||. the details are grim {. Nathan Street

[Shay Anderson]

N athan J ordan S treet
the big bad wolf.

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Valkyrie Academy

About The Roleplayer:
|ooc| -sigh- guess who strikes again.

Name: Asia. AKA jack the ripper.
Age: sixteen. about time.
Gender: Female.
Years Roleplaying: Eight years too long.
Some Basic Interests: being the official serial character deleter, thank you. <3
Oh.
Jezzie's pretty cool.
and train talk with Tess is better than you.

About The Character[/b][/size]
Name: Nathan Street.
Alias: Nate, Street.
Age: Twenty-one.
Gender: Male.
School Year: University sophomore.
Art Interest: Photo journalism.
Originated From: Dublin, Ireland.

Parents:Father ;; Rodney Street. Forty-six.
Mother ;; Jordin {Anderson} Street. deceased. Would be: Thirty-nine.
Siblings: Xavier Street ;; Brother. Seventeen.
Shannon Street ;; Sister. Seventeen.
Relatives: JT Anderson ;; Cousin.
Kelly Anderson ;; Cousin. Sixteen.
Shay Anderson ;; Cousin. Seventeen.
Cornelius Moore ;; Uncle {Unknown}. Thirty-one.
Aislinn Moore ;; Cousin {Unknown} Seventeen.
Christopher Moore ;; Cousin. Twenty-two.
Rodulphus Crawford ;; Cousin. Twenty-nine.

|ooc| or something like that. xD
Portrayed By: Johnathan Rhys Meyers.
Picture:
Appearance: For as long as anyone could possibly remember, the media has been the largest influence on mortals today. The current celebrities are the people who set what the “right” sort of appearance should be. In the 1950s, it was Marilyn Monroe with her platinum blonde hair, red lipstick and hourglass shape. During the 1990s, it was the teen stars who rebelled against everything mainstream, and rocked out with their grungy fashions, messy hair and strange make-up. However, as the world began to age, and it soon entered the 2000s, a new phenomenon came into place: body image. For the first time in years, starlets began the crazy diets, and made it a must-have to become thin. As the years passed, this obsession transitioned into the real world, and – eventually – people everywhere were obsessed with being tall, muscular, having long hair and dressing like a star. But for someone like Nathan Street? He couldn’t really have cared less. Couldn’t these people look over the physical, and actually pay attention to how diverse Earth’s population really is?

We all know it. No one will admit it – but it’s there. Just look around, worthless minion. Who around Valkyrie Academy didn’t belong on the cover of magazines?

As time passes, appearance is growing more and more crucial in everyday life. These days, however, it is not just females who have to spend the upper part of an hour getting ready for the day. Today, more and more males are becoming obsessed with their appearances. By some sort of stereotypical law, gay men have always been. But now? Not so much. Now, straight men are becoming was we all like to call “metrosexual”. The kind of guy who likes to look nice, takes care of himself, you know the type. For Nathan? He didn’t often care about his appearance. It was all too superficial for him, honestly. While his siblings had inherited their hair directly from Jordin Street herself, with her long and dark hair so perfectly styled and healthy, Nathan had been left out of that particular genetic pool. Instead, he had been cursed with Rodney Street’s head of short, brown hair. Nothing special, nothing healthy…just nothing. For as long as he could remember, Nathan had kept his hair in a short, almost preppy, sort of cut. He simply attacked it with varying amounts of styling gel each and every morning. Keeping it between a boring lawyer’s cut of an inch up in the front to in about thirty different directions at two or more inches, Nathan Street’s hair was nothing special. Naturally the color of pale sand, he had never cared enough to dye it darker. His hairstyle, in simple terms, was easy and brainless. Perfect for someone who didn’t give a flying bat about his appearance.

Unfortunately, it would be cruel to say that Nathan Street was someone painful to look at. Whether that be thick glasses, greasy hair and oily skin covered in pimples and blemishes; or badly bleached hair, too much eyeliner and frumpy clothing, he didn’t fit into either of those categories. However, he wasn’t funny or “unique” in appearance, either. Much like the rest of him, Nathan Street was boring old average. He never had eyes the color rain so expressive that people always wanted more. Nor did he have the waify, doe-like appearance left to the runway models. By far, he wasn’t part of the majority of Valkyrie citizens so gorgeous, they were painful to look at. It seemed, out of the entire world, that the place most beautiful flocked to was California. More and more, however, these people were flocking to the smaller community of Valkyrie. Tell me the truth, how many people ‘round here are, in Darwinian terms, ugly. Some were different, but everyone – and I mean EVERYONE – had some sort of confidence about them. The sort of confidence that made the ugly pretty, the funny looking gorgeous and every Valkyrie Academy student Heidi Klum wanna-bes.

