The following little character profile was from a short contest on one of my Role Play game sites. We were to have our characters talk about what made them who they are today…their childhood and the like. This first one is Genesis, a werewolf. We were allowed to tell their story in any format, from journal to interview with another personal, to video type diaries. I chose journal format for Genesis.
And away we go!
Genesis: All American Girl
Journal Entry 2/2017
2017 already. Hard to believe how time seems to fly in happy times, and drag in the dreadful. This is a brand new journal, by the way. I haven’t kept a journal in a few years now. Growing up I kept one religiously.
I was reading through some of them earlier, that’s what made me decide to pick it back up again. I don’t want memories to be lost, even the uglier side of life.
When looking through my really old journals, I found one that brought back all kinds of depressing memories. Most entries were about my mother. She was a slut. Okay, well, more like a wh0re, because those guys she brought home paid her in some fashion or another. I usually just locked my door and shoved pillows over my head. I have to add that I added locks to my bedroom doors in all the scummy trailers we rented when we moved here, or were kicked out of there. Those men my mom brought home…they leered at me. Perverts. All of them.
I kept myself distracted, and away from home, as much as I could. I ran track in secondary school and high school. I was honor roll, which meant I stayed in the library a lot, studying.
Sometimes when I would come home, my mother would be waiting. She’d call me names, accuse me of things, tell me how she should have aborted me when she had the chance. I should point out here, that the reason she DIDN’T abort me, is that my father was some kind of royalty in the Lycan community. My mother is pure Lycan as well. She must have figured giving this man a full blood heir, even though I’m a girl, well, she must have thought he would support her, or me. Instead, he told her to kill me, that I was a bastard pup, and never contact him again.
All American family, right?
I isolated myself a lot growing up. We moved so often, I never felt any point in making friends. I stuck to my studies. In my senior year of high school a Marine Corp recruiter contacted me. I signed right up. The day after graduation, with honors btw, I was out of there. I left my mom a couple hundred dollars that I’d saved up with a note that I was leaving, and never look for me. I was as dead to her as she was to me.
I thrived in the Marine Corp. Maybe I had an unfair advantage, being a Lycan and all, but still. I loved it. And they had found their perfect marksman. Problem was, females couldn’t really be on over-watch. I served two tours in Afghanistan, and then came back to the states. I served on the Marksmanship Team and got all kinds of awards.
By the time I made E-5 serving as an MP, people were taking notice that I wasn’t really aging. It was odd to me, because my mother looked way older than she was. I guess I should just attribute that to the lifestyle of booze and drugs she led, whereas I was all about discipline, wellness, taking care of myself.
I had a group of good friends when I was in the military. I still keep in touch with some. Some even know my secret (that I’m not…human). A group of us will meet up somewhere and have a few drinks, remember the days and nights in the desert, the thrill of live fire and explosions. However, not so many of us remember those as ‘good times’. A lot of people come back broken from war zones.
Again, I thrived in it.
Anyway, after I left the military, I traveled around. I guess I’m kind of a penny pincher, because I have plenty of money. I was bored though. I tried to think of what I could do as a career. That’s when, by chance, someone from the old military days, asked me if I could take someone out. As in, kill them. They offered me money (okay, A LOT of money), said they didn’t care how I did it, just get it done by a certain day and time and the money would be wired to me.
My first contract kill.
I took the target out from 5 buildings away. He was sitting at his desk having and drink, I pulled my little trigger and poof…red mist. The guy wobbled in his chair a little before falling face first into the desk. From my angle, well, he had no back of the head left. It gave me the warm fuzzies.
So…I started to take more clients like this. I set up overseas accounts for payments and got my name dropped here and there in all the right circles. Mercenaries get a bad wrap, but we do take out some pretty nasty people. And its not all just getting a name and killing people. Sometimes you have to hunt information, do a little tracking, grease the palms of other people. I had to get tech savvy in a hurry and start knowing and getting in good with all the right people.
I started to realize one night that while I was using my enhanced senses to pinpoint targets and the like, I wasn’t really working on those aspects of myself. The wolf in me needed more.
I was floundering in mediocrity. I couldn’t have that. The wolf must be satisfied.
I joined a crew at the urging of a friend and, well, at first things were fine and dandy, but they went downhill fast. Leadership and I didn’t agree, and me being me, blatantly said what was on my mind. I ended up leaving the crew.
I needed a pack, so to speak, to help me grow. So I didn’t waste any time in finding exactly what I needed. Azhi. Home. I have never regretted joining this crew.
I have friends, we talk. The loveliest part of it all, is I can still indulge in the hunt and make money, money, money. Yes, I’m a greedy cow.
Now, I love my home with all my heart. Only one bad occurrence ever happened here, and thats when I tried to kid myself into thinking I could have a love life. I met someone, he joined the crew and we got married. Probably the shortest marriage of all time. No…I’ve actually seen shorter.
One day, out of the blue, he packed all my stuff from our boat and placed it on the dock and handed me divorce papers. I was shocked to say the least. I didn’t know how to react. Was he expecting a big display of emotion? He didn’t get it. That’s not my style. I picked up my stuff, tucked the papers into my back pocket and walked away. He left. End of story. He’s still in the Azhi roster, but he’s been gone for years now.
I keep my heart closely guarded now. I have a crush on someone, but, well, that’s a pipe-dream I think.
The crew is growing and expanding and its exciting. Mind you, we all stick to ourselves, but, I bet at any given moment if I called someone for help, they would be there in a heartbeat, and I would do the same in return.
I can live in isolation, and I can integrate into a team just fine. I love both. It truly is the best of both worlds. It sates my desire for privacy, which I hold high, and it also gives me people to chill with, help, laugh with…its nice.
I’m a little rough around the edges. I’ve always been a tom-boy. I sometimes speak before thinking, or, rather, speak very bluntly. But hey, I give honesty, that’s got to count for something, right?
So, I’ve come a long way from those days of keeping my face planted in a book to avoid people, to having a home and friends. I’ve achieved a lot, too. Not so much in social skills, I still lack those, but my training is picking up again, I feel better about myself, and I know I can call people up from time to time for sh!ts and giggles.
Life is good.
Hope you enjoyed that! I will be posting up Addisons little bit in a day or two.
And for the record, Addisons won 2nd place and Genesis won 3rd. ^.~