King - 12th Division Captain

ALIAS: Jūnibantai Taichō, Captain.



RACE: Shinigami.



AGE: One-Hundred, Thirteen (113).



AFFILIATION: Seireitei, Gotei 13, Juniibantai.



DIFFICULTY SETTING: Hard.



APPEARANCE:

King's hair is a confusing blend of a dark purple and seafloor blue. His hair is also knotted onto the left side of his hair and wears hair accessories. It's hard to pinpoint of which hue it truly is, so he constantly refers to it as a mixture of both. The eyes of the captain is that of a strong crimson color signifying rage, strength, power, and compassion. Each quality he believes is equal to the rest and higher than no other quality in the family. A single horizontal discoloration runs across the bridge of his nose. It's a birthmark that he has had ever since he was a kid passed on from both of his parents. Finally, he's no stranger to ink. He has assorted tribal tattoos decorating his shoulders and his chest. On his right shoulder there's some strange sort of tribal tattoo that forms from the apex of his shoulder to his elbow and on his left shoulder there's a wave of pink petals that trail along his back. There's also a tattoo around his right eye but it's typically covered by his hair.



King's attire is rather elegant and doesn't constrict any sort of movement. Below everything he tapes himself with that of white bandages around the lower part of his chest and forearms. He considers it a "style" thing and does it quite frequently. Above that he dons a typical captain's haori. It doesn't stop there as a somewhat flexible assortment is worn beneath the haori on his back in appearance of a brace, it forms a black choker around his neck and trails off beneath the kimono. His leggings are of a dusty grey color and his arms are equipped with that of sleeve fitting fingerless black gloves that take up the expanse of his forearm. Last but not least, he dons lightweight black boots.

PERSONALITY:

King's personality on the exterior is reminiscent of someone with emotional scars that just wants to be left alone. Yet beneath his tough shell, he has a slew of traits that define him as an individual. For one, he's extremely intelligent. He reacts logically to most situations in a steadfast manner and shrewdly uses his wits when he comes into any sort of obstacle. Simultaneously he's courageous and decisive, making him a very powerful leader no matter the location. He's an ally that just about anyone would benefit from having on their side. Not to mention that he's rather cunning and observant, always giving himself the time to learn and understand something foreign instead of rendering it valueless - at most times at least.



On the gloomy side, the shinigami hosts a fair amount of traits that contribute to his sinister core. The fact that he's mainly pretty distant from others fuel his "lone wolf" concept. He's never been someone to seek out friends for reasons such as emotions or emptiness. There's always some sort of twisted and unknown method to his madness. Such a trait has brewed arrogance in his persona and has made him manipulative of others to certain extents. He can certainly be apathetic when it comes to doing tasks for reasons beyond his own and manages to be quite sarcastic around unwanted company.

HISTORY:

New York, New York.



Some call it the Big Apple and the heart of the land of opportunity, symbolized by that ivy crowned woman named Liberty. Well.. If you ask me if that's true, then all I gotta say is there's a reason that bitch is surrounded by water.



Of course if you're reading this, then you'll understand my story doesn't have a happy ending. In fact, rarely do they ever do. You gotta go out of this world some type of way. You can only pray that you're not the unlucky bastard to go out by choking on a piece of broccoli or stick of celery. But does that even mean your end was justified? I fucking hope not. As for myself, hell no, my end definitely wasn't justified.



I was born at St. Joseph's hospital to two parents that in all honesty shouldn't have met. My mother was a simple preschool teacher that went by the name Meg Steedle. She was a lovely woman with a rosy red color of locks. Like most women, she was somewhat small in terms of her height, but her adoration and love for kids surely made up for any shortcomings.



On the other hand you had my father, Greg Antonacci. He was a tall man with a deep and raspy voice that made even the deepest voice gentle. With the tongue of a viper, he made his living by working as a car salesman. Or at least that's what I believed from what he used to tell me about how he brought home the bacon. Though at times his attitude was reckless, it always felt like he gave a damn about my mother and I. And from that I once believed that my family was rather ordinary.



But there's something you oughta know. Despite the fact that I know my mother's name and occupation, it's more than unfortunate that I never had the chance to meet her. According to Pop she ran off when I was just a kid.



Growing up for me was rather uneventful and particularly easy for me. 90% of the time I completed any schoolwork that was given to me 100% of the time. What? You don't get that statistic? It's totally factual, trust me. It's a New York thing. But my school life isn't nearly as important as my life at home.



By the ripe age of 16, I figured out that my father belonged to some sort of mafia family. I had heard about the Italian rooted group but never knew my father was in it until he told me. Maybe I just didn't really pay attention to the world around me. After all, my closest friends were named Vinny, Alonzo, and Fabian. And everyone of their fathers were friends with my own father as well. At that age,our fathers decided it was time to get us to understand the true meaning of family and we begin taking on a lesser role in the crime family.

***

As I sit in the back of a van, my mind repeatedly dances over the plan that we've went over several times before. Vinny sits beside me and Alonzo in front of me as Fabian drives us over the bridge. It isn't long before he pulls up in front of two double glass doors and we all spring out from the vehicle.



