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Description
an absolute soft buffoon joins the crew

updates
4/16/24 - dude is now 30 AND changed over to an NPC!

►►GENERAL◄◄"I'm just passing through--honest."
➤NAME Locke Reyes
  ▻nicknames pup, puppy, [Courtesy of Vas] mutt

➤AGE 30 [joined 23]
➤GENDER [CIS] Male
➤SPECIES [#262] Mightyena
➤BIRTHDAY March 13th

➤NATURE Hardy
➤CHARACTERISTIC Likes to run
➤ABILITY Intimidate

►►OFFENSE/DEFENSE◄◄
➤JOB [WEAPON MAKER] Piece
▻Fixes odd things around the base for now as he learns more
➤WEAPON Reinforced Bass Guitar
  ▻fashioned for him by his girlfriend after he broke it once

➤MOVESET
      ▻Snarl [DARK/SPECIAL]
      ▻Scary Face [NORMAL/STATUS]
      ▻Yawn [NORMAL/STATUS]
      ▻Sucker Punch [DARK/PHYSICAL]

►►PERSONALITY◄◄
+► [ Loyal | Supportive | Trusting | Hard Working] ◄+
=► [ Humorous | Protective | Naive | Soft-hearted ] ◄=
-► [ Competitive | Clumsy | Reckless | Reactive ]◄-

  By nature Locke is doggedly loyal, persistently true to those he considers his friends. Though he may not always know what to say, as he's not the best at dealing out emotional comfort, he will relentless support those he loves and trusts. After all, its quite easy to gain Locke's trust after making it past the initial run-down, as he tends to have the soft spot geared towards other survivors regardless of their affiliation--this is especially true with female survivors, who he feels excessively protective of even if they are unkind to him. Paired with his devoted tendencies, it makes sense that he is an incredibly hard worker when it comes to any task he is given to tackle. He enjoys dealing with a long day's work; it grants him satisfaction to do a job, and do it well.
Locke has a great sense of humor; from light and playful to horrible puns a lot can make him bark with laughter, and he's not ashamed to do something stupid for the fun of it especially with the chance to make another laugh. Partnered with his naive tendencies, he doesn't mind being at the butt end of a joke so long as it isn't genuinely malicious--not like he would be able to tell, anyways. It is more than likely that someone would have to point it out to him later--and even then he is all too forgiving as he admittedly doesn't think as highly of himself as he pretends to.
By far he possesses quite the "alpha" complex, making him far too competitive with other males whether they intend to challenge him or not. This lands him quite a lot of trouble, more than he'd like to admit, as he often bites off more than he can chew with who he chooses to rough up. It doesn't help that its easy to get a rise out of him, as any direct jabs to his ego get his usually chill temper boiling hot. This leads him into making rash, snap decisions that often get him neck-deep in misery. Although he may put on this tough act, he still seems like he has two left feet--lacking grace whatsoever in whatever he is tasked with. He's quite the klutz, and is prone to breaking anything fragile within a 10 foot radius of him.

►►HISTORY◄◄

The Reyes family was never well off; living in the cheaper slums of Anistar, the hardworking couple spent most of their days working to put food on the table and booze in the fridge. It was tough enough to feed one extra mouth--Castel, the reason they married in the first place--but they made do. The father, a mightyena, worked endless hours at the local repair mechanics shop, spending the rest of his day with a cold beer in hand and sports on the screen. The mother, a sharp-witted lycanroc, worked the odd swing shifts at the nearby diner. Life was rocky, but rather peachy.
  After five years, another little pup was on the way. It was a moment of both joy and great fear; another member of the family meant less money. Less money meant more work. Still, the trade off was fair, as seeing their eldest son--a scruffy little mess of a poochyena--roughing Locke up the moment he could play warmed their hearts.

The scruffy poochyena grew rather quickly, becoming quite the tornado of trouble at home. He had a soft heart but a clumsy disposition, and was easily excitable, bursting at the seams with energy at any given moment. His older brother thought it was hilarious when he broke a vase, or ended up with half his food on his face rather than in his stomach. Once he had been placed into school it became clear to his parents that they needed to provide him an outlet for his excess of steam, and thus he was thrown into little leagues. The boy was used to playing rough: parents hated it, fellow kids found it amusing til they were the one with a scrape, and coaches either were hopeful at his strength or disappointed with his carelessness. The few times Locke whined about wanting to do something else for a change of pace--like play video games, or, or perhaps play with the neighbor and her dolls--he was reprimanded just as fast.
      Boys didn't do that; boys fight.
Thus, athletics were where Locke continued to shine for most his life, just like his older brother. In middle school, he powered through into varsity sports as soon as possible, fidgety whenever he was benched. In gym class, he was an absolute menace--the kind of kid that warded off most others, but attracted those who were just as cut throat competitive over a game of kickball. In the classroom he was impossible to keep still, as he preferred to be playing games, or goofing around to make his classmates laugh at his teacher's dismay. A certain zigzagoon and him became fast friends, both rather chubby and energetic boys. The zigzagoon, Tanner, was far more mischievous than the little poochyena and far more interested in pulling crude pranks, especially on a meek finneon. When she complained to the teacher--well, Tanner must just like her. It was harmless fun, after all. But the boys did get a small slap on the wrist for their disruptions.. on the occasion.
Locke continued to win awards for his determined participation at the end of each season, beaming at his father's approval, a proud look in his dark eyes.
  Their parents were glad to see Locke and Castel just as strong and hardy as their father; raising them to be fierce, boisterous men who could lead a pack.

