Baker, Aaron Neal

[baker]

AARON BAKER

full name aaron neal baker
nicknames a.b, douchbag.
type canon
gender male
age eighteen
birthday december, twentieth
group popular, royal
clique jock
grade senior
sexuality heterosexual
occupation none
face claim matt lanter
alias jaden

persona
egotistical, charismatic, confident, audacious, affluent, quick-witted, immature, nonchalant, unsympathetic, unpredictable, seducer, promiscuous, thrill seeker, athletic, mischievous, meticulous, cheater, boastful, lovable ass hole, poetically lewd.

life
There was a time when life used to be so simple for Aaron, all he ever had to worry about was scoring goals, and making wonderful strides while drenched and soaked in water during his many endeavors to surf the sea like no other had ever before him. Until of course, the man just had to let his sexual instincts and thirst for fulfillment and satisfaction get the best of him, consequently resulting into knocking up some girl named Petersen, thus hindering his ever so nonchalant life, the one where he’d have sex with anyone decent looking and with a pair of legs, and a loin between it to insert the best piece of his body. It felt as though Aaron was preparing himself to become a father to this life that he had mistakenly created. He was reluctantly ready to face the truth, but at the moment of revelations, when Petersen tried to get him to be responsible for once, the infamous soccer player turned the other cheek, and ignored all her claims, refusing to believe what she had over him, and rejecting everything, and anything that was related to her and the baby.

It was too much to stomach, and Aarron simply wasn’t ready to abide by whatever lifestyle becoming a father at such a young age would ultimately lead to. He’d always had the same plan in life to one day become a soccer star, and glamorize himself all over Europe by becoming this heartthrob American superstar living in Europe, in some sense, making him the American version of Christiano Ronaldo. It was a dream that he simply wasn’t ready to give up to in exchange for changing diapers. So, he told the girl to buzz off, and decided to cut her out of his life. Doing so was pretty easy, lots of people would call it heartless, but really, Aaron doesn’t give a damn what they would think of it; in this lifetime, one that had ever only belonged to him, only his existence matter, and no one else.

relationships
When it comes to how he interacts with people, it’s fairly simple. If you aren’t a royal, an athlete, or someone that he deems respectable, then he won’t give you his attention. Maybe he’ll give you his curiosity, but never his full undivided attention. He can talk with rejects, but won’t fraternize with them as if they’re his best friends. Girls have it easier though, if he finds you insanely attractive, then he’ll likely pursue you. After all, he sees women as replaceable and disposable objects of pleasure, rather than meaningful pursuits. He cares about fulfilling his own satisfaction and desires whether than falling in love. Though, a few girls might be able to break down his walls, and really touch, just graze his heart – but even that takes a special kind of skills to achieve such an improbable feat. He’s a very vain individual, so expect him to talk to you condescendingly, if not always then most of the time. He’s brash, boastful, and has absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, giving him more reason to brag, at times very childishly. A warm warning, he loves taking jabs at people, always be alert around him, his bluntness and quick-witted mind, knows no boundaries. Unless if he somehow feels a little sympathetic and decides to take it easy on you. Commitments, loves and whatnots, like I said, that’s not his style. Occasionally, he’ll give dating a try, but that usually ends up horribly with him being the heartbreaker, the cheater, the douchbag, whatever you want to call it. Hence the reason he prefers seducing a woman since the chase has always been better than the catch. Anyways, that’s all there is to him. He’s a rock star, be jealous and deal with it.



roleplaying sample
The Rider’s tail spread across the street, a flaming line that followed him as he strode impassively past all the potential onlookers who filled the road. Soulless eyes glared deep at the road ahead, scanning, searching patiently for those drunken fools, thugs, rapists, drug addicts, and mortal sinners who liked to infest the streets at night with their venomous aura and desires to sin. It was another routine mission for the Rider and his ever pulsating need to rid this world of its sinners. Ever since he had arrived in New York he had realized that the city itself was polluted with criminals all over its darkest districts and corners. It was hard to ignore and its aroma had a very nauseating scent and peculiar way of captivating his attention. There was something quite different between here and the West, maybe it was the city itself being so over populated, consequently having more criminals lurking around every intersection. Whatever it was, the Rider had never gotten a good grasp of it. He wondered, and often found himself riding down unfamiliar territory with his mind confined deep into his thoughts, unaware of his surroundings.

