#literally to a T I got hired yesterday and found out some family shit it’s crazy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vinodiriso · 5 years

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CHARACTER SHEET --- TIMELINE.

NAME: Adrian Mihai Lupei.

PLACE OF BIRTH: Alba Iulia, Transylvania, Romania.

NATIONALITY: Romanian.

CALLSIGN: Prototip.

ALIASES: Lup-ul [formerly], Dmitry Blatov.

BIRTHDAY: 15/11 (Scorpio).

OCCUPATION: Soldier of fortune.

BASE OF OPERATION: Bucharest, Romania.

AFFILIATION: Romanian-Moldovan Fourth Anti-Omnic Regiment (Românesc și Moldovenesc Anti-Omnic A Patra Regiment) [formerly].

BACKGROUND: read more ‘cause it’s pretty long.

It’s hard as fuck to be a boy and grow up without a father. Shit, do you have any idea how goddamn disheartening it is to feel lost, hopeless, and seeing nothing when you dare looking back? Who the fuck was supposed to be my model? Who the fuck should I have been inspired from when choosing the man I had eventually to become?

But, hey, somehow I managed. I’ve become a man… and a fucking ugly one. The name’s Adrian — no, not Edrian, you fucker, it’s Adriàn — you know what? Call me Prototip. It’s gonna make it easier. Nowadays it feels more me than my actual name regardless.

I went to school for I think 8, maybe 9 years. My grades weren’t half bad, I was a smart kid, always been, but mamă alone couldn’t bring home enough money to sustain the family. It was only the two of us, sure, but when at every corner of the street you can find a fucking tin can doing whatever job better than a man in flesh and bones, who the fuck would hire a slow, sloppy, fragile human person? Soon enough, I was off my way. Already mentioned I was a smart boy, didn’t I? I learned not to shy away from anything. I am not lying when I tell ya I have literally swum in sewage, punched my way through asbestos and other cancerous shit (tsk, like today I should care!), breathed in mouthful of the toxic, radioactive wastes of old, abandoned Omnic factories to raid spare parts… surviving is surviving, dude. And surviving in an underdeveloped, poor, rural zone of Eastern Europe usually means to deal with the nastiest shit you could imagine. You want to know when was the first time I was clobbered over a job? The first time I had to shove a knife between a man’s ribs? Yeah, better.

Managed to stay in the world this way for six years, right before my beloved country, trăiască!, decided they had to do something to stop the raids of the Western Russia Omnium that had brought, in 10 years, Eastern Europe to its knees. Or rather, that we had to do something to stop the raids, because we had to enlist to the new formed Romanian-Moldovan Ally Military Force to save our houses and our families. I was… shit, 20? Yeah, somewhat around that. No future, no family, no home, no expectations… the army promised it would give me a job, warm food when I was hungry, some blankets when it was cold as fuck outside… I mean, for me, back then, it was a radiant future.

It was not only me anyway, if that face of yours want to hint at that. Do you have any idea how many fucking loners like me war in my country has produced? Finally the government had found a way to make use of us; turning us into meat to slaughter and butcher, testers for their new, shiny toys. There were others… shit, the names have become so hard to recall… Bogdan, Daniel, Eugen, Isabela… yeah, those were my friends at the boot camp.

Ha… it’s funny, at times, when I think back of it… six months of training non-stop, day and night, the food was even scarcer than what I used to eat, scrawny boys and girls sent off to die because, after all, it was not like the world was ever going to miss us.

However, I proved to be different. I don’t remember exactly what the head trainer back at the boot camp said, something like “a talent for shooting” or some shit along these lines. Apparently, my aim was naturally trained… yeah, ‘naturally’. Not like I had been aiming down the barrel of my American magnum for the previous six years. What a fucking retard.

I got signed up for something a little bit more special. Two years more off the front, Adi was about to become a sniper for the Fourth Regiment, the big names: Alexandru Averescu, Constantin Prezan, Ion Antonescu… never heard of them? Oh my God, remind me why the fuck I am still talking with you? Yeah, those were big names for us, mareșal, nothing to kid with. I was good, I mean, I don’t want to come out as big-mouthed or anything, but--- like, shit, I had proved to be worth my place. Again, it was not like I wanted to protect my nation, forget about that shit, but like… I finally had a place to feel good in, you know? Call me a romantic, but that was a good thing to have in your chest. And I was so sick of dealing only with anger and bruises.

The Regiment fought the Omnium on the Ukrainian border for 4 years. I got many a commendation for my work, started to make a name for myself little by little. It was like I was born to have a rifle in these scarred hands of mine, a gift from above I had just found out. They called me “Lup-ul”, back in the day; it means “the wolf” in Romanian, a reference to my surname, Lupei. Yeah, I know, pretty basic, but it does have its kick, no? Anyways… good times are always so fast to pass.