A monkey. A tiger. A dog. And a fox.



Now that's a sight to see.



With our outlandish masks firmly covering our faces, we begin our robbery of the minor bank. Vinny is barking for everyone to get down and to quell any notion of attempting to be a hero. I don't say anything but mentally I agree. There's no reason for anyone not to make it home to their families if they do just as we request. While I'm loading a duffle bag full of cash with the help of a female attendant, I can hear the others making sure that everything goes exactly as planned and spray painting the glass from the inside.



Talk about efficiency, eh?



As I finish up, I take a blue scarf from out of my pockets and tie it around the assistant's eyes. I take her as a hostage, just to make sure we always have at least one chip left to play in case this goes wrong. And fortunately for everyone, nothing does go wrong as we pile ourselves back into the van and drive off before the authorities can arrive. We end up dropping off the woman on the beach unharmed, where I take a finally glance at her name tag and see the word "Jessica" inscribed upon it before taking off with the others.



Later that night, Vinny can't help but vent that he feels as if we left an end untied. Specifically, he's speaking about Jessica and even says he thinks it's best if he offs her just to be certain. He always was the bloodthirsty type on the low. But instead I vouch to go figure out what she knows, just to protect her from having an early tombstone. And begrudgingly, Vinny allows me to use my method instead as I take a night out on the town and seek her out.



And much to my surprise, I finally find her at one of the downtown bars, downing a few drinks. I take my seat near her and order my own, giving myself a brief amount of time to come up with a strategy. Once the Jack Daniels begins to fill my glass, I open up with a complement and introduction of myself. My true self.



Lorenzo Antonacci.



She then tells me what I already know, and as we drink and talk, she begins to unravel the frenzy of the bank robbery and her day. I act surprised, speechless, and totally withdrawn into her story. She remembers the events undeniably well, but knows nothing in particular that could lead to the group's downfall. That is, until she informs me she saw the "NY" tattoo on Vinny's wrist and is debating on whether to inform the police about it. Sharply, but cautiously, I inform her that it's best to let stuff like that go as to keep herself out of any future harm if the mysterious robbers figure out she gave clues that led to them getting caught. And for the moment, she seems to take in my advice and agree, still shaken up by the imagery of everything that happened earlier.



Our talk evolves into other things more personal to our lives as somehow I end up telling her that I never knew my mother but my dad had told me she was somewhere down in California long ago. I even speak into rare existence my idea of going out to search for her, and surprisingly Jessica supports the idea. I don't leave the bar without her phone number and a little bit of her trust inside of me.



More importantly, I didn't notice that I too, left a little bit of my feelings and emotion inside of her.

***

Greg sits on the other side of the glass from me with his hand clenching the black telephone. It's the third Sunday of the month and here I am again, checking up on the old man as usual. He smiles and I can't do anything but return the favor as he peers at me through the glass. It's uncomfortable for me to be around so many men in orange jumpsuits even if we're separated, so I can only imagine how his life has been here. We make small talk as usual with a joke or two seething through our conversation.



Unlike any other visit, I actually have plans of a future that I want him to hear about. A future that I want him to understand. A future that will prevent me from sharing a cell with him.



I tell him about the idea that I plan on leaving the mafia and head down to California with Jess. Yeah, she's Jess now. We've come a pretty long way since the beginning. She still doesn't know the hand I played in our meeting before the bar, but she doesn't need to know. We have a lifetime of happiness in front of us. Surprisingly, my father is completely against the idea of me leaving the mafia. He constantly quotes that the group that caused him to get behind these bars and commit heinous deeds was a family. Even behind these prison walls, he's still a mafia man and firm believer in the system. Hell, it might as well just be a religion to him. Nonetheless, I hang up the phone knowing that this is likely our last conversation.



10% of the time he was a great father figure 0% of the time.

***

As I enter the garden shop, I make a beeline towards the very back for employees only. The elderly Lupo sits in the back trimming one of his plants as his overgrown steroid bodyguard stands in the back waiting for the slightest command. Somewhat unsure, I inform the boss of the family, Lupo, that I hope to gain his blessing for leaving the family.



The only indication that he heard me is a sort of malicious snicker and a chortle by his manservant. As if my words carried no weight, he points to the table with a document that probably holds the information for our next robbery. Rivaling his disrespect, I don't even make a gesture in that direction before once more telling him I'm not doing it. Annoyed now, Lupo opens his mouth and begins to speak, mostly about the locked up halfwit known as my father. Then he takes things a step further and talks about Meg and how she ran out on my dad when I was a cub. However, Lupo insists that he she never ran away at all but instead committed suicide. He even utters that in retaliation for my father trying to leave long ago, he got her hooked on drugs that eventually led with her ending her own life. Angered by this notion, Lupo doesn't even begin to stop as he even threatens to end Jessica's life if I try to follow through with it.



Oh me oh me oh my.

