visited his home country a few times since then. Sooner or later, he had a falling out with his parents and is now the leader of a rebellion. How exciting B)
Other: His accent is still there, but isn't as thick as it used to be. When he does visit his home country, it comes back really strong but because he's been in the states for so long, its since faded. |
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Wednesday, October 14th 3087, 03:34:01 AM The first rule in a hunter's line of profession? Don't hesitate. Noah never did. Not like Isaac always would, after getting in position. "You're hesitating," the smaller of the two observed, calling him out from the cold pillar he was leaning against, hands deep in the pockets of his black cargo pants. His friend adjusted himself a moment later, where he was crouched a few feet ahead. They had been following a target for a few hours throughout the city, until eventually she - a young woman in a long trenchcoat - had turned into an alleyway: Secluded, dark and free from curious eyes and surveillance. Perfect, if you asked Noah, and Isaac would confidently agree. Now, the latter of them didn't even spare Noah a glance before saying, "Did you know she's got a kid back home?" There it was again, the hesitation. Noah raised a dark eyebrow, "That is what the mission brief says, yes." Isaac hummed, still not making a move to shoot. The moon above them provided little to no light in the car park they had sought out as cover, yet they could see everything clearly through their nightvision contacts. The silence was making his fingers itch for the .45 calliber at his hip, despite knowing how useless it would be from this height and distance. His friend still didn't go for the kill, broad shoulders moving uncomfortably. "You have less than 20 seconds before she reaches the end of the alley," Noah stated in a monotone voice, more to inform than to urge. Even then, their chance was now, and if Isaac didn't do it, Noah would. It's how they were both trained. It's what The Code required. 11 more seconds went by. "Isaac," the younger one said, a little louder than before. Isaac sighed in mild frustration, before finally taking aim. Noah proceeded to watch, while the other made sure the silencer was on and then, in the blink of an eye, he pulled the trigger. The woman fell forwards, merely looking like she'd tripped. On the opposite side of the road and the concrete building the were in, her body connected with the ground. Noah could have sworn he still heard a phantom version of the sound it would've made enter his ears. Vissibly relaxing at the knowledge of a task being complete, he then lifted a leathergloved hand to look at the watch around his wrist, where a hologram appeared. Isaac slowly got up, looking calm and collected as always. If Noah had to guess, however, the other hunter was battling internally. "File 17, Name: Beatrice Zen Walker, Open recorded notes..." the dirty blonde said out loud, eyes shifting from trenchcoat to the concrete floor below his feet, "Kill confirmed at 03:36:30 AM exactly... Payment requested," Noah leaned off the pillar, "Note ended. Send to The Supplier." A small swoosh emitted from the device. Isaac huffed, "Imagine your head being worth 50k," a big hand ran through light brown hair, as the two headed for the stairs, "What in the world did that woman do?" Noah knew the question was not rethorical. The mission briefings rarely included a why. A why was rarely ever necessary. Other times, the why was crucial. Those times were mostly when it came to Government cases. This one was just a result of someone being pissed off and acting on impulse, which had resulted in an anonymous tip, a quick hiring and a big enough price that could overwrite his morals. After all, Noah was a bounty hunter, not a payed assassin bound to any contract. He had morals... until he had his reasons. Tonight, 25k had been reason enough... despite not actually being enough. Not yet, at least. |
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Finnegan Alan Beauman
Wednesday, October 14th 3087, 3:40:02 A.M.
The silence had made Finnegan go insane. Normally he wouldn't mind the peacefullness that it brought to his mind, but there seemed to be something that had been bothering him. Sitting on his bed, he had grabbed the half-drank bottle of whiskey. Normally he wouldn't be drinking, but on a night like this, he could care less. What were the cops gonna do? ID him?
Everyone already knew his name.
But suddenly, Finnegan was interrupted. He groaned at the sound of knuckles meeting the door to his bedroom - a knock. "I'm comin," he grumbled, standing up after placing the bottle back down on the night stand. He turned the knob, opening the door to reveal Mr. Benny North.
"Benny!" Finnegan exclaimed, though mainly his tone was laced with something of a slur and sarcasm. Benny pushed past Finnegan, causing him to have to close the door himself.
