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STATUS: Hustling; 0 stars | CREDITS: Character Sheet Created By Discord User Rōnin#6023. This thread will unfold DeMarcus Tāufaʻāhau Davis Jr.'s life and development. 𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖑 𝕴𝖓𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 Legal Name: DeMarcus Tāufaʻāhau Davis Jr. Legal Title: Jr. Nick Name(s): N/A Age: 12 Date of Birth: 03/07/2010 Place of Birth: Central Los Santos Medical Center Nationality: American Race: African American / Tongan American Gender: Male Language(s) Spoken: English Accent: South Los Santos Accent Address: 413 Grove Street, Davis Occupation: Davis Middle–High School Student 𝕻𝖍𝖞𝖘𝖎𝖈𝖆𝖑 𝕴𝖓𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 Height: ~5'4" Ft. (~163 Cm.) Weight: 121 lbs. (~55 kg) Eye Color: Brown Hair Color: Black Body Build: Ectomorph Dominant Hand: Left Race: African American / Tongan American Distinguishing Features: Gauze wraps around his neck and head (a hat covers the head) and chest. Physical Description: ~5'4" Ft. (~163 Cm.). A Tongan American boy who sports black dreadlocks which flail out in sundry directions. Straight-and-narrow brows are raised above dark brown charred-orbs—which blaze with fury. He has a small, nubby nose; and ectomorph, lean body build. White socks clash with his timeworn, non-Brand, generic black sneakers. Somewhat deep voice. South Central accent. Small stab wound in rib cage and bullet scar at the gut. Gauze wraps around his neck and head (a hat covers the head) and chest. Voice Description: Somewhat deep voice. South Central accent. 𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖘 Respect: ▰▰ Stamina: ▰▰▰▰ Muscle: ▰▰ Fat: ▰ 𝕸𝖊𝖉𝖎𝖈𝖆𝖑 𝕴𝖓𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 Blood-type: AB+ Medical History: DeMarcus got stabbed-. . by a pen in the gut—a minor injury barely worth noting. DeMarcus's hoodie blanketed the stabbing. But the pen entreated deep enough for the pen to stick out of his gut. DeMarcus also got shot in the upper-chest and another bullet skimmed his head, but didn't damage anything vital. Medical Information: ADHD diagnosis. In excellent physical shape other than being too light-weight for his age. Notes: Doctor's Recommendation: Build some muscle and fat. 𝕮𝖗𝖎𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖑 𝕽𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖗𝖉 N/A 𝕬𝖉𝖉𝖎𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 ⟴ Coffee 𝕻𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞 Mental State: DeMarcus is in a frenzied state, feeling like an animal backed into a corner. Financial pressures keep building up, his mother needs money for insulin shots to survive, and thugs keep picking on him because he is young and weak; DeMarcus has been forced to grow up fast. Not to mention puberty is beginning for him. Daily his morality is tested and slowly DeMarcus finds himself crossing every moral line, but a very recent conversation with a mechanic named Johnny has given him hope by suggesting he stick to an outlaws' moral code since that's the life sucking DeMarcus in. He'll do whatever it takes in order for him and his mother to survive. Religion: Mormon Alignment: Neutral Good Sexuality: Heterosexual Fear(s): Loosing his mother, dying in the streets (like his father did), and dying poor and alone. Hobbies: Rugby/Football, mixing rap beats (he sucks at it but likes messing around with the programs), beatboxing (he is alright at it), freestyling (he sucks at it), joyriding in the family whip, and bribing his way or sneaking into night clubs underage to party and cop booze on the down low, underage. Skills: Lockpicking, stealth, slippery like a snake, basic parkour ability, a fist sponge (constant beatings built up a high pain tolerance in DeMarcus) who stands in-battle for a while (but he sucks at fighting), and perceptive as Hell. Positive Traits: Good-natured, perceptive; chill as ice, but beginning to be more on guard and aware of people trying to rip him off; cool to people he can trust at least a little, but still on edge; extremely adaptable in situations and to circumstances; intelligent, strategic, quick learner, intuitive; empathetic, but knows when to hide that trait; quick-witted, and quick-footed. Neutral Traits: Mellowed out when high. Negative Traits: Trust-issues, paranoia, hyperactivity; extremely impressionable and prone to peer pressure; a mean drunk, tenfold when cross-faded; and sometimes makes risky plays toward the ends of his plans. 𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊 DeMarcus Tāufaʻāhau Davis Jr.’s story starts 3 Generations back . . . 