For most people, one of their favourite body parts was their eyes. To be honest, Nathan really never had any idea why. You used eyes to see out of and, on other people, they were used to read what they were thinking. What was so special about that? Okay, so he had to admit, he had looked at a girl’s stunning eyes more than once and was intrigued. However, the people with the big, blue eyes are always mistakened for beautiful. The ones with narrow, green eyes are often called sly and clever. And the people left with the average brown eyes? Nothing special for them, sorry. Born with the same eyes as his father, Rodney, Nathan had never paid much attention to his eyes. As far as he knew, people rarely stared at them. With light coloring and a narrow shape, it was obvious that, from the above stereotype, he was hiding something. As time wore on, however, he knew this was true. Instead of being expressive and vibrant like his siblings, Nate’s eyes had always been one thing: dull, dull, dull. There was never a spark in them. They would never glaze over from lust, or gleam and dance when he was happy. At all times, the light greens of his eyes were similar to a tunnel – long, endless and hollow. No lights would ever flip on in his eyes. Stony and empty – like a valley that had once been a healthy, living forest that had been tarnished by fierce forest fires. Now, simply an ashy wasteland with no real purpose.

On both sides of his family, it was common to see a defined jaw line. On his father, it had reflected his powerful presence, and natural state of authority. On his mother, it had looked just ridiculous. She had been a shy, gentle woman with delicate features, and a petite body. With such a strong jaw, it gave her the look like a large, black hole in a painting of a field of flowers and rainbows. It just didn’t fit. Fortunately, on Nathan, he had inherited his father’s facial structure, giving him a dignified look with his jaw. The majority of Valkyrie Academy was tanned. A small minority were of various ethnic backgrounds, giving them different skin tones. Nathan Street was part of the handful of people who were pale. Smooth, often flawless, and the color of old paper kind of pale. Not deathly white pale. Or that awkward, “what the hell is this?” kind of pale. The kind of pale that sun burnt easily, never tanned and couldn’t be changed no matter what he did. Why fight with genetics?

It was a common thing among the Anderson-Street family to have a fairly good physique. Nearly all of them woman had grown up to be tall, taller than most, with small-hipped and willowy frames. The men had, too, been tall. However, there was an odd mixture of lanky skinniness and the defined muscle most men craved for. As for his own parents, Jordin Anderson-Street had been a petite woman, standing barely over five feet, two inches. She was petite in body mass as well, built with small bones and minute features. Her body had been translated directly into Shannon – with her modestly sized chest, narrow waist and coltish bottom half. Rodney Street, on the other hand, was the polar opposite of his deceased wife. Standing at a towering six feet, three inches, it was easy to make him out to be a “big guy.” Built with broad shoulders and muscular triceps, it would have been easy for Rodney to lose his physique. With a narrow, muscular waist and long legs, however, everything evened out into his two sons. While Xavier had the same build as his father, Nathan fell into the middle once more. Standing at a solid six feet, he had never inherited the broadness of his father’s frame. Lacking the muscular definition of his father and brother, it would be unfit to say that Nathan was an unhealthy slob. With his slightly slopped shoulders and broad chest, it was no surprise that his torso tapered into a fairly thin, narrow waistline. Falling into straight hips and the long legs his family was notorious for, he had never complained about his physique. Why bother?

While wandering around Valkyrie Academy’s posh campus, Nate had never failed to notice the level of style many of the students had. In slim cut pants, short skirts and trendy items. A handful of people dressed in skinny pants, black shirts and colored hair. Others wore nothing but sweat pants and sweaters. Some girls only dressed in argyle, pearls and flat shoes. A minority of people draped themselves in black, wore only turtlenecks with fedoras and trench coats. A select few only wear business-esque attire out in public: suits, button down shirts and dress pants. Nathan Street, on the other hand, had never felt much love for outside appearances – including his own. Besides, standing on shady street corners in the middle of the night tends to warn you not to dress flashy. Often seen in dark colors, Nate was no where near trendy or stylish. A combination of jeans, t-shirts and jackets or the sharp looking suits he had become infamous for wearing. Exciting, really.

Personality:

[+] The Good ;;

ox. protection is something we all need.

Stereotypically, males are a protective species – women being the other species that they protect. However, as the years go one, those silly labels are growing fainter and fainter. In many cases, it’s a good thing. Women are being allowed to step outside of the boundaries the 1940s and 1950s set for them; and men are stepping down to let the other gender to the jobs they once were cursed for doing. When it came to Nathan Street’s style of protection, it was a completely different level. He had always been the sort of person to never trust in another, thus, making it impossible for him to care for others. We all know, however, that the Street family is notorious for deep-connection relationships. This Street was no different from his brother, Xavier. When Nathan did, in fact, begin to care for someone, it was left without a word and stayed shrouded in mystery as to why. He had always been a distrusting character, Nate was. When he cared for someone, there was never a reason to it…only that he cared for them eternally. But, with care, comes loyalty. And with loyalty comes protection.