Yeah, the city had that effect on him. For the moment, it all remained insoluble. It was an itch lingering in an unreachable place that he would have to endure until everything became clearer. Clearer... kind of like the sun, things never really got clearer for Johnny whenever the dawn of new day came to fruition, if anything its rays only made it worst, blinding him, barricading his thoughts. He had grown so accustomed to being the Rider that he had begun to think like it, act like it, sleep with it as the final remnant of his thoughts, and wake up with the desires to transform into his demonic self. Those poignant thoughts almost invaded his mind, in its entirety, but just as soon as The Rider made a left on an intersection leading to a path loaded with old buildings exposing the age of the city, an alarming voice piercingly rang in his ears. It belonged to a woman, assumingly begging for her life. It drew the demonic spirit’s attention like a Siren luring nearby sailors with their enchanting voice. Somewhere close by, someone was getting victimized.

It didn’t take long for the Rider to reach the crime scene; mere seconds had passed since the clock struck past a quarter after two in the morning. Empty orbits glared down the dark alley where the vivacious voice came from. Parking his flaming bike in the middle of the road, Johnny stepped off of his motor vehicle and engulfed his bony skin. Enamored with the desire to cleanse this city of its evil, the rider smiled a mischievous grin, although externally unnoticeable, he could feel it within himself as those cheek bones rose closer to his eye-sockets. He wasn’t a sadistic freak. He didn’t enjoy taking the lives of people. He enjoyed taking the soul of those who acted soullessly, and inhumanely. “Besotted fools! Did you cowards think to rape this woman tonight?” he shouted eagerly. His voice was intimidating, and meant to make his prey tremble in fear. When he spoke it felt as though three, hell, possibly even four voices resonated at once in synchronicity – all in a very gruff and menacing tone. The group of three men stared at each other frightened by the sudden presence of this peculiar looking specie. They didn’t know what to think of him, or what to make of him, how to react to him. As it stood, it seemed like the Rider’s abrupt presence had bemused them. It had certainly caught their attention and allowed the innocent woman to run away.

“What the hell!” barked one man, as he pulled out a handgun and immediately fired a series of shots toward the Rider.

The shower of bullets bounced off the Rider’s hardened bony skin; not even leaving a dent or a scratch. It amused him how pathetic and feeble humans had a tendency of being. The Rider took one cold step forward, laughing in a sinister way. The group of thugs looked at each other with an anxious look on their faces. This being, this incomprehensibly flammable being was supposed to be dead. How was it so that he remained tall and still without a sign of discomfort or a wince of pain? “Stupid human! Will you ever learn? Those feeble bullets will never be able to penetrate my skin. My power is greater. Mine is the power of Hell unleashed!” he shrieked, the four voices resonated simultaneously. And so did his flames as they upraised themselves – with a mind of their own – into a higher level. Overwhelmed with fear, one man instantaneously tried to run away. It was a valiant effort but he soon found his body wrapped in chains, being tugged back towards the flaming, standing skeleton. The Rider had been quick been about it, a blink and you would have likely missed him lassoing the scared thug into a tight submission hold.

“Please have mercy?” cried the man enslaved in the Rider’s grasp.

The Rider cocked his head to one side, intrigued, with a hint of a playful smile that would have curled his lips had he been in his human form. “Sorry, all out of mercy.” Said the four voices in a very cold and uncaring manner. With the man now tugged, and in arm’s reach, The Rider heralded his Penance Stare deep into the eyes of his prey and coerced him to see and feel every bit of pain he had ever inflicted on anyone in their entire life. The man sobbed, cried, begged for his life, but his attempts were all futile. He soon vanished as his skin faded into dust, and burned into ashes, with his soul extracted from his body. The Rider turned his gaze to the remaining two men, and glared at them dauntingly. They both tried to run away, but such only angered the impatient Rider whose thirst for vengeance grew drastically that instant. Roaring, the Rider magically eluded two chains from his hands and launched them towards his victims. Having managed to seize them both into a tight grasp, the Rider wasted no time to impose his power over them as he immediately engulfed his chains with the everlasting flames from hell, and charred their souls that instant; having no mercy at all for the merciless.

“You will do no more evil” he said quietly, watching on as their skins turned into ashes.

The city was cleansed tonight. At least this part of the neighborhood was. No one had any rights to tell him otherwise, or that he had made the wrong choice to end their lives. Those lowlife punks deserved to live among the soulless in the corridors of hell. Had he not intervened with their attempt to commit a crime, blood would have been spilled tonight. A woman would have been raped, beaten and battered, left to rot somewhere in the dark alley of the city. Ghost Rider’s acts, were necessary violent acts. However, somewhere, out there, in the world, Johnny knew that people would disagree with him, that someone would disagree with his actions, even tonight. For he felt watched, and had felt so for the past thirty minutes. Someone had followed him… someone. Who could it be? Who was it? The Rider didn’t care to know, but Johnny sure did. And so, the human took a commanding control of the body, forcing the Spirit of Vengeance to take a back seat to a mere mortal. “Who goes there?” Johnny whispered inquisitively, marching closer and closer to his bike, with brown eyes thoroughly scanning the area.

other characters
n/a