  Where Locke stood out the most was in high school--the football coach swept him away from focusing on other sports, aware of his star potential and brute force. Tanner tagged along as always, the duo impossible to separate for long, and even harder to shut them up once they started horsing around. Still, his dumb charm and excellent plays landed him in the hotseat of vague popularity, garnering a group of "friends" who all floated in the same social clique. He remained closest to Tanner, and the finneon girl who had become much more confident in herself.
  A bit after becoming a lumineon, Brooke and Tanner had begun dating, absorbing them into a group of three friends once Locke got to know her better. She was much less shy and far more chill, and had quite the collection of rock music to listen to as they played games, drank, and plain ol' hung out. The three of them often joked about creating a band, which quickly spiraled into an excited possibility as they sat on her bedroom floor, going over endless albums they needed to cover. Tanner had a sick ass garage that was empty when his parents were at work, and together they scraped together money for some basic instruments and speakers.
      It was noisy. There were complaints nonstop from neighbors. The cops came once or twice, hushing the teens for the night.
           It was perfect.
When it came time to forge a social status, he followed the rules his father insisted upon him and his brother: become the alpha of any situation. Show your strength. Never back down.
So when another hotheaded player challenged him to a fight after school? He was quick to jump on it, despite Tanner's protest, stressed for his friends well being against the gliscor. Everyone else was hyped at the chance of violence stirring up some form of entertainment--and his football buddies swore to back up their friend in a pinch. It was the day he evolved--bruised and shining, but the other was lookin' much worse. It was the school's sole source of gossip for weeks on end.
   Perhaps his ego evolved that day, too.

Though his grades were far from outstanding, his saving grace was a sports scholarship offered to him from a local college. Castel had already graduated, moving out as soon as he hit eighteen with his girlfriend in tow. Locke was eager to follow in his brother's footsteps, but his parents seemed oddly distant and distressed when the mightyena was brought up. Life carried on nonetheless; Locke began staying after for tutoring to boost his grades in order to graduate in time, and meet the college's bare minimum requirements. He had no idea what he wanted to do with his life--besides becoming a pro football player--but he was eager to pounce on the opportunity to head for higher education free.

Time flew by even faster. August's dog days were long since over, the summer night's spent by a campfire laughing away as Locke missed a chord or two on his guitar, came to a close. In a blink of an eye, he was moving into a cramped dorm room. Tanner had chosen to go to the same college, offered a less substantial but sufficient scholarship. The two were thrilled to be roomed up together--their parents, less so, aware of the boy's impulsive habits. Brooke had decided to go to a neighboring college, renting a scummy townhouse for dirt cheap. It would become the unofficial band "hangout" spot for a long while, the patio just outside home to many careless, yet small, parties, the kitchen home to plenty stupid drinking and eating contests. The walls home to a slew of amateur rock.
Classes hardly felt different from high school, but the faces had changed from the long since familiar sights. Instead, the field was what changed the most--higher budget, stronger athletes. Locke found himself no longer the star player, as the team was composed of the best handpicked from surrounding schools. It was less about personal glory and reputation, and more about building a team spirit that would take the college's name to nationals. Oh--and there were cheerleaders. Many of the players paired off with some of the girls on the squad as quick as they could, but none got passed the captain: Cameron, a hearty arcanine who could no doubt lift Locke, Tanner, and Brooke all in one go. Her booming voice, confident attitude, and thick shape left many of the boys sweating. Locke felt mad dumb whenever she was even mentioned--so naturally, he was teased about her nonstop.

College brought on new friends; Cole, a jolteon, whose sense of humor clicked with Locke and Tanner instantly during practice. A sea of other connections sprouted up, leading Locke to join the party scene eagerly, where many of the athletes mingled and bonded over a drink or ten. Eventually with enough teasing and prompting at the gatherings, Locke was pushed by his friends to ask Cameron on a date. It worked, kinda. She ended up being the one to ask him out, finding his stutters and tail wags too cute to turn down. The five of them often hung out at Brooke's place, and it took no time at all to absorb the two new recruits into the indie band. It turned out Cameron had quite the singing voice, and Cole wasn't half bad at the guitar.

A wake up call came when the team nearly got expelled for being caught partying in the woods near the campus. Locke realized he had been following the same pattern as high school; parties and friends over sports and education. He was about to be a sophomore, and he hadn't even decided on a major yet. If it weren't for Cameron, who was already a busybody juggling cheerleading, a major in physical therapy and a minor in woman's studies, and a club or two, he likely would've shoved himself almost anywhere just to stick around for friends. Instead, she helped talk him through what he was interested in. What he truly enjoyed; what made him happy, what made him motivated. It was the first time he had considered so much about himself, and it was the first time he let himself cry around a friend.
   He decided on trying to become a technical engineer. After all, he picked up a few tricks from watching his father work, and he was willing to practically live at the tutoring center outside of practice. Things were going great; he had a plan, he had the band, and he had Cameron.

