Name : Van - John(Alias)
D.O.B : December 15
Age : 22
Gender : Male
Height : 5'11
Occupation : Mechanic at Central Station
Zone : Central
Level 10 Update: Zero form change. Horns have grown a little, weapon update. Normal form clothes are what he would wear on a day off. During work days he still wears the jumpsuit uniform.
Demonic Weapon :
[ Parasitic ] Staff
Staff can extend or shrink on command. Goes from a small 12" baton to a 10' pole at full length. High density and weighted on one end. Overall weight of weapon is slightly heavier than his previous one.
- He will almost always choose the logical explanation, trusting that logic can solve anything.
- Confident in his abilities to fix things, works well with his hands, and can come off as somewhat arrogant at times.
- He is careful and picky about the people he creates bonds with. He also doesn't smile often, except when he's made/fixed something he's particularly proud of.
- Can be considered somewhat a pacifist. He would rather try and talk his way out of altercations. (trying to make up for the mistake that changed his life). However, if he really has no choice he will try to end it as quickly as possible.
- Considers himself a selfish person but his conscience is more vocal than he would like to admit.
Van was born in Zone 2 to working class parents, his father a mechanic in a small European auto shop in China Town, and his mother a seamstress in a sweat shop. Van's life was extraordinarily ordinary; just how he liked it. His parents worked hard to make ends meet each month but they did it happily, relishing in their love for each other and their son.
As Van neared the end of his high school education, a small school which he attended with the other neighborhood children, he took up a part time job after school at his father's auto shop. Van happily worked alongside his father and began to learn the tools of the trade, excelling in mechanical engineering and transmission rebuilding. Van's father almost glowed with pride during these days as he watched his son's skills grow exponentially in a short period of time. Coming to trust his son with more important tasks, Van's father decided to see if Van could handle the business aspect of the shop and sent Van to a nearby junkyard. His job - to haggle for spare parts and get the best price possible. Van took the challenge with a confidence that can only be born from being loved, even adored, all his life.
On the way back from the junkyard, Van reviewed his findings. The greasy bald pork chop that runs the junkyard was quite the character, and a tough negotiator, but still Van was happy with his haul. He had gotten a set of Ferrari rotors for close to nothing, the grease ball owner didn't even seem to know what he had himself. Not to mention several other spare parts that Van was sure his father would be very pleased with. As Van drew closer to the auto body his musings were cut short by raised voices and more chatter than was usual at this time in the day. Van quickened his pace, curious about what was causing all the excitement. Upon rounding the corner into the plaza where the shop was located, Van noticed that there were fire trucks, police cars, crowds of people, and a paramedic vehicle - sitting very ominously with its stark white paint and its red paramedic symbol almost glowing with foreboding. He rushed forward and elbowed his way through the curious onlookers. Just as Van reached a break in the front of the crowd he took in a body on a gurney behind a line of yellow tape, two men standing nearby and chatting to each other.
"No,most likely accidental," said one man in his paramedic uniform.
"Horrible way to go, has his family been notified?" asked the other man who was holding a clipboard.
"Someone said his son should be returning shortly. The son's name is Van, better try to contact him before he gets here, he doesn't need to see this," replied the paramedic.
Funeral preparations. Wake. Viewing. The funeral itself. It was all a blur to Van. He went through the motions, not really paying attention to his surroundings, each day a struggle just to get through. After several months, Van began to notice that there was a change in his mother. Unsure of when it had started, his mother seemed to speak to him with contempt. She avoided Van's eyes when she could, and never stayed in the same room with him for more than several minutes at a time. Slowly, Van's mother's appearance started to suffer and then her health. She was gradually wasting away, possibly having lost her will to live.
Van awoke in a cold sweat late one night to find his mother pinning him down, a gun clenched between shaking bony fingers. "why?.." She whispered, "why him.." Van was at a loss for what to say or do. He reached out cautiously with a hand toward his mother's face. She grabbed his wrist and held it in a death grip, her knuckles white against the darkness. She shook him and asked the same question again, louder. Van opened and closed his mouth, his mind reeling. Was she going to kill him? Was this it, the end? Suddenly, Van's mother took the gun and shoved it into Van's hand, wrapped her own hand around his and brought the gun to point at her own head. "please.." her voice shook with emotion. Shocked, Van shook his head and tried to pull his hand out of her clutch, but she was determined and held him there. They sat like that, staring at each other for what felt like an eternity. A realization that this was the first time she had looked at him properly since his Father's death floated to the forefront of Van's mind. Then, something changed. Maybe she had seen something in Van's eyes, or something else, Van's mother began to chant, "kill me, Kill Me, KILL ME!" Each subsequent cry louder and more heartbreaking than the last. "You owe me this! Do it so I can be with him, I can't stand looking at you everyday knowing you're here and he's not. DO IT KILL ME!" She continued her chant, her vicelike grip around his fingers tightening almost unbearably. Van squeezed his eyes shut and tried to shut her out but it was no use, her cries cut straight through him. He drew in a shuddering breath and pulled the trigger. Unable to come to terms with that he had done, he shoved his mothers now lifeless body off of him and ran. He took nothing, and wanted nothing. He just ran.
The news reported his mother's death as a suicide, probably from grief over losing her husband but Van was wanted for questioning regarding her demise. Van is now living in Central, under the alias John. A kind old man agreed to give him a job at Central Station as a mechanic, even though he has no personal documentation.
Likes & Dislikes :
+ Working with his hands
+ a good debate
+ Strategy games (such as chess, but has no one to play with)
+ The smell of gasoline
- getting into fights
- lives in a small one room apartment under Central Station that was previously the living quarters for the on-site technician who had not used the room in over 10 years.
- speaks a little Chinese, learned from the days working in his father's shop.
- Has a high learning curve, usually needs to be shown something only once before he gets it.
- Gets tired extremely quickly doing any type of strenuous activity such as; heavy lifting.