Steven
Name: Steven Nickname: Smokey, due to the gray in his hair. Gender: Male Sexuality: Demi/bi Species: Human Race: Asian Place of Birth: USA Age: 20 (appears 18) Height: 5'9 Weight: 130 lbs (on the leaner side) Motivations: Wants to ensure that everyone is given a chance in life, will do anything to protect the few friends he has. Strengths: Resourceful, extremely determined and hardworking. Good with practical skills such as finance. Flaws: Lacks a basic education past elementary school. Stubborn, mistrustful of adults, views "outsiders" as lesser and malicious. Fairly weak and will almost always come out of fights on the losing side. Outlook: Generally optimistic, but a pessimist when it comes to people. Manipulates green/blue flame, shares a bond with Kage |
Story
Steven was born in San Francisco to a mother who was young and financially irresponsible, and never knew is father. By 6 years old he was taken from his unstable home by children's protective services. At the age of 11, he ran away and ended up living on the streets. There, he found a small makeshift family in a group of delinquents in similar situations. They got by however they could. Nothing too serious ever happened, but selling drugs, theft, and dumpster diving were just a few of the ways they managed to survive in the city. Eventually he grew up, and when he was old enough to work he traded his life of scrounging and petty crimes for a more honest lifestyle, going from one low-paying job to the next in an attempt to earn enough to sustain himself and his small gang.
Despite holding a job, Steven still retained some of his homeless habits, including looking through other people's trash in search of useful stuff. It was while he was doing this one night that he stumbled across a strange looking guy laying behind some boxes in an alleyway. A quick and cautious inspection revealed that he was seriously injured, and so Steven immediately took him in and patched him up, assuming the guy was just another runaway like the rest of them.
Personality
Steven is self-interested, caring only for the small handful of friends he has. He's also woefully ignorant about what goes on in the world that doesn't immediately affect him or his friends. That being said, he does care for others and has a soft heart. He won't refuse someone help if it's in his power to do something, and although he deeply mistrusts adults and anyone who he doesn't know well, he doesn't have any malicious feelings towards them, either. He is mostly just content to live a simple, honest life without having to interact with other people or have them meddling in his business. He resents what the CPS did but his feelings of anger are more directed towards the broken systems in place than any person.
To strangers, Steven is cold, quiet, and distant. He tends to close off. Around friends, he's much more relaxed, joking and laughing like any normal teenager. His stubbornness can lead him to get into fights occasionally, but he's always quick to make up and isn't one to hold a grudge. In some ways, he's the "mom friend", always looking out for his group and helping wherever possible.
Physical
Medium height. Quite a light build, with little muscle tone. Hair is dark but has spots of graying, especially on the fringes. Eyes are a very dark, dull brown, almost black. No notable marks on his body other than a scar here and there from his life on the streets. Often wears baggy clothing, such as sweats, and none of it is new or fancy.
Steven was born in San Francisco to a mother who was young and financially irresponsible, and never knew is father. By 6 years old he was taken from his unstable home by children's protective services. At the age of 11, he ran away and ended up living on the streets. There, he found a small makeshift family in a group of delinquents in similar situations. They got by however they could. Nothing too serious ever happened, but selling drugs, theft, and dumpster diving were just a few of the ways they managed to survive in the city. Eventually he grew up, and when he was old enough to work he traded his life of scrounging and petty crimes for a more honest lifestyle, going from one low-paying job to the next in an attempt to earn enough to sustain himself and his small gang.
Despite holding a job, Steven still retained some of his homeless habits, including looking through other people's trash in search of useful stuff. It was while he was doing this one night that he stumbled across a strange looking guy laying behind some boxes in an alleyway. A quick and cautious inspection revealed that he was seriously injured, and so Steven immediately took him in and patched him up, assuming the guy was just another runaway like the rest of them.
Personality
Steven is self-interested, caring only for the small handful of friends he has. He's also woefully ignorant about what goes on in the world that doesn't immediately affect him or his friends. That being said, he does care for others and has a soft heart. He won't refuse someone help if it's in his power to do something, and although he deeply mistrusts adults and anyone who he doesn't know well, he doesn't have any malicious feelings towards them, either. He is mostly just content to live a simple, honest life without having to interact with other people or have them meddling in his business. He resents what the CPS did but his feelings of anger are more directed towards the broken systems in place than any person.