"Nice to see you too," he mumbled. Finnegan looked at the older man.
Benny looked... pissed. Pissed was the easiest way to put it. His eyes were narrowed, his sagging face filled with an ever-raging anger. He shook his head.
"You dumb boy!" Benny yelled. "Have you been watching the news?!"
Finnegan's first reaction was to say something smart, but knowing Benny, that would probably piss him off more and this genuinely had seemed serious. "Fuck... no...?" Finnegan replied with a questioning tone.
Finnegan turned to his left, looking at the flatscreen TV. "TV on," he said aloud, the screen turning a bright blue before you could see the faces of the news reporters.
"Finnegan Alan Beauman - the leader of the Rebellion - has had a target on his head for quite some time. The Government hasn't managed to find where this man has been hiding," the woman started, and on the screen came a sketch of Finnegan. He sighed.
"They can never get my lips right, I swear," he said, looking at Benny who gave a cold stare.
"That is until tonight. Police and other agencies have been working hard to find him. They finally have. Finnegan is located at-"
"TV off," Finnegan huffed, the screen turning black.
"They could be here any minute now, boy. This is what I meant by keeping your fuckin' head down," Benny said sternly.
"When was that live?" Finnegan asked, frantic in his voice.
"About an hour ago. They stopped all other networks just broadcast your sorry ass," Benny replied.
"Where's Wessen?" Finnegan asked. Benny shook his head. "Have you tried calling him? He's not out the fuckin' hideout?" Finnegan demanded. He snatched his jacket off of the edge of his bed.
"You go out there, your ass is grass. They're gonna be here any-"
There was loud pounding at the door.
"Finnegan Beauman! Please open up, this is the police!" A loud voice boomed at the door. "If you refuse to open, we will be forced to open the door for you!"
"Damn cops always stall," Finnegan scoffed, slipping the window open. He looked up, seeing the bright light shining from a helicopter. He looked over his shoulder to see Benny, giving him a wink.
"Finn, no!" Benny yelled, and just as Finnegan jumped out of the window and down onto the fire escape, the police barged into the room. He could hear the distant yelling, demanding that Benny put his hands up.
Finnegan heard the helicopter hover above him.
"I want him alive!" One of the cops from the room yelled.
Finnegan ran hard and long, each stride taking him further and further. He didn't dare look back, mainly for the fact that they might as well have thrown Benny's head down into the street. He huffed, growing tired after a few more moments. To his surprise, there wasn't cars chasing him or men following him.
"Finn, in here!" A familiar voice whisper-yelled, causing Finnegan to dip into an alleyway.
"Wessen?" Finnegan questioned, only seeing a figure in the shadows.
"Yeah, come on! Police aren't gonna go lookin' in a place where the homeless stay," Wessen smirked, opening a heavy metal door. Finnegan went inside, Wessen closing the door behind the two.
Inside was a dimly-lit room, mainly older people inside who didn't have much for a home.
"Shit looks like a century ago," Finnegan joked.
"You really need all of that technology out there to hide?" Wessen asked. Finnegan shrugged.
"I mean guns are fun-" Finnegan was cut off by Wessen snatching his phone out of his pocket. He smashed it on the floor, the phone breaking as soon as it made contact.
"What the fuck, Phillips?! That was the third one this month," Finnegan sighed, defeated, taking a seat at a stool. He got some odd looks from the homeless people.
"If you weren't stupid," Wessen inhaled, "you'd be using a more secure line," he handed Finnegan another phone. Finnegan held it in his hand.
"What's the difference?" He asked.
"A secure line is so people like the police can't listen in, dumbass. Jesus- Did you learn nothing this last time?" Wessen shot back.
"Apart from how fast I can run, no," Finnegan laughed.
"Least you're alive..." Wessen grunted, sitting down at another stool.
"Shit, Benny," Finnegan huffed.
"The most they're gonna do is take the old man into custody and hold him against you as collateral. That's what you get for being involved in this shit, Fin," Wessen stated. "They don't want his head - they want yours."
Everyone wanted Finnegan Alan Beauman's head.
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Fog
