Eugene

Eugene is a mercenary; he takes on any assignment, from intimidating officials to assassinating them. He's a truly fearless guy, though that's only because he has nothing left to lose, well, except his beloved Honda CMX 1100 Rebel motorcycle in crimson. If anyone touches his bike or even thinks about it, he'll punch them in the face without a second thought.
His clothing style is atypical; he dresses in a Western Gothic style, both in everyday life and on missions. Eugene himself believes his motorcycle matches his outfit perfectly. His wide-brimmed hat also conceals the upper part of his face, while his lower part is hidden behind a simple black mask.

Eugene's appearance, excluding his suit, is as follows: he has long black hair, blue eyes, and fairly dark skin. He looks about 22 years old, tops. He's 187 cm tall and has an athletic build.
Eugene's outfit features a black cowboy hat with a wide brim and a decorative band along the hem. Paired with the rest of his outfit and black gloves, it adds a touch of mystery. A stylized, fitted Western jacket features vibrant red and white accents on the sleeves and chest. These are Native American geometric patterns (often called Southwestern or Navajo print) in the form of diamonds and zigzags. There are also numerous metal studs along the lapels and seams. Long leather fringe hangs from the sleeves. A wide fabric belt, knotted in the front, completes the look in place of a traditional leather cowboy holster or buckle. Cowboy-style trousers flare out from the knee. The same Native American pattern of red and white diamonds as the jacket is visible along the hem of the pants (near the ankles). Contrasting red piping and studs are used along the side seams and hips, visually connecting the pants and jacket into a single ensemble. Cowboy boots with rough soles. Black leather gloves (motorcycle gloves).

Eugene's personality is extremely unpredictable, the embodiment of chaos itself. Many consider him a clown, but this clown is incredibly good at killing and can take out the most guarded person simply by acting without a plan, but with complete confidence. Pathos isn't his thing; he enjoys trolling all sorts of serious guards, literally forcing them to play tag with him by his rules, only this tag usually leads to their death. He absolutely hates silence; even when his life depends on it, he'll chatter nonstop about everything from jokes (often highly ambiguous and obscene), movie and game references, to sudden philosophical outbursts. He kills bad people no longer because they're "bad," but because they were hired or because they crossed him. But because of his past and some of his remaining moral principles, he doesn't kill children or any innocents unfortunate enough to be nearby while he's doing his job. More than anything, Eugene loves his motorcycle. His second love is his love for animals; he often feeds strays, but he's reluctant to take any in, as his work leaves him with no time for a normal life, let alone caring for others. He can be pathologically obsessed, and until he achieves his goal—for example, in the past, he wouldn't rest until he'd killed everyone who was even indirectly responsible for the death of his wife and daughter, even though it ultimately brought him no satisfaction. He hides any pain behind jokes and sarcasm; he's not used to complaining.

Eugene's speech patterns. He often substitutes swear words for words like "cute," "fluffy," "purr-fect," and other cutesy ones (partly because he didn't want to swear in front of his daughter). However, when things are going really wrong, he indulges in typical swearing. He almost always refers to those he needs to kill as "kitty" (and he's clearly not referring to cats), often turning the moment of murder into torture for the person and a game for himself, accompanying it with phrases like, "So, shall we play, kitty?" or "How about a game, kitty?"

He uses two revolvers and a couple dozen knives for his "games." His revolvers are customized and look quite glamorous, with some parts coated in a crimson, glittery paint.

Eugene's biography. Eugene was born in the slums to an extremely poor family. His father was a confirmed alcoholic who regularly beat Eugene and his mother. Eugene tolerated this for a long time, building hatred and rage within him, which finally erupted when he was eight. He killed his father with a kitchen knife when his father returned drunk, beat him and his mother, and then went to bed. Eugene wasn't going to wait any longer; he took the knife, approached his sleeping father, and stabbed him about thirty times. Eugene didn't even remember doing it; he stabbed him so hard that the tip broke off, stuck in his rib. Eugene stopped only when his mother entered the room. She was horrified at the sight. Only then did Eugene realize what he had done, but there was no turning back; his father was dead. No legal punishment followed for Eugene; a neighbor helped bury his father's body in the backyard. After that, though, life only got worse. His mother was constantly away from home, and Eugene was left to his own devices. He experienced times of hunger, his first thefts, and had to fight to survive, even selling drugs for a time. Eugene lived in this chaos until he was fifteen, but one day, strange people appeared in his slums, talking about abilities, about serving his country, and about what really interested him: money, huge sums he could receive if he participated in "some" government program. He was one of those who agreed. And then his world changed. Of course, the "program" he was forced to participate in wasn't paradise or a simple training program.