To strangers, Steven is cold, quiet, and distant. He tends to close off. Around friends, he's much more relaxed, joking and laughing like any normal teenager. His stubbornness can lead him to get into fights occasionally, but he's always quick to make up and isn't one to hold a grudge. In some ways, he's the "mom friend", always looking out for his group and helping wherever possible.
Physical
Medium height. Quite a light build, with little muscle tone. Hair is dark but has spots of graying, especially on the fringes. Eyes are a very dark, dull brown, almost black. No notable marks on his body other than a scar here and there from his life on the streets. Often wears baggy clothing, such as sweats, and none of it is new or fancy.
“Mom… MOM”
The little boy’s screeches echoed through the narrow walls of the apartment as he struggled to free himself. Two adults half-carried, half-dragged him away as a third stood in front of the disheveled looking woman, as if to block her. She made no attempt to get past him, however. All she did was stare vacantly ahead, as if she was looking through the little boy and into the street beyond. She remained that way as the boy was escorted out of the apartment complex and into a van idling outside. His cries only became louder as the door shut behind them. He could just barely make out the voices of the adults trying to calm him over the sound of his own distress, their faces reduced to fuzzy blobs through the tears.
That was the last time he ever saw his mother.
12 years later
The truck driver’s voice became more and more distant, and that was their cue to move in. Steven began to approach the trailer from behind, careful to keep out of sight. A glance to his right assured him that his brothers were doing the same. The unlocked doors swung to the side and Steven pulled himself up into the trailer before helping the youngest of his brothers up. Standing, he began to examine the stacks of goods and let out a low whistle.
“Tonight, we dine like kings!”
The youngest brother, Zach, beamed up at him, his grin broken up by a missing tooth. “Zebra cakes? Booyah!”
To Steven’s left, the older boy snorted.
“Nobody says ‘booyah’ anymore, you dweeb”
“Yeah? And who says dweeb anymore, you geezer”
Steven patted the boy on the shoulder as he stuck his tongue out at Mikaia, the eldest of the small group. “We don’t have time to argue, the guy could be back any second now” he reminded them.
No sooner had he said that than Steven heard a shout from outside. It sounded like K.C. He had been assigned to the role of distraction.
“Grab what you can and get out!” Mikaia hissed, bending over to pick up a box.
“EY! WHAT THE HELL DO YA THINK YER DOIN?”
The shout came from just behind them and Steven whipped around, startled. The trucker was storming up to the trailer, his beady eyes narrowed with fury. Mikaia, startled, dropped the box he was holding and leapt out of the truck, his hazelnut skin a blur as he fled to the safety of the alleyway. Zach, on the other hand, had managed to hang onto his and began to follow his brother to freedom, but he skidded to a halt as the trucker lunged at him. Steven’s feet moved on their own. Box still in hand, he crashed into the trucker, causing him to stumble just enough for Zach to slip past. Steven used the opportunity to make his own escape as well. He ran like his life depended on it, painfully aware of the man hot on his heels, screaming curses. He was just considering ditching the box when the loud revving of an engine caused the footsteps behind him to come to a halt. Steven chanced a glimpse and his mouth fell open as he saw smoke rising from the truck’s tires as they screeched against the asphalt. The man had turned and was now in a dead sprint back to his truck. Suddenly, a figure popped out of the cabin’s ajar door and booked it down the street, letting out gleeful whoops as he ran. Steven had to cover his mouth not to laugh as he followed his brothers away from the scene.
They didn’t stop running until they reached their “base”, an old abandoned warehouse near the edge of town. Once safely inside, Zach wasted no time tearing open the packaging and stuffing a cake into his mouth.
“They as good as you remembered?” Mikaia asked.
Zach bobbed his head up and down and reached for another one, mouth still full.
“Slow down or you’ll get diabetes” the older boy joked.
“It’ll take diabetes over starvation any day” Steven said as he helped himself to one.
Just then K.C. sauntered in, a dumb grin across his freckled face. “Was I great or was I great?”
“You’re absolutely bonkers” Steven said, throwing a cake at the boy, who easily caught it in one hand and shoved it in his mouth. “Ah, the sweet taste of success” He said in a theatrical tone, mouth full.
“The bastard almost got us” Mikaia pointed out.
“But he didn’t, and now we have a month’s worth of food” K.C. retorted.
“But what if he had?”
K.C. snorted, his grin replaced with a grimace. “He didn’t, so you can just drop it. It’s not like I thought he’d go back to the truck so soon”
Steven flung another cake at K.C., this time hitting him in the jaw. “Both of you can knock it off, we’re all safe and we have food, that’s what matters. Now shut up and eat.”
