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I'M LIKE A GHOST BACK FROM THE DEAD

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[attr="class","freiwanttmid"]CHARACTER FACTION league

[attr="class","freiwanttmid"]CHARACTER RANK cadet

[attr="class","freiwanttmid"]FACE CLAIM kurusu akira from persona 5

[attr="class","freiwantttop"]ABOUT THE CHARACTER

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with one foot in hell

You're twenty-two when they kill you: eye for eye, blood for blood, everything that ever stitched together the Nicklaus name (one you had tried and tried to discard already yourself) spent and oozing out onto concrete filth.[break][break]

It isn't that you weren't expecting this. The valiant always put their lives on the line for their beliefs; there is no more heroic a fall than that of a martyr. That in the name of another. More morbidly, perhaps, the chance that they had already caught onto you before you had ever caught onto them had been a possibility you'd been tiptoeing around for weeks now. Retribution is the due of a traitor (to them, liars, murderers, but never to your own ideals). It just wasn't supposed to come so soon.[break][break]

Tore a hole through your chest – once, twice, again and again. For good measure. They don't wait to hear your heart falter, because what chance is there that it won't?[break][break]

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All things come around eventually. A killer like you, murdered just as he'd taken life after life. Rocket, too, will fall to the League in some grand stand of irony – eventually. To the League, probably. To you, if you have your way.[break][break]

It's in this manner, then, that every misfortune ever placed upon you comes rushing back to pay their own dues – luck you've never had, and luck you wished would have come before your former partner stuck you through like a pin cushion. First: she finds you before your heart really does start to falter; second: they don't recognize you, or perhaps don't care that you were Rocket until the moment they found you postmortem; third: you end up a dead man walking.[break][break]

Trying to, anyway.[break][break]

You're lucky, they tell you through therapy, feet like dead weights, tears in the corners of your eyes, that you can get up on your feet at all anymore. Lucky you're even alive goes unsaid, hanging like a pendulum in every conversation all the same. It gets better, just as they said it would, but it never gets good; the skin of your torso is a ragged testament to your sloth and your failure. Rocket has already moved onto greener pastures across the sea, and you're still pushing your weight onto something else. (But you were already too slow, once. Not again. Not this time.)[break][break]

It's too soon too leave – too late to stay. Hoenn creeps up on the horizon, and you fail to stifle the beast kept behind your teeth. (Retribution due for traitors.)



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mistakes you make, you take to your grave

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+ son of a (corrupt) league councilman back in his home region. goes only by "nikki" in an attempt to distance himself from his family and roots.[break]
+ former rocket member. specialized in (and was quite good at) stealth-focused murders, and not much else.[break]
+ attacked and left for dead upon (correct) suspicions of wanting to bail the team. despite having mostly, and quite miraculously recovered, he still struggles to walk without the aid of a cane.[break]
+ absolutely despises the league. joined rocket originally in hopes of tearing them down, only to realize that rocket was - somehow - worse. allies with them only because of their common enemy; would still probably try to stab a gym leader or councilman if given the opportunity.[break]
+ came to hoenn pretty much exclusively to pay back some dues. off his hitman game because of his condition, but he thinks he's got the element of surprise. who expects a dead man to come storming into your home, right?