Hunter, shane wesley

[shane]

SHANE HUNTER

full name shane wesley hunter
nicknames mr. hunter
type original
gender male
age twenty-three
birthday november, 5th
group miscellaneous
clique teacher
grade not applicable
sexuality heterosexual
occupation physical education teacher at Manchester Academy, and coach of the girl's volleyball team.
face claim cam gigandet
alias jaden

persona
flirtatious, charming, suave, sharp, indifferent, sociable, mysterious, enigmatic, cool, secretive, cunning, persuasive, savvy, womanizer, the bad ass teacher, calm, provocative, knowledgeable, stubborn, confident.

life
Back in the day, Shane was known to be a bad ass among bad asses in Manchester Academy. He was a reject, casted aside by the popular preps and royals. Actually, no, let me take that back, he wasn’t casted aside, as a matter of fact; he decided to separate himself from the kings and queens of the school. He merely couldn’t stand them, he hated what they represented, and hated the way they behaved themselves condescendingly in the presence of others who they deemed to be socially inferior to them. The young Shane, simply couldn’t handle that type of attitude surrounding him, so he rebelled most of the time, and did his best to attack and degrade these royal punks whenever he had the chance. The guys would get it the worst, mostly because Shane was a well known street fighter at school. he was known for getting into fights, and was a natural brawler during his days, thus bullying those who liked to bully on others was most of the time easier done than said. Literally, at the time, Shane was never one for many words, he let his fists do the talking, and boy did they talk. He would beat on those royals’ whenever he had the chance. He had no fear and was even readied to get expelled just to show that he wasn’t and had never been one to be fucked with. The best part about messing around with the Royals was the fact that he had a knack for sleeping around with most of their girls. it made their boyfriends jealous and created even more animosity between Shane and them… at one point, it literally felt as though it was Shane against the whole world. But that would change ultimately.

It was part of his demeanor back then, but alas, his personality has drastically, or should I say fairly changed since then. Age has definitely made him wiser, and more mature. When he finished dealing with high school drama, he began focusing on school, and getting his life back on track and away from the dangerous crowd that had made him a tough s.o.b. Life stopped being about who's cool, and who’s not, and centered more on getting an education and building a future. Personality wise, he became calmer, as opposed to being impulsive. He learned how to use those charming abilities of his to get by school. Eventually getting his degree and becoming a teacher. Of course, figuring that it would be best to return to his old roots, Shane decided to become Manchester’s very own Physical Education teacher, as well as the coach of the girls’ volleyball team. The thing that makes it so interesting is that Shane sort of became the kind of bad boy that he would usually beat on back in high school, the smooth talker, the flirtatious one, the womanizer. Nowadays, he’s the type of individual willing to utilize his unique way with words, and his physicality to get what he wants if presented to him. He’s a pursuer, a seducer of sort, and has no shame to seduce a student for example for his own satisfaction. he knows the risks, but most of the times those are highly calculated risks that are worth taking in his eyes. Yep, that’s about all there is to him, at least for the moment.
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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
aaron baker