â"So you've got enemies? Good. That means you've stood up for something in your life."â
Full Name: Beauregard Alex Mercer
Nicknames: Beau, Beau Beau, Beau-Jangles, B.A.M, Bam bam, Frenchie.
Birthdate: December 12th
Imaginary: TBA
â"I feel something so right, doing the wrong thing!"â
Description: Oh man, little Beau? That kid was a terror. A bundle of energy with mischievous intent. It was all in the eyes too, those hazel little optics always sported some sort of impish glee. Still do, to be honest; it's just not as carefree as it once was. With a wild, untamed mop of black hair that sways freely in the wind, only the sides remain somewhat neat with their buzz cut style. His hairs come a long way though, as he was once the kid that rocked that old school bowl cut. A lanky fucker, Beau's all arms and legs, both of which lack some serious meat. He's pale as shit too, but an almost perpetual layer of dirt seem to mask that fact pretty well. With thin, lithe muscle, scrawny would be the nice way of putting it, but hey he's certainly lost his baby face and baby fat, right? We can blame that on Father Time just about as much as we can blame it on the nicotine or pot, never mind the harder stuff. Littered with tattoos, Beau's rebellious years hit hard and he holds fast to them. Perhaps the only thing that's stayed the same about this little shit is his obnoxious, ADHD fueled personality. He's still acts like that same, twitchy little kid who can't sit still - like a bunny on crack. What can I say, somethings never change.
â"When you feel my heat, look into my eyes. That's where my demons hide."â
Personality: In your face, Beau's the kind of guy that's hard not to notice unless your deaf, dumb, and blind. See that kid scaling the streetlight and mooning the cops? Or how about the guy buying that homeless man a case a beer, sharing his smoke, and having a laugh? You get the idea, yea? Nothing if not a bucket of fun, Beaujangles has a pretty unique way of expressing himself and showing he cares. He can be sweet, but he's not the sharpest crayon in the box, forcing him to use his wits more than sheer brain power. The kid's clever and creative, I'll give him that but while he can shoot off ideas like a redneck with an itchy trigger finger, he's always relied on his friends to do the groundwork and planning. He's also the touchy feely type, a guy who he craves attention and yearns to be loved and lauded. On movie nights, expect him to squeeze himself into the middle seat on that couch, and toss an arm around your shoulders even when there's clearly no more room - he'll find some. The problem arises when that desire comes out in the wrong way, when he's gotten so far out of range that no one notices him anymore and he no longer has something to latch onto for support. At that point, he acts out but bottles up, which is quite the volatile combination. Without friends to talk him out of his crazy adventures, or idiotic ideas he quickly veers down a dangerous path. Excitable, with a belly full of laughter and a lung or two full of smoke Beau's always good if you need to smile, even when you don't want to -- just don't try to get to deep - he can't handle it. Not exactly the type to let you wallow in your own pity, he'll drag you out and help you forget quicker than he'd ever offer you a tissue. Unable to take life too seriously, he reacts to heavy emotion with inappropriate jokes or badly timed second hand remarks. If he's upset, he masks it with the same shoulder brushing humor and devil-may-care-smiles before nose diving into the nearest reckless distraction. Overall, he's a great friend but a terrible influence. The kid your mother never wanted you to hang out with because he's dirty, vulgar, and a burnout. People just seem to forget that he has the best of intentions.
â"No, I can't slow down, I can't hold back.
Skills:
- Jackrabbit: Beau can dash, climb, and bounce around with the best of them. He can cling, scale, and ascend the most obscure of objects as if they were would-be mountains. Surprisingly agile and dexterous you hard pressed to out run, or out maneuver this kid. He can't exactly take more than a punch or two, but he can sure as hell duck and dodge.
- Lucky fuck: Not quite apt enough to wield what some would consider a silver tongue, B-Jangles has some crazy ass luck when it comes to making his way around town. Years spent millying about on the streets have earned him his fair share of connections. He can stumble his way into any club with a goofy charm, or he can purchase alcohol without even thinking to get himself a fake ID.
- Ladies man: I wouldn't call Beau a skirt-chaser, but he does have a way with the ladies. Coupled with his uncanny luck, is his ability to people please - particularly when in the sack. Drunk, high or otherwise - he's good in bed.
Weaknesses:
- Hyperactive: What comes up must come down, and despite being a bouncing, babbling bundle of uninhibited energy most of the time, there's come a point in time when he simply crashes. TKO, out for the count only time, and maybe coffee, can bring Beau out of his stupor.
- Addictive Personality: A bit of an adrenaline junkie, when he's found something he likes - it has the potential to very quickly become an obsession and as a result, he often over-does things and then must deal with the consequences. For example, when he drinks, he drinks enough for a small family. Or when he pops pills, he very rarely remembers the previous 24 hours.
- Impulsive & Reckless: The two go hand in hand really, and what Beau really needs is a child leash. Something to stop him from sprinting into action without thinking anything over. This brash spontaneity has gotten him into one to many bar fights and more trouble than he'd care to admit.
â"I'm friends with the monster under my bed, & get along with the voices inside my head.""â
Brief History: With a little more direction and discipline, Beau could have really gone places. While he's not off the charts in the intelligence department, he's got drive and ambition. He's worked full time since he was fourteen, bussing tables and getting paid in little white envelopes from Mr. St. Claire over at the Diner on Marehaven Street. As it turned out though, dad was a truck driver and thus was constantly on the road. There's no sob story really, no abuse, or dramatic tragedy. The Mercer's were just never all that well off. Born and raised in the trailer park on the other side of the tracks, mom was worked two jobs and struggled raising two boys with a husband who barely had the time to be home. An only child until the age of eight, Beau was a wild child with an out of the box imagination. The only year round kid at the 'park', he put that creativity to use. The Otherworld became his home away from home, his sanctuary. It was the place where he really got to know the group of kids who would soon become his friends. He and Maxy were a mean helping of double trouble, while he thought of Joe as a cooler, slightly older brother he needed to impress. It made for fun adventures in the Otherworld, the three amigos. It's hard to say when the girls came into the picture, but he'd only just met the fellas when suddenly there were more pretty colors and ballerina shoes. It became his job to bug Angela, constantly attempting to cajole the poor girl into tree climbing, or pushing her into puddles. Beau also sort of had the habit of visiting Helena's as much as possible, outside of their imaginary land that was. Maybe because her family was the most functional, or maybe the youngster had a pint sized crush. Either way, the kid was known to constantly invite himself over - at least until the accident. Everyone was so different after that. People began straying away and Beau found himself grasping at straws. One by one friends fell out of the picture, and by the time the red head had recovered there was no going back to normal. He'd found himself a girlfriend, a job, and new distractions. (THIS NEEDS TO BE EDITED, BUT I'M TIRED SO GOODNIGHT FOR NOW.)