Until a widespread illness broke out. It was strange, violent, and unexplained; many likened it to a new strain of the flu, and it was reported on tv often that government scientists were working quickly to find a cure. Locke's heart shattered when he received a call--his father was in the hospital, and his mother was in tears. He was excused, like many others, from class to instead rush to the hospital to visit them. Until then, he had never saw his father so vulnerable, so frail. He hardly looked like a person, and far more like a husk.
The sudden illness placed a financial burden on the family, and Locke took up a job to squeeze into the ounces of spare time he had, sending money to his mother and paying for his own necessities. Cameron offered to help out, and Locke only yielded when she swore it was just to make sure he ate. A stress had fallen onto the campus. Practices and classes were far more lenient, as the coach and many teachers were absent regardless.

Then, a cure. Things were looking up. Another tearful call greeted Locke, but this time it was his mother overjoyed that his father had returned from the hospital. It seemed as if the world took a sigh of relief, and things began to ease into normalcy.
            That was, until a teacher started to crush their teeth into students' flesh.
Once more, mass panic--but it was more urgent, more alien, more afraid--it spread faster than the illness. The campus grounds became a bloodbath, the perfect place for the plague to take hold. Government officials had come, but many were taken out, and many students chose to flee.

Cameron, Locke, Tucker, Brooke, Cole. They fled the moment shit began to get weird, shoved into Cole's rusty bucket of a car, as many belongings and supplies as they could fit shoved into the trunk. Adrenaline fueled them, along with the desire to escape, with no clear plan laid out. Cole mentioned a friend who had one of those mobile homes, and the group agreed that if they had to travel, it might as well have a bed or two. Locke felt like throwing up; wasn't this only supposed to happen in video games? Should he call his mom again? Did he want to know how they were doing?
When they arrived, there were already a grouping of those beasts slamming on the outside of the house. One of them was their baby sister, face torn and gnawed in two, but little fists still clawing at the door. Cole felt like curling up. Cameron knew instead, they had to fight and get inside the house, to check for anyone left alive. Armed with a couple baseball bats, a flashlight, and Locke's guitar, the group pulled into the driveway and began to fight through the zombies to the door.
      The monsters were faster than they looked. One took Brooke down, slashing into her skin and biting into her arm, causing her to scream and drop the flashlight she had tried to bludgeon them with. The other beasts, aware of the fallen prey, began to swarm her--even as Cameron let out a fierce blast of fire, charring the gnarled corpses, whacking them down with a bat. Locke was frozen in fear--only moving when Tanner grabbed his arm, dragging him into the door Cole had open, eyes wide with fear.
  Inside they found...nothing. Nobody. At all. It seemed as if the family had been away while the world crashed down, the sister left with the babysitter, who had been one crawling around the outside. Shakily the three of them combed the house for food, water, better weapons. All the while Locke had been gripping down on the bass guitar, fur pricked with stress. Soon Cameron barreled in, carrying Brooke whose frame was stained with blood, eyes full of tears as she wailed in pain. Cole locked the door behind them; Tanner rushed to their side, taking Brooke from Cameron and sobbing and cooing to her as he helped her lay on the couch.
Nobody knew what to do, but everyone wanted to help. Cameron came back from the bathroom with bandage tape, Cole went to grab a washcloth to help clean up the gashing wounds. Tanner stayed by her side, holding her hand that grew clammier by the moment. Locke did nothing, body rigid, eyes full of fear.
It took awhile to dress the wounds, but it was manageable. Brooke wouldnt stop shaking and sobbing, feeling as though she were on fire from fever. She was trying to mumble for Tanner to back away, but it only pulled him closer; placing a worried kiss on her forehead. She was drenched in sweat and blood. Already weary and locked safely in a quiet house, the group decided to grab blankets and get comfortable for the evening, as traveling at night only offered danger.

It was the middle of the night when Brooke jerked awake, and tried to eat Tanner, who had refused to leave her side. Cole had kept the hockey stick he found in his old friend's bedroom close, whacking her reanimated corpse away with it, leaving her a growling mess on the floor. Tanner had cried for her, as Cameron beat her mangled skull in for safety. But he had survived.

Cameron, Locke, Tucker, Cole. It was time to leave, even if they did not know to where. Cameron had suggested that the local hospital must be safe. But Cole insisted that perhaps they should lay low in the forest instead, to save themselves from those monsters. Tucker wouldn't speak, not even to Locke, not even as they pulled away in the RV, leaving what remained of Brooke to rot in the quiet home.
They decided the woods were closer, possibly more secure. There was a tent stowed in the car, as the mobile home was intended for longer camping trips. It was quiet. Everyone was uneasy. Perhaps if they kept travelling this way, towards Snowbelle, they could forget about what happened to their friend. It was safer to stop sooner rather than later; setup for another night of anxiety. The tent was secured under a canopy of trees, and small fire was easy to start with Cameron's abilities. Tucker wouldnt stop shaking--he insisted he needed to go for a walk, clear his mind, even as Cole argued against that dumbass of an idea.

