"Everybody expects me to break, But I'll never break down again, Everybody expects me to give up, But you'll never see me givin' in."
birth name :: Lawrence Randall Tarwick alias :: Roy Ellis Perkins, Christopher Anthony Cobb, Dylan Lee Walker nickname(s) :: Law, Wick age :: 28 calling :: Hunter sexuality :: Homosexual status :: Single occupation :: Full time Hunter origins :: Original character
eyes :: Hazel hair :: Brown height :: 5'8" build :: Medium, slim, not overly distinctive distinguishing marks :: Has a puckered scar in his right forearm where he was shot once. play-by :: Gaspard Ulliel
- - - - [Lawrence]likes
Coffee, stronger the better
- - - - [Lawrence]dislikes
Spiders, the bigger the worse they are
- - - - powers
- - - - strengths
- - - - weaknesses
Pessimistic, glass half full type.
No self-preservation, has a bad habit of unconsciously putting himself in danger.
- - - - secret
Was in love with his best friend who died, he still lives with thinking it should have been him.
- - - - dreams
To make a difference in the end, taking out monsters to save who he can.
To find a partner he can confide in and hunt with.
- - - - fears
Becoming a ghost, or ghoul, or some other creature he hunts
- - - - things of note
Has a severe allergy to cats, symptoms start with red/watery/itchy eyes, sneezing and can develop into wheezing/coughing, red rash and hives.
In the hot summer days of June, three time parents Howard and Carolyn Tarwick welcomed into the world their fourth child. Lawrence was a healthy baby boy, his middle name given as tribute to his grandfather. With no complications and the blessing of the doctor, he went home with his parents to their ranch just Newport, Arkansas. His father was a steel mill worker while his mother and older siblings took care of their small, but effective farm. They only had one cow that was getting on in age, a handful of chickens, and one ornery goat each child tried a few times in their lives to ride. Growing up this spit of land was a haven for him. He loved the town and the wide open space. Through his teen years he got restless, wanting to see places other than his hometown. So, when he was eighteen, he enlisted.
Now his parents didn't know he had signed up and were greatly worried about him. Smaller than the rest of his siblings, including his only sister, they weren't sure if he'd be okay. This seemed to only like a fire under him, determined to prove something. The day after graduation he was sent to boot camp, where he met Kyle. They were bunked together thanks to their last names both starting with Ta, and the two became fast friends. Throughout the three months of grueling training Lawrence and his friend Kyle stuck together, and were relieved when their orders came that they were headed to the same unit. That last week on Parris Island was the happiest he'd been. His family had driven the entire way to see the ceremony and when they were allowed he had been introduced them to Kyle, and Kyle's parents.
A few months down the road and they were fully situated with their unit in North Carolina. They had the luck to have been named roommates. It wasn't long after that when Lawrence admitted he had feelings for his friend, and a few more after that until they were, quietly, dating. So when word came that their company was deploying to Iraq they were both giddy and afraid. The process to get them overseas took longer than he ever thought possible, and the endless hours on planes and hauling his gear was tedious at best. But when they touched down in Iraq no one had been more awake. The first few weeks were quiet, standing post, patrolling, going to the gym in the center of the compound, it was a lot more tame than he had imagined. Turned out the 'bad guys' had merely been watching them.
It wasn't long until the enemies were hitting convoys and taking poorly aimed, if they even tries at all, shots at their base, bringing about a lot of base lock-downs. Lawrence had his fair share of standing post, talking to interpreters to try and understand the people coming to their base, and blowing off steam with his buddies. Occasionally he and Kyle would sneak away for some time on their own, but only when they knew they wouldn't be caught together. The quiet days were over anyway, and there was always something going on. No one ever thought anything serious would happen. For the most part they had thus far gotten by without any trouble. Until he and Kyle were picked for a supply run that went way south.
