Benson Garret Vonner*

[Doom Noggin†]

Name: Benson Garret Vonner
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Grade: 12
School: Southridge High
Hobbies and Interests: Drinking too much, kicking ass (usually in that order), chasing tail, and just generally being thuggish.

Appearance: Standing about 5'6", and weighing about 250 pounds of pure muscle and bone, Benson "Bones" Vonner is not great company for the timid. He usually wears his designer white baseball cap cocked to the left side, with a dark brown crew cut underneath. He's short and broad, with a pinkish tint to his skin. He wears baggy jeans and expensive shoes, and just generally dresses like a wangsta. A heavy gold chain around what little neck he has, which slopes down to broad, meaty shoulders, simian arms and hands. He really does look like a hairless gorilla. Rings on his middle fingers and one on his left pinky. Brass knuckles in his pocket...His facial expression is usually a permanent disdainful scowl. His dark brown eyes portraying a constant look of distrust under a slightly protruding forehead. His thin lips curve in an intimidating frown over his square jaw. That is, of course, unless he's drinking, or "gamin' on hoes"...

Biography: Growing up can be tough when your dad is an abusive drunk, and your mom is a habitual crystal meth user...As a result, his sister came to an untimely demise at her own hands. Needless to say, Benson never bonded with either of his parents. Instead he waited until one was passed out in a drunken stupor, and the other was too gacked out to know what was going on. Then he would slip out into the night (or afternoon) and find whatever parties or money he could. He also adopted a life of crime. He spent just enough time in school to remain barely passing, and when he wasn't in school, he stayed as drunk as he could, and as under the radar as possible. He always concealed his identity when breaking and entering, car hopping, or purse snatching. Streetwise, and book-stupid, Benson was never a thinker. All he wanted was money, liquor, and respect (and the best way he could think to get this was through fear).

But before all that, he was a child. A sad and lonely child. He sat at home watching television most of the time. His parents never gave him any of the proper people skills to make friends, so any time he saw any other kids, he would beat them up and take them for all they were worth. That's just how it went. Bully at school, bully when the ice cream man rolled around the block...Other than that, he just watched TV. In fact, the very little bonding time he spent with his father was watching TV. Boxing, to be precise...Fighting was always ingrained in his mind, since the time he was about 6. Even before that, if you count all the times he watched his father beat up on his mother. He also spent a lot of time hiding under his bed to avoid a beating from that drunkard. Hiding in vain, however, as daddy dearest always knew where to find him. His sister always hated him, and thought he was a brute. There was good reason for that, of course, because...Well...He WAS a brute. So he really never bonded with his sister, either. And after her death, he regretted it every minute of every single day. Not that he paid attention to it, or knew that he regretted it. He repressed it, mostly. Except for that dream...That damn dream...The same miserable damn dream every night. The one that he's never told anyone about, and the only one he ever has.

Opening the door to your sister's room with the intent to pick on her, only to find that she's hung herself from the ceiling fan, is not a memory that's easily dealt with. ESPECIALLY not for someone like Benson, who was always taught to bottle it all up. ESPECIALLY since she was still half alive when he found her. Fear in her crystal-blue eyes, legs kicking erratically, clawing at the rope. And then she did something that haunted him to this day. She began to cry, and she reached both hands out to him as her eyes rolled far back into her head. He knew at that moment that she wished she hadn't done it, and that she didn't want to die. He unstrung her and she died in his arms...He'd never admit it, but it's an image that goes through his mind every single day, whether he's conscious or not...

Boozing, fighting, stealing...Paining inside...This is what took up most of Mr. Vonner's time. This didn't bother his parents any...Hell, they were just happy to have him out of the damned house. It's a wonder he never got involved with hard drugs, but he saw what they did to his mother. He refused to become helpless like that. If there was one good thing about Vonner, it was his sheer strength of will...Except when it came to liquor. Of course, alcoholism runs in his family. He just about couldn't help it. Most people have a preference for certain types of alcohol. Not Benson. He'll drink anything, from vodka, to tequila, to moonshine. And if he's drunk enough, and runs out of liquor, he might just drink the mouthwash for the miniscule amounts of alcohol in that. The only booze he won't drink is wine coolers, because those are bitch drinks, and with the crew he ran with, you just DIDN'T drink bitch drinks. It was a rough and tumble bunch, and many of them liked to think of themselves as "G's". Really, they were just small time thugs. Pimples on the face of society. He never really had any plans for the future...He never took the time to think about it between drunks and robbing the rich to give to himself. He never really took the time to think about anything, or try and discover himself at all...

The only thing he liked more than drinking was fighting. And the only thing he liked more than that was screwing. The only three things that ever took his mind off of who he really was, and the ignorant things he did, and the dysfunctional family(?) he had. He decided that he liked fighting so much, that he'd spend some of his ill-gotten gains on a martial arts class to become an even more formidable opponent. It was also a good idea to have more of an arsenal, since he was making quite a few enemies by this time...He looked around a little bit, surprisingly did a little research at the library, and decided that the best martial art for him was Combat Sambo. Sambo is a Russian martial art that involves a lot of wrestling, joint-lock techniques, and strikes with stopping power. No flashy, jumping around, spin-kicky stuff that you have to be ultra limber for. Just raw force, for the most part. He got pretty damn good at it, too. Took to it like a fish to water. He never went to competition, as he knew that his name would be a little more well known after that, so he strictly studied the art. He loved to use these moves on the people he fought, but often took it too far with the grapples and submissions. Thus, he was aptly nicknamed "Bones." You can imagine why.

Nearing the end of his school career, Vonner was getting excited. Little did he know that this would be the most memorable year of his life...And very possibly the last...

Advantages: Has brute strength and a more than intermediate understanding of a potentially brutal martial art to accompany an iron will. He's a loyal and valuable ally as long as you don't piss him off. He's got a cool head under pressure from years of running the streets. He's also good with a knife, and can take a lot of punishment.

Disadvantages: He isn't a thinker, unless it's about money or fighting. He has trouble planning ahead and considering the consequences. He's also not a very fast runner. Not a good climber (unless it's a chain-link fence). Can't jump for beans. He also loses his temper very easily, and no matter what situation he's in, if he has the opportunity to drink, he'll at least cop a buzz. He likes to think it helps him out in stressful situations...But not really. Not at all.