Still, they let Tanner go, unable to make the stubborn linoone budge. It was no surprise when he returned, sleeves pulled down to mask a bite. It was no surprise when a fever wrecked his body, turning him to devour one of his friends, a small pack of ravenous monsters in tow.

Cameron, Locke. As another baseball hit swung in frustration to collide with Cole's skull, the arcanine had finished crying for the night. It was time to push on. Locke's guitar had been badly damaged, when he decided it was a great weapon to help fend Tanner off.

The ride was silent that next day, as Locke sat beside Cameron. It was quiet until she chose to end the silence that had fallen upon Locke the moment they left the college.
"Will you do me a favor?" At least he looked at her, red eyes puffy. She had slowed down the car, placing her hand on his knee.
  "If it's me next--don't hesitate." Her eyes were locked on his, unwavering.
He chose to nod, even if he knew that was a lie. "No--promise me," she insisted, not wanting the mightyena to half-ass this.
  "I promise."
  It seemed to be enough for her now, as she continued driving down the empty road.

Another night. Cameron had needed to stop and rest early, and Locke was fine with the decision. They were heading to Snowbelle, in hopes that the cold would keep the crawling beasts at bay. She had been itching at her wrist a lot, scabbing and bleeding on loop, and had seemed to hardly put two and two together until she was getting ready for bed. The two sat together. Cried together. Locke had a promise to keep, but he begged her to wait it out with him. So they did; but the symptoms only worsened. He was forced to make a choice as she sat there shaking, reminding him of the promise he made.
      He chose to run away, taking what he could, unable to see her turn nor end her life.

Locke.
He had no choice but to keep going, to find something that made sense again. Eventually he happened upon a new group of survivors--they tried to wrangle him for his supplies. He knocked their asses down.
They offered him a place at Toxic Fist.

A YEAR IN...
Locke has situated well into the ranks of Toxic Fist, upholding a tough exterior in fear of pouring out all the worries and stress he feels inside. The only place he allows himself to decompress and chill is within his own room; still too wary of the others to show signs of weakness. He's been slowly improving his weapon making skills in order to repair once dead guns to be put back into commission, but still has a long ways to go, and spends most his time doing basic repair jobs around the campus. It feels bittersweet to almost end up where he started back at a college's grounds, but at least he's safe.
The war with Puri Cult left him distressed; he did not take part of it physically, but prepared plenty of weapon mods to tilt the favor for Toxic Fist. As he has grown fairly close to Vas, he's been preoccupied with visiting him to play a song or two on his janky guitar to pass the time until he's healed.

►►EXTRA INFORMATION◄◄
➤HOBBIES
  ▻Running/exercise
  ▻Sparring
  ▻"Junk hunting" - interested in collecting 'souvenirs' as well as odds&ends
▻Tinkering

➤LIKES [+❤]
  ♡ Mechanics/technology
      ▻interested in learning more about either, despite his clumsiness
  ♡ Sports [specifically baseball & football & soccer]
♡ Hearty meals [wolfs down for them Calories, bro]
♡ Cute apparel & trinkets [such as keychains+stuffed animals]
  ▻tries to act like he doesn't adore them, however
♡ Soft blankets & limitless pillows for quality naps

➤DISLIKES [-❤]
  ✘ Typical "brainfood" subjects - math, science, english
  ▻he prefers practical studies that can be applied to life as is/"street smarts"
  ✘ Being yelled at/tense situations
  ▻tends to shut down to "kicked puppy" mode
  ✘ Really really doesnt want to eat his leafy greens
  ✘ Blood & gore
  ▻very squeamish (lowkey) which sucks for an apocalypse
  ✘ Country music

➤FUN FACTS

▻He seems invested in mementos. Still has matching keychains he & his gf bought together, and keeps photos of his friends/family in his wallet
▻Polite as can be to ladies, no matter how they are treating him
▻Creates rivalries with other men & seems more defensive/challenging at first
      ▻Despite this is admittedly all bark & no bite, he's rather soft but has a mean left hook
▻Respects those older than him, seems interested in obscure apprenticeships
▻Although he has pretty good strength, he doesnt seem interested in genuinely fighting another survivor
▻Gore makes him physically sick, and bloody violence doesn't go over well w/ him either
      ▻It is very likely he would faint/get queasy from seeing excess blood
▻Has a lot of energy, and once he wears himself out is immediately sleepy&ready to nap.
    ▻Its kinda cute, really. Big puppy.
▻Prefers not to be out there fighting zombies. But he will equip your charas with the tools to do so
▻Impressed by those whose special abilities allow them to fight w/ minimal need for physical weapons
    ▻ie. fire types, psychic types, water, ice . . .
▻Not used to not having his gf around to give him a level-head&reason
▻This leads him to make foolish decisions as he is stuck on his own, and is horrifically naive

➤PLAYLIST
everybody wants to rule the world - nsp cover
I Wish - NSP cover
how you feeling? - superfruit
erase - MIKA
➤RP METHOD
  ▻notes/discord - just ask!

