X
Name:
Brianne Carter
Nicknames:
Bree
Bruiser
Bitch
Baby Badass
Age:
19
Gender:
Female
Sexuality:
Heterosexual
Ethnicity:
White
Name:
Brianne Carter
Nicknames:
Bree
Bruiser
Bitch
Baby Badass
Age:
19
Gender:
Female
Sexuality:
Heterosexual
Ethnicity:
White
"I'm a midget? Ooooho funny, you're a real comedian pal. Did I ever tell you about the time I played croquette with a guy's kneecaps?"
Appearance:
Bree has a natural prettiness to her looks that she very rarely does anything to highlight. Move often covered in bruises than makeup, Bree earned her codename the hard and violent way. Her blonde hair is a mid-length cut that she usually keeps tied back, especially at work. Bree is also short at 5’2, and anyone who is stupid enough to comment upon this matter is likely to find themselves on the wrong end of her fist. Bree’s wardrobe mostly consists of black and red, the better to hide blood stains with. She tends to favor tight fitting clothing that is easy to move in, though she does have a bit of a fixation on leather that she can’t help indulging.
Bree has a natural prettiness to her looks that she very rarely does anything to highlight. Move often covered in bruises than makeup, Bree earned her codename the hard and violent way. Her blonde hair is a mid-length cut that she usually keeps tied back, especially at work. Bree is also short at 5’2, and anyone who is stupid enough to comment upon this matter is likely to find themselves on the wrong end of her fist. Bree’s wardrobe mostly consists of black and red, the better to hide blood stains with. She tends to favor tight fitting clothing that is easy to move in, though she does have a bit of a fixation on leather that she can’t help indulging.
"If life was fair, would I be sitting here listening to you whine?"
X
Personality:
Bree has a natural abrasiveness that is often the first thing people notice about her. Blunt, straightforward, and brutally honest, Bree can be a tough pill to swallow. None of this is helped by her warped world view, which has left her deeply distrustful of people in general, and constantly assessing other’s motives. Years of practice and a natural perceptiveness has made Bree very good as figuring them out, and few secrets are safe around her. Fortunately for those around her, Bree isn’t the type of person included to do anything with that information. Bree might be overly self-reliant with a tendency to be an ass to those around her, but she isn’t manipulative, and if you prove yourself to have her back, she’ll have yours.
Bree is not an easy person to get close to, and outside her work with Black Cat, there are few people she associates with. The death of the one person she ever truly trusted has left Bree terminally stunted in the personal relations department, and any who seek to fill that gaping void will find themselves facing an uphill climb. When Bree is feeling friendly however, it usually involves violence, alcohol, or sex, none of which is mutually exclusive. It also is likely to include incessant ribbing, which can make it hard to notice she likes you in the first place. Only those who are the most experienced with Bree’s moods can honestly tell the difference.
Amongst her colleagues at Black Cat, Bree is competent, glib, and always ready with a smart assed quip, her barbed sense of humor an acquired taste. Bree is also more than a little blood thirsty, and possibly suicidal, though it is an urge that is deeply repressed and she is unlikely to admit, even to herself. The signs however, are easy to read for anyone who cares to look. Bree always signs up for the dangerous missions, the kind that call blood, crushing bone, and long odds. When she fights, its wild, ruthless, and terrifyingly efficient, but in hand to hand combat, she’s the team’s ace in the hole.
Talents:
Hand to Hand Combat:
Handgun Proficiency:
Street Smart:
Weaknesses:
Size: Bree is insanely quick, and surprisingly strong for her build, but she's still small, and that comes with limitations. Bree can usually offset this disadvantage with speed and using her environment, but in a situation where it's a contest of pure physical strength, the odds aren't likely to be in her favor with a larger opponent.
Temper: There are some serious deep seeded anger issues lurking inside. Bree will be the first to point out that life ain't fair, but the sheer amount of injustice she's endured in her life has left Bree with a short fuse and violent tenancies.
Not a People Person: Bree has a talent for pissing people off, and can come off as pretty tactless and overly blunt.
Fears:
Being held down or restrained in any way WILL set her off, and she is likely to become irrationally violent.
