

Username: Bloodscythe
Name: Scratch
Gender: Male
Age Range: Young Adult
Current Residence: Studio Apartment in Arizona
- Your Eyes?:
Scratch Keeps his eyes shut for most of day; only opening them when he is alone in his apartment or around close friends. Out in Public he keeps them hidden away and uses his other senses to guide him through the town. He used to use a guide cane, but he couldn't get used to it.
But why does he chose to keep his eyes closed in public?
Simply because his eyes scare and intimidate other people. He hate his eyes for this reason. Because they are fully black, they are often associated with the concept of demon possession. Though you would think that this one reason alone wouldn't be enough to keep them closed around others forever, it is for Scratch as his parents even bothered over his eyes. He went through many rigorous torments in his youth over the fact that he had 'devil's eyes'. His parents even named him with a folk name for the devil. Even though he took the first chance he could to leave his parent's house, people outside of those walls were even less forgiving. Even if they didn't associate anything demonic with them, they were still unnerved by his gaze.
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Likes:
-Sincere Company
-Mystery Novels
-Alternative
-Thai cuisine
Dislikes:
-Bland food
-Boats
-Historical Fiction
-Trouble
┖xxxxxxxxxxxxx┚
Likes:
-Sincere Company
-Mystery Novels
-Alternative
-Thai cuisine
Dislikes:
-Bland food
-Boats
-Historical Fiction
-Trouble
┖xxxxxxxxxxxxx┚
┏xxxxxxxxxxxxx┓
Occupation:
Bartender - Night
Hobbies:
-Reading
-Casual Writing
-Mixology
-TV Shows
┖xxxxxxxxxxxxx┚
Occupation:
Bartender - Night
Hobbies:
-Reading
-Casual Writing
-Mixology
-TV Shows
┖xxxxxxxxxxxxx┚

Personality:
It can be hard living such a precarious life. Scratch's high anxiety over his eyes scaring others keep him on alert. Stepping on eggshells to make sure everyone else was comfortable with his presence. Though his parents hadn't truly nurtured him, his social skills waned quickly. He is very soft spoken with very little confidence in himself. Conflict is something he would rather avoid, and can sometimes pull enough confidence out to defend himself; although he falters quite easily under pressure. While he tries to avoid revealing his eyes to others he can be clumsy and accidentally open them without noticing. Compliments can go right over his head or even catch him off guard as he is used to being shunned by just about anyone. Trying to make friends leaves him in a constant state of questioning; whether they actually like him or are using him or if he isn't acting right or if he's scaring them away. Because of this worrying Scratch hasn't tried to find someone to be romantically involved with. He is always afraid they will just leave him in the end.

Something Unexpected Happens:
"Don't tell me, I've got just the thing to satisfy your palate." The proud smile that spread across his face was just the right mount of friendly, but he could sense that his customer was a little weary of him still. As he turned his back to get their sample, he opened his eyes to a squint to get a better look at his choices. Working at the bar wasn't Scratch's favorite thing in the world, but it paid the bills and it was one of his jobs that asked less questions about him. He put together a nice plate of fried goods and poured a darker beverage for the young man that was waiting at the counter for him. Closing his eyes once more, he served the food to the customer without much fuss. "Just let me know if you want anything else." With that Scratch moved back against the drink rack, picking up a rag and a dirty glass to clean.
The night was slow, and his shift just couldn't end fast enough at this point. He wanted to go home, be away from the scrutiny of these people. Then a loud thunk brought his attention back to his job. It sounded like someone was in a bad mood, or that was just how they held themselves. Scratch put his glass away and leaned onto the counter in front of his new customer, "What can I get you? We've got a speci-" He was cut-off mid speech by a gruffer voice.
"Shut yer yap. I just want that sandwich you guys are famous for. I don't feel like wasting more time than I need in this dump." This voice was rugged, a bit of a hard to place accent, but definitely male. A pretty rude male to be exact, but that was just how the late night crowd usually went anyways.
"Alright, sir, I'll get you our reuben supreme. Would you like fries or chips?"
"Whatever you feel like shoving on there, I've got a deadline, buddy."
"Alright..." Man, this guy, the default was fries though, so he hoped the customer liked those. He really didn't want to deal with him. Quickly, he made up the sandwich and pulled some fries, checking to make sure everything looked nice before serving it. "There you go, Reuben supreme with fries. Just tell me if you'd like anything else."
"Yea, whatever, Nice eyes, by the way."
Scratch's smile fell to a grimace, did he forget to hide his eyes again? He usually didn't notice since he could usually visualize just fine in his head, and he hadn't even looked up at the customer when he served him. "Dang it..." He thought, trying to think of a response to this strange compliment. Usually people got nervous around him, or mentioned it with utter fascination or unease, but not this time. This stranger mentioned nonchalantly, like it wasn't unusual.
"Thanks... I think." He hesitantly accepted the compliment as nothing more than small talk. This guy did say he had a deadline, so it was possible he was just passing time.

