[attr="class","ROCKET3"]

Warning: Some Violence & Self-Abuse[break][break]

FUCK THE WORLD

[break]
Celestic town preserved the old ways of life. In the Killoran family, that meant doing everything according to old traditions.[break][break]
Respect your elders meant absolutely no talking back, and complete obedience and submission. Attaining anything less than a high grade meant a beating and being locked within one's room. Bad behavior was punished with more beatings, missed meals, more lock-ups.[break][break]
Seth hated it with all his heart. Each and every time he got a C or was fed-up with his parents' strictness, he would try to escape. He'd jump off the roof, tumbling in a somersault and run just to try to escape. Another time, he escaped by picking the lock on his room. It got to the point where his parents actually barred the windows and added locks that simply couldn't be picked with a bobby pin or a paper clip.[break][break]
Seth adapted. He'd spend as much time at school as possible which wouldn't warrant a beating, and he'd learn exactly how he could pick a digital lock from inside a locked room. He'd figure out ways to remove the bars and replace them without making it seem as if they'd been tampered with. He'd climb through the ventilation in the roof and run from roof top to roof top, skipping over electric wires and low-hanging telephone wires to escape.[break][break]
But parents always find out.[break][break]
The beatings became more severe, to the extent that he couldn't hide bruises and cuts underneath make-up. His parents would put handcuffs on him and stick him inside the closet, to serve as "a lesson". He'd laugh at them. They expected their only son to perform well in such a condition? They were absolutely batty. Absolute shit-heads.[break][break]
So he learned how to undo handcuffs.[break][break]
Whatever challenge was thrown at him, he'd learn to break it down.[break][break]
School was no better. He used to be quite sociable, before his parents began to crack down on his poor grades. He was actually quite decent in the academic subjects as well as PE, but he'd learned that although he might be good, he was not the best, and his parents only wanted the best. There was always someone better, even if he scored top marks. Some prodigy would be beyond him, and his parents would always compare him to them.[break][break]
Bullies thought he'd be an easy target - smaller in size than many of his peers and a loner, he didn't look like he'd put up much of a fight.[break][break]
And he couldn't really fight back. It was his speed that was his strong point rather than his strength, and if he was cornered, he couldn't fight back against a larger group. From these back-alley fights, he learned to toughen up, and he learned things about evasion. Lucky hits towards certain points of the body became instinctive targets - neck, eyes, groin, shins, jaw, collar bone. But even then, he was still scrawny and the groups kept coming after the small kid whom they knew would ask no one for aid. [break][break]
The teachers avoided him. Perhaps it was the haunted look or the glares he gave or the distinct bad attitude that he had. Whatever it was, they saw no need to reach out to the boy who cried in the bathroom stalls.[break][break][break]

THE BURNING

[break]
It was one night when he'd been locked in the closet, hand-cuffed and muffled. At that point, he'd been simply trying to sleep when he began to smell smoke.[break][break]
Opening his eyes to total darkness, he could only panic as he smelled wood burning, and with him stuck in the locked closet with his hands cuffed. He had a pick in his boot, but even lock-picking took patience and time, which the boy didn't have.[break][break]
By the time he'd managed to take off the cuffs, he could feel heat emanating through the closet door, and flames began to light up the room outside. The smoke was suffocating, and he pulled his shirt over his mouth to keep it out. Eyes wild, he fumbled with the lock, blind, and somehow managed to wrench it open after several hashed tries.[break][break]
The house was in flames. They licked at the room he was in, burning the soles of his feet and drying his skin, blistering it. Frantically trying to make it out of the room, he attempted to climb down the stairs. The stairs collapsed, already half-charred and broken - and the boy fell only to be buried under the rubble. He managed to drag himself to the door. By the time the firefighters came, they could only stare in horror at the small, burnt body half-covered in smoking debris.[break][break]
He later learned that it had been a wild litleo that had set fire to the home. Somehow, a spark had caught the old, wooden house on fire, and it had spread quickly since it was dry season.[break][break]
It was a miracle that he was still alive, the doctors said. Every part of him hurt - his lungs, his face, his feet, his hands, his body - and he wanted the hurt to be over. But he somehow pulled through - to look in the mirror and see his face horribly disfigured.[break][break]
"We had to use skin from...other areas...to try to patch you up," the doctor said in as kind a voice as possible. "This is the best we could do." Seth noted the helplessness in the voice, but also the tone that said "Sorry kid. We tried. Deal with it."[break][break]
His parents showed joy that he was alive, for one time in his life, and that lasted only one day. The rest of it was spent with "hurry up and get better so we don't have to pay hospital fees."[break][break][break]