1941, Tongan natives Kelekolio and Laaka Nukuʻalofa—husband and wife—legally immigrate from Nukuʻalofa, Tongatapu, Tonga to Idlewood, Los Santos, San Andreas, The United States of America—thanks to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints’ assist in the process. Kailao Nuku‘alofa was born on April 4th, 1943, at the Central Los Santos Medical Center; he was raised by two Mormon-convert Pacific Islander parents. Kailao grew up facing discrimination—socially and systemically—on the basis of his skin color in an era of high racial tensions, in spite of being a Pacific Islander and not of African American descent; racism pushed Kailao toward activism, inspiring him to pursue a degree in political science at the University of Los Santos, San Andreas (ULSA). October 15th, 1966, The Black Panther Party for self-defense (BPP) was founded by Huey P. Newton and Bobby Seale in Oakland, San Fierro, San Andreas—the BPP was a revolutionary organization with an ideology of Black nationalism, socialism, and armed self-defense, specifically against police brutality. The BPP formed in the midst of the Black Power movement and in response to failures of the Civil Rights Movement, turning it toward militancy. 1967, Kailao joined the BPP at age 23 early in the organization’s lifespan when numbers were low. Kailao increasingly involved\himself in political activism avidly that year, particularly for Black rights. Kailao legally changed his name to “DeMarcus” to both Americanize himself more and to identify himself synonymously with the Black Power movement. May 2nd, 1967, 26 panthers led by Seale from Oakland traveled to the Sacramento State House to protest the Mulford Act—a bill prohibiting the closed or open carry of loaded firearms. This event rapidly spread awareness of the BPP. The BPP pleaded guilty to misdemeanor charges of disrupting a legislative session. Kailao/DeMarcus was among the 26 armed men charged, putting him on the Federals’ radar. Kailao/DeMarcus rose to prominence within the BPP overtime. Following a complex history of interactions, Kailao/DeMarcus—a Malcolm X follower—met, fell in love with, started dating, and eventually married fellow activist—devout Martin Luther King Jr. follower—Malika Davis, a muslim African American female. They adopted Malika’s surname as the family name since it was more American than Kailao’s/DeMarcus’s. Multiple street gangs formed and rose to power to combat intimidation from white supremacy gangs. 1980s–1990s, an event known as the “Crack Epidemic” where cocaine flooded major Urban Centers across The Nation transpired. Early-1980s, Kailao/DeMarcus and Malika Davis purchased a house on Grove Street, Davis. Kailao/DeMarcus and Malika continued activism years into the Crack Epidemic . . . Kailao’s/DeMarcus’s parents Kelekolio and Laaka passed away at ages 71 and 77 due to old age. Divers socioeconomic factors—the Crack Epidemic, high racial tensions, a rising hate crime rate—pressured violence in inner-City neighborhoods, consequently skyrocketing the crime rate. Anti-crime legislation passed through congress and red taping policies negatively affected African American communities, which Kailao/DeMarcus and Malika duly protested against. Multiple street gangs rose to Power out of competition over resources. Particularly, The Crips were founded in 1969 by Raymond Washington and Stanley Williams at Fremont and Washington High School and they led the East and West Side Crips respectively. Williams reflected in his 2004 memoir Blue Rage, Black Redemption: A Memoir The Crips “depicted a fighting alliance against street gangs—nothing more, nothing less.” 1972,\ The Bloods federation formed out of numerous gangs’ collective bitter rivalries with The Crips. The Bloods. Innumerable Crip and Blood sets established themselves all over Los Santos, San Andreas. Bloods were outnumbered by Crips 3–1. Davis slowly transformed into one of America’s most notorious and dangerous hoods. 