The day had started perfectly normal, routine checks and rechecks, a brief of their mission and route , etc. Piling into the trucks they had started their way from the base and everything went well until they were closer to their objective. There were tracks from vehicles on either side of the road, but not any new ones on it. This slowed them down as a decision was come to. Pulling off toward the left hand side of the road was when it happened. Sand, smoke, dust and rocks erupted from the ground and covered all visible areas. The ringing in his ears had felt deafening at that point as he heard shouting from the front seat. Like a dream the day had gone from good to bad.
By the time the end of the day came about they had lost two men, and Lawrence himself had taken a bullet in the arm. The wound hadn't been terribly serious except for its very nature. He was patched up and given the time to physically heal, but he hadn't been able to forget the chaos of that day. The real kick in the teeth was that Kyle had died. And thus shaped the next three years of his life. While in he was able to get some rank under his belt, led some of his juniors. He never did deploy again, and when the question of re-enlistment came up he declined, leaving the service at twenty two. From there he seemed to disappear to everyone but his family. He sent postcards, but never was in touch completely.
War is what set him on the path of a Hunter. Ghosts, monsters, he knew they were real and as much as he'd loved the service he knew to make a real difference he had to follow a different calling. Most of his first year was learning lore, figuring out how to deal with supernatural creatures through sheer dumb luck and reading. It was a miracle he made it out alive against some of them. He'd started a simple journal to track what he knew, what worked and what didn't. The first time he ran into another Hunter he had pestered them near to death to gain any information he could. Who would have thought that some of these nightmare creatures actually existed? And so the years passed, him surviving and killing what he could.
Harsh breathing pounded through his head as his feet slid from beneath him, barely missing the swipe of claws as they slashed where his chest used to be. Tucking his chin to his chest he hit the ground hard, a whuff of air forced from his lungs but no more hurt than he thought. Both legs swung up to slam into the werewolf's lower half while he reloaded his now empty pistol. It had been days of hunting down leads and questioning survivors before he'd gotten anywhere. The pack of werewolves was, thankfully, small, though proving incredibly exhausting to hunt down. Already he had three down and this, he had surmised, was the last of them. Unfortunately the thing's will to survive was incredible. Taking him down was becoming harder than he'd expected, causing quite a bit of a dip into last reserves of his energy. Really should have taken that nap.
Grunting with effort his booted feet made contact, shoving the werewolf away from him. The moments reprieve was all he was allotted. It was enough. With the new silver bullets inserted he slammed the clip in, brought it up, and shot the thing in the chest twice as it came at him. His aim true the hunt was finally over. The heavy monster falling on top of him, however, was a whole new level of 'what the hell'. For a moment he lay panting in the wet decaying leaves beneath him, his breath puffing out in little clouds as he did. With a final huff he wriggled out from beneath the corpse and picked himself up. Brushing leaves and dirt from his clothes was a wasted effort but he tried anyway, giving up after some of the dirt turned out to be embedded.
"Need a long hot shower and the biggest greasiest pizza." Lawrence muttered to himself, taking his gun into the thigh holster he had on. Luckily he hadn't lost the damnable thing this time. Tugging his jacket closer and casting a paranoid glance around the woods he started his trek back out to his truck. The job was done at least, the pack seemingly wiped out. Hopefully. If he had to come back here because he'd missed one or two he'd be really disappointed in himself. Shaking his head he walked the near three miles back to where he'd parked, glad to see his old Chevy Scottsdale sitting in one piece. Small wonders really. Once he'd shut the door behind him he started her up, glad for the radio to break up the silence as he backed out of where he was, cut the wheel, and got back onto the trail to the road.
Relaxing back against the old, greatly faded red leather bench seat he thought of all the times he'd ridden in this truck with hid dad. A slight smile tugged at his face and he shook his head. "Dad would kill me if he knew what I used it for." Reaching to toggle the radio for something to listen to. The motel he was staying in was a good five mile drive back so he settled on an old school rock channel and mouthed the words he knew of them as he drove. This gig might not pay anything, and it might take everything out of him some days, but it always felt good knowing he'd made a place a little bit safer. So by the time he rolled into the motel parking lot he had put out of his mind his worries and just got out of his truck. A few steps and he'd unlocked his motel door and on to ordering himself that pizza before his shower.
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