The Snake, Hunter Kieff...

~Basic~
~Tell us who you are.

Given Name: Hunter

Middle Name: Raymond

Surname: Kieff

Gender: Male

Age: 20

Blood Type: AB

Origin: Russian

.:Appearance:.

Spoiler:

Hair: Blonde

Eyes: The left is brown while the right is a moonlight blue.

Skin: Pale white, and covered with scars from his bast.

Height: 6'4

Weight: 206

Clothing: Hunter wears a brown hoodie, black jeans and black combat boots. On occasion he will wear his glasses

Other:

-Life-
Hunter smiles crookedly and sits cross-legged in front of the grave stone, pressing his slim, nimble fingers on the carvings of his name and birth date. Today would be his brothers sixteenth birthday and he brought him a gift. Damien always loved sweet things and small trinkets he could pull apart like a Jacobs Ladder or a Toy car. A little mechanic he always was... Hunter's smile and steady breathing slowly molds itself into heaving sobs and the expression of one who is in anguish. He raised his little brother, kept him safe, fed him, always stayed by his side. And the only time that he was not there, the only time he left Damien alone for a while would be the last time he would see him happy... The last time he would be able to hug his little brother. Hunter always blamed himself for Damien's death, always beat himself up for not being the Guardian Angel, or the Knight in Shining fucking Armor. He remembers the time vividly, the scenes before and after the 'accident' if he would ever call it that...

Rewind six years, Hunter was fourteen at the time. It was a normal day in his life, parents not talking to each other except for the times they were in the same room. And by the same room, the bedroom. His home was a dilapidated hole in the toxic waste part of town. The stench of sulfur and dried blood permeated the house. Most of it was either his or Damien's . Their father was a decent, hard working man. But sometimes the stress of a long work day and a horrid sex life lead him to pick up the bottle, and once the bottle was picked up all hell broke loose. Even at midnight, Damien would be picking shards of broken glass from his older brothers bleeding back. They never called the police, though. Always felt that it was the way things were supposed to be... It was the only thing they knew. Soon as the old bastard stumbled in the house playtime was over. Everyone would retreat to their rooms for the night, Hunter would always make sure his frail little brother would sleep in the same bed as him, holding him tight to quell the impending sobs of fear. So much as an awkward glance would piss the drunkard off. The mornings after were always the worst, but that is for another time.

Fast forward two years. At sixteen years old Hunter wanted to have a life of his own, he did not want to be bothered by the problems of his little brother, or the problems of anyone. He would leave early in the morning and not be at home until late at night, and the first few times were just fine. But the third night is where the atmosphere changed, where is little brother had significantly more bruises than an average afternoon of wrestling with his older brother. The questioning turned into more of an interrogation until Hunter realized that without his being there, his brother became the focus of malicious intent. He usually checked in, but only to see if Damien was alright like a good big brother should and the one time he didn't the one time he decided to have more fun would be the last time anyone saw his face but his dying brother and bastard father.

Move ahead one day. Same routine, same old story, Hunter would ruffle the hair of his Brother and disappear. Damien would worry, as usual and would panic once Hunter did not come back for the check-in, he would shake his father awake,and this would be the last mistake he ever made. His father would rise up, the alcohol still commanding his large workers body, grab the half empty beer bottle and slam it upon Damien's head. Unlike other times he would cry out, and this enraged the father. He would slap Damien around and throw things at him, but instead of finding a book like usual. His clumsy hands found a knife. Hunter unlocks the door shortly after the knife is thrown and connect with his little brothers back. Damien hit the ground without uttering a single word and crumple some. The father laughs and tells him to quit faking, but the realization of what just happened is instantly sobering. Hunter charges into the house and slams his elbow into his fathers face, causing the now sober killer into a human whirligig and spiral out of the window, the three story fall killing him instantly, Hunter Kieffs first kill.

