Post by COLE "ARES" HEROD on Feb 23, 2013 16:26:16 GMT -5
Cole ”Ares” Herod
" Nothing more dangerous than a guy who knows he's already dead."
OOC: Annie, I have been RPing on and off for almost eight years, and I found this site on Caution when looking for a new RP site.
Canon: Ares, God of War[color=e7a84f
]Face-claim:[/color]Kenny Johnson
Social Status: Cole was Middle Class by Appearance. He was the President of an Outlaw biker gang, and while he had quite a bit of money off the books, he kept his appearance to be that he was nothing more than a working class man who was also a Harley enthusiast.
Occupation: Cole was the President of the Styx N’ Stone Motorcycle Club. He owned a bar in Flatbush called Tartarus Tavern and a garage just a couple of blocks away which was also the club house for the MC. As the President of an Outlaw MC, their main business was running stolen merchandise. His garage doubled as a chop shop, and Cole made connections with some very influential people and had done many runs of transporting and sometimes even obtaining stolen or black market merchandise for them. That could be anything from rare paintings, exotic animals, illegal substances, or even arranging someone to steal from someone else. They have enough money to pay off the cops and even some reporters so they could keep their nose out of their business. He even arranged some accountants to keep their taxes and accounts looking clean and out of the radar of any federal organizations.
Age:42
Appearance: Cole was a seasoned War Veteran and a former Special Forces member, and he certainly looked it. His posture was stiff and straight, always standing to his full height of 6’3. His massive muscled body was stained with tattoos that map out a history of his life, his chest decorated with tattoos that tell the story of his time serving in Afghanistan for almost ten years. His back was dedicated to his MC. The Styx N’ Stones Official MC colors covers his back, the image of the Grimm Reaper on a wooden boat, representing crossing the River Styx. The corded muscles on his biceps have the marks of a One Percenter and a special tattoo dedicated to his mother and another dedicated to Dotty.
In addition to his ink, scars riddled his body, mapping as detailed of a history as his tattoos. Several bullets wounds riddled his body from his time in the Special Forces, and his face is lined with wrinkles that give him a weathered, seasoned look. Being in his forties, his body was quite a sight to behold. He retained his massive muscled physique from his youth, as working in a garage and participating in underground fights were enough to keep up his strength.
Cole’s light blue eyes and short baby blonde hair contrast greatly to the dangerous and almost malicious expression that most people encounter. One look at his face was enough to let others know that he meant business. He rarely smiled, and if he did it, it usually wasn’t a good sign. His Ol’ Lady was able to coax a slightly less serious expression every once in awhile, but just her.
Overall Personality: Cole earned the nickname “Ares” in the biker world for good reason. He was a born One Percenter, calmed through youth but restless by nature. There are few consistencies in his life and he goes above and beyond to take risks no one else would. When Cole wanted something, he didn’t stop until he had it. He had a dangerous violent streak and a very dangerous temper. Cole had been hotheaded since he was a kid, but after almost ten years serving in the U.S. Special forces, a division that was trained to kill in perfect Art Form, his violent temper was honed in a completely different way. He knew how to do the dirty work, and how to control his temper and steer it toward the right purposes. Though Cole rarely spoke about his days in the military, his time there had a profound effect on him that changed his life.
Cole was vengeful and didn’t let any offence to him or his club go unpunished. Do not mistaken his vengefulness as hot headedness, oh no, that period was gone after his first year in the service. Cole was smart; he knew when to keep his cool and when to act, and most of all he knew how to act when meeting certain people. After twenty years of being the President of a rapidly growing Outlaw MC and running his businesses, both legal and illegal, he was a hell of a business man. He would have to be in order to navigate the dirty tough waters of dealing with the rich and powerful and the tough street brawlers at the same time.
