Michael Lamburo

Michael was born A single child. As such he was used to getting whatever he wanted, and when he wanted it. Something that he hasnt even really gotten over, even as an adult. His parents were Peace activists and spent a lot of time campaigning. They raised him on the road, so he never had a real place to call home. This was something he never regretted and even to this day he says it brought him peace and right of mind. His parents were also pacifists and tried to raise him to be so. He, however, hated the idea. Watching how they were treated and how they never reacted to the brutal beatings they took. He festered a hatred for anyone who wasnt willing save themselves. For this reason, Michael, grew a rash and furious personality. His deep love for his parents and unwillingness to see them become hurt turned him into a killer, figuratively speaking that is. He would often get into qualms with his parents about them not sticking up for themselves and these arguments would, more often then not, leave them on ill terms. His parents argued that the struggle for peace could not be fought through conflict. Michael thought that was bullshit. He said one had to fight for what they wanted, they had to TAKE what they wanted. Cause no one in this world would give you anything you didnt deserve, and even then you had to fight for it. His conflicting views with his parents lead to them hardly speaking at all. He formed a life of his own and often found herself fantasizing about a world where people not only fought for what they wanted, but even fought for fun! His parents acts to shelter him from violence only seemed to kindle flames, and make him into a bit of a violent little boy herself.

It wasnt long before his parents could no longer deal with his rebellious nature, as he swung into his teens. He became excessively outspoken and even trained himself in martial arts. And even though it wasnt advanced, or even regulated, it was more practice then most people had. Once his parents discovered his vexation with martial arts, they shipped him off to boarding school. He felt that they had abandoned him, and that they didnt love him. And so he fostered a distaste for the people who used to care for him. Due to this his social awkwardness, he was heavily bullied in the boarding school, and suffered some abuse from his fellow classmates. His life seemed that it would only spiral downwards. That is until, he snapped. His ability to manipulate Ki manifested when he went on a blind frenzy and, quite literally, painted the walls with the blood of a few of his fellow classmates. Much to the dismay of the faculty, who were all scared shitless. The government immediately pulled her out after the incident and threw her into a mental health hospital. They said that here he would be given help with his "problem" and released to his parents after he received proper treatment. His parents were absolutely devastated, and in a way they blamed themselves for what happened to him. His mother drank herself to death, leaving his father alone. Several years after his mothers death, his father would be assassinated and the while Michael remained in the institution.

The Institution, itself, was no way a mental facility. That was only a cover for something far more sinister. The institution was a facility created to test the potential of the young population. Despite what most may have thought when the records were released on the internet, the children were actually treated with decency. Though a few of the tests were hardly legal, Michael would tell you that he'd never be where he is today if it werent for the training he gained in that facility. He gained his freedom about three years later when a woman, who Michael would soon find to be his fathers killer, asked for him to be directly trained by her. She had heard of the incident in the boarding school and figured it was her job to teach the child to channel his rage and aggression into a proper fighting style. Like a scalpel in the hands of god. He would tell him that the violent display at the school was merely for show, to get his point across. The woman, who simply went by the name of "Luna", probably the most skilled martial artist of her time, took great interest in her student. Though her fascination with him was not simply academic. She expressed an obsession with him several times, and even fell in love with him over the course of his training. She became more and more secluded with the outside world as his powers surfaced and took flight. And by the time he was twenty, they had been "with" each other several times. Of course he never truly got the chance to surpass his master. She soon found her own death at her own hand. She never truly told anyone why, though. Scholars argue to this day that it was the guilt of killing his parents, then laying with him as if she done nothing. They say it was guilt that cause her to kill himself. Michael was broken up over it for a long time, and probably still hasnt fully recovered from it.

Michael spent the next several years as an outlaw. Not really doing merc work as much as he simply hunted how sickos and made sure they never saw the light of day again. He was never a big fan of the mercenary movement. And although he respected them, as businessmen, he never could wrap her mind around simply killing someone cause someone else tells you to. He hated the blind obedience that came with the job. And never saw the paycheck as a real reason to carry out "jobs". When he found herself short on cash, he bit the bullet, and got picked up by the Eternal. And there he's been ever since.

Michael sat in a lone chair, at a lone table, in the corner of some Mom and Pop's place in the ass-ends of nowhere. It had been sometime since his Master died, woman fell on her own sword, so to speak. And left him completely alone, only his memories of her remained. He had given the body a proper burial, and dumped her ashes into the ocean. Thats what the woman had wanted all along, she had spoken to him about it several times. It wasnt until he found her body that he realized she had been thinking about killing herself for a while now. It hurt him alot when he first came upon the discovery, but over time he soon came to terms with her death, even if they were basically a couple. That was always dangerous, them growing so close. But luckily for him, she never once took mercy on him. In fact, after they grew intimately close she actually became more strict. There were several times when she almost beat him half to death. Of course, she wouldnt look him in the face until he fully recovered, but that was besides the point. The point IS that he missed the woman greatly, and the whole she left in his heart began to fill with anger and hatred. He was the kinda person who made himself feel better by beating on someone else. He had no time for friends, he hadnt settled down yet. Most of the people who did know him, he didnt even really like. They sort of fell into his lap after she died, and he didnt have the heart to break it off with them. He had yet to meet someone that truly piqued his interest, or even made him wanna care. And that was sad. He never thought about it, though. When he wasnt training, then he was doing something. He got very little time to relax now-a-days, but hoped he'd be able to settle down in the future. Maybe...become a teacher himself?