Description
an absolute soft buffoon joins the crew

updates
4/16/24 - dude is now 30 AND changed over to an NPC!

►►GENERAL◄◄"I'm just passing through--honest."
➤NAME Locke Reyes
  ▻nicknames pup, puppy, [Courtesy of Vas] mutt

➤AGE 30 [joined 23]
➤GENDER [CIS] Male
➤SPECIES [#262] Mightyena
➤BIRTHDAY March 13th

➤NATURE Hardy
➤CHARACTERISTIC Likes to run
➤ABILITY Intimidate

►►OFFENSE/DEFENSE◄◄
➤JOB [WEAPON MAKER] Piece
▻Fixes odd things around the base for now as he learns more
➤WEAPON Reinforced Bass Guitar
  ▻fashioned for him by his girlfriend after he broke it once

➤MOVESET
      ▻Snarl [DARK/SPECIAL]
      ▻Scary Face [NORMAL/STATUS]
      ▻Yawn [NORMAL/STATUS]
      ▻Sucker Punch [DARK/PHYSICAL]

►►PERSONALITY◄◄
+► [ Loyal | Supportive | Trusting | Hard Working] ◄+
=► [ Humorous | Protective | Naive | Soft-hearted ] ◄=
-► [ Competitive | Clumsy | Reckless | Reactive ]◄-

  By nature Locke is doggedly loyal, persistently true to those he considers his friends. Though he may not always know what to say, as he's not the best at dealing out emotional comfort, he will relentless support those he loves and trusts. After all, its quite easy to gain Locke's trust after making it past the initial run-down, as he tends to have the soft spot geared towards other survivors regardless of their affiliation--this is especially true with female survivors, who he feels excessively protective of even if they are unkind to him. Paired with his devoted tendencies, it makes sense that he is an incredibly hard worker when it comes to any task he is given to tackle. He enjoys dealing with a long day's work; it grants him satisfaction to do a job, and do it well.
Locke has a great sense of humor; from light and playful to horrible puns a lot can make him bark with laughter, and he's not ashamed to do something stupid for the fun of it especially with the chance to make another laugh. Partnered with his naive tendencies, he doesn't mind being at the butt end of a joke so long as it isn't genuinely malicious--not like he would be able to tell, anyways. It is more than likely that someone would have to point it out to him later--and even then he is all too forgiving as he admittedly doesn't think as highly of himself as he pretends to.
By far he possesses quite the "alpha" complex, making him far too competitive with other males whether they intend to challenge him or not. This lands him quite a lot of trouble, more than he'd like to admit, as he often bites off more than he can chew with who he chooses to rough up. It doesn't help that its easy to get a rise out of him, as any direct jabs to his ego get his usually chill temper boiling hot. This leads him into making rash, snap decisions that often get him neck-deep in misery. Although he may put on this tough act, he still seems like he has two left feet--lacking grace whatsoever in whatever he is tasked with. He's quite the klutz, and is prone to breaking anything fragile within a 10 foot radius of him.

►►HISTORY◄◄

The Reyes family was never well off; living in the cheaper slums of Anistar, the hardworking couple spent most of their days working to put food on the table and booze in the fridge. It was tough enough to feed one extra mouth--Castel, the reason they married in the first place--but they made do. The father, a mightyena, worked endless hours at the local repair mechanics shop, spending the rest of his day with a cold beer in hand and sports on the screen. The mother, a sharp-witted lycanroc, worked the odd swing shifts at the nearby diner. Life was rocky, but rather peachy.
  After five years, another little pup was on the way. It was a moment of both joy and great fear; another member of the family meant less money. Less money meant more work. Still, the trade off was fair, as seeing their eldest son--a scruffy little mess of a poochyena--roughing Locke up the moment he could play warmed their hearts.

The scruffy poochyena grew rather quickly, becoming quite the tornado of trouble at home. He had a soft heart but a clumsy disposition, and was easily excitable, bursting at the seams with energy at any given moment. His older brother thought it was hilarious when he broke a vase, or ended up with half his food on his face rather than in his stomach. Once he had been placed into school it became clear to his parents that they needed to provide him an outlet for his excess of steam, and thus he was thrown into little leagues. The boy was used to playing rough: parents hated it, fellow kids found it amusing til they were the one with a scrape, and coaches either were hopeful at his strength or disappointed with his carelessness. The few times Locke whined about wanting to do something else for a change of pace--like play video games, or, or perhaps play with the neighbor and her dolls--he was reprimanded just as fast.
      Boys didn't do that; boys fight.
Thus, athletics were where Locke continued to shine for most his life, just like his older brother. In middle school, he powered through into varsity sports as soon as possible, fidgety whenever he was benched. In gym class, he was an absolute menace--the kind of kid that warded off most others, but attracted those who were just as cut throat competitive over a game of kickball. In the classroom he was impossible to keep still, as he preferred to be playing games, or goofing around to make his classmates laugh at his teacher's dismay. A certain zigzagoon and him became fast friends, both rather chubby and energetic boys. The zigzagoon, Tanner, was far more mischievous than the little poochyena and far more interested in pulling crude pranks, especially on a meek finneon. When she complained to the teacher--well, Tanner must just like her. It was harmless fun, after all. But the boys did get a small slap on the wrist for their disruptions.. on the occasion.
Locke continued to win awards for his determined participation at the end of each season, beaming at his father's approval, a proud look in his dark eyes.
  Their parents were glad to see Locke and Castel just as strong and hardy as their father; raising them to be fierce, boisterous men who could lead a pack.