Cole always said that he was a Patriot first, and an Outlaw Businessman second. He started the businesses to support and expand the MC, living a dangerous life that involved negotiating with other drug kingpins and Mob families to solidify their place without stepping on any toes. He was a ruthless leader who ran his club like a well-oiled machine, but his love for his brothers in arms runs deep. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for his club brothers and his Ol’ Lady. They were his family, and family came before everything.
Aside from business, Cole had few interests that really gave him a thrill. First was the love of a fight. He loved the weight of a gun in his hands; he knew the weapons so well that it was practically in his blood. The only thing that could top his guns was the love of a bare knuckle, bloody beat down in the ring. Something about the feel of his bare knuckles colliding with the skin covered bones of another person, feeling them crack or break from the force just put him in great mood. He had a love of fighting that went beyond greed and adrenaline rush, but more of loving the art of a good fight. The thrill of hitting with the right force, the power surge of knowing that he had the ability to kill someone with his bare hands brought him an elation that could only be compared to the feeling drug addicts get from a powerful hit.
Other than his love for the MC, there was his love for women. For the last three years or so, that specific love had been for his Ol’ Lady. Dotty was a handful, but she was more than enough to keep him interested and satisfied, and that was just fine for him. They were opposites, but complimented each other better than anyone. He was harsh and predatory, and she was beautiful and delicate. She was his, and may the gods helped the son of a bitch that tried to take her away from him.
In short, Cole was born wild, and born to ride. He was an Outlaw; he was born that way and will eventually die that way.
Likes, dislikes: Cole likes liquor, women, fighting, business, and money. He dislike law enforcement, hippies, and foolishness.
Goals, fears:Cole’s only goals are to take care of his club, expand his business, and live out his life with constant thrills. He’s not afraid of much, but dreads having everything he worked for be destroyed and getting to his old age with nothing to show for it.
Overall History:Cole grew up in Pennsylvania, and was born right into the Outlaw lifestyle. His father was the former President of the Styx N’ Stones Outlaw MC, back in the days where they were only limited to Pennsylvania and had only a few charters. His father was also a Veteran, having fought in Vietnam in the early 60s. Despite Cole having followed so much in his father’s footsteps, his relationship with his father was strenuous and often violent. His father would often beat his mother, sleeping around with other women and showing little regard for family. His father died two years after Cole came back from the Special Forces, giving him the chance to step up to President of the MC. Cole vowed that he would make a name for the MC, and he wouldn’t let any more of them live a life where they had nothing but rap sheets and jail time to show for it.
For the next ten years, Cole strengthened the club so much that they expanded, allowing them to move the Mother Chapter to a bigger location in Brooklyn, NY after only seven years. They started out as opening a bunch of chop shops and moving around stolen car parts. They paid off the cops and made it a vow to keep their towns protected and cared for, earning them the respect and backing of the entire town. Cole set it up that each charter would do community service for the town, raised money for schools, and make the towns so safe that folks would never have to worry about their kids playing outside or even locking their doors. Through the town’s love of the MC, they started building connections with local politicians and business men that eventually led the club to their black market running business.
The MC was fortunate enough to have some seasoned and shrew business men within their ranks, led of course by Cole himself. They eventually became sophisticated enough to hire lawyers and accountants to stay off the radar of any federal agents, and they had enough people paid off in the police department to keep their noses clean.
Things weren’t always as smooth as they always were though. Occasional busts and jail time came with the territory, including for Cole, who spent several months in prison for assault more than once, but they learned from their mistakes.
For years, Cole was living the life. He was the President of a rapidly expanding MC, he made a good living, had a family, and most of all had any woman he wanted with a snap of his fingers. He had no plans to settle down until he met Dotty. He didn’t give a shit if she was the wife of a potential business partner, or if she came from a powerful family or even that she was half his age. Only thing that mattered to him was that she caught his interest. Cole knew right away that he found a kindred spirit, a woman who was so bored in her position in life and was meant for so much more. She had that same restlessness that he knew oh so well, and damn it all if he didn’t want that for himself. For the first time ever, Cole worked to get a woman, and it wasn’t as hard as it could have been. He used his lifestyle and status to seduce her, and it wasn’t long until he practically stole her away and had one of his brothers personally serve her husband the divorce papers. She became as much apart of his life as his MC, and that suited him just fine.