If someone was this cookie’s object of care, it would be difficult to walk out of the house without his suspicions. Nathan Street, as they say, was an overly protective parent. Not in the sense of no social life and strict boundaries, do whatever the hell you want, but in the sense of never being stuck – along – and in trouble. Nathan Street had taken a bullet for his best friend when he was seventeen, and would be happy to do it again.

ox. but stay calm about it.

Cracking under pressure. Losing your cool. Becoming highly untranquil. All of these phrases could be used to describe someone high strung and worrisome. However, there are two kinds of people in this world – the ones who know things, and the ones who don’t. Now, I can explain the difference between the two, but we all know it, now don’t we? By the time he turned sixteen, it was fairly obvious that Nathan Street was going to be someone who knew the darker side of life. Most of the time, you’d want to be stuck on the naive side of life. Who wants to know about the terrorist attacks, multiple murders and cruel rapes that happened everyday? Unfortunately for Nate, he was one of those people who saw the terrorist attacks, murders and rapes – simply his nature. Growing up in a dark part of Dublin, Ireland, he was quickly skinned and raw in the ways of the world. It wasn’t an uncommon thing for his friends to get arrested. He was never surprised when the police showed up at his home for random drug searches. Why would he be? They all knew he was guilt of drug possession, but no one could ever prove it.

They say seeing traumatic things and being around ‘adult’ problems for most of you life has a way of making you mentally detached, mellowing you out if you will. In this case, it worked. As time passed, and Nate grew older, he had seen more than his fair share of the darker side of life on the wild side. Soon, the little things in life became unimportant and trivial – like they no longer mattered. He had become someone who knew things, meaning that the things everyone knew about were insignificant. With mental detachment comes watching from the outside in. Watching the people live the life that you couldn’t, and never will. It has a way of calming you down, doesn’t it?

ox. remember, intelligence is key.

It would be moronic to think that it was an easy thing to be a drug dealer – especially one as powerful as Nathan Street. Not to say that it wasn’t impossible. Of his five years as a dealer, he had met plenty of people who were lucky to know which way was up. All it took was some good luck and a brilliant client base, not exactly impossible. On the other hand, many people were cursed with bad luck. When it came down to it, Nathan Street had never been the idiotic nobody who happened to deal drugs at parties. From the time he had turned sixteen, Nate had plunged himself headfirst into the murderous drug world of Dublin, Ireland. Coming from a family with sharp eyes and sharper ears, it was no surprise that he picked up “street smarts” fairly quickly. Soon enough, he had become sharp and clever. Witty, even. But, come on, just because you have a good set of ears doesn’t mean you can easily become a master of the streets. No, best leave that to the intelligent and fast learners. Put two and two together, and you’ll get the impression that Nathan Street is an intelligent human being.

[+] The Bad;;

ox. never become locked up tight.

Can’t we all just live up to it, now? Nathan Street was someone who had sharp eyes and sharper ears – he knew everything about everyone. From the latest hook-ups and scandals to a closeted bulimic or secret alcoholic. He heard things that no one else did. People often say too much power can lead people to make stupid decisions. Think about it like this: if you’ve seen more people get murdered than a police officer, beaten enough people into the hospital and been the reason four people overdose, you might have power over others – seeing as you know their deepest, darkest secrets. Now, most people in such a position would use it to their advantage. People, by nature, are selfish bastards, after all. With the amount of deaths he had witnessed, it was a wonder Nathan was still walking, but let’s not talk about that. Put it this way: he had seen enough dirty laundry to ruin half of the world’s lives, but put that in combination to the people he had beaten into oblivion, screwed over and dragged under, the two seemed to even themselves out. With your own dirty laundry, who would want to spread other’s around?

No one.
Exactly.

As time passed, Nathan Street had become someone who saw everything and heard even more – but never said a word to anyone. You could use him as a metaphor for a safe where no one knows the combination. He was locked up tight and never told the secrets he knew.

ox. even if you have too many secrets.

He came from a secretive family.
He was born a private person.

For as long as anyone could remember, Nathan Street had come from a family who didn’t talk much. As time passed, and he continued to grow and mature, he began to realize that there was a simple reason for this eternal silence: secrets. Nearly everyone in his immediate family had a secret of some sort, and they weren’t opening their mouths until the day they died. These were the sorts of secrets that could change everything – real secrets. Nate first earned his own at a young age, barely nine years old, when he managed to crack the code on his mother as to why his youngest brother, Xavier, had been pushed into the foster care system at five years old. For most people, the secrets and lies would stop there. For this Street? Not quite. As the weeks became months and the months became years, more secrets piled atop that one. Critical secrets. Hidden promised. Everything and anything, he managed to add to the file cabinet of secrets. By the time he turned eighteen, Nathan had consumed enough information to open up his own secret government organization. He was the sort of person who overheard everything, but no one ever managed to find out how. The sort of person who, if left long enough, could easily find out every detail of another’s life. We all know that – especially around Valkyrie, California – everyone has their own private issues. But was there ever anyone who knew so much, but told so little? He had been born a private person who just happened to be raised into a secretive family.