1970s–1980s, The Tongan Crip Gang (TCG) formed in Idlewood, Los Santos, San Andreas. Early-July 2002, Malika was announced pregnant. On February 8th, 2002, Felecia Davis was born. Early-July 2003, Malika was announced pregnant. On January 13th, 2003, Malik Azikiwe Davis, named after his mother, middle-name derived from Nnamdi Benjamin Azikiwe’s last name (the “Father of Nigerian Nationalism,” a Nigerian statesman and political leader considered a driving force behind the Nation’s Independence who served as the first President of Nigeria from 1963–1966). July 13th, 1988, Kailao/DeMarcus was found dead riddled with lead in the middle of Grove Street. Some suspect a white supremacy gang or FBI/CIA assassinated him. Malika slipped into a severe depression; Malika quit activism and took to an unhealthy degree of comfort eating fast and sugary foods. As if things could not get worse, on October 19th 1987, Black Monday—a financial crisis—triggered a wave of deleveraging with significant macroeconomic consequences; by February, the market lost 60% of its value and Malika fell below the poverty line, becoming eligible for the food stamp program. Malika got addicted to PCP to cope. DeMarcus Tāufaʻāhau Davis Jr. was born on March 7th, 2010 at Central Los Santos Medical Center, bordered by Capital Boulevard, Crusade Road, Davis Avenue, and Innocence Boulevard within Los Santos, San Andreas. He was named after and in honor of his father. “Tāufaʻāhau”—DeMarcus Jr.'s middle-name—references a young Tongan warrior, strategist, and orator named Tāufaʻāhau who united Tonga into a kingdom in 1845. DeMarcus Davis Jr.’s last name is adopted from his widowed mother’s birth-name. DeMarcus Davis Jr. grew up in The Projects—the poverty-plunged Hellhole of The CIty of Davis—the Murder Capitol of Los Santos, trapped in a perpetual cycle of violence—flooded with narcotics and populated by gang-affiliated ballers and poser-bustas. DeMarcus Jr.’s father was raised Mormon and converted Malika to religion, so DeMarcus Jr. was born, raised, and still is a devout Mormon; while devout, DeMarcus Jr. is a “Mormon” by name only practically, besides how it affects his budding moral compass and his occasional prayers. In 2016, DeMarcus Davis Jr’s older brother Malik began banging with the TCG, around when DeMarcus was merely age 6. Malik earned the alias “Cane,” after proving to be a demon-child. Malik became the black sheep of the Davis family from a young age. However, in 2020 Cane ditched the gang after disagreement over the TCG’s future and direction with the O.G.s. Malik moved to New York City, New York with ambitions of becoming an East-side player. 2017, Cane joined the Murderous Mad Dogs Blood-affiliated street gang set based in New York, Brooklyn. DeMarcus Jr. loathed Malik for his betrayal of his hood and turning his back on his own family. To DeMarcus Jr., Malik is dead. CONTINUE: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1uABO0isv0n20wrKEGvC0QPfb8imF4IsL-3G98CqXfI0/edit?usp=sharing
IOAN - RENO - Reynolds The junior driver of the mafia --_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________-- Ioan -Reno- Reynolds - born in Moscow by a Romanian mother to an American father, Ioan had his life complicated from the first step he took. Before he was born his father worked as an driver for the Russian Mafia, his mother was a auto-detail expert, whom would wash all the mafia's cars so that her husband could drive them clean and the mafia bosses would love them. Ioan was surrounded by alcohol, cigarettes, drugs and violence, but most importantly, cars. At a young age Ioan caught an interest in cars and their engines, electricity and every other part that a car has. When Ioan was 15, he started modding his own car, which he bought for the money he earned, selling drugs to the seniors in his high school, he bought an BMW 330i E46 model, he started buying M packages for the whole car, he did the oversteer mod so his wheels could spin and he could start drifting, he added a bigger engine, boosted it and started learning the art of driving. After a few years, Reno was a better driver than his father ever was and he was driven with competition for the best spot in the mafia, to earn a chance at driving the boss, his fathers position... --_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________-- --_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________-- Reno after passing everyone in his skills and ability to drive, started driving the boss, he got to see the deepest and most hidden secrets of the mafia, their deals, their partners, their main bosses and who is responsible for various things. He earned money, but the flip side was revealing itself. His father, whom bought a big house, cars to have his family live a life he never lived, didn't have enough money to pay for everything, he had to sell Ioan's childhood house. But Ioan didn't care, he now wanted not to drive cars, but own them, own houses, own his troops so he could