  Where Locke stood out the most was in high school--the football coach swept him away from focusing on other sports, aware of his star potential and brute force. Tanner tagged along as always, the duo impossible to separate for long, and even harder to shut them up once they started horsing around. Still, his dumb charm and excellent plays landed him in the hotseat of vague popularity, garnering a group of "friends" who all floated in the same social clique. He remained closest to Tanner, and the finneon girl who had become much more confident in herself.
  A bit after becoming a lumineon, Brooke and Tanner had begun dating, absorbing them into a group of three friends once Locke got to know her better. She was much less shy and far more chill, and had quite the collection of rock music to listen to as they played games, drank, and plain ol' hung out. The three of them often joked about creating a band, which quickly spiraled into an excited possibility as they sat on her bedroom floor, going over endless albums they needed to cover. Tanner had a sick ass garage that was empty when his parents were at work, and together they scraped together money for some basic instruments and speakers.
      It was noisy. There were complaints nonstop from neighbors. The cops came once or twice, hushing the teens for the night.
           It was perfect.
When it came time to forge a social status, he followed the rules his father insisted upon him and his brother: become the alpha of any situation. Show your strength. Never back down.
So when another hotheaded player challenged him to a fight after school? He was quick to jump on it, despite Tanner's protest, stressed for his friends well being against the gliscor. Everyone else was hyped at the chance of violence stirring up some form of entertainment--and his football buddies swore to back up their friend in a pinch. It was the day he evolved--bruised and shining, but the other was lookin' much worse. It was the school's sole source of gossip for weeks on end.
   Perhaps his ego evolved that day, too.

Though his grades were far from outstanding, his saving grace was a sports scholarship offered to him from a local college. Castel had already graduated, moving out as soon as he hit eighteen with his girlfriend in tow. Locke was eager to follow in his brother's footsteps, but his parents seemed oddly distant and distressed when the mightyena was brought up. Life carried on nonetheless; Locke began staying after for tutoring to boost his grades in order to graduate in time, and meet the college's bare minimum requirements. He had no idea what he wanted to do with his life--besides becoming a pro football player--but he was eager to pounce on the opportunity to head for higher education free.

Time flew by even faster. August's dog days were long since over, the summer night's spent by a campfire laughing away as Locke missed a chord or two on his guitar, came to a close. In a blink of an eye, he was moving into a cramped dorm room. Tanner had chosen to go to the same college, offered a less substantial but sufficient scholarship. The two were thrilled to be roomed up together--their parents, less so, aware of the boy's impulsive habits. Brooke had decided to go to a neighboring college, renting a scummy townhouse for dirt cheap. It would become the unofficial band "hangout" spot for a long while, the patio just outside home to many careless, yet small, parties, the kitchen home to plenty stupid drinking and eating contests. The walls home to a slew of amateur rock.
Classes hardly felt different from high school, but the faces had changed from the long since familiar sights. Instead, the field was what changed the most--higher budget, stronger athletes. Locke found himself no longer the star player, as the team was composed of the best handpicked from surrounding schools. It was less about personal glory and reputation, and more about building a team spirit that would take the college's name to nationals. Oh--and there were cheerleaders. Many of the players paired off with some of the girls on the squad as quick as they could, but none got passed the captain: Cameron, a hearty arcanine who could no doubt lift Locke, Tanner, and Brooke all in one go. Her booming voice, confident attitude, and thick shape left many of the boys sweating. Locke felt mad dumb whenever she was even mentioned--so naturally, he was teased about her nonstop.

College brought on new friends; Cole, a jolteon, whose sense of humor clicked with Locke and Tanner instantly during practice. A sea of other connections sprouted up, leading Locke to join the party scene eagerly, where many of the athletes mingled and bonded over a drink or ten. Eventually with enough teasing and prompting at the gatherings, Locke was pushed by his friends to ask Cameron on a date. It worked, kinda. She ended up being the one to ask him out, finding his stutters and tail wags too cute to turn down. The five of them often hung out at Brooke's place, and it took no time at all to absorb the two new recruits into the indie band. It turned out Cameron had quite the singing voice, and Cole wasn't half bad at the guitar.

A wake up call came when the team nearly got expelled for being caught partying in the woods near the campus. Locke realized he had been following the same pattern as high school; parties and friends over sports and education. He was about to be a sophomore, and he hadn't even decided on a major yet. If it weren't for Cameron, who was already a busybody juggling cheerleading, a major in physical therapy and a minor in woman's studies, and a club or two, he likely would've shoved himself almost anywhere just to stick around for friends. Instead, she helped talk him through what he was interested in. What he truly enjoyed; what made him happy, what made him motivated. It was the first time he had considered so much about himself, and it was the first time he let himself cry around a friend.
   He decided on trying to become a technical engineer. After all, he picked up a few tricks from watching his father work, and he was willing to practically live at the tutoring center outside of practice. Things were going great; he had a plan, he had the band, and he had Cameron.

