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                                        █ █ B A S I C S

                                              █ NAME ▬ Rumi Blackwell.
                                              █ AGE ▬ 25.
                                              █ NICKNAME ▬ Black.
                                              █ GENDER ▬ Male.
                                              █ RACE ▬ Lycan.
                                              █ ORIENTATION ▬ Homosexual.
                                              █ OCCUPATION ▬ Human Trafficker (Crownless)
                                              █ PARTNER ▬ Single.
                                              █ SLAVE ▬ None.

                                        █ █ A P P E A R A N C E

                                              █ HAIR ▬ Black.
                                              █ EYES ▬ Black.
                                              █ BUILD ▬ Lean, yet muscular.
                                              █ TATTOOS ▬ One tribal tattoo running across his shoulders.
                                              █ SCARS ▬ One large scar that runs from his abdomen to his thigh, and numerous small scars in various locations on his body.
                                              █ BIRTHMARKS ▬ None.

                                        █ █ P E R S O N A L I T Y
                                        █ █ H I S T O R Y

                                              █ BACKGROUND
                                              Rumi was raised in the slums of Saxon by his mother. She loved him fiercely, but bettering their living situation was just something she was never able to achieve. His father, Davor Blackwell, left them when he was about a year old. According to his mother, he was cruel and aggressive, and she felt they were better off without him. He couldn't say he agreed. He saw his father as a second source of income. Not to mention, his mother had quite a temper herself.

                                              You could definitely call the Blackwell child a product of his environment. He's always been a problem child. Even before he could go out and cause a ruckus by himself, he was difficult to control. He threw temper tantrums, cried, screamed, hit his mother, and made her life as difficult as possible. Despite her own short fuse, she never hit her son or inflicted any cruel punishments on him, and for that he can say he's eternally grateful, but he definitely thinks he deserved it.

                                              His childhood was tough. Some nights they went hungry or had at least a bowl of rice. In school, Rumi took advantage of the free lunches, but that couldn't have been enough for him. Eventually, he started bullying the other kids for their packed lunches. It went from necessity, to habit. Even when he didn't want or need it, he used the other kids as an aggressive outlet. And sometimes it wasn't even just a matter of lunches. It was a matter of wanting Johnny's new pack of pens or Kristen's trapper keeper. Tyler's homework. Sometimes it was because some kid looked at him funny. His only friends palled around with him so they wouldn't become a target. Detention and suspension became regular for him. His mother was exasperated, but at this point, she had given up, thinking that was just the way her kid was and that there was no changing him. She signed his slips without batting an eyelash anymore.

                                              At 14 she encouraged him to start working to help her with bills. He couldn't say he was happy to get a job, but it was the money that kept him from refusing. His first job was at the corner store. It was under the table since he technically wasn't old enough to work there, making $6 and hour. To him, that was the most money he ever had to himself. And it was tax free! During the day, the customers were regulars, moving about their regular lives. Coffee, pack of beer, and some cigarettes to keep them moving through the week. By night, though, that was when the more interesting patrons stopped by. The parking lot could have been considered a physical manifestation of the black market. Some nights it'd be drugs, others, guns, organs, people. Depended on whether it was a car or a van that pulled up.

                                              Rumi was intrigued, but cautious. He'd cut the guys some deals on their cigarettes, offer them a free coffee which earned him affectionate smacks on the head and sometimes a fist bump. One night, after he clocked out and headed across the parking lot, he passed by a black car with windows so tinted they practically matched the glossy paint.

                                              "Hey, kid, you wanna make a few extra bucks tonight?"

                                              That was the beginning. They handed him a brown paper bag to run to an apartment a couple blocks over so they could throw in the towel early that night. It was simple. Easy. And they gave him fifty bucks. It wasn't too long before he'd go out to the parking lot and knocked on windows asking to run. Soon enough, he quit at the corner store and spent his time stalking the parking lot. The guys knew him, trusted him. He was just a kid looking for work, but he was fast and he got the job done. It gave them more time to go to the bar, and they didn't have to see some of their more problem customers.

                                              A year of that, and he started attracting bigger jobs. It wasn't just a small paper bag anymore. He got packaged of narcotics to run. Sometimes it was a few guns stuffed in a duffle bag. Or a briefcase filled with wads of cash. And it wasn't for $50 anymore. Now he'd be making $150-$200 per job. On a good night he'd make 4-5 runs. Think about it. $600 a night. That was more than his mother ever made working grocery stores and bartending. The hell did he need school for?

                                              He was 16 when he dropped out and started doing a few runs during the day as well as at night. His mother had no idea what he was doing. Didn't know how much money he was making. As far as she knew, he grabbed some factory job and didn't want to bother with school anymore. Of course she was disappointed, but she knew her boy wasn't cut out for college. It was something she had already accepted once suspension became a regular occurrence.

                                              Running to him was easy. He had the strength and the stamina for it. And as he grew, he filled out. His muscles developed and he grew tall. He was an intimidating guy. And he used that to his advantage. And eventually it garnered attention. He wasn't only running, he was accompanying guys on intimidation jobs. Roughing dudes up for owing men more powerful than them money or drugs. That was easy too. He was capable and he knew it.

                                              Quick. Accurate. Discreet. Smart. He built a nice reputation and a cushioned bank account. He got his own apartment when he turned 18. When he wasn't running, he was partying. Time spent well, to him. Just a degenerate trying to enjoy his short lot in life.

                                              He was recruited into Crownless when he was 20 by a friend. That friend already had a place in Human Trafficking.

                                              "Treat 'em like any other merchandise you've run before. Your pockets gonna be lined with twice the cash."

                                              It was a challenge to be sure. Running a person wasn't anything like running drugs. He was good, but there was definitely a learning curve. He needed to learn how to balance keeping the quiet, "obedient," and alive. In a couple years, he found his groove. He had quick delivery rate with living merch.

                                              Rolling with Crownless for about 5 years, he only ever has room for improvement. He's good, but isn't quite satisfied. He doesn't think he start growing content until he starts growing in rank. All in good time.


                                              █ ABILITIES
                                              ▬ SHAPESHIFTING
                                              As a Lycan, Rumi can either partially or fully transform to his canine form at will. He's mastered this over years of practice on his own time.

                                              ▬ HEIGHTENED SENSES
                                              Number one is his heightened sense of smell. Honestly, it's a pain in the a** sometimes, but it's proved to be extremely advantageous in Human Trafficking. His other senses are also superior than that of regular humans, but not quite on par with his nose. He can see, hear, taste, and feel just a bit better than your average joe.

                                              ▬ SUPERIOR STRENGTH
                                              His muscles aren't just for show. He's not the strongest guy on the block compared to those of other races, but he's certainly not weak. His strength is probably what he exploits the most. He can intimidate and hurt. Instill fear with his physical power.

                                              █ EXTRA
                                              [To be updated as his story develops]
                                              When not working, he enjoys smoking, drinking, losing his mind to various narcotics, picking fights, and enjoying the occasional one night stand.

                                              -FC is Nicolas Brown from GANGSTA
                                              -Is open to buying his own slave someday.
                                              -He's never been in a relationship before.