STROSS, anthony jerome

[anthony]

TWENTY-FIVE. LOCAL. HETEROSEXUAL. CORRUPTED. PAUL WESLEY.
( ANTHONY JEROME STROSS )

I SEE YOUR EYES, YOU'RE BARELY SOBER.
I HEAR YOUR VOICE, YOU'RE CALLING OUT FROM ME TO YOU.
the character

PERSONALITY
To sum things up, Anthony isn't a totally nice guy. He's selfish, quick to judge, and belligerent. However, his time in the military managed to mitigate this, he's still much of a wiseass. After spending some time to fight overseas, he's seen people die and nearly died himself, so he thinks he's seen everything the world has to offer. Thus, he doesn't really care about life in general unless he's excelling and getting as much pleasure out of it as possible. If he manages to maintain a friendship, it isn't a guarantee that it'll lost a fairly long time and he might even backstab someone close to him just to get ahead. But he'll only do that if he sees someone to be expendable. He has trust issues now, especially since he expected to see his "girlfriend" when he just came back from the Middle East only to find out she wasn't there waiting for him. Poor guy. He may seem like a kind person appearance-wise, but that really isn't the case. He's not a good role model, but he is actually a sensitive soul after all the shit he's been through. If someone can find the right places to get through to him, then they'll see he's not always a douche with an attitude and a god-complex.

HISTORY
Born and raised outside Dallas, TX, Anthony "Tony" Stross lived in a very conservative household with his parents and younger brother. As he grew older, he was expected to be a responsible person. There were no ifs, and, or buts about it. It was always his father, Joseph, a retired military veteran who established the rules and had the final say-so with what Anthony did or will do. It was hard to connect with his dad and fortunately enough his mother, Barbara, wasn't the same way. So, call him a momma's boy if you'd like. He'd break the rules on purpose and deliberately piss off his dad just to spite him, but he wasn't the same way with his mom. In school, especially in high school, he's your typical troublemaker/bully type individual.

Although he's known to come from a very "religiously devout" background, he doesn't show it. If anything, it's a 'holier than thou' attitude where he carries no qualms or regret. Educational-wise, he does his work... when he wants to. Sometimes he's able to sweet talk his way out of it and also managed to make the school's sports team which also helped spread his popularity (or lack thereof). But he knew being a public jackass would put a quick end to his fun, especially since he would have several run-ins with the law for misdemeanor crimes. He makes friends and has a small list of confirmed enemies, but Tony knows there are more people out there who secretly hate his guts but choose not to show it. Relationship-wise, he takes every opportunity when he sees it.

So yes, he's had plenty of girlfriends but isn't too proud that they never last long together and end up breaking up anyways. Anthony barely graduated and thought about chasing after sports in college. But, perhaps it was an epiphany, he felt that following in his father's footsteps in the military-- more specifically the US Army -- would be the best route for him to take. It was actually a way for him to get his dad to like him more, which he thinks never made much of a difference, in hindsight. So Tony enlisted, quickly mixed in with other recruits to undergo endless physical and mental training. He wasn't used to drill sergeants yelling so close in his face with torrents of spit insulting his eyes, but he dealt with it. It was either adapt or go home.

He spent somewhere around four to five years in the Army, participating in a couple military engagements overseas. In between this time he was given opportunities to head back home temporarily to spend time with his family and so on before he was needed to go back again. Strangely enough he also managed to score a relationship with a girl visiting Dallas who was from Kingsford, California. Unfortunately he was swept back to the Middle East to fight, resulting in a long distance relationship. Anthony nearly lost his life when an enemy artillery strike took out at least a dozen or so people when he and friendly soldiers were taking a break one hot afternoon in the desert. The explosion left him partially deaf in his left ear and also had embedded some shrapnel in his back and left side of his body. So he was stuck to heal up in a hospital and when he managed to regain his strength, he was given an extended period of time to go back home again. Instead of visiting his parents, he went back to Kingsford, CA to visit his girlfriend only to find out she wasn't there anymore. That was about a year ago and since then, Anthony has decided to call this place his new home. He works part time at a bar but also secretly lives a life of crime.

SO SAY THAT YOU JUST WANT TO RUN AWAY.
AND REPLAY ALL THE THINGS THAT I TRIED TO SAY.
behind the character

hey bitches, it's ATLAS and i've been pimpin' these hoes for about FIVE YEARS TOPS. i know right, it's great isn't it? need to get a hold of me? hit me up by PM, AIM. i'm also in the PACIFIC time zone just so you know. don't need to be telling you people twice. also meet the rest of my lovely babies, N/A!

With no owner to demand their customer’s payment, the store was ripe for anyone (or anything) to drop by and loot the place. Whatever law enforcement there was, this place was of little concern, with the Apocalypse looming overhead – there were bigger fish to fry than to bother maintaining order in a place that was already down the drain. Belial stepped into the night from a dark void of a nearby alleyway, compete in a new human host that was aimed to throw his heavenly captors off track in addition to his superiors of hell that loved to torture and harass him. The demon wore a plain shirt under a contrasting black leather jacket and a scarf which hung loosely around his neck. His thumbs hooked into the pocket of his fit blue jeans and continued to stroll down the forsaken streets, any functioning streetlamps he passed by flickered briefly before he was well away their proximity.

Bel had a burning cigarette in between his lips, the smoke trailing in the space around him as he continued to make his approach towards the liquor store. The street was a mess, there were cars scattered about like toy cars in a diorama, some were turned over in different angles while others were stripped of their parts and positioned to sit on top of individual bricks where the tires once were. He breathed in the nicotine-rich smoke and let the stream of smog escape his nostrils, almost in the manner a dragon out of hell would do. The boy caught sight of an oil stained rat scavenging for anything edible in an empty Chinese carton up ahead. It squeaked sadly when it couldn’t find anything and scoured the surroundings for scraps to feast on. Quickly, almost as if Belial wanted to get there before the rodent scurried off, he soon managed to catch it beneath his shoe.

He had a tight hold on the vermin, it shrilled in pain when the demon squished it, a wet sound gushed forth after the sound died out, seeing a pale red fluid ooze outwards. ”It’s for your own good, quit bitching. Better me than some cat hunting you down.” He said to reassure the already dead animal, his voice innocuous and young, though his crooked award-winning smile was just as chilling behind any other human he wore – almost as if it was his signature trait that stood him out from the rest. He lifted his shoe and grumbled at the sight of the sticky sludge that lined the bottom of his shoe. Bel scraped the sole of his footwear against the edge of the sidewalk, successfully cleaning out most of the gunk and went on his way towards the store. He took one last drag of his tobacco treat, extinguishing the tip by dipping it onto the surface of his wet tongue – hearing the hiss and sizzle of the heat wither away.

The male flicked the blunt off and spotted the face of the building. There was broken glass and more clutter that prompted him to tread carefully once he entered. The florescent lighting twinkled and sparked casting macabre shadows on walls, wiring hung down from the rafters like hair from a witch’s scalp, this place could very well be Belial’s place of residence. He started to inspect the shelves, looking for nothing in particular; a shopping basket was all he needed to stash volumes of an assortment of alcohol he managed to find. ”Since no one’s taking these, I guess they’re all for me.” He shrugged, couldn’t resist but to snap open a bottle of booze and chug it – he used his telekinesis to carefully place more items into his basket, the inner greed voicing to him to get more. So he did, occupying his time and shuffling through boxes of the stuff to get his spirits. Right now, he was in a good mood, as long as no one tried to steal off his claim; he didn’t think anyone would barge in, but he was prepared if anyone did.