Until a widespread illness broke out. It was strange, violent, and unexplained; many likened it to a new strain of the flu, and it was reported on tv often that government scientists were working quickly to find a cure. Locke's heart shattered when he received a call--his father was in the hospital, and his mother was in tears. He was excused, like many others, from class to instead rush to the hospital to visit them. Until then, he had never saw his father so vulnerable, so frail. He hardly looked like a person, and far more like a husk.
The sudden illness placed a financial burden on the family, and Locke took up a job to squeeze into the ounces of spare time he had, sending money to his mother and paying for his own necessities. Cameron offered to help out, and Locke only yielded when she swore it was just to make sure he ate. A stress had fallen onto the campus. Practices and classes were far more lenient, as the coach and many teachers were absent regardless.

Then, a cure. Things were looking up. Another tearful call greeted Locke, but this time it was his mother overjoyed that his father had returned from the hospital. It seemed as if the world took a sigh of relief, and things began to ease into normalcy.
            That was, until a teacher started to crush their teeth into students' flesh.
Once more, mass panic--but it was more urgent, more alien, more afraid--it spread faster than the illness. The campus grounds became a bloodbath, the perfect place for the plague to take hold. Government officials had come, but many were taken out, and many students chose to flee.

Cameron, Locke, Tucker, Brooke, Cole. They fled the moment shit began to get weird, shoved into Cole's rusty bucket of a car, as many belongings and supplies as they could fit shoved into the trunk. Adrenaline fueled them, along with the desire to escape, with no clear plan laid out. Cole mentioned a friend who had one of those mobile homes, and the group agreed that if they had to travel, it might as well have a bed or two. Locke felt like throwing up; wasn't this only supposed to happen in video games? Should he call his mom again? Did he want to know how they were doing?
When they arrived, there were already a grouping of those beasts slamming on the outside of the house. One of them was their baby sister, face torn and gnawed in two, but little fists still clawing at the door. Cole felt like curling up. Cameron knew instead, they had to fight and get inside the house, to check for anyone left alive. Armed with a couple baseball bats, a flashlight, and Locke's guitar, the group pulled into the driveway and began to fight through the zombies to the door.
      The monsters were faster than they looked. One took Brooke down, slashing into her skin and biting into her arm, causing her to scream and drop the flashlight she had tried to bludgeon them with. The other beasts, aware of the fallen prey, began to swarm her--even as Cameron let out a fierce blast of fire, charring the gnarled corpses, whacking them down with a bat. Locke was frozen in fear--only moving when Tanner grabbed his arm, dragging him into the door Cole had open, eyes wide with fear.
  Inside they found...nothing. Nobody. At all. It seemed as if the family had been away while the world crashed down, the sister left with the babysitter, who had been one crawling around the outside. Shakily the three of them combed the house for food, water, better weapons. All the while Locke had been gripping down on the bass guitar, fur pricked with stress. Soon Cameron barreled in, carrying Brooke whose frame was stained with blood, eyes full of tears as she wailed in pain. Cole locked the door behind them; Tanner rushed to their side, taking Brooke from Cameron and sobbing and cooing to her as he helped her lay on the couch.
Nobody knew what to do, but everyone wanted to help. Cameron came back from the bathroom with bandage tape, Cole went to grab a washcloth to help clean up the gashing wounds. Tanner stayed by her side, holding her hand that grew clammier by the moment. Locke did nothing, body rigid, eyes full of fear.
It took awhile to dress the wounds, but it was manageable. Brooke wouldnt stop shaking and sobbing, feeling as though she were on fire from fever. She was trying to mumble for Tanner to back away, but it only pulled him closer; placing a worried kiss on her forehead. She was drenched in sweat and blood. Already weary and locked safely in a quiet house, the group decided to grab blankets and get comfortable for the evening, as traveling at night only offered danger.

It was the middle of the night when Brooke jerked awake, and tried to eat Tanner, who had refused to leave her side. Cole had kept the hockey stick he found in his old friend's bedroom close, whacking her reanimated corpse away with it, leaving her a growling mess on the floor. Tanner had cried for her, as Cameron beat her mangled skull in for safety. But he had survived.

Cameron, Locke, Tucker, Cole. It was time to leave, even if they did not know to where. Cameron had suggested that the local hospital must be safe. But Cole insisted that perhaps they should lay low in the forest instead, to save themselves from those monsters. Tucker wouldn't speak, not even to Locke, not even as they pulled away in the RV, leaving what remained of Brooke to rot in the quiet home.
They decided the woods were closer, possibly more secure. There was a tent stowed in the car, as the mobile home was intended for longer camping trips. It was quiet. Everyone was uneasy. Perhaps if they kept travelling this way, towards Snowbelle, they could forget about what happened to their friend. It was safer to stop sooner rather than later; setup for another night of anxiety. The tent was secured under a canopy of trees, and small fire was easy to start with Cameron's abilities. Tucker wouldnt stop shaking--he insisted he needed to go for a walk, clear his mind, even as Cole argued against that dumbass of an idea.

