Character Name: Rayson 'Raze' Bennet
Board Name:
Character Gender: Male
Character Age: 19
Zoids: Dark Horn, Leoblaze
AIM Screenname: nwaggoner14
Referred By: Kalmora

Character Description:

Rayson strikes an interesting figure. Lean and lanky at 5'9”, his inky black hair tends to hang over his crystal blue eyes, giving only the occasional peek at his haunted gaze. The teen covers much of his pale, scar marred skin with a gray-blue jacket and black cargoes. Chains hang from both items. A thick belt holds the holster for his pistol in place on his right hip, with a combat knife on his left. He generally carries a small pack with him that holds all his lockpicks, basic tools for maintenance and first aid, ration pouches, and extra ammunition. And he always, no matter what, somehow manages to have a pack of smokes and a lighter on him.

Rayson has been a loner all his life. Abandoned at the tender age of four, he learned to survive on the streets quickly. He learned that speaking up and being loud tends to get you killed. As such, he tends to be quiet, speaking only when his input is needed or asked for. He doesn't abide stupidity, and will up and leave if someone gets on his nerves for too long. But when openly confronted, he will respond with a heavy hand, having learned that responding to a threat with overwhelming force tends to end it quickly. He is quick to resort to violence if he perceives any danger whatsoever, which can be off putting to others. His past experiences have left him with a fear of abandonment and an indifference to killing. Despite his lack of a true parental figure, he understands the need for them with an acute sense. He craves companionship, but he doesn't quite know to seek it.

Rayson has no idea where he came from, who his parents were, or why they threw him out on the street when he was four years old. Rayson grew up on the street, he never really had any formal upbringing. He basically taught himself everything he needed to know, his thirst for knowledge leading him to read anything he could get his hands on. He ate what he could get his hands on, learning to steal and pick locks in order to get into stores that refused him scraps. Living on the street taught him he needed to fight for whatever he wanted, that there were no handouts. It came as no surprise to him when he killed for the first time when he was eight, bashing the woman's head in over a loaf of bread. By the time he was nine, he had amassed an impressive body count, discovering that he had a natural aptitude for killing and that it was just easier to kill someone who had what you needed then it was to steal it.

At the age of ten, he encountered a man who changed things for him. He took him in, rounded out his education, gave him the skills to survive in a changing world. For the first time, Rayson thought he knew what a family was about. His thirst for acknowledgement and compassion made it so he could almost ignore the fact that he was being used to kill off anyone the man ordered him to. He had garnered a reputation on the streets, a reputation that the man exploited to extend his drug trade. He could almost ignore the fact that he was maliciously beaten, whipped, and cut up when he failed or refused, just because he wanted to belong. But it wouldn't last.

Rayson was thirteen the first time he refused an order. He had slaughtered an entire group of homeless people that had encroached on his master's territory. While getting ready to leave, he chanced upon a hidden group of children, not much younger than himself. Calm as can be, he killed them. His mission was to kill everyone, and to leave no survivors. But when he came to the last one, he hesitated. The boy reminded him of himself before he had been taken in. Killing him would be like killing himself. And so, he took the boy with him, thinking that his master would see a use in having a second killer. Instead, he was forced to watch as his men beat the boy to death, and then was brutally beaten himself for his disobedience. This put the initial seeds of doubt in his mind, and over the years they only continued to grow.

Over the next few years, Rayson made it a game of hunting down his master's dealers, seeking to see what he would do when confronted with someone killing his pushers. His response shocked and appalled him. He rounded up everyone he so much as suspected and killed them. Men, women, children, his paranoia led him to suspect anyone and everyone. And Rayson was his personal angel of death, and he wielded him with a heavy hand, sending him after even the most trivial offender. The doubt turned to loathing quickly as he came to the realization that he no longer wanted this kind of life, killing for the sake of someone else.

After six years of service, Rayson could not kid himself anymore. He refused to be the man's executioner. When he was taken to be beaten again, he escaped and ran for the hills, stealing a Saber Tiger in the process. His inexperience with Zoid piloting spelled the Saber's downfall, as his pursuers mercilessly bombarded the Tiger and utterly destroyed it. The men checked the wreckage, but he had disappeared.

Three years have passed, and Rayson, known by his few contacts as Raze, has reappeared as a pilot for hire. His old skills have served him well in this interim, giving him a source of income. He even managed to buy himself a Dark Horn under some shady circumstances. His Leoblaze, on the other hand, was a prize he took for himself after killing its previous owner. He learned to pilot the same way he learned everything else, by experiencing it. His skills may still be developing, but he is ready to learn and ready to take the battling circuit by storm.

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