"Name's Sidewinder. I'm waiting for some idiot in a suit to show up so I can collect my money and get on to the next town. So, don't be surprised that things get messy soon." Again with that matter-of-fact tone. What did he mean by 'messy soon'? He was just collecting money, so why would there be trouble.
"Ah, Uh, couldn't you avoid destroying the bar? I can't lose this job... You're just collecting money."
"Heh, guess you don't get much trouble 'round here then. I'm sorry 'bout this then, but I might be collectin', but they don't want me to have it." Sidewinder laughed and winked at Scratch, "I suppose you haven't gotten a taste of the underworld in here yet." What was he supposed to say to that? He could hit the panic button, but there wasn't a threat yet except this rogue's word. Besides, this seemed like some high-profile crime, and this man was just flaunting the fact that he was going to steal from some crime ring or something like that like it was no big deal. What if this made Scratch an accomplice, and now he was placed on a hit list just knowing this.
"No... I... I haven't you're right. Totally innocent of such things." This conversation was getting awkward fast, and there was just no way out of it. His other customer had already left, and the few patrons still hanging about where near gone to care about the scene being caused at the bar.
"Now, it's common courtesy to introduce yourself. And I know for a fact that demons aren't exempt from that." A mischievous smile had spread on his lips, making Scratch feel uncomfortable.
"Scratch... And I don't understand what you mean by that."
"Ha, that's a good thing then, I suppose. Ya know, Scratch, you're not bad company. I might have to visit this bar more often, so don't get yourself fired or quit." his smile got wider as he added, "I promise I won't bring trouble next time."
"You... You better not cause trouble now! I could kick you out." The nerve, saying he should come back after talking about bringing trouble with him. Scratch should issue a restraining order for this wretched man, that way he didn't have to put up with it. But it has only been one offense that hadn't quite happened yet, so maybe giving him a second chance wouldn't be so bad.
His heart sank, however, as a man walked through the front door with a briefcase and dressed in something a bit more formal than the usual customer's attire. That must be the trouble that was mentioned earlier, but this Sidewinder wasn't even paying attention to him. His eyes didn't even move from Scratch's face as the newcomer sat next to him. "So, what can I get you, Sir?"
"Just water." The reply was simple, nothing to suggest that he could be suspicious at all. But he wouldn't look up, not even to look around the room, just staring at the briefcase in front of him. Scratch watched the two strange men as he prepared a simple glass of water. No eye movement, not a word, just pure body language between the two and the eerie sense of killing intent coming from Sidewinder.