He would never tell.

ox. don't let yourself get betrayed.

By nature, Nathan Jordan Street was someone quiet, soft spoken and secretive – not such a good combination for someone so heavily involved in the drug world, hm? Agreed. For some reason, this Irish fellow managed to survive past his natural state of gentle silence and become – to everyone else – a hardened badass. By the time he was seventeen, Nate had transformed from the kid at the back of the classroom to the center of Dublin’s drug and gang world. But, who wouldn’t know someone’s particular weaknesses at some point? Shortly after his seventeenth birthday, in fact, someone had cracked his code. Found out what made him tick, you could say. The particular code cracked had been his largest personality negative: he was, as they stated, “one sensitive and weak son of a bitch.” Now, in drug land, loyalty often beats out weaknesses; especially for a well respected leader of said world. But who can’t resist pushing another’s raw buttons every now and then?
He was betrayed easily, to say the least.
In any sort of relationship, Nathan was the one who could easily be cheated on. He was the one easily conned into doing his own dirty work. Easily taken advantage of, too. Loyalty seemed to be the only thing saving him from getting murdered, I suspect. Or, wait, hadn’t that already happened?

[+] The Ugly ;;

ox. The lies

He had found out why his little brother had been taken from his family at a very early age. He had discovered why his father returned from work so angry and frustrated. Even why his sister, Shannon, had become so miserable so fast. The person Nathan Street was supposed to be died the day he finally got caught – screwed things up, if you will. He stopped being the gentle and sensitive loner who happened to deal drugs and turned into a cold-hearted, distrusting monster the moment that bullet entered his mother’s head. It wasn’t the fact that they killed her, it was the fact that they killed her in front of his little sister and best friend. The burden of his mother’s own murder fell onto him, and it became Nate’s responsibility to stop people from getting involved in his affairs any more. No more telling Chris what the latest dig was, nor spilling his feelings to Shannon. Everything would stop. A little white lie here, a small, harmless fib there – who could get hurt? At the beginning, no one did.

As time wore on? Not so much.
Nathan Street was lying on a regular basis to protect the people he loved. Trying to stop anyone else from getting killed just because of his misfortunes. He had transformed his sister overnight from the happy, trusting Shannon he knew growing up and into a secretive, silent son of a bitch. She had become her older brother. A replica of him, just with innocence. Anyone who got involved would lose their life. With Shannon becoming more and more like him, it was only a matter of time before she got killed. Who the fuck could have that? No one. So, let the lies begin.

ox. and the drugs.

Like many other teenagers in the United Kingdom, Nathan Street was introduced to the world of sex, drugs and alcohol at an early age – a very early age. While all of this introducing was in secret, it was all the same. We all know that the majority of the world is hooked on alcohol, however, for this Irish lad, it never held any love for him. His personality, as independent and cold as it was, got tired of sex by the time he was fifteen. But drugs…drugs held certain likeability for him. They were oddly entrancing, the way they could so easily distort reality, or make all of your troubles simply disappear with another puff of smoke. Like these people, these addicts, had to completely depend on you for the one thing that mattered to them – like how a desperate family depends on a doctor to save their child’s life. The feeling of being wanted was euphoric enough for Nathan to turn his nose up at his controlled substances. His friends never used drugs recreationally, their clients did. By the age of sixteen, Nathan was the one standing on some shady street corner at two-thirty in the morning slipping of a small packet of mysterious powders or an orange prescription bottle filled with colourful pills into some deranged lunatics clammy hands, receiving a stack of bills in return. Who wouldn’t feel exhilarated by that?

He had never become an addict.
He had become addicted to the attention and power.

Likes: +being alone.
+watching people.
+going unnoticed.
+silence.
+dealing drugs.
+the people he cares about.
+loyalty.
+living alone.
+knowing secrets.

Dislikes: -too many people.
-betrayals.
-difficult people.
-falling in love.
-relationships and commitments.
-being underestimated.
-screwing up.
-his past.
-inner demons.
-gang life.

Flaws:

• lies too much to protect others.
  
• is much too protective of the people he cares about.
  
• denies caring for anyone.
  
• gets betrayed much too easily.
  
• never trusts others.
  
• often turns to violence to solve problems.
  

Secrets:

• is a powerful drug dealer.
  
• has never fallen in love.
  
• or had a girlfriend.
  
• has been arrested eight times and in prison twice.
  
• was the reason his mother was murdered.
  