be the boss, so he could have the respect around Moscow. So a naive young man, started to give out information to the police, so the police would lock up the bosses and he could get a chance to move up the ranks. He did this for several years, not being found out, he continued. Until one morning he hears the news of his both parents, being shot to death in intersection. He understood what he has done, he grabbed a pistol from his fathers cabinet, he got into his new Mercedes Benz, drove to the nearest mafia house and unleashed havoc inside the house. He killed many people, but not one of them was a high ranking mafia member, they were just decoys. Ioan ran as fast as he could to his car, got in and drove, drove across Russia, he didn't stop until he reached China, from there he sold his car, got into an plane and flew to America, hoping nothing will haunt him or chase him. He still wants to become a rich man, but this time he has a choice, make money the legal and hard way or imply everything he learned back in Moscow and start his own drug selling business. --_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________--
Martin Joaquin Ríos Hidalgo (born on August 15th, 1971) is a Mexican-American whom once served as a Sergeant within the U.S. Army and a outlaw motorcyclist who belongs to the nomadic club known as Verdugos MC. Martin's life began in the neighborhood of El Burro, located in the eastern region of Los Santos, San Andreas. He was the only child of his father Joaquin and mother Rosa María, who immigrated from Mexico in their early twenties to seek a better life in America. Being an only child, Martin found it difficult to form the social skills typically developed through interactions with other children within his age group. His father, Joaquin, struggled severely with an addiction to heroin which often drained the family of the little assets they did have. His mother struggled with a language barrier and a lack of formal education, leaving her to chase after small jobs around the neighborhood which barely kept the family afloat. With an unstable and neglectful household, Martin found himself in search for some type of acceptance within his life. He began getting into trouble with other local preteens, committing crimes such as drug distribution, theft, and muggings in order to earn himself respect within his circle, as well as some pocket change to keep himself alive. Martin discovered a sense of completion by associating himself with these cliques of troubled youth, feeling as though he was a part of something tangible, a brotherhood of his peers. Not only this, the gang culture catered to aspects of his budding sociopathic tendencies. He found a real enjoyment in the adrenaline-pumping activities in which he’d participate. By high-school, Martin was an initiated member of El Burro Heights Rifa XIII, a sureño gang which would ultimately become defunct by the early 2000s. The year was 1988 and Martin found himself in his senior year of high school, just barely scraping by the years previous due to his lack of involvement in the classroom and his dedication to the destructive gangland lifestyle he’d began living. The era of the late 1980s was an interesting time in Los Santos. Gang activity had been on the rise since the start of the ‘80s with the crack epidemic, and high school environments had evolved into something more sinister, comparable to the yards of prison. Different cliques of various races formed together and often times clashed on school grounds, while the powers that be on the school board struggled to get a handle on the situation. This environment ultimately caused a media explosion in April of that year, and young Martin would find himself on the headline. During a dispute in Martin’s high school cafeteria, he found himself face to face with a member of a rival African-American gang who had begun uttering threats and racial slurs towards the young man. What started as a verbal arguments escalated in the two getting physically violent, and finally climaxed when Martin struck the teen in the side of the head with a glass soda bottle. The teen fell to the ground, bleeding profusely while Martin continued to kick the student in his ribcage, shattering three rib bones within him. School security broke up the fight and police were brought in to apprehend Martin and some of the other students involved. He was taken to the local police station to be processed and charged with assault. The injured African-American teen was rushed to the hospital where