We were based in Lysychansk, lovely place to raise kids if you ignore the bomb dropping on your head every 3 hours either from the regular army, the anarchists or the fucking bots. Mission was going smooth, backup was waiting for us just a couple of kilometres away, but it happened: my whole team got captured. There is a reason why I mentioned the anarchists, my friend. Ever heard of Beznă? Mh, at least what Romanians call Beznă; the Polishes, Ciemność; the Ukrainians, Темрява; the Russians, темнота́… and I don’t know what else. Terrorists. People that believe that a world strangulated in chaos would be better than the mess we have now. At this point, I don’t know if they are entirely wrong.

At first, we thought we would have been sort of pieces to trade for Beznă to seal an unregistered deal with the Romanian Army… no, we were too naive to think that. I can’t and won’t tell you just what they did us, because the last ten years of my life I have tried to tear those memories away from my brain as hard as I could. If you really are eager to know, I was detained in their Siberian facility for four years before I broke free… I was the sole survivor of my team. The shit I got exposed to made me faster, stronger, smarter, more sensitive to stimuli. Paradoxically, I became a better soldier than I already was by getting captured by the enemy. I already knew a bit of Ukrainian back when I was detained so I got to catch some whispers, some gossips, but still I couldn’t understand why we got experimented and tested after, for what goal. Apparently, we were weapons for the Beznă to take over the Eastern Europe regimens. The shot didn’t miss the mark any which ways: my companions still died for ideals they did not stand for.

Back to the story, I learned that the Fourth Regiment had me and my teammates listed as deserters and we were actively sought after by the hounds of the Romanian Army. So I decided to hide in Siberia for the following year, got a new identity, lived off a nomadic style, killing animals and humans alike to eat; animals for their meat, humans for their bounties. What? Do you think I am some sort of cannibal? Oh, yeah, just because I am Romanian you think I am a vampire? Fuck off, dude.

Eventually the Romanians gave up… mostly because they lost the war. That was a hard blow for the country, but we didn’t crumble under the weight of that defeat. Romanians are tough people. We have come back from worse. As long as I was regarded, I came out of hiding, intentioned to get my name back, a new life away from conflicts, blood, war… it was impossible. Believe me, I have tried, I have tried hard, but I was no longer fit for the society. PTSD, maybe, or just I got too used to have my hands drenched in blood, whatever shit it is, I have never been able to be Adrian again. So I just embraced what I had become: Prototip AE92890, Prototip for friends.

Killer for hire, undercover agent, soldier, terrorist, I have been everything. But the job that signed me for my life was probably the only one I did for the big shots; yeah, you know who I am talking about, the heroes of the world, or rather the self-proclaimed heroes. Worked with late Commander Reyes Gabriel and Sarge Gérard Lacroix at the Lacroix Extraction Operation; intended to be back-up, I was given a more relevant position when Commander Reyes got a taste of what I was worth. I remember that day like it was yesterday, not because I was particularly attached to that job –- or at least, I wasn’t before I met him. Clarence Duncan, daughter of James Duncan, an American senator. God, I remember those bright, baby blue eyes looking up at me in fright and confusion when we got him and Madame Amelie out of the Talon labs. I was so in fucking rapture after seeing those eyes; yes, he was sickly pale, and he smelled like that chemical miasma I grew to hate when I was detained by Beznă, he was skinny, weak, frail, unable to stand on his own, but those eyes spoke to me at a level deeper than I could have ever imagined.

Even after the mission, I kept in touch with Clarence. He knew I was a mercenary, that I risked my life out there everyday, and many times he had asked me to give up that crap and join him in a normal life but… I have already told you. I was no longer fit for society. He ended up entering my world, although from an external point of view: he became a member of Overwatch council board. I was so proud of him, watching him as he fulfilled her dreams made me foolishly think that maybe if he was by my side I could have succeeded being a civilian… we tried, after Overwatch was disbanded. Rainy Washington D.C., a small house as far as possible from his dad he started to fall out with. Those were good days, dude: got a job as an omnic repair operator (what? no, never did it once in my life, but after all the strains they got into me to enhance my ‘brain capacity’ do you think I could care less?), he was getting into politics, he was doing good, and the bed was warm every night, if you know what I mean. He was my dream, dude--- he still is. A dream I fucking destroyed.

Blame it on the drink, blame it on the fact that I was growing restless without gripping a weapon, blame it on whatever you wish, but blame it on me. I sent everything to Hell. I guess I don’t deserve to have nice things after all, uh? I can’t keep them. He kicked my ass back to where it belonged: the dark alleys, the rot-smelling corners of the metropolis, the cold world where being Adrian would only mean being weak, the world where I can be what I need to be: Prototip.

#this is only a very small draft of him #gotta work infinitely more #but i am in love with the concept so far #adrian mihai prototip lupei.#save #long post #Overwatch content

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