He stared out the glass windows as he sucked down a milshake, Chocolate cause the assholes were out of strawberry ice cream. He didnt care much for chocolate, and vanilla made him break out in hives. He assumed it was an allergy, so he stayed away from the stuff. Still, chocolate was sweet and calmed him down. And in an ice cream form he didnt have to deal with the consistency of the bar, that being the part he hated most about the famous treat. The rolling hills of the country side vexed him away from the rest of the bar, taking his out of her usual, ever alert, element. If you asked him now why he stopped at that random ass restaurant in that random ass part of town on that random ass day, he'd say he has no idea. Most people who hear the story chalk it up to fate and gods will. Of course he thinks thats a bunch of bullshit, and usually gives people shit when they even mention anything about fate or destiny or GOD for that matter. Its hard to deny, though. For if it wasnt for him, that building wouldve been filled with corpses and empty pockets.....as well as some shell casings. And they almost were, as every schmuck and there mother wanted to give her something for saving their lives and keeping the place from being knocked down. He refused, which was foolish. He needed money, but the act of refusing the money inflated his ego to unparalleled levels. And solidified him as a person who, in all intentions is a good person, but does things for the wrong reasons. He is still that person, in a way, but had gone to great lengths to ensure that he has become as close to a "model citizen" and 'good role model" as possible.

It all started when, about, two men strolled into the place like any other day. As they stepped through the threshold of the diner, they made sure they had their ski-masks nice and secure open their heads. Michael was miles away, not really paying attention. That is until one of them let loose a shot unto the roof, from his shotgun. The sound caused Michael to jump and bite his tongue, drawing blood. The men trained their guns at the people We want all your shit, you hear me? the man barked, using a more aggressive and raspy voice then necessary. Michael hunched over and touched his tongue multiple times, looking keenly at the blood that laid upon his finger. He was pissed, really fuckin pissed. If youve ever bit your tongue before then you know exactly how mad he was. The man didnt make it any easier on him, though. He approached him with his gun at the ready. Listen here, asshole! Just give me your shit and I wont kill you he ordered, laying his bag on the table. He pressed the barrel of the gun to Michael's head and waited. Calm down, Michael. she thought to himself, trying not to lose his mind. Very well, get the gun from my head and you can have whatever you want. he retorted, using a calm voice. Hi tone was soured by the obvious fact that he was trying to calm down, a strained undertone was apparent to all those who could analyze it. Of course the man did not move he barrel, he did the opposite. He pressed it harder against his temple and his finger bobbed upon the trigger. No... was his answer, simple and sweet. or rather bitter to Michael's taste.

He sighed, he had had enough. He quickly leaned back, the shot grazing infront of his face. Missing his head by centimeters. The man didnt know what to do, he was obviously an amatuer and couldnt handle a gun if his life depended on it. Michael stood up and grabbed the barrel of the gun, planting a firm kick to the man's gut and sending him flying into a plaster wall behind him. His mass broke the wall. He continued to fly back, until he hit a grease frying, sending boiling hot grease down upon his head. His shrill cries could be heard throughout the store and lasted for minutes before he died. By the point Michael had started to make his way towards the other man, who had taken a child hostage. He had made it irrevocably clear that he would blow the tykes head off it Michael took one more step towards him, so he did. And, as she expected, the man pulled the trigger and killed the child. The screams of the mother were next as she hurried to her headless childs body and cradled the corpse in her arms. The theif took his eyes off Michael for a second, and gave her the time she needed to attack. Swinging the shotgun over his shoulder, he kicked the nearest chair at the man, who reacted fast enough to blast the thing into one million splinters. The chaos helped cause a smokescreen for Michael, who immediately took off running to his right. The man unloaded shell of shell at him, for which he blocked by using others as meat shields, running past and behind them so they would instead take the fall. In which they all did, all five of them. One of which included a pregnant woman. Michael came around the guys side and spun, bringing his left hand to his face. The man, to his surprise, dodged it. He then stepped back and jabbed the butt of his shotgun at Michael's head. Michael met the end with no resistance, his physical training not only allowing him, to withstand it with little consequence, but also snapping the butt off. He then leaned back and dealt a headbutt to the man, breaking his face bones and sending him through the mall behind him. He laid there, unable to move or speak from the sheer pain. Michael stepped through the self-made hole and looked down at his body. Bloody and beaten, he felt alive again. Training the shotgun at his chest, Michael let lose a single round. The proximity of the shot blew his chest open like a pinata, allowing his entrails free reign upon the floor. He then dropped the shotgun and left the diner. making note that he had to return for one of their milkshakes again one day.