Most Influential Event: Cole enlisted in the marines when he was only eighteen, and it changed him completely. He was as much a One Percenter in the military as he was at home. He was part of that group that hated all the military required bullshit, like shaving, and burying their cigarette butts and especially being made to act like a complete moron because they did something completely against military regulations, like eating before you were told that you were hungry.
His nonconformity was offset by his willingness to do the tough work, the dangerous and dirty work, and he loved it. He fought hard for his country, and everything they taught him was so ingrained in his psyche that it was practically apart of his genetic code. He was never the same after all the violent missions he carried out in Afghanistan, and it shaped him to be the man he was today.
Sample Writing:
The tension in the room was so thick that the air practically crackled. No one moved a muscle and Cole felt everyone’s eyes on him, waiting to take their cue from their Club President. He puffed on his Cuban, eying the man across the table with no emotion. “Am I to understand that you don’t plan on paying my boys for their business?” His cold eyes took in the sight of the pompous, corrupt, judge who tried his best to seem unfazed by the group of outlaws that took up every corner of Tartarus Tavern. His boys were tense and ready for action, and Cole “Ares” Herod regarded his opponent with a scrutinizing stare, watching him try to explain as to why the “extra” service the MC did for him didn’t warrant payment because the judge never specifically asked for it.
Cole flicked the ash from his cigar, the idea of being cheated from hard earned cash making a familiar blazing rush form in his stomach. Yet he remained calm, keeping his voice forceful and direct. “I will say this once and only once good Judge, I got rid of the man you wanted and brought you the items you needed from his home. We did what we had to do to keep from getting on anyone’s radar, and you’re gonna pay us for that. You ain’t a judge in here bub, you’re a worm. You got till noon tomorrow to get me the money, or you’re in for a very bad life. Ya dig?” Cole didn’t wait for a response, just nodded at his Sergeant in Arms. “We’re done here, show the ‘good’ judge out.” Several of the men roughly grabbed the judge’s arm and practically threw him out the doors of the tavern into the cold night air.
He and his boys knew what would happen if the judge didn’t pay, and he was amused at their exclamations of anger. “The judge always pays. He’s too much of a pussy not to.” It was enough to satisfy his boys, and the tavern came right back to life, with the jukebox blasting and a pool game starting. Cole’s eyes landed on his Ol’ Lady, standing behind the bar, keeping order with the sweetbutts that worked there. “C’mere dollface. And bring me some Dirty Bird while you’re at it.”
Cole flicked the ash from his cigar, the idea of being cheated from hard earned cash making a familiar blazing rush form in his stomach. Yet he remained calm, keeping his voice forceful and direct. “I will say this once and only once good Judge, I got rid of the man you wanted and brought you the items you needed from his home. We did what we had to do to keep from getting on anyone’s radar, and you’re gonna pay us for that. You ain’t a judge in here bub, you’re a worm. You got till noon tomorrow to get me the money, or you’re in for a very bad life. Ya dig?” Cole didn’t wait for a response, just nodded at his Sergeant in Arms. “We’re done here, show the ‘good’ judge out.” Several of the men roughly grabbed the judge’s arm and practically threw him out the doors of the tavern into the cold night air.
He and his boys knew what would happen if the judge didn’t pay, and he was amused at their exclamations of anger. “The judge always pays. He’s too much of a pussy not to.” It was enough to satisfy his boys, and the tavern came right back to life, with the jukebox blasting and a pool game starting. Cole’s eyes landed on his Ol’ Lady, standing behind the bar, keeping order with the sweetbutts that worked there. “C’mere dollface. And bring me some Dirty Bird while you’re at it.”
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