Living Situation: The Shaks.
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[Shay Anderson]

History:
When he was young, Nathan Jordan Street had – from the outside – what seemed to be a normal life. Two loving, dedicated parents, and a set of twins for younger siblings. Each and every day, he would attend elementary school with Xavier and Shannon, and then return home to his smiling mother, and a snack always waiting. For the first eight or nine years of his life, everything seemed to be ordinary. I mean, what could go wrong? His father rose at dusk each morning, worked until dinner time, and came home to his loving wife, and three children. His mother stayed at home most days, being the Susie Homemaker that every man wishes he had. Their small home in urban Dublin, Ireland was right out of a clichéd book.

I mean, what could possibly go wrong.

Or, many years later, he would ask herself: what could go right?

It started shortly after his ninth birthday, just after Shannon and Xavier had turned five. It was a cloudy day, he remembered, where the skies were grey and the winds were cruel. The air was oddly heavy that afternoon, as well. The motions of nature seemed to be paralyzed: quieter, almost confused. Like something bad was going to happen. What on earth could go wrong? His life was normal…perfect. And it was supposed to stay that way until he graduated high school, went to Harvard University and fell in love with a fellow law student, where they would move to a New York City penthouse and have 2.2 children. That’s what is supposed to happen to everyone, after all. Apparently, however, not him.

The people standing in the doorway were frightening, with their crisp suits and leather briefcases. One of them, a man in his mid-thirties, was conversing quietly with both of her parents in the living room. What was happening? Rodney Street only ever returned home after six-thirty, but never before seven. It was only four in the afternoon, when he half-walked his younger siblings’ home after school. But the looks those people gave both of the twins, Nathan never forgot. It was an uncomfortable mixture of sympathy and sternness. But the words they gently spoke to the five year-old and the nine year-old were unforgettable for anyone. “Your brother is going to have to be coming with us.” That was the last time she saw her twin brother for over ten years.

Nathan and Shannon were told in the strictest confidence – by all of their relatives – to never mention Xavier again. And, as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, it was like he ceased to exist.

”We can’t very well tell them, Jordin. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Fair? You just gave your son away, Rod! Just because of something that might happen. We don’t know for –“

“The doctor said he could breakdown at any time, it’s much safer keeping him away from Shannon and Nathan. I won’t allow for him to hurt our other children.”

That particular conversation took place in the front room of their small, Dublin home. Like always, Nathan and Shannon had been banished to their bedrooms while mommy and daddy talked about the important things in life. But who really listens to crap like that? Certainly not Nathan Street – who, at nine years old was crouched behind a corner, silently listening to his parents arguing about the well being of his younger brother. It seems like Xavier Street was abandoned by his family for a certain medical problem. Who knew.

Certainly no one but Nathan Street.

Seven years – 364 weeks, 2555 days – after Xavier Street was taken from his family, and Nathan was still obsessing over it. He hadn’t heard more than one conversation about his missing brother since the one when he was nine. What sort of parents, especially his, could do that to a child? Sure, he could be happier, but that didn’t stop mental scars being cruelly slashed upon his older brother. After awhile, he began to grow angry. Not only at his parents, or the people that took his brother away, but at her brother, himself. Why, he could never formulate an answer. No matter how many hours he sat in his bedroom, gruelling over the situation, could he ever find why she was so angry with his lost sibling.

Until that day, that fateful day shortly after his sixteenth birthday. Since beginning high school, Nathan had become what people referred to as “popular”. Not with the ladies, nor was the star of some sports team, but for another reason. A reason not many people would be proud of. That day he had gotten invited to a local partier’s party, something about his parent’s being out of town. Whatever. But, to say the least, it was the party that changed his life.

“Come ooooon, Nate. You can’t be socially accepted until you’ve tried it at least once.”

The voice of the buxom blonde half hanging on the sixteen year old drawled her words, her breathing smelling of too much vodka and her clothing quickly disappearing from her body. Apparently, once you’ve scored an invite to one of these A-list parties, you had to do everything they do just to be reconsidered next time. Sounds great. Still not answering said blonde – what was her name? Sandy? Mandy? – Nathan merely moved his gaze around the crowded house party. It hadn’t been overly exciting thus far, only with females in bikinis or less frolicking around and males snorting cocaine or grinding against anything that moved. Right out of a clichéd film, but still, he had been invited by said blonde. Perhaps, just maybe, he could pretend to be interested in her. Just for more time to socialize with the two shady characters at the very back at the wild party, eyes sharp and ears even sharper. He hadn’t seen either male hold anything but a glass of water all night; none of the illegal substances going around, no alcohol, not even a pretty girl. Amazing. Remaining wordless as he picked up the straw, placed the tip of it on the scratched mirror lazily set one of the kitchen’s countertop, placed it to his nose and snorted. Cocaine. Nathan Street was snorting cocaine just for a chance to fit in with the “cool kids”. Nice one, Street.

