Tatsu
Woke
[ General Information ]Name: Tatsu
Age: 32
Faction: Commanding Officer of the Republic Exiles (former)| The Sith Empire (current)
Rank: Major
Species: Human/Atrisian
Sex: Male
Height: 5'10
Weight: 144 lbs
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Dark Brown
Skin: Moderately Tanned
Appearance: Listless, rugged, scarred. Three words that sum up the face and body of Tatsu. His eyes accented by a forlorn glaze. A want to discover something, but his mind can never decide what that truly might be. A scar runs up the left side of his neck, nipping at the bottom of his earlobe. His cheeks pocked with dark freckles and minor damage to the skin - his lips tattered and chapped, most likely due to a lack of care for his own personal appearance. His teeth are stained yellow, his gums an unhealthy pink due to a lack fundamental hygienic practice. A filthy man, a lonely man. Nobody.
[ Strengths & Weaknesses ]
+ Tenacious
+ CQC Expert
+ Tactical
+ Cybernetically Altered
- Emotionally Unstable
- Addictive Personality
- Manipulative
- PTSD
[ Biography ]
[ Part 1 ]
Fragment
Life was a blur, an inconsistent haze of emotion and noise. Blood and the hungry squirming of an empty stomach. Tatsu can only remember fear and distrust for a good portion of his own upbringing, being beaten and nearly starved until his tasks as a scavenger were complete - no, until he satisfied his masters. Scraps of cold metal and the searing, burning sting of unmerciful sunlight. The bitter taste of rusting durasteel and chemicals of cities beneath planet surfaces. The sickly sweet, yet pungent aroma of rotting flesh - his peers dying to starvation and disease. Those strong enough to survive were selected for a kind of militaristic reconditioning. Their skin was violated, injected with needles and torn to make room for cybernetic implants. Those that made it to this stage were tested in combat consisting of small-scale raids on opposing crime syndicates seeking to seize potential profit and unlicensed technology.
This became "living life" for a time.
Tatsu became a tool of business first and foremost, and a person never. His minute identity over time became eroded, rotted to the core and barely hanging on by a thread. His pseudo identity was instead a mere fragment of a whole - a piece of his squad which was mockingly dubbed Vermin Actual. A piece that would find itself drifting away with time. Each member of Vermin Actual died along the course of Tatsu's growth, two of which lost their lives to a thermal detonator that tore them to pieces before his eyes, the last to an infection in the blood that, after being untreated for a time, caused sepsis. And then there was only one.
No longer whole.
Their employer(s) were a shadow syndicate - operating purely off of stolen assets and illegal experimentation on over-worked orphans bought for cheap. Faces that nobody would miss, names that nobody would care about. The visible unseen.
[ Part 2 ]
The Truth
All things are built upon lies. Even the most noble of causes, even individuals sworn to oath and charity, protecting those unable to fulfill roles requiring great sacrifice. Even when the greater good is at the forefront of every action, the seedling of deceit and manipulation grows and blossoms as the bar is raised. Not every savior is worth their praise, and those beholden to their crusades merely feed into a detriment yet to be seen. But there are also those that see clearly, disillusioned from the facade that Jedi uphold. Tatsu saw clearly the pain and suffering that was inevitable, the sheer futility in nursing a notion that he himself struggled to stomach, as more bodies multiplied as a collateral measure brought on by a lack of action on the Jedi's part. How many more had to die? Tatsu became conflicted in this regard, unable to distinguish what it truly was that painted these robed guardians of peace and protection as people worthy of respect. They were arrogant, pompous.
Taking part in a war that he had no true stake in, Tatsu realized that no matter what he could think of - no matter how hard he would've tried, it would ultimately mean nothing. Those that wielded the Force were timeless in their feud, they were the architects of fate while everyone else was simply expendable. In a whirlwind of confused morals and philosophy, Tatsu's perspective inverted into that of empathy for the Imperials he did battle against. How efficient they presented themselves to be, true to their intent and unbiased in their fury. They were followers of a truth - a sentiment that dared to rattle the weakened foundation of the Republic.
A belief that dared to expose the Jedi for the cowards they were.
With a broken heart, Tatsu understood that his place within the Republic was a bold lie. His every waking moment trying to carry the weight of lives that didn't matter to him. He was a soldier, after all. A product of training and discipline that only understood death and how to cause it. There was nothing selfless to find about his history, only a damning confusion and a fragile identity that attempted the trials of just cause, only to resonate with something much more hollow and cold.
He was more like them, the Imperials.
And perhaps that is where he belonged.