Personality:
Bree has a natural abrasiveness that is often the first thing people notice about her. Blunt, straightforward, and brutally honest, Bree can be a tough pill to swallow. None of this is helped by her warped world view, which has left her deeply distrustful of people in general, and constantly assessing other’s motives. Years of practice and a natural perceptiveness has made Bree very good as figuring them out, and few secrets are safe around her. Fortunately for those around her, Bree isn’t the type of person included to do anything with that information. Bree might be overly self-reliant with a tendency to be an ass to those around her, but she isn’t manipulative, and if you prove yourself to have her back, she’ll have yours.
Bree is not an easy person to get close to, and outside her work with Black Cat, there are few people she associates with. The death of the one person she ever truly trusted has left Bree terminally stunted in the personal relations department, and any who seek to fill that gaping void will find themselves facing an uphill climb. When Bree is feeling friendly however, it usually involves violence, alcohol, or sex, none of which is mutually exclusive. It also is likely to include incessant ribbing, which can make it hard to notice she likes you in the first place. Only those who are the most experienced with Bree’s moods can honestly tell the difference.
Amongst her colleagues at Black Cat, Bree is competent, glib, and always ready with a smart assed quip, her barbed sense of humor an acquired taste. Bree is also more than a little blood thirsty, and possibly suicidal, though it is an urge that is deeply repressed and she is unlikely to admit, even to herself. The signs however, are easy to read for anyone who cares to look. Bree always signs up for the dangerous missions, the kind that call blood, crushing bone, and long odds. When she fights, its wild, ruthless, and terrifyingly efficient, but in hand to hand combat, she’s the team’s ace in the hole.
Talents:
Hand to Hand Combat:
Handgun Proficiency:
Street Smart:
Weaknesses:
Size: Bree is insanely quick, and surprisingly strong for her build, but she's still small, and that comes with limitations. Bree can usually offset this disadvantage with speed and using her environment, but in a situation where it's a contest of pure physical strength, the odds aren't likely to be in her favor with a larger opponent.
Temper: There are some serious deep seeded anger issues lurking inside. Bree will be the first to point out that life ain't fair, but the sheer amount of injustice she's endured in her life has left Bree with a short fuse and violent tenancies.
Not a People Person: Bree has a talent for pissing people off, and can come off as pretty tactless and overly blunt.
Fears:
Being held down or restrained in any way WILL set her off, and she is likely to become irrationally violent.
"You had a suckie childhood? Boo-who didn't?"
History:
Bree’s start in life was far from idyllic, growing up in the slums of the city’s most notorious red-light district. The only authority that ruled there were the pimps, and whichever gang held turf rights over the protection rackets. Predictably, Bree’s mother was a prostitute, and she sure as hell didn’t have any heart of gold. She did however, nurse a serious drug problem, which has historically strained Bree’s relationship with her mother. It’s hard for Bree to forget the fact her mother would routinely choose drugs over necessities like food and clothes in a time when Bree could provide neither for herself. Forgiving her for being left alone with clients whose tastes swung deviantly toward younger girls has proven even harder.
Bree had learned to fend for herself long before she hit thirteen, but she made it official by running off, after one too many Johns had tried to “tickle” her with her mom passed out on the couch. Bree survived on the streets alone for two years, which left her with a deep seeded suspicion of cops, and the dirtiest mouth west of Washington Avenue. At fifteen, with no permanent place to stay, and the struggle to eat a daily battle, there was little but pride and resentment that kept her from resorting to the family business to find a way to survive. What Bree never say coming, was Daniel McCoy. Brash, Irish, and a towering 6’5, Danny quite literally dwarfed her. After being caught red-handed trying to pick the man’s pocket, she certainly hadn’t expected he was dragging her into his gym for a place to stay. Yet instead of a beating, that’s exactly what he did. An ex-mob enforcer turned kickboxing instructor, Danny ran the gym and lived in the small apartment in the back. Danny promptly informed Bree she’d be working for him and living in the spare bedroom until she’d payed off her debt. She’d assumed he’d meant on her back, and in an ironic sense, she’d been right.
Kickboxing did not initially come easily to Bree, who was small by most standards, and had always relied on a wild and instinctive sort of fighting style on the streets. Learning the technique and discipline necessary to be an effective fighter was a lengthy process, (which resulted with her landing on her ass most days). By the time Bree was seventeen however, she was Danny’s top student, and she’d been dubbed “baby badass” by the guys at the gym. The three years Bree lived with Danny were the happiest and most stable she’d ever known. Danny, over twenty years her senior, had taken on a kind of surrogate father role in her life, teaching her how to fight with her fists as well as with guns.