Gasping harshly, the Irish male stumbled away from the counter. Never before had he tried something so…vial. Earning quite a few laughs from the people around him, he blushed a deep magenta. Who wouldn’t? Everyone around him seemed to inhale the drugs so effortlessly, like it was something they did all the time – which, by the way, they probably did. Falling into the grasp of a set of strong, confident hands, the Irish male simply looked up into the dark, shattering eyes of a local drug dealer.

“Not made for the stage, Street. Come.”

Over the course of eight months, Nathan Street was trained – transformed even – into one of those shady characters lurking in the corners of every party. Instead of being the awkward nobody who happened to score an invitation to said party, he was the one at the back, draped in black, carefully supplying the illegal substances for his fellow classmates. But, truth be told, none of that really mattered. As time passed, and he became more experienced as a dealer, things like parties and acceptance stopped mattering altogether. What was the point of some hot cheerleader likes you for a day? His life wouldn’t improve in any way. Instead? He turned his attention to the only other person in his life: his sister, Shannon.

At barely twelve years old, he knew Shannon had never given her older brother a second thought. He was, after all, the quiet guy who walked her home after school everyday, and awoke at the crack of dawn to leave for school. By the time he was sixteen, however, Nathan had taken to leave breakfast for his sister each and every morning, usually with a small note or symbolic item to make her smile. To her, he was just Nathan. Just her older brother. He was just the quiet kid sitting in the corner who never spoke and no one ever spoke to him. However, once afternoon shortly before she turned twelve, something happened between the two siblings. As far as Nate knew – which was pretty much everything - Shannon was spending each and every free moment staring off into space, thinking about her lost brother, no doubt. He knew, as well, telling her the truth wouldn’t help at all. Why would it? She was the sort of person to dwell on the past, knowing the details or not.

He had been watching her for the majority of the afternoon, wandering around the house rather aimlessly. The look in her eyes like she was lost, and had no intention of finding her way again. For the past six months, every Sunday afternoon had been dedicated to nothing but thinking. A book would lay forgotten at her feet, ad tears would eventually well up in her eyes. It was almost her birthday, so it would be Xavier’s soon, too. Yet, there he stood, right in the doorway to her small bedroom, watching silently.

Like most days in Ireland, it was cloudy. The threat of rain had been lingering over Dublin for weeks, but the sky never seemed to feel like spilling its waters until everyone thought it was clear. And then, as if by magic, it would be a storming mess for the next week. The weather was always like that, though. Especially around the time November rolls around – the two youngest Street children’s birthdays were in November. While Nathan had about three months before he turned seventeen, Shannon and Xavier’s twelfth birthdays would be in less than two weeks. However, as he watched his younger sister more and more, none of that seemed to matter. Still, nearly every afternoon was dedicated to lingering on thoughts of her missing brother. It had been nearly seven years since he had been taken by the foster care system, and nothing had gotten easier. Although Nathan had known the reasons for several years now, even he felt the pains in his stomach when he thought about Xavier. Anyone abandoned by their family for potential medical problems couldn’t be leading a normal life.

Even now, thirteen days before Shannon’s birthday, Nate didn’t really know her. He looked out for his sister, that much was obvious, and cared for her – but they had never really bonded. He was almost four years older than her, after all. And, since he turned fourteen, disappeared constantly; but what teenager didn’t? However, Nathan spent every waking minute watching the people around him, taking everything in. Out of the corner of everyone’s eye, they could often see his willowy frame in the darkest corner of the room, wide eyes staring around.

With thirteen days to go until his sibling’s birthday, Nathan hadn’t given it a second thought. As always, he awoke before anyone else in the house did, only came home for a few minutes and vanished once more until the early hours of the morning, often smelling of smoke and blood. Except for that particular Sunday, the Sunday everything seemed to change. He had seen Shannon fall into a lapse of depression once more, even more so than usual. Finally, however, he took to standing there, right in her doorway.

People rarely got to know him, and lately, wouldn’t want to. He knew Shannon saw him stumbling through the front door, smelling of smoke and his pupil’s dilated. Yet, there he stood, watching. There was nothing special about the way he looked, nothing special about how he acted, either. His pale skin, as always, was flawless and darkened by black and blue bruises. His brown hair was tousled, spiked upwards in about a dozen different directions. His thin body was covered in jeans, a t-shirt and his worn leather jacket. An unlit cigarette was sticking out the side of his mouth, and another one sat behind his right year. He spun his silver lighter in her hands, still leaning against the door. Without warning, he approached the blonde girl’s bed. Remaining wordless, Nathan sat down and pressed his hand over her own. Almost immediately, Shannon moved closer to him, burying her head in his chest. When the alarm clock on her bedside table flashed to four forty-three, he pulled away. “Come on.” Those were the only words he spoke, but she obediently followed him.