DANTE'S INFERNO

[break]
The bullying escalated to the point where the bullies broke the boy's arm and gave him a concussion. His parents were furious - not at the bullies, but at him - for not standing up to them, for costing them more money, for being nearly unable to go to school since he'd been told to move as little as possible. His hatred for his life in general blossomed and exploded.[break][break]
As soon as he recovered, he stole a knife from the kitchen and kept it hidden in his pocket. He kept a wary watch for the bullies which he was sure would come back after him. And indeed they did - cornered him during lunch time behind the school.[break][break]
"We'll give you a beating like you've never seen," they said. "You fucking monster-face." And as soon as they had landed the first punch, Seth stood up, spat the blood out of his mouth, and stabbed his attacker in the gut.[break][break]
He was labelled a "juvenile delinquent", and taken out from his school and placed in a "reformation institution". It was basically hell all over again - but seven times worse than normal school. Beatings were more severe, the bullies were harsher, and the teachers cared even less.[break][break]
It was here that he polished his fighting skills. It was all street-fighting, but from some of the others who actually had some form of martial arts training, he would watch them and copy their movements. A talent his parents had never seen in him, nor did they care to see. [break][break]
After the required amount of time and "good attitude" he had displayed, he was released and allowed to attend a regular high school. But the label of delinquent remained on his record and people he might have befriended avoided him. The bullies came again and the teachers avoided him even more than before.[break][break]
And even though he loved science and math, he simply didn't try anymore - he tried all sorts of substances, although none ever took away the pain. He disliked drugs and even smoking. And cutting just brought more pain. So he picked fights whenever they were asked for, and he'd relish in the action.[break][break][break]

ROCKETRY

[break]
He'd been fighting in an alley and had emerged victorious, covered in bruises and blood, when he'd been approached by a Rocket recruiter. When given the chance to escape his home and being paid to create chaos, the only thing Seth could think was "Hell, yes."[break][break]
However, he waited until highschool was over before he made any big moves. During the summer before university, he set fire to his home. "Let them have a taste of how I suffered," he thought.[break][break]
He hadn't expected his parents to be home. He'd assumed that per the usual, they were out at work or at a bar. The door had been locked, just like how he left it before he left the house. His parents burned inside the building, which was later considered "cursed" by the neighbours. Seth turned his back on the building and simply laughed.[break][break]
The Rocket recruiter waited for him in the shadows of the other neighborhood buildings and smiled. "Are you ready to go?" she asked. Seth grinned back and followed her eagerly.[break][break][break]

HAVOC

[break]
He did anything Rocket asked of him - steal, lie, cheat. He didn't care. He enjoyed the feeling of spreading chaos. And heck, exploit pokemon? Sure - after all, one had caused him to reach near-death. Funnily enough, he liked fire types - he simply wanted to give others a taste of just how it felt to be burned alive. And he also had a strange attraction to ghost types and poison types. Whatever it was, he was glad to take as many pokemon as he could and use them for his own purposes.[break][break]
Pokemon, friends? What a joke. Pokemon were absolute monsters that could be used for so much more, if utilised properly.[break][break]
The amount of damage he caused earned him the nickname of "Havoc" - A scarred monster with a wicked smile who was absolutely merciless and cared nothing about the world.[break][break]
But even monsters have ambitions.[break][break]
"I want to be an admin," he thought one day. The admins held control over him, and frankly he didn't like that. He wanted to be the one in control, not the other way around. So he set out to wreak destruction and climb to the top.[break][break]
He'd rule over the world if he could.[break][break][break]

EXTRAS

[break]
- Seth often wears hoodies to cover his face[break]
- He always carries a weapon, usually a knife/dagger and if possible, a gun. He prefers blades though.[break]
- Mentally unstable, his mood can swing to an opposite in a flash[break]
- He enjoys scaring people.[break]
- He still acts like a spoiled child and will throw tantrums if he doesn't get his way.[break]
- He's a huge sore loser.[break]