These were inhumane, unethical experiments that bore fruit only when Eugene turned twenty. He didn't become invulnerable or immortal; he completely lost his sense of pain, his reflexes became truly inhuman, and his physical strength allowed him to turn a piece of titanium into dust. He completely stopped aging (this isn't immortality, as he can still be killed, albeit with difficulty). Even artificial attempts to infect him with cancer were unsuccessful; he was completely immune to any oncology. After passing all the tests, he was sent to war, but when it ended, all records of him were lost, and he fled. He was sick of all these laboratories, experiments, battles, the cries of the wounded, and the constant presence of death breathing down his neck. The world outside the laboratory, slums, and war seemed completely incomprehensible and noisy to him, but he tried to learn to live in all this big city bustle, and soon he met her, his Mary. She was a girl with a completely different story; she worked at a bank as a financial monitoring specialist. They met on the street while the traffic light was still red. It was already evening and raining. Eugene was wearing a tattered military uniform, Mary in slacks and a white blouse, holding an umbrella. He stared at her; Mary was incredibly beautiful and well-groomed, and for the first time in his life, Eugene felt ashamed of his appearance. He was about to leave, wandering aimlessly anyway, and for the first time, he began to think about frightening someone with his presence. But his reaction was faster. The light turned green and Mary was about to cross the street, while a car was speeding down the road, either unable to brake due to the wet asphalt, or the driver showing no sign of slowing down. Mary had just stepped onto the crosswalk when Eugene abruptly pulled back, and in literally less than a second, a car sped past where she had been standing.

The girl was terrified by this stranger's actions, but realizing that if he hadn't pulled her back, she would be dead, Mary wanted to thank him, but before she could say a word, Eugene began frantically trying to explain and apologize. Mary stood there in shock at first, then tried to explain that everything was fine and that she should be thanking him. They quickly struck up a conversation while he was walking her home. Then she learned that he had nowhere to go and no job, so she offered to stay with her, and from that day on, everything began. Eugene had never felt happier than with Mary. Thanks to Mary, Eugene found a job. Their relationship only grew stronger; a month later they married, without a lavish wedding, but they both didn't need it. And just two years later, they had a daughter, whom they named Charlotte. Holding his daughter in his arms, Eugene literally burst into tears; he never allowed himself such emotions, but at that moment, he couldn't hold back. Only with his girls did he allow himself to be so weak. Charlotte's first word was "Daddy!" Eugene almost started crying again, and Mary started teasing him with phrases like, "Don't cry, Daddy!" But everything changed one day. Mary went with Charlotte to the mall (Eugene couldn't go because of work, which he later blamed himself for), and they never returned. The mall was blown up by terrorists, there were no survivors, and the government didn't bother to investigate. The moment word of the explosion reached Eugene, something died inside him. He hadn't felt anything like this when he killed his father, not during the experiments, not during the war—this was something completely different. He fell to his knees and simply roared; it wasn't a human sound; it was then that he experienced that thirst for blood, the blood of those involved in the deaths of his wife and daughter.

He visited the apartment they shared only once, to collect some of his savings. He never returned, but he continues to pay rent and always carries the keys with him. Five long years later, he killed everyone who was even slightly responsible for their deaths, but it didn't make him feel any better. So he decided to become a mercenary, killing assholes for money—it was easy as pie for him. He continued to deposit part of the money into the account he and Mary had created specifically for Charlotte's education, a practice he continues to do even knowing she'll never attend school. Although several years have passed, it's hard to say he's let go of the past; he still carries photos of Mary and Charlotte in his wallet. He currently lives in the poorest part of the city, in a slum that's only slightly better than the one he lived in as a child.