As time wore on, it became second nature for Shannon to accompany him on his wild nights around downtown Dublin. Sometimes, she would be with him at parties, watching his clientele, making sure she blended in perfectly. Other times, around two in the morning, they would select a shady street corner, Shannon watching out for law enforcement, and Nathan arguing on his cell phone or making a deal with some townie. However, more and more, he sensed there was some sort of inner conflict with his new protective interest – more so than usual. But, deep down, he knew.

She wanted her twin brother back.

“C’mon Tony, you have the information I need. It’s private, but it’s not important. Just give it to me.”

Now at nineteen, with Shannon almost fifteen, nothing much had changed. His sister and best friend, Chris, still stayed glued to his side – never asking question about his secretive plans and insane ideas. Now, those insane ideas had turned into a twisted reality. For the passed three or so months, Nate had been doing everything in his power to track down where Xavier had disappeared to, something, in practice, was much more difficult than originally thought. Normally, it wouldn’t have been difficult. But for one of Dublin’s most powerful young drug dealers with a hefty criminal record? Not so much. He had to go through the backdoor on this one, using his connections to find answers.

“But it’s still something you want, Street. And you haven’t solved that little debt you owe us.”

“Debt?”

“Remember when you were first starting out, Nate? Who was it that saved your ass from that embarrassing little cocaine trip? I do believe that was me. If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be that nobody anyone could walk all over.”

It was true, Nathan Street did owe this Tony Rodriguez fellow a lot. Besides first introducing him into the drug dealing world, Nate had been known to fall back on his old mentor for answers to questions, help to get out of a tight spot and other rather trivial things. Naturally, it would have been stupid to go back to Tony for this rather large favour. Why would he want to help Nathan? He was the one who often outdid Tony in many aspects of their “business”. Had screwed him over more than once, and dragged him under even more. To be honest, it was a relief his head hadn’t been detached from his body, the amount of times he put Tony in potentially disastrous situations – and not giving it a second thought to help the guy. I mean, who would? Drug dealing was a dog-eat-dog world, one where the only person that mattered was you, your ‘people’ and your list of suppliers and clients. Of course, things add up over time, and people blow their tops – including Tony Rodriguez, who decided to let Nathan Street know about his debts at rather unfortunate times.

Spitting another mouthful of his own blood onto the already stained concrete flooring of the abandoned warehouse, nineteen year-old Nathan Street looked up to the towering figure of his once-mentor. Remaining wordless as the bulky male continued to let his fists and feet connect with Nathan’s face and torso, he only watched Tony. In the three years he had been a drug dealer, this was the first time someone had tracked him down to beat him to a pulp. Not as bad as he originally thought. Gasping for air, Nathan finally closed his eyes as the concrete flooring began to connect with the side of his head – when people wanted to play dirty; they really knew how to play dirty. Each time his head banged against the floor, he dragged farther and farther from consciousness. Finally feeling Tony spitting onto his bloody and battered face, Nathan managed to open his swollen eyes to look up at the tanned male.

“You’ll find the address there, Street. Now come, one more thing until your debt is paid.””

Debt?
What debt?

Apparently, when you ask someone else for help, it all adds up to become a critical debt – one that could never be repaid. Or, on the other hand, one that Nathan Street would never repay. Seems like Rodriguez knew Nathan better than we thought; how else would he know that Sir Street would simply avoid Tony until everything was forgotten? No, the best way to get Nathan Street’s attention was to do something drastic, something that would make him angry – something critical. To this day, in fact, the same sort of thing still applied. Nathan Street was of the breed that didn’t care what others said, hardly cared what others did. Try to get him to do something, and he’ll simply ignore the hell out of you until you get frustrated enough to drop the entire issue. The one way, however, to get his attention was simple: do something to someone he obviously cared about.

What was so important about this debt, he never really knew. Who would risk everything just to get a damned address?

Everything was different now.
Things were getting too dangerous and too risky for Chris – so Nathan simply left them out of everything. He had risked everything to try and get that address; and had ruffled a few feathers while doing so. How, he never know. Only that he did. He disappeared for weeks at a time, only returning with the same old client list, no new suppliers and a brand new set of bruises and fractures. Seems like our friend Tony had found a weakness in Nathan; more than one, really. And liked to use that to his advantage. For the past two and a half months, Nathan had been neglecting his own business. Only focussed on keeping his old mentor happy. I mean, what else could he do? Tony had found plenty of dirt on Nathan [although he never figured out what that dirt was] and managed to make him do his own dirty work. Ruffle feathers, if you will.

He knew Shannon was continuing his own line of dealing, with Chris as a mentor. As long as she was safe, Nathan was happy. Things were getting too out of control for his friends. Only, about three months after Shannon turned fifteen did everything come crumbling down.