Danny hadn’t been on the mob’s payroll in almost a decade, but crime families were not known for letting you leave alive, and no one survived in that world without making enemies. The night Bree watched McCoy’s gym go up in flames wasn’t the first time she’d seen Danny in a gun fight, she’d been an active participant by his side in a few of them, but it was the first time she knew Danny hadn’t seen it coming. The men that killed Danny McCoy were meat heads with guns, and a wad of bills telling them where to point them. Bree found them both easily and personally put a bullet in both their heads. The ability to catch Danny off guard like that was beyond them, and Bree has been searching for their client ever since.
Bree’s reasons for joining Black Cat are honestly self-serving. Black Cat has better resources than she could hope to have on her own, and Bree has a very specialized skill set that lends itself well to mercenary work. Bree’s vendetta against drug dealers, pimps, and mobsters is very apparent, which was also a plus when joining the organization, but she’s never held any self-righteous delusions about saving the city or ever being able to change things. She’s in to bust a few heads, make some money, and bust a cap into however put the hit out on Danny McCoy.
Bree’s start in life was far from idyllic, growing up in the slums of the city’s most notorious red-light district. The only authority that ruled there were the pimps, and whichever gang held turf rights over the protection rackets. Predictably, Bree’s mother was a prostitute, and she sure as hell didn’t have any heart of gold. She did however, nurse a serious drug problem, which has historically strained Bree’s relationship with her mother. It’s hard for Bree to forget the fact her mother would routinely choose drugs over necessities like food and clothes in a time when Bree could provide neither for herself. Forgiving her for being left alone with clients whose tastes swung deviantly toward younger girls has proven even harder.
Bree had learned to fend for herself long before she hit thirteen, but she made it official by running off, after one too many Johns had tried to “tickle” her with her mom passed out on the couch. Bree survived on the streets alone for two years, which left her with a deep seeded suspicion of cops, and the dirtiest mouth west of Washington Avenue. At fifteen, with no permanent place to stay, and the struggle to eat a daily battle, there was little but pride and resentment that kept her from resorting to the family business to find a way to survive. What Bree never say coming, was Daniel McCoy. Brash, Irish, and a towering 6’5, Danny quite literally dwarfed her. After being caught red-handed trying to pick the man’s pocket, she certainly hadn’t expected he was dragging her into his gym for a place to stay. Yet instead of a beating, that’s exactly what he did. An ex-mob enforcer turned kickboxing instructor, Danny ran the gym and lived in the small apartment in the back. Danny promptly informed Bree she’d be working for him and living in the spare bedroom until she’d payed off her debt. She’d assumed he’d meant on her back, and in an ironic sense, she’d been right.
Kickboxing did not initially come easily to Bree, who was small by most standards, and had always relied on a wild and instinctive sort of fighting style on the streets. Learning the technique and discipline necessary to be an effective fighter was a lengthy process, (which resulted with her landing on her ass most days). By the time Bree was seventeen however, she was Danny’s top student, and she’d been dubbed “baby badass” by the guys at the gym. The three years Bree lived with Danny were the happiest and most stable she’d ever known. Danny, over twenty years her senior, had taken on a kind of surrogate father role in her life, teaching her how to fight with her fists as well as with guns.
Danny hadn’t been on the mob’s payroll in almost a decade, but crime families were not known for letting you leave alive, and no one survived in that world without making enemies. The night Bree watched McCoy’s gym go up in flames wasn’t the first time she’d seen Danny in a gun fight, she’d been an active participant by his side in a few of them, but it was the first time she knew Danny hadn’t seen it coming. The men that killed Danny McCoy were meat heads with guns, and a wad of bills telling them where to point them. Bree found them both easily and personally put a bullet in both their heads. The ability to catch Danny off guard like that was beyond them, and Bree has been searching for their client ever since.
Bree’s reasons for joining Black Cat are honestly self-serving. Black Cat has better resources than she could hope to have on her own, and Bree has a very specialized skill set that lends itself well to mercenary work. Bree’s vendetta against drug dealers, pimps, and mobsters is very apparent, which was also a plus when joining the organization, but she’s never held any self-righteous delusions about saving the city or ever being able to change things. She’s in to bust a few heads, make some money, and bust a cap into however put the hit out on Danny McCoy.