Three minutes... Hunter rushes to the limp dishrag of a little brother and cradles his head in his arm, the same way a mother would hold her baby for the first time and whispers small things to him. Things like 'Don't fall asleep, bro... I'm right here.' or 'Everything is going to be okay.' but these were unintentional lies. Damien smiles at his older brother and weakly reaches up, ruffling up Hunters hair and whispering 'I know it will.' before giving up the ghost. He dies with his eyes open, the steel gray iris losing its sparkle and his jaw hanging slack. Hunter closes his eyes for him and hugs him tight, crying and cursing aloud. The neighbors did nothing as usual but the blaring sirens were suddenly closer as Hunter hugged and kissed the face of his now deceased brother.

Snap back to the present day. Hunter sits in the same spot but his posture changes, he is now hugging the cross shaped grave stone like he would hug his little brother crying like a lost child, the fresh hot tears stinging his eyes and wetting the sleeves of his gray shirt. The gifts of a small model car, a poem Hunter wrote, and Damiens favorite flavor of candy rest at the foot of the gravestone.

"I'm so sorry, Damien... I should have checked in, should have stayed with you! I was your angel, your protector... And as soon as I don't show up... You leave me... Or..." He trails off, his choked sobs breaking up the rest of his speech. He now does not care if anyone watches him or judges him. He is with his other half...

Plans/Goals:
Survive the reign of Kira

Occupation:
Everything under the sun. Some are legal, but most aren't

Personality:
When he is alone or with friends, Hunter can be a very kind and gentle person. But when he or anyone he cares for is crossed, he will not hesitate to defend, even if it means killing the aggressor. When in company of the Guns he is a very cold, hard man, but in the Pit he allows all of his hate show through his fists.

History:
As you have seen, Hunter had a very, very abusive childhood. But despite the struggles, he always sees things from the positive side. This can be seen through the many bits of wisdom he can show when the situation calls for it, and through his basic phrases such as, "Gotta Love It." Or, "Life can be the best gift or the worst curse, It all depends on how you look at the glass."

After killing his father, he fled Russia, knowing that he would be found. While on the run he took refuge in the cargo hold of a ship with a backpack filled to the brim with momentos of his little brother, and mother left behind. But most importantly the money he would need to survive for at least a day. Upon his arrival in Japan he managed to slip through the fingers of customs and found an abandoned warehouse in the armpits of the country, where the scum lived. It was small enough to be left alone, but big enough for him to have a place to run or hide if things were to get too heavy. As for the language, well... The only ones he can speak are whats left of his Russian, and very broken English.

[Roleplay Sample]
Hunter sprints through the dark corridors of his own mind, the brick walls of the narrow alley are coated with coagulated blood and gore. The hand prints and signatures of those he has killed slowly push from the walls, threatening to crush him. You can't run forever, Hunter... This voice of all who have died by his hand penetrate his ears, drowning out all other sound until he collides with the dead end wall of the alleyway, a black substance oozing from the crack in the wall he made, "What the fu-!" We have been waiting for you, Hunter... Or should we say 'Damien?'

Once he looks to the direction of the hellish voice, Hunters eyes widen. All of the voices, all of the torment comes from one central figure. His father... The hand prints in the walls made my the thousands of twisting limbs sprouting from his back. This twisting mass of hatred lumbering towards him, "Stay back!" He shouts, Why so scared? You weren't afraid to pull the trigger! Or use the knife, or break the neck!

Hunter takes one small step back as the monster takes a step foreword and bumps into another being, one that comes up to his chest B-brother? Once he realizes the voice is that of Damien he whirls around, hugging him, "Damien! I'm so sorry..." But when he moves to take a look at his lost half he freezes in terror... The face of his brother is halfway rotten and his skin begins to peel, You let me die, Hunter! The tears begin to flow and the other creature mocks him You let him DIE, Hunter! The voices are closer to him, practically on his neck, You let m(him)e DIE Hunter! You let M(him) die, Hunter! You They surround him, Let the hands clutch his neck and limbs, M(him)e they slowly begin to tear him apart, DIIIIIIIIE!!!!

He jolts awake in his bed, the demonic hell of his nightmare slowly falling apart around him. The voices still taunt his mind and body. But just when he thinks it's over, his mind plays a trick on him. The body of Damien hangs from the closet, "DIE!" it shouts at him, causing Hunter to scream like someone is torturing him to death.