he was emitted into the intensive care unit. A few months later, Martin and three other Hispanic students with ties to the El Burro Heights Rifa XIII faced trial for the savage assault. They stood before a Mexican-American judge who, luckily for them, took some pity on them due to their rough upbringing in a neighborhood where “they didn’t even stand a chance,” as the judge was quoted. The other students in question would receive twelve months probation, and be forced to go through a behavioral correction program while completing hours of community service. Martin was given the same, but due to his deeper involvement in the assault, was made to agree that he would join the army once he became of age. He had no choice but to agree to the ultimatum he was handed. Upon turning 18 in August of 1989; Martin left home to begin basic training at Fort Zancudo. He struggled at first with the strict regiment, routines, and discipline that the drill sergeants demanded of him, but after awhile he conformed and began straightening himself out. He adapted to life within the military and even began to excel in his training. He enjoyed the fraternity in which being a part of a unit provided; something he lacked growing up and chased after in his years of gang activity. Martin would pass his basic training and go on to be stationed permanently at Fort Zancudo, climbing through military ranks to land a position as a sergeant. In 1995 at age 24, Martin was given a bad conduct discharge from the U.S. army after he was caught having an inappropriate relationship with a senior female officer who was in charge of his unit. Martin was immediately made to pack his belongings and leave the military base, ultimately forcing him to return to his old stomping grounds of El Burro. Martin sought out employment with several establishments in the community, all of which turned out to be dead-ends once they heard of his past and reason for discharge. As his finances dwindled, Martin was eventually evicted from his apartment and forced to live on the streets. He began struggling with withdrawal from reality and alcohol addiction, coping once again with his endless need for acceptance and fraternity. It seemed luck was with Martin once again when he stumbled upon a man by the name of Armando "Pepe" Zayas, who took in Martin and helped rehabilitate him. Armando was a patched member of a motorcycle club known as Verdugos, who would bond with young Martin over respect for his military training and their shared culture. Armando helped him seek employment from a motorcycle garage in which he had invested, and began mentoring him in the life of a 1%er. It did not take Martin long before he would fall in love with the lifestyle of belonging to an outlaw MC. He saved up money through his new employment, got himself established, and purchased himself his first bike; a 1992 Harley Davidson Fat Bob Custom. It was around this time he began his prospect phase for Verdugos. In 1997, a year and a half after having embarked on his journey as a prospect, Martin was called upon by Armando, the other patched members and the officers of Verdugos to attend a meeting and their weekly chapter gathering, known in club culture as “church.” When Martin entered the room, he was brought face to face with Armando who beckoned him forward without uttering a word. The president at the time spoke a few words about the club’s roots, and how everyone in that room shared a sacrifice and honor of being bound together as a brotherhood. The president explained that Martin had come a long way in prospect tenure, and that those who stood before him in the room believed he was ready to take the next step. At this time, the president gave a nod to Armando, who squared up and socked Martin in the jaw as hard as he could. Martin tripped backwards and was caught by the patch holders behind him, who straightened Martin up and pushed him back in front of Armando. Armando looked him in the eyes and said in Spanish: “Now make me bleed too, brother.” Martin, obviously confused by the situation, was somewhat hesitant but eventually returned the hit to Armando, causing him to bleed from his lip as well. The president spoke up, and told the pair to spit the blood into their palms and shake hands as men. Upon doing so, he explained that the duo were now bound in blood as family, in the name of the Verdugos MC. Everyone in the room around the two applauded, and Armando embraced Martin before handing him his cut bearing the full patch of Verdugos MC. He was now officially