Some History:
They thought they could get used to it. Their son's eyes weren't the colorful jewels that either of them had. Instead pure black eyes perched behind his lids. The doctors said that it was possibly temporary and gave them eye drops that may be of some help.
The eye drops didn't have any effect on the child's eyes much to his parent's dismay. Now came the praying, hoping that this birth defect would be cured by the hands of god. Even though their child could see just fine, even better than they could have hoped, they couldn't live with the fact that their child was marred in such a way. He had eyes touched by the devil. They tried everything they could think of all the way into his teenage years.
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Into Scratch's teenage years he tried to separate himself from his parents. Though the prior years had no positive effects on him. He often wished he had been born without his eyes, almost preferring to have them taken from him then keep living with them. But with the few childhood friends he gained, he found that he really did like his eyes. they were unique, and sometimes scared the daylights out of people, but he liked how they completed him. Of course his parent's religious rantings and sometimes extreme measures to 'cure' him scared him more. And turned him away from religion as a whole; though the mythology intrigued him to no end.
It became a personal goal to escape his parent's house. The atmosphere they kept within wasn't healthy for him, and he worried constantly about his personal growth while he lived there. He took jobs as soon as he could, and even helped out where he could so that he could make connections. He put up with it until he was around seventeen before he finally had enough money saved up to move out; along with a good network of friends to help him. He knew eventually he would have had to move out, but he still felt anxious about moving out so young. His parents supported him, even if they felt some relief to have their 'unique' child out of their home. Scratch found an affordable apartment, through one of his many connections, that he rented with a couple of his friends.
It was cozy being able to be himself around people who cared about him, but that soon ended as everyone went their separate ways. It took Scratch a couple of weeks to gather himself and move out on his own. He didn't want to stay in his hometown though, instead he hopped a few buses to get as far away as he could, which landed him in Arizona. He didn't feel wonder or excitement as he looked for a place to lay his head. He felt scared, anxious, and alone as he went about making a new path in his life. The dirty looks and sideways glances that were thrown his way made him wary as he made his home in a nicer studio apartment. He had to get used to the fact that this little nest was housing only him, especially when he sat in silence for the first couple of weeks. It took a good while before the place felt homier for him. He hadn't had any luck with many of the jobs he applied for until he found a wanted ad on the door of a bar. Right after he called to check into his application he got an interview, and was set to start next day. He thought they were just desperate for bartenders that they just settled for him.
Relationships:
Parents?:
Though Scratch keeps some contact with his parents, he really doesn't feel close to them at all any more. After he figured out the mistreatment that he was going through because of their beliefs he distanced himself from them. He still loves them dearly, but he wouldn't jump at the chance to go visit them.
Friends?:
The old:
Before his move to Arizona he had a small group of friends that he lived with.
He still calls them up here and there to see how they are doing.
The new:
It's been a rough move, and he hasn't really tried to make any new friends. He still offends and scares people with his eyes around town, which lessens his want to actually leave his apartment. The only person he kind of calls his friend is Sidewinder, who regularly comes into the bar after getting Scratch into some personal trouble a while back. He's a nice change of scenery from the dirty looks that Scratch usually gets. Though going on short trips with Sidewinder can relieve some of his stress, it can also bring a lot of stress to him as he has been associated as Sidewinder's 'partner in crime'. It's not a title he really likes.

You Again:
"You!" The dark figure before Scratch was hard to forget. His stomach flopped uneasily as he fumbled with the key to the bar.
"Hey! Didja miss me?" A cheeky grin was plastered onto his face. There was no doubt that he remembered the last time too.
"No! I want you to... to leave this premises now." His mind was frantic, searching for the quickest route out of this. Why did that rat come back? It wasn't like they were on any type of good terms, not even friends. Hell, he trashed the bar last time, and left Scratch with an unconscious, bleeding man to tend to. He didn't have a right to return for any reason.
"Aw, c'mon... Us demons hafta stick together, right?" the grin waned to a half-hearted smile, but his eyes still shone with mischief. Even mentioning the whole demon thing didn't help convince him.
"That doesn't even help your case. Leave." How thick was this guy, it wasn't like he could make his disgust any clearer. Maybe it was a good time to walk away before the lunatic got any ideas. Turning quickly to head back home, Scratch took swift steps away from his unpleasant acquaintance. His heart wanted to actually get to know this mysterious Sidewinder, but his mind nagged at him to stay out of trouble. A sudden pressure on his arm stopped him, and the familiar snap alerted his brain to pump adrenaline into his body.
"C'mon, make this easier on me. You don't hafta like me, but I'm repayin' ya for the trouble I caused last time." Sidewinder's other hand hovered above one of his prized pistols. It was clear the man was going to use force if necessary, "I'd hate to hafta use violence an' all." There wasn't much of a choice after all. Scratch knew he couldn't possibly out run a bullet, nor had the reflexes or fighting skill to defend himself. Giving up was the safest option at this point for him.
This kidnapping was mediocre to him; who had ever heard of being forced to ride on their captor's motorcycle? The thought occurred to him that he could probably just jump from the bike, but he didn't underestimate his captor's ability with his guns. Even once they were speeding off to their secret destination he thought about it. Scratch's mind reminded him that jumping off into traffic would be the last thing he should do, and even then this bike was going much faster than the speed limit, which would have probably bought him a ticket to the ER if he jumped. He just had to go with it until somehow he could escape this lunatic.
It hadn't been long until they pulled up to some ratty looking building on the outskirts of town. what an original hideout... Scratch grumbled in his head while Sidewinder helped him off. This was the last thing he was trying to get himself into in this life. He just wanted to go about in the most unassuming manner possible, but now here he was, being kidnapped for who knows what by some leather clad rogue.