Again, it was a cloudy Sunday, with that same threat of storming endlessly for more than a week. It was the afternoon, around three-thirty. The day Tony Rodriguez decided to get Nathan’s attention once and for all. As far as he knew, Shannon and Chris had been conversing the entire day, probably about him. After all, they cared about him and he only returned home for medical care or to charge his cell phone. Not to mention his constant snapping at their concern. Until, when the clock struck four forty-three did everything change. Standing there, watching as Shannon sat on her bed, looking down to Chris, who was sitting lazily on the floor, Nathan cringed. What the fuck was going on?

“Nate! Where the fuck have you…?”

Watching helplessly as his sister fell silent as she watched her brother get pushed harshly to the ground, the rope around his wrists tight and his eyes blackened with bruises. Kneeling on his sister’s bedroom floor, chest pressed against his legs, he closed his eyes as Chris pulled Shannon into his chest – she was safe. He knew Chris Moore would do everything in his power to keep Shannon sage, and that was all that really mattered, after all. All of the questions and frightened gasps immediately ceased once they saw the gun in Tony’s large hand. It was a brand new gun, they could all tell; with a metallic finish, and stormy grey accents to the glimmering silver metal. It was clean, too, almost too clean. Like it had been buffed, polished and perfected just for this day. Out of all the guns he had seen in his lifetime, Nathan had never seen one look so perfect when pulled out on speculation. Not like that. Something was going on.

“Your friend here got himself into some trouble, Chris. And we all know that he never does a thing about it. Care to enlighten us on his plan of action?”

From Tony’s tone of voice, and the stony expression crossing Chris’ face, Nate let his head fall. This was all so fucking out of hand. Never before had he felt so defeated – like everything was finally going to come crashing down on him. In the drug world, it was usually the dealer himself that he was worried about. But Tony had done his homework. He knew what Nathan’s weaknesses were, and intended to get his attention by doing something about it. That is, until Shannon finally spoke for Chris.

“Don’t bring him into this. What are you going to do to my brother?” Her tone was firm, but obviously frightened, for she only saw smirks exchanged as silent replies. “We’re not going to do anything to him, beautiful. I think we all know Nate here well enough that he doesn’t care about himself. We’re just doing the job that he couldn’t do.” With that, Shannon’s bedroom door was kicked out once more. This time, there was someone in another thug’s grasp: her long, dark hair hanging limply around her face, and her ivory skin covered in cuts and stained with blood. Jordin Street. His own mother, tied and bound right before him. They intended to get his attention by damaging him right where it hurt: his parents. Every decent drug dealer knows that Nathan Street cared about his family, his mother in particular.

Her eyes swimming with tears, Jordin and pushed right beside her son, and that shiny new gun was held right up to the back of her head.


After his mother’s murder, nothing seemed to change.
Nathan Street became an icy version of his old self, Shannon began to hate her brother, and Chris finally knew what was going on. What fun. Until they were all arrested.

“Mister Street, you are under arrested for the possession and distribution of illegal substances and handling of an unregistered firearm. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. As a minor, your are able to contact a lawyer before questioning. If not, a public defender will be provided…”

As the police officer ranted as her rattled off his different rights, Nathan simply stood there, handcuffs loosely around his wrists. They had just been standing there, on the side of the road, talking and smoking a cigarette. The moment the sky began to cloud over, however, he knew something was going to happen. And there he was. The rain coming down in buckets, blinding their eyesight, and the flashing lights of the police cars blinding them furthar. The ringing of the sirens blaring noisily in their ears. Even as the two bulky police officers slammed Chris against the smooth surface of the car’s hood, he didn’t say a word. He kept his face stony and his mouth silent. There he stood, cool as ever. Leaning against the side of the other car, arms secured behind his back, dark hair dripping around his pale face. Like this happened every day. For him, it often did.

Nathan remembered those twelve months well. The colorless walls of the make-shift prison. How the administration weakly attempted to put softness in it. But it was just like a prison. With the bad food, locked cells and uncomfortable mattresses. All he learned there was friendships lasted through them, and he looked terrible in a jumpsuit. His friendship with Chris hadn’t suffered in the slightest. Until he moved away.

But he had found where Xavier was held – led his father and sister right to the door. He had seen Shannon get sent to juvenile hall twice in a year and a half. Had even seen his family move, without him, to America. By the time he turned twenty, everything had changed. Nathan Street was no longer the powerful Irish drug dealer with loyal companions and sharp senses. He had transformed into a washed-up nobody who no longer had any friends. There was nothing left for him here.

Until he registered as a freshman at Valkyrie University, studying photo journalism. His past was stuck in Ireland – no one would know it here. Nobody.


For The Valkyrie Academy Admin:

[/b][/size]
Read the Rules?: too many times to count.
Name One You Liked: large signatures are SO 2006.
What Makes Your Character Different From The Rest?: he's not like you. =] and is one hell of a drug dealer.
Roleplaying Sample: Word.
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[Shay Anderson]

blah blah blah. It's beautiful.
with a terrible history. XD

Accepted. <3