***

With the moon hanging in the sky, I continue to pack everything I can of Jessica's belonging in a suitcase as I explain to her that we have to leave. She trusts me enough that she doesn't ask why but is still curious as to my frenzied state which I only use the typical "it's for your own good" quote to cease any argument. The others have listened to my reasoning surprisingly, and even the cold-hearted Vinny sees life outside of all of this mafia family shit as much better than anything he could ever ask for. Vinny, Fabian, Alonzo, and I all agree to meet down at the bus station with the remaining money we have from the first robbery to get away. But just as I prepare to get into the car to leave with Jessica, so does another van pull up. Without warning, I grabbed my pistol and fired on it, noticing it to be the flower garden shops delivery van and I push Jessica into the vehicle. As I tell her where to go, I inform her that I would meet up with her there later before giving her a final kiss.



She as well as I knew that was most likely the second and last lie that I had told her in the relationship. But as due my command, she followed it through and through until she was gone and another delivery van had made it to the front of my home. Left with no other choice, I resolved to make one last phone call before hanging it up and throwing my phone away. With my arms raised, I surrendered to Lupo's gang as they surrounded me and forced me back into my own abode before tying me up.



The torture that came after was hellish and unsightly. I had always read about the shit as a youngin', but never though I'd experience it first hand. With myself sitting in front of Lupo and his men, I understood that my final moments were nigh and I was bleeding out. However, my thoughts only raced to the safety of Jessica and what she would say when she saw Vinny's "NY" tattoo on his wrist. Would she hate me despite all of our memories we created together? That was my last dying thought as sirens poured into my ears and doors were busted down resulting in the success of my final call.



The whole scene turned into a war waging fiasco between the police and Lupo's men.



Heh. The mafia? A family?

Fuck family.

[ Dog Days ]

Religion. It's a scapegoat and a lie to keep your security blanket tight around you at night. That much was figured out on the first night within district 75. The world that he currently existed in was nothing like Father Barceloni's description of the Promised Land. And the conditions of the people here were unfitting to say the least. Everyone tended to keep amongst themselves or serve some pack like mentality. And pretty soon, Lorenzo found himself slowly following suit. However this time, he fashioned a new alias for himself: King



It was part fanciful and part royal, but it did the job.



King soaked up information about this new world like a sponge, unsure of the difference between the truth and fables. But the only thing that was for sure was the reckoning at the end of the first week. The Shinigami came and unmercifully slaughtered those left and right, coining it a "re-balancing of the souls". King would've found himself a corpse as well, had the leader's whistle not been blown, signaling the men to move their purge from one district to the next.



Their hive mind interested him and over the passing days he even steadily begin to uncover more information about the reapers and their duties within this place named Soul Society. It was only by the interest of a roaming Shinigami that he managed to talk with that he was recommended to try his hand at the academy. With the adventures of his previous life along with the state of the paltry district, King didn't have much of a choice to follow through.



The work at the academy and lessons came to King with ease. The idea of shinigami and their functions felt nearly primal at best. However, their still was the notion that their duties allowed the world to continue to flow without interruption. It wasn't long before you began acing concepts and demonstrating the product of lengthy hours of studying. However, he still opted to graduate on the same time block that the other of his class signed up for the academy, in order to hone his mental and physical skills to a T.



After graduation, the male was sorted into the 1st division. He felt the division was for those that were the future authorities of Soul Society and steadily he worked to improve his positioning. From an unseated member, he rose to the 5th seat over the course of several years. In truth, he desired to ascend to the lieutenant of the division but felt that those above him were locked into place as a sign of the divisions respect of authority. Frustrated and with no where to go, King requested the transfer of his services to another division and was granted his wishes into that of the 12th Division.



Unsure of his positioning, there were a series of mental tests that questioned the thoughtfulness of his reaction to dire effects within Seireitei and physically placed him up against the other 12th Division members. At the end of his trials, he was rightfully seated as a Lieutenant of the Division given his success.



For many years he sat as the right hand of the secretive Captain, doing that which he could to help the division and in his own time creating his own experiments. It came as of no surprise that the benefit of being in such high company within the Division came with that of infinite technological resources. With himself as lieutenant, King created many crowning works that provided useful to Soul Society as a whole. At the same time, he spent many a night mastering his zanpakuto and honing it within secret until he finally acquired the ability to access his bankai.



Upon the end of the seventh year as a lieutenant, he challenged that of the Captain for his role within the division. Surprised by the fact that his pupil had unknowingly reached bankai level with his zanpakuto, the leader could do nothing but accept. In his mind, King was but a ant that had just felt the fleeting powers of new potential and didn't know how to utilize it correctly. But on the day of their battle, the fight lasted for three days and three nights before a new division leader was crowned.



Ever since then, a novel energy to work and produce has been rooted in his chest and he's more secretive than ever. With King leading the division, it's with his satisfaction that he has made a name for himself as a shrewd leader. Nonetheless, many are uncertain as to what he does in the privacy of his lab. What they are certain about, however, is to make sure they take caution if the leader ever takes an interest in them.

It usually ends up being for the worst.