"Now, keep quiet and just follow..." the gruff command didn't need to be repeated, but Scratch had half a mind to try to escape anyways. The place didn't seem heavily guarded, as far as he could see there was no one else but Sidewinder and him here.
"Ok, what's the joke?" Scratch grumbled,, feeling the original orders were now bogus.. A pointed look from Sidewinder barely made the blow it should have for him. Unfortunately the answer came as a shove into a small room off the main hallway. Gruff protests didn''t stop the door from slamming shut and the sounds of a lock clicking into place put a pit of dread into Scratch's stomach. "Hey, This isn't funny!"
"Just stay here, I've got some business to take care of before I let ya out of there." The muffled response didn't sit well with him. It just posed more questions than answers. As the sound of boots faded away, Scratch picked himself up to look around his small cell. There wasn't any source of light in the room, but studying the shadowy shapes of the room gave a sense that he was in a small guestroom. A small, partially collapsed window didn't provide any sense of time as he sat there, waiting for something to happen. It may have been hours before a loud crack made him jolt from his seat. The door swung open to reveal an unfamiliar face, blindly grasping into the darkness. Scratch pressed himself against the farthest wall, pulling some unknown object from the shadows to protect himself. The newcomer stumbled into the room, spitting curses into the darkness as he searched for its only occupant.
"Ya know... You'd do better if ya had a lantern." A familiar voice called from the main hall after the stumbling figure. A clear click made the man turn towards the door with an audible laugh.
"Oh, ya, I left that back with the others. I only see a gun in your hands, so I can't borrow yours." a chuckle escaped his lips as he stared down his aggressor.
"Well, then you should leave. What are you even looking for?" A gesture out of the room with the gun brought the fellow out of the dark room. A silent sigh of relief came from Scratch as the man backed out. His nerves were starting to wear thin from this whole encounter, and he was sure that they would snap if it didn't end soon.
"And what do you care?"a snide comment from the shadowy fiend was a god question to Scratch. What did he care? He was just a random bartender, barely liked by even the townsfolk, so why this mess?
"Well, let's just see... I don't like civilian casualties, and I don't like you lot." A dull thud reached Scratch's ears as Sidewinder lashed the other over the head with his pistol, "I don't think it's far to interrogate innocent bystanders for your target's location either." He sneered at the form on the ground as he stepped over him and into the room. "Come on. We haven't much time to lose again."
"You need to explain now." Scratch snipped as he made his way towards the doorway, "What is going on?" Sidewinder grabbed his arm and pulled him from the room, leading out to his bike.
"Ugh, I kinda got ya caught up in my job. It's not something that usually happens." His voice was tinged with irritation, "Don't think you're special, if it was another bartender it would be the same event. In any case... you need to come with me for a little while. So I can finish this up, and you don't get put on my conscious."
"Then I can go home?"
"Yeah sure... You're free, whatever."
That was enough to get Scratch back on that death trap. As much as he hated that he had been dragged into some sort of underground war, he was slightly relieved he had someone to somewhat protect him. Even if the idiot did get him into it. It was nice that he took responsibility instead of feigning ignorance. Scratch decided Sidewinder wasn't that bad after all.