Still, they let Tanner go, unable to make the stubborn linoone budge. It was no surprise when he returned, sleeves pulled down to mask a bite. It was no surprise when a fever wrecked his body, turning him to devour one of his friends, a small pack of ravenous monsters in tow.

Cameron, Locke. As another baseball hit swung in frustration to collide with Cole's skull, the arcanine had finished crying for the night. It was time to push on. Locke's guitar had been badly damaged, when he decided it was a great weapon to help fend Tanner off.

The ride was silent that next day, as Locke sat beside Cameron. It was quiet until she chose to end the silence that had fallen upon Locke the moment they left the college.
"Will you do me a favor?" At least he looked at her, red eyes puffy. She had slowed down the car, placing her hand on his knee.
  "If it's me next--don't hesitate." Her eyes were locked on his, unwavering.
He chose to nod, even if he knew that was a lie. "No--promise me," she insisted, not wanting the mightyena to half-ass this.
  "I promise."
  It seemed to be enough for her now, as she continued driving down the empty road.

Another night. Cameron had needed to stop and rest early, and Locke was fine with the decision. They were heading to Snowbelle, in hopes that the cold would keep the crawling beasts at bay. She had been itching at her wrist a lot, scabbing and bleeding on loop, and had seemed to hardly put two and two together until she was getting ready for bed. The two sat together. Cried together. Locke had a promise to keep, but he begged her to wait it out with him. So they did; but the symptoms only worsened. He was forced to make a choice as she sat there shaking, reminding him of the promise he made.
      He chose to run away, taking what he could, unable to see her turn nor end her life.

Locke.
He had no choice but to keep going, to find something that made sense again. Eventually he happened upon a new group of survivors--they tried to wrangle him for his supplies. He knocked their asses down.
They offered him a place at Toxic Fist.

A YEAR IN...
Locke has situated well into the ranks of Toxic Fist, upholding a tough exterior in fear of pouring out all the worries and stress he feels inside. The only place he allows himself to decompress and chill is within his own room; still too wary of the others to show signs of weakness. He's been slowly improving his weapon making skills in order to repair once dead guns to be put back into commission, but still has a long ways to go, and spends most his time doing basic repair jobs around the campus. It feels bittersweet to almost end up where he started back at a college's grounds, but at least he's safe.
The war with Puri Cult left him distressed; he did not take part of it physically, but prepared plenty of weapon mods to tilt the favor for Toxic Fist. As he has grown fairly close to Vas, he's been preoccupied with visiting him to play a song or two on his janky guitar to pass the time until he's healed.

►►EXTRA INFORMATION◄◄
➤HOBBIES
  ▻Running/exercise
  ▻Sparring
  ▻"Junk hunting" - interested in collecting 'souvenirs' as well as odds&ends
▻Tinkering

➤LIKES [+❤]
  ♡ Mechanics/technology
      ▻interested in learning more about either, despite his clumsiness
  ♡ Sports [specifically baseball & football & soccer]
♡ Hearty meals [wolfs down for them Calories, bro]
♡ Cute apparel & trinkets [such as keychains+stuffed animals]
  ▻tries to act like he doesn't adore them, however
♡ Soft blankets & limitless pillows for quality naps

➤DISLIKES [-❤]
  ✘ Typical "brainfood" subjects - math, science, english
  ▻he prefers practical studies that can be applied to life as is/"street smarts"
  ✘ Being yelled at/tense situations
  ▻tends to shut down to "kicked puppy" mode
  ✘ Really really doesnt want to eat his leafy greens
  ✘ Blood & gore
  ▻very squeamish (lowkey) which sucks for an apocalypse
  ✘ Country music

➤FUN FACTS

▻He seems invested in mementos. Still has matching keychains he & his gf bought together, and keeps photos of his friends/family in his wallet
▻Polite as can be to ladies, no matter how they are treating him
▻Creates rivalries with other men & seems more defensive/challenging at first
      ▻Despite this is admittedly all bark & no bite, he's rather soft but has a mean left hook
▻Respects those older than him, seems interested in obscure apprenticeships
▻Although he has pretty good strength, he doesnt seem interested in genuinely fighting another survivor
▻Gore makes him physically sick, and bloody violence doesn't go over well w/ him either
      ▻It is very likely he would faint/get queasy from seeing excess blood
▻Has a lot of energy, and once he wears himself out is immediately sleepy&ready to nap.
    ▻Its kinda cute, really. Big puppy.
▻Prefers not to be out there fighting zombies. But he will equip your charas with the tools to do so
▻Impressed by those whose special abilities allow them to fight w/ minimal need for physical weapons
    ▻ie. fire types, psychic types, water, ice . . .
▻Not used to not having his gf around to give him a level-head&reason
▻This leads him to make foolish decisions as he is stuck on his own, and is horrifically naive

➤PLAYLIST
everybody wants to rule the world - nsp cover
I Wish - NSP cover
how you feeling? - superfruit
erase - MIKA
➤RP METHOD
  ▻notes/discord - just ask!