SLAME, Kevin Rodney

[KEVIN SLAME]

KEVIN RODNEY SLAME

"I can't escape this hell
So many times i've tried
But i'm still caged inside
Somebody get me through this nightmare
I can't control myself"
human/uninfected; dog of peace. 33. ex-cop; scavenger. jason behr.

WHO ARE YOU? I REALLY WANNA KNOW

[/u][/i]

"Oh, joy to my life; I get to talk about myself now. Really, I can die frikken happy, because you're poking into my private life, asking questions and bringing up shit. This was how I wanted to spend a perfectly good Tuesday. Yeah, baby!

So...oh yeah, who am I. Right. Well, my name's Kevin Slame, but most people just call me Slame...or douchebag, but I prefer the former. Jealous bastards.

If I had to describe myself, I'd say that I was more of an...acquired taste. I'm not exactly the angriest guy in the camp by far, but mess with me and I'll show you what I REALLY think of you. Got it? Get it? Good.

Life before Happy Land- aka, the time before people started killing people more often than usual- had me feeling okay with myself, I guess. I think I was much more easygoing and had a thing for fiery brunettes and back closets, but now...now, I can't stand being close to people for so long. That's why I'm always the first one volunteering, when our Fearless Leaders decide another journey into the big, wide world is in order. I have a few friends around here, but hell, they all know I'm only around them to watch their back, and for 'em to watch mine. All that 'sharing and caring' crap went out the window when I watched my girlfriend torn apart by Crotes. Sorry.

So...yeah, that's pretty much what Kev Slame's like. He's kind of an asshole, kind of paranoid (and proud of it), a loner...oh, and he's really, ridiculously sexy. With huge biceps. And a downstairs that would make a nun weep.

Cocky? Me? Hell with you, man. Jealousy don't become you.


A POLICEMAN KNEW MY NAME[/i][/u]

That would be because I was a cop, dumbass. 'Was' being the operative word...but I guess I'm getting ahead of myself.

So I originally, was born in San Paolo, Texas and...truth be told, I was filthy stinkin' rich, man. When you say Bill Gates has more money than God, you should've met my old man; William Titan the V. Sounds like he was a czar, or something, right? Well, he definitely ran his household like he was one. Lemme tell you; just because you grew up with everything, doesn't mean you have everything. Dig?

But anyway, Pops wanted me to become some senator, or the next president, so he sent me to a really expensive boarding school in London. To be expected, since him and my mom- she used to be a really famous Italian movie star in the 80's; only the best for my dad- were getting reacquainted. Out there, on my own for the first time, I felt free. I made friends, did pretty damn well, academic wise...but then I found underground gambling, and...yeah. I always did have a problem, controlling my urges back then. I'm not afraid to say it; I am a gamblaholic.

Once word reached Dad that I'd basically pissed away half my trust fund on cards, he had me come home and locked me in the mansion for a while. Really hard, right? But let me tell you; not allowing your addiction to run free is like shoving bamboo shards up your nails, so don't knock it. During this time, Mom and Dad were always screaming at one another, but I didn't think anything of it, 'cause...well, that was most of my childhood. Then, after I'd managed to sneak out one night through the attic and score a nice hit on the ponies...I came home to find Mom floating in the bathtub. Face down.

I left soon after that. Dad disinherited me when he couldn't find me; I guess he told everyone I died, or something. I lived on the streets for a while; mostly in New York's illegal gaming halls, or wherever else I could find. It wasn't a pretty time of my life, let me tell you. 17, and already I hated the world.

That's pretty much when I met Mama Paoletti; Scourge of Little Italy. She found me picking through her garbage- don't judge; like I said, I'm proud of myself back then- and kind of...forcibly adopted me. She took me in, cleaned me up and declared I looked like gutter slime, or 'slame,' as she said in her weird lower Manhattan accent.

Thus, Kevin Slame was born. Booyaw, bitches.

Because of Mama Paoletti, I turned my life around; went to meetings, stopped drinking and even joined the Academy. I graduated with honors and then got my Detective's badge when I turned 28. I was one of the youngest guys in the department to win it and I was damn proud of it. Homicide was my calling and I was good at it.

That is, until three years later, when my partner, Chris Gallagher, turned out to be the Hudsun River Strangler. I just can't catch a break, let me effin' tell you.

So...the world kind of ended right on time, to tell you the truth. Chris had already been sent to Death Row and I was sitting pretty in the tombs myself, waiting for my trial. The guys in the department actually thought I'd been in on it; that I was the Strangler's partner. None of them really believed me when I said that I was CHRIS' partner...but hey, that's fine; I wouldn't have believed me anyway. My 'friend' was kind of psychotic, and supposedly decided that when he went down, he was taking me with him. I attract the cool ones, right?

The virus seemed to hit when I was in lockup, and the jury was deciding whether or not I'd be hitting the Big House...and man, let me tell you, being in a place full of cons and murderers when THAT shit went down was not cool. I have no idea how I managed to survive and not get infected, but...yeah, that part of the story you'll have to figure out yourself. The things I saw them do to one another...then to my girlfriend when I got out and tried to get home...I don't want to talk about it. Ever.

And...yeah, this' basically where I am now. I managed to survive on my on for a while, but you know how these movies go; the lone wolf always gets tagged by a needy group, he joins and learns to love it. I hooked up with the Dogs of Peace by accident- I still hold that THEY were stealing MY food, but whatever- and I'm sticking around for the moment being. Nothing like living with a bunch of PTSD freaks, right?

Okay, I'm seriously tapped out now. Go the hell away before I shoot your face off.


My heart is like a broken cup
I only feel right on my knees[/u][/i]

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