Post by adrian jonathon baker on Jan 27, 2012 11:18:02 GMT -6
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; height: 380px; background-image:URL(http://i64.photobucket.com/albums/h177/animegrl-252/x0r3w0.png); border-left: 10px solid #1e1e1e; border-right: 10px solid #1e1e1e;] ADRIAN J. BAKER  HEY THERE, THEY CALL ME BAKER AND I'M CURRENTLY TWENTY YEARS OLD. I'M PART OF THE HUMANS AND I'M A HUNTER. ------------------------------------------------- The world is so f*cking screwed up you wouldn’t believe it. Actually, I didn’t either. I was close to having my uncle committed when he claimed that vampires and werewolves and shit are real. They’re just some horrible freaks of nature, pathetic excuses for lives and taking up space better suited for humans to live in. They aren’t meant to be here, and they should honestly just leave. The world was created for humans and humans alone. Whatever sci-fi shit that made them was obviously screwed up itself. Vampires basically eat people; that’s just plain wrong. And werewolves can turn into huge ass dog things. Don’t try and tell me that that’s normal. Okay, so maybe I am a bit biased on this part. My parents were killed when they accidentally got caught in the middle of a scuffle between a few vampires and a werewolf pack. Or well, they weren’t there accidentally. Apparently, my parents had always know these creature things existed, they just refused to tell me anything about them. I’m kind of glad they didn’t, since that probably would have made me piss myself in fear at the age I was. I would have been asking my parents to check for vampires and werewolves under my bed instead of the boogie monster. They had intended to tell me, apparently, when I was old enough to understand. Somewhere in my teens, I guessed, though telling me right from the beginning probably would have saved them quite a bit of trouble. Obviously I wondered what the hell else was wrong with my family. It seemed like insanity was a transmittable gene with the Baker’s, but my uncle’s house in England sort of disproved that. I had always known that my parents weren’t from the States, with their accent and everything, but I’d never actually asked about their childhoods. Give me a break, I was like ten or whatever when they died, I hadn’t actually gotten a chance to really talk to them about anything. That was probably the worst part about them being gone; I would never to actually be able to talk to them as an adult and see them as equals. From what I’d understood, they had quite a few things that they had planned on telling me and things they would never get to explain. At eleven years old, that had probably bothered me more than it should, but I’d always been on the more mature side. Sure, I like running around and goofing off as much as the next person, but there’s a time and place for everything, isn’t there? I’m not a particularly loud or friendly person either, not that I’m inherently mean either... anyway, I digress. So, England, yeah? Picture one of those creepy Victorian houses that are in every single horror movie, now paint is white. No, don’t fix it up, leave it dilapidated and peeling; just imagine the fake purity, alright? Even creepier than the black one, wasn’t it? The house was deceptive from the outside though. It was made so very few people ever came near it, needless to say I never invited any friends from school over. But in inside was fairly nice.. if you could ignore the smell of garlic and my uncle’s need for putting little bowls of holy water everywhere. Yeah, superstitious and mostly false, but some of the stuff works, y’know. Conviniently placed weapons everywhere too, that I learnt to use quickly; chair with one sharpened leg that popped off easily and guns hidden everywhere. If I had been naturally predisposed to violence that probably would have been entertaining, but it was just plain scary. My uncle was serious about this, and eventually summoned up the courage to actually take me to meet a vampire after I’d had the proper training. Before that I sort of went along with him so he didn’t get pissed off, and if he was actually crazy, not to have him go all wacko on me. I was almost thirteen at the time, and watching my uncle drive a huge stake through the vampire had made me scream even at that age. Okay, so he wasn’t kidding. My personal mission from then on was to get as much training as possible so I would be able to find the vampires and werewolves that had killed my parents and get rid of them. A little pathetic, I know, but vengeance is a lot better than they say it is. I found the first vampire when I was seventeen, he was living in Romania -how cliché, right?- and wasn’t hard to find. The ‘accident’ that had caused my parents’ death had been pre-planned by both sides to look like an accident. My parents had angered quite a few people in their time, and the creatures had wanted revenge. Now, it’s my job to do what my parents never had chance to. Luckily, the first vampire was a squirmy little bitch and told me everything I needed to know about the others. They had spread themselves out after hearing that my uncle had taken me in; the Bakers were pretty notorious in their world, I guess, known for being top-grade hunters. It was cool, being able to see the world while I was travelling around to find them. I’ve only gotten rid of three of the group so far, but no one said I had to limit myself to those. I’ve had no problem getting rid of any pests I’ve encountered in my travels. They aren’t actually people, so it’s not a crime to kill them, and I don’t feel bad about it either, but they’re damn hard to track down. They cover their asses very well and they can move much quicker than I can. At least I have the element of surprise. I’ve sort of avoided going back to the US until now, since I wasn’t sure if it would dredge up any bad memories or just that damned hallow feeling that’s hard to get rid of. Recently, I had to force myself back to the States to catch one Mister Hairy Dog who didn’t like to sit still long enough to put a bullet in his head. So I found myself wandering back to my hometown, just to check things out and see if everything was as it was. And it was, just like I left it, right down to Sam Warrington still sticking her nose into places where she had no business. Sam and I had grown up together. We were next door neighbors and the only kids remotely close in age on our block, so of course we’d been close. I had always been the one that mellowed Sam out, since she liked to go off and do whatever she wanted. Even as a kid I had been like an anchor, trying to get her to stay in one place long enough. This time though, she needs more than just an older kid telling her not to jump the fence or that bringing the sickly cat home was not a good idea. I nearly regretted checking in on her when I did; if she kept doing what she was doing, she was going to get into some big trouble, and very quickly. |
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THE PERSON BEHIND THIS WONDERFUL CHARACTER IS GENERALLY CALLED DELL AND SITS AT SIXTEEN. SHE LIVES IN THE EASTERN TIMEZONE. ALSO, THIS CHARACTER LOOKS PRETTY SIMILAR TO FRANCISCO LACHOWSKI, DON'T YOU THINK?
[/div]THE PERSON BEHIND THIS WONDERFUL CHARACTER IS GENERALLY CALLED DELL AND SITS AT SIXTEEN. SHE LIVES IN THE EASTERN TIMEZONE. ALSO, THIS CHARACTER LOOKS PRETTY SIMILAR TO FRANCISCO LACHOWSKI, DON'T YOU THINK?
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made by brooklyn at caution[/center]
