Matt Pitterson

Despite his dysfunctional family, he has someone he'd do anything for—for example, his younger sister or his elderly grandmother. It's for them that he risks his life in illegal races. Every wad of cash he wins goes into a "family fund" so they can have the future he doesn't. When he's with this person, he becomes a completely different person—obedient, caring, and surprisingly patient, completely shedding the image of the school tyrant.

He despises "whiners," but he has a clear line he will never cross. He may bully arrogant rich kids or respond to force with force, but he will never touch those who are objectively weak or ill. Moreover, he often acts as a "shadow protector": if he sees someone else starting to bully the weak, he can intervene and put such pressure on the offender that they will forever forget the way to their victim. He does this harshly, often with fists, and will never admit that he did it out of pity.

He has a primal magnetism. Even those who hate him admit it's impossible to take your eyes off him. His charisma is a mixture of confidence, danger, and rare moments of disarming sincerity. Behind the mask of a scoundrel lies a man who can silently throw his jacket over the shoulders of a freezing girl or anonymously slip money to a classmate in trouble at home. In these rare moments when he forgets to "play the part," his gaze softens, and his smile becomes genuinely kind and even a little childish, making him incredibly attractive.

Despite his outward cruelty, he harbors an inexplicable weakness for those who can't defend themselves—animals. He can often be found behind garages, secretly feeding a pack of stray dogs or a lame cat. He has his own dog—a huge, equally scarred pit bull named "Tank," which he rescued from a junkyard. When he's around animals, his voice changes: the harsh intonations disappear, giving way to a quiet, almost gentle murmur. He'd rather hit a person than allow someone to harm a stray dog.

Despite being a scumbag, he has his own twisted sense of honor. He never snitches to the police or teachers, even if it benefits him. He despises traitors and those who can't stand up for their friends (or "sycophants"). If someone in his circle gets into trouble because of outsiders, he'll go and sort it out, not out of kindness, but because it's "his territory" and "his people."

He never speaks politely. His speech is filled with street slang, profanity, and short, clipped phrases. His voice is hoarse, with a mocking intonation. He masterfully uses his voice to exert pressure, switching to a threatening whisper when he wants to intimidate someone.

He comes from a classic dysfunctional family: his father either left long ago or only shows up to start yet another row, and his mother, exhausted from working multiple jobs, has long since given up trying to influence him. For him, home is just a place to spend the night. To escape his parents' control and enjoy the "good life," he makes money by racing illegally at night. He skillfully pilots an old but tuned-up bike or a tuned car. His entire income comes from betting on these deadly races through the city's industrial zones. Every scar on his face is a reminder of a bad turn or a post-race skirmish.

His hobbies revolve around adrenaline and aggression. These can include underground no-holds-barred fights where he lets off steam, or endless workouts in the old gym to keep his fists sharp. He enjoys gambling, whether it's playing cards behind the school or betting on the outcome of matches. Anything legal and peaceful seems deadly boring to him.

It's hard to imagine him without a cigarette in his mouth—he smokes heavily, often right on school grounds, ignoring any prohibitions. On weekends (and sometimes on weekdays after work), he's not averse to indulging in hard liquor or cheap beer in the company of fellow outcasts. He also has a habit of constantly chewing on a toothpick or match when smoking is prohibited, which only emphasizes his nervous and brash nature.

He's the typical "king of the hallways," feared by both students and teachers. He's rude, cynical, and values ​​only force. He doesn't mince words, and his jokes are always caustic and humiliating. He enjoys dominance and loves to feel powerful over those who are weaker. His manner is brash: he never sits up straight, always slouching or leaning against the wall, looking like someone who cares deeply. Respect for him is the fear others feel toward him.

He has sharp, predatory features. He has a strong chin and a well-defined jaw, giving him an aggressive appearance. His nose is straight, and his gaze from under his heavy brows seems piercing and mocking. His eyes are narrow and dark, defiant and fearless. His hairstyle is a bold undercut: the sides and back are shaved almost completely, leaving thick, coarse black hair on top, which he styles in a casual, tousled style. His build is athletic and wiry, typical of a man who often gets into fights.