Post by Pantaleone Tore on Jul 15, 2009 1:32:24 GMT -5
Pantaleone Romano Tore
Alias: Panta
Age: Twenty-One
Gender: Male
Family: Liberatore
Mafia Rank:
Consigliere
the counselor in a crime Family; advises boss and handles disputes within the ranks.
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Psychological overview:
Analytical. The test subject and the studier. The pill-popping boy with a desire to study the human mind to its deepest and darkest corners who isn't afraid to use his own self as the victim of his research. Years of being locked away, and only now he comes to meet with many Mafia members of all sorts and a larger world. How should one react? Protective? Should he shy away from the unfamiliar interaction? Perhaps. This boy is unpredictable. He defies his own boundaries, his own logic. He passes lines specifically set up to protect himself simply to see how he would react to the decision, as well as to see the other's reaction. There is little to explain considering he follows no specific order. It cannot be said that there is nothing he won't do, and it cannot be said that he would do anything. There is no order in Pandemonium.
However, beyond this he is a rather devious character. Intelligent. Cunning. He is very perceptive, of course, being a psychologist and he uses his knowledge to his own advantage. Though he tends to veer from being too manipulative, being the Consigliere is enough to give him more reign than is likely neccessary. He will use his rank to his own advantage, though somehow still remains loyal to his current family.
He will weed out members that may be unloyal or essentially useless. He will burn any unneccessary members. His goal is to keep the family pure, one of the many things he was raised to know and believe. He is dangerous to any threat, be it inside or outside the family. But don't keep a low head: he will seek you out all the more so.
Usual appearance:
Elegance. Manners. This boy was raised with everything a leader should have, but with little physical training. He is frail, his thin arms long against his body though his facial features are strong and well-set. His hair is black and some strands reach his shoulders. His lips, a pale pink against his own skin which has only twice seen sun until today, are thin and match the rest of himself. He stands at nearly 6'3", which is tall, but his weight betrays him at 157lbs. with little muscle or fat to add any sort of leverage, not that he would ever fight. His amber eyes, almost red eyes are a sight to see, as well, rimmed in a darker color.
As for clothing, you may as well call him a butler. His dress is fancy and proper, though the attire appears much like a butler's would in a mansion. Perfect and clean, but with an obvious difference from the master of the house. This says something about his past, as well, and where he has been all his life.
Personal Information
Birthplace: Venice, Italy
Current residence: Not Available
Ethnic background: Italian
Past incidents:
Just in case was what he was. Just in case the eldest son died. Then he would become a person. He would have a name and a life. His previous life would be erased from the minds of the people and he would be their leader. This boy who did not mind being locked away, who played with his deceased elder sister's dolls and studied their behavior as if living beings. He studied his own self, writing down his thoughts and noting them in a different color. I feel sad today. It really does get lonely. He would write. This emotion is only natural. The loss of his sister happened a year ago and he now rarely sees another human face. Loneliness is to be expected. He would note every feeling, every thought, explain every behavior. He was fascinated by the human mind, and used his own self as the test subject. But... This was hardly interesting. This was... Boring.
Only natural. The subject does not hide things from himself.
"Wake up. Wake up."
An insistant noise. A horrid rapping. His name, was it? That was what it was. Pantaleone. Pantaleone Romano Tore. That is who he is. Who he was born as, but never allowed to grow up to be.
More noise. It was so loud. He tossed and turned in his bed. Screaming. Was he finally losing himself? He rolled out of bed, the exhaustion of too many pills weighing down on his body like unbearable weights. He reached out for his desk several times before finally falling to the floor, knocking over his chair in the process.
Sleep. He needed sleep. He could feel his body shutting down on itself. Darkness closing in. Noise fading. It became but a soft lullaby to which he fell asleep to once again. A drumming. Soft. Like the beat of rain. It was like the beat of rain against the ceiling. The window-less walls all around. It was...
Drip.
Amber eyes flutter open. The ceiling looks black. Unusual. Was it simply dark? But it smelled. It smelled of burning wood, like a fireplace, but something more. The stink of burning plastic and the too-warm atmosphere. He reached up to grab onto nothing. His light was out. That was why, but what was the burnt smell? What was the screaming? People calling... No, not his name. his brother's name. What was his name? Ah, was this a result of the pills? Slight memory loss? It would eventually come back, yes? Unless this was his own doing, slipping the names of those closest into the darkest depths that the overdose had brought him into, but would he go back to retrieve them? Perhaps like bodies in the water they would eventually surface. Like a murder gone wrong, they would eventually come bubbling back up like a nightmare. A bad dream. That was all it was.
Crunch. Crunch.
His bare feet hurt. Splintered wood and shattered glass tore into his feet as he picked his way through the rubble. The rubble. The rubble. It was... Everything was gone.
Call him. A number stuck into his mind. It hung off his tongue like a bad taste. Vomit. Colorful vomit, but it reeked all the same. A memory better left dead.
"Call this number if anything should happen to the family."
Just in case, right?
He dialed the number. Eyes watched the boy clinging to the payphone, his face pressed into the numbers. His black hair fell over his face, covering it. His bare feet had long since ceased its red trail, but they still pained him.
"Hello?" Said the voice at the other end.
The boy gave a week, smoke-filled-lung chuckle before saying, "I was informed I should call if anything should ever happen to my family. My family's name is Tor--"
"Please, sir, do not give me your name. I know very well who you are." The voice was firm and authoritive. The boy inwardly grimaced, but his expression held firm and blank. His stomach heaved as the man continued to speak. "I know what has happened. I will have someone arrive shortly to pick you up from that place. Please wait there. They will make sure you are safely transported here. Now, choose your name."
"Choose... My name?" The boy's lips curled in a snarl. Choose his name? When he finally could use his own name, they wanted him to make up a new one? "Fine, then. My name is Pandemonium." His words hissed through his teeth.
A chuckle from the other end. "Alright, Pandemonium. I will see you soon."
These people. Who were they? An Italian accent. If they knew what had happened and they knew of him, could they possibly have known of his family?
Yes, the Tore familia. His father had been the Capo of their family, leading them through many triumphs. Unfortunately, however, the family was no longer. With no leader and no known backup there is no reason for them to stay together. Disbanded, the family no longer holds any power.
However, it would seem Liberatore has taken advantage of this. Knowing of the shadow child, they took care to make contact with him as quickly as possibly, scooping him up into their family. Being of pure lines much like themselves, Pandemonium would make the perfect accessory to their family.
Panda eventually made contact with them and became the Consigliere, or the Counselor for the family. A very bright boy, but his future may be more dim than we think.
Or, perhaps, could it be brighter?
Medical problems:
[x] Possible drug addict [takes sleeping pills often]
[size=1][b]Pantaleone Romano Tore[/b]--[b]Sebastion Michaelis[/b]--[b]Kuroshitsuji[/b][/size]And in your free time?
OOC Name: The NC
Age: Eighteen
# of years role playing: Seven Years
Any extra notes: None?