“Yes mom” K.C. sighed dramatically, a sly grin returning to his face.
Mikaia said nothing, but reached for a cake and began to nibble on it.
The little boy’s screeches echoed through the narrow walls of the apartment as he struggled to free himself. Two adults half-carried, half-dragged him away as a third stood in front of the disheveled looking woman, as if to block her. She made no attempt to get past him, however. All she did was stare vacantly ahead, as if she was looking through the little boy and into the street beyond. She remained that way as the boy was escorted out of the apartment complex and into a van idling outside. His cries only became louder as the door shut behind them. He could just barely make out the voices of the adults trying to calm him over the sound of his own distress, their faces reduced to fuzzy blobs through the tears.
That was the last time he ever saw his mother.
12 years later
The truck driver’s voice became more and more distant, and that was their cue to move in. Steven began to approach the trailer from behind, careful to keep out of sight. A glance to his right assured him that his brothers were doing the same. The unlocked doors swung to the side and Steven pulled himself up into the trailer before helping the youngest of his brothers up. Standing, he began to examine the stacks of goods and let out a low whistle.
“Tonight, we dine like kings!”
The youngest brother, Zach, beamed up at him, his grin broken up by a missing tooth. “Zebra cakes? Booyah!”
To Steven’s left, the older boy snorted.
“Nobody says ‘booyah’ anymore, you dweeb”
“Yeah? And who says dweeb anymore, you geezer”
Steven patted the boy on the shoulder as he stuck his tongue out at Mikaia, the eldest of the small group. “We don’t have time to argue, the guy could be back any second now” he reminded them.
No sooner had he said that than Steven heard a shout from outside. It sounded like K.C. He had been assigned to the role of distraction.
“Grab what you can and get out!” Mikaia hissed, bending over to pick up a box.
“EY! WHAT THE HELL DO YA THINK YER DOIN?”
The shout came from just behind them and Steven whipped around, startled. The trucker was storming up to the trailer, his beady eyes narrowed with fury. Mikaia, startled, dropped the box he was holding and leapt out of the truck, his hazelnut skin a blur as he fled to the safety of the alleyway. Zach, on the other hand, had managed to hang onto his and began to follow his brother to freedom, but he skidded to a halt as the trucker lunged at him. Steven’s feet moved on their own. Box still in hand, he crashed into the trucker, causing him to stumble just enough for Zach to slip past. Steven used the opportunity to make his own escape as well. He ran like his life depended on it, painfully aware of the man hot on his heels, screaming curses. He was just considering ditching the box when the loud revving of an engine caused the footsteps behind him to come to a halt. Steven chanced a glimpse and his mouth fell open as he saw smoke rising from the truck’s tires as they screeched against the asphalt. The man had turned and was now in a dead sprint back to his truck. Suddenly, a figure popped out of the cabin’s ajar door and booked it down the street, letting out gleeful whoops as he ran. Steven had to cover his mouth not to laugh as he followed his brothers away from the scene.
They didn’t stop running until they reached their “base”, an old abandoned warehouse near the edge of town. Once safely inside, Zach wasted no time tearing open the packaging and stuffing a cake into his mouth.
“They as good as you remembered?” Mikaia asked.
Zach bobbed his head up and down and reached for another one, mouth still full.
“Slow down or you’ll get diabetes” the older boy joked.
“It’ll take diabetes over starvation any day” Steven said as he helped himself to one.
Just then K.C. sauntered in, a dumb grin across his freckled face. “Was I great or was I great?”
“You’re absolutely bonkers” Steven said, throwing a cake at the boy, who easily caught it in one hand and shoved it in his mouth. “Ah, the sweet taste of success” He said in a theatrical tone, mouth full.
“The bastard almost got us” Mikaia pointed out.
“But he didn’t, and now we have a month’s worth of food” K.C. retorted.
“But what if he had?”
K.C. snorted, his grin replaced with a grimace. “He didn’t, so you can just drop it. It’s not like I thought he’d go back to the truck so soon”
Steven flung another cake at K.C., this time hitting him in the jaw. “Both of you can knock it off, we’re all safe and we have food, that’s what matters. Now shut up and eat.”
“Yes mom” K.C. sighed dramatically, a sly grin returning to his face.
Mikaia said nothing, but reached for a cake and began to nibble on it.