Kevin Princeton


Abilities: Besides being adept in a few fighting styles and melee weaponry (Chain included), my RAGE suit gave me a few more abilities because why not?! So I have my Shatterforce (Think the force but much more brutal and gory), Grav-Jump (A double jump but not in a video game), Defibrillation (In case I’m one foot in the grave, but only works once in every mission), a plasma barrier that can absorb damage and finally Vortex, which allows me to teleport short distances (up to 15 meters). But the best one, is what I call Rage mode! For a short period of time, all of my abilities are intensified, although it affects my mind so badly, I rather not use it… Unless I REALLY have to.


What’s next for me? We shall see…”


-I told ya my shatter power is dangerous.
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Personality: Kevin can be quite sarcastic and humorous. He barely takes anything seriously and rarely is seen frowning. Although when serious, he can be very violent and remorseless. He can be easily provoked when any mention of his parents or his past is mentioned, and things may turn ugly quickly.

Who Am I...

A man with nothing to lose and everything to gain…

Romantic Interests

Whatever comes my way, I am not very picky.

Relationship Status

Single. Not expecting to be with anyone anytime soon but that doesn't matter.

My Story Is...

“Life is pretty strange, huh? It throws you a curveball when you least expect it. At least that’s the case for me. A Brooklyn, New York kid born from an Italian-American father and an English mother, nothing can go wrong right? Eh ehhhh! Wrong answer buckaroo! You see, I could’ve had it all: a good education, wealth, a career, a place I call my home, sweet home. That’s all nice and dandy, except that throughout my whole life, I was forced to live a certain way. Since I come from a “higher-up” family and all, I was taught how to eat, sleep, hell even breathe like a “sir”. Blah! Not to mention the constant feeling of my parents not exactly caring about me. Instead they care about their image and position in society and whatnot. That caused me to be quite the “interesting” little boy, to say the least. Yeesh, I used to cause them constant embarrassment, in public or in private. Moving into my teenage years wasn’t any better. I started causing trouble all of a sudden. Real shit. It all started with petty theft, then arson then possession of weed and whatnot. I ended up stealing cars and robbing corner shops later on. I was… what was that word…? ‘Twas on the tip of my tong- OH YES! A delinquent. I tell ya, the amount of money used to bail me out must be by fifty grand or something…


By the age of 20 I was really fucked up. ‘Was  really into drugs and all that. I was pretending to go to college while I was actually hitting up some “friends” that hook me up with that sweet shit. You know, the green stuff… Well, that and heroin but tomayto tomahto right? Not like I wasn’t fucking myself up or anything. One night I blacked out and woke up in a hospital with a massive stitched up wound in my chest. I had a heart infection due to a dirty needle. I woke up from the drug-induced coma to the sight of my parents glaring at me, and Jesus… If looks could kill I would’ve died a thousand times by then. I was disowned and now I’m all by myself. I started dealing in drugs with those same sweet sweet friends, and one night, at age of 22, it didn’t go too well. The guy we were recently dealing with was giving us talcum powder instead of cocaine. How did we find out? One of my friends died, that’s fucking how. Now it’s on. I found out where he lives but woops, he had a gun and all I had was a fucking steel bat.

I was lucky as all I need was 2 swings; one to swing away the bullet shot at me, and another to bash the fuck out that fuckwit. I knew at that point, the only thing I could resort to is the life of crime. Something snapped inside of me, like a demon begging me to kill and destroy and massacre. I killed my parents, got away with it and inherited everything. I wasted most of my money on whores, drugs and booze, because of course I did. Whenever someone crossed me the wrong way, he, or she, would be left in a pool of their blood. 3 years later, I almost ran out of money (in context I still had a million dollars but yeah). I knew something needs to change. I used whatever I had left to construct a suit that allows me to have super powers. Powers that will help me have my fortune back. I am 28 now. My suit, called RAGE suit, allows me to slip through the most complex security systems, allowing me to steal all that sweet moolah! Nearly 50 banks were robbed by yours truly. And I won’t stop! I mean, who would stop me, right? I can literally go up in smoke before you know what happened.


My Appearance

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“I’m about 6’1” tall, in no way a short dude. I weigh about 222lbs or so, at least that’s what my weight was the last time I checked it. I usually wear punk-styled clothing because… Well I can! duh! I short medium-length hair, not that you’ll know because I always have my favourite red beanie on. I have a slender-ish build, blue eyes and… man I’ve had enough describing myself you’ll see more of me when you meet me. That didn’t sound right…

Oh shit, I almost forgot! Whenever I wanna go on one of my “business trips”, I wear this bad boy! My RAGE suit! Eh, ignore the dimwit wearing it in this picture below, that’s OBVIOUSLY not me! I don’t look like a tool like this dipstick. Anywho, yes I wear this get over it.”



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“When I’m in my everyday attire, I usually carry my wallet, which usually got some cash in it and some cards and whatever, a well concealed titanium-clad chain that I wrap around my arm and use for melee combat. Oh, and my red beanie! Look at it! There’s also my brass knuckles and my gun, a Marlin BFR.


However, I have another attire for my missions. I call it my rage suit. Made front an Aluminium-Titanium alloy, it allows me to be both strong and quick. It allows me to gain a decent amount of abilities, which I talked about earlier. Also, I have a plethora of weapons at my disposal.”

– Assault Rifle




– Shotgun


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– Windstick (can be equipped with an explosive or electric attachment)





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– Marlin BFR revolver








– Smart Homing Rocket Launcher



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– BFG-9000 (BFG stands for Big Fucking Gun. What’s the 9000 for? I dunno, sounds cool, I guess. Rarely used. Attached to the back of the suit and can be confused for a jetpack.)

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– Motorcycle, which can be remotely called using a watch-like device from up to 5 kilometers away.

See the source image– Device to call the motorcycle

My Secrets Are...


I Believe...

Fuck shit up and cause chaos. Why not, it's fun! Oh, and money. It's always about the money.