part of the fraternity. As a full member of the motorcycle club, Martin began uncovering another side to the club he had not yet experienced. Although never referred to as a criminal organization, many MCs including Verdugos have members which walk a thin line between lives of criminality, which often comes with the 1%er lifestyle. Under Armando’s wing, Martin was looped into a drug trafficking operation with many other MC affiliates. The operation, which crossed state lines, originated from back in the early days of the club’s formation. Over the years, the smuggling route had become increasingly dangerous as other larger clubs sought to take a piece of the action; upset by Verdugos crossing their states and not sending a cut their way. The tension never erupted into full scale war but did bring casualties along the way, which was why Armando was hoping Martin’s fresh perspective over the situation could prove valuable. Martin’s suggestion? Move away from crossing into other club’s turf, and look for the answer south of border. The MC was no stranger of the Mexican cartels operating a few hundred miles south of Los Santos. Armando had close connection to high ranking members of the Mexican Mafia from his prison stints, and those individuals introduced the MC to numerous shady individuals involved in notorious organizations such as Sinaloa cartel. Martin himself held relation to the cartel through an estranged cousin by the name of Javier Hidalgo, a man who was suspected by DEA and ATF of controlling the San Andreas-Mexico smuggling routes. Martin managed to get in contact with Javier, and offered up his services to the cartel in exchange for protection in their routes as well as steady income for the club. In exchange, Martin had to get the cartel what they most needed - firearms. It is believed the Martin was able to acquire firearms for the cartel by using an existing relationship he had with active members of the U.S. army based in Fort Zancudo. These individuals, with crooked backgrounds similar to Martin, were in charge of keeping track of and documenting all equipment which was owned by the army. Another part of their job was the destruction of weapons which were decommissioned by the military. Many of these weapons, although non-existent on paper, were stashed away illegally outside of the army. Martin would purchase these decommissioned military wares to distribute among the cartel connection and other affiliates with which the club conducted business. In 1999, due to health complications, the long reigning President of the Verdugos motorcycle club passed away. This left a power gap to be filled by a voting of the club’s patched members and officers. Although proper procedure was followed, it was obvious that the one true fit for the role was Armando “Pepe” Zayas, whom had been one of the founding fathers. Armando was nominated, and subsequently voted unanimously by the chapter as a whole. Unlike other clubs of their nature, Verdugos does not hold a vote to decide the positions of Vice President and Sergeant-At-Arms; the second and third in command respectively. These ranks are selected by the President himself, leaving the roles of Secretary, Treasurer, and Road Captain to be chosen by a voting of their peers. With the election of the club’s newest President, it was time for new individuals to step up to the plate to become leading officers of the chapter. Armando decided to select Andres “Flint” Villegas to be his second in command as Vice President, and saw no one else appropriate for the senior enforcer role than Martin Ríos himself. He was patched in as the club’s Sergeant-At-Arms just before the dawn of the new millennium. --- (To be updated.)
twenty fuckin' eight years.... Dad was a tough guy, real cowboy shit... Mom is mexican, mano; can you fuckin' fuckin' believe.. Put yourself in my shoes for a second. San Antonio/Texas, alright? Family life, life on the street. Hispanic gangs and san antonio biker gang have no peace, nor they will... What do you lool like to them? You know? Well, I know. You look like a goddamn snitch, a double sided, who knows, right. So, you end up hustling solo. Life is tough, for some people at least. Anyways I did alright for the few months, then ya'know... I made a lil name on the street which gotten me through troublling with the local gangs. Got into some fight, did some time, I got hurt, ya'know how it goes.I bought myself a ticket to los santos airport the day I'm released. Am I gonna end up in even more trouble? Who knows..