[daniel henney โ 44 โ he/him]ย Introducingย ย ORYN MINJUN BYUNย . Word on the street is they are aย HITMANย and member ofย THE SYNDICATEย for the pastย 7 YEARSย . Though they areย RESERVEDย andย IRASCIBLEย , they can also beย HARDWORKINGย andย HUMBLEย . In the chaos of New York City, theyโre sure to fit right in.ย
โ FUN FACT: dude's known to be super aggressive on the job! cleaners hate him!
CONNECTIONS .
MISC. INFO .
Has a mutt named Rou ( short for Roulette ).
Has a prosthetic for his left arm.
BIOGRAPHY .
( TW: death, dismemberment vaguely )
Expectations were to be set high and flawlessly achieved even before Minjun's time, as was the Byun way. Born with a gilded spoon in his mouth, the very same was also to be used as admonishment whenever needed. Sometimes even prematurely to nip rogue habits and thoughts in the bud โ if only to ensure a concrete mold to his path in life. Always a quiet soul, the rigidness of his upbringing was seen as unwavering obedience. When in reality, that was far from the truth.
The love offered by both parents may have not been intended as conditional, but it certainly was interpreted as such. Unlike his coveted sister, the golden star of their family, Minjun never felt immersed at home. Always a few steps back, always on the cusp of shadows, he still met the world with scintillate, starry eyes and a laugh that shook the evening sky itself. And while the beginnings of his rebellion wasnโt exactly welcomed, he made sure to wield the simmering ferocity with a tight grip โ be it at home, school, or otherwise. Something that gleaned a droplet of pride from both dearest mother and father.
How ironic it would be to have the very same notion serve as the cornerstone to future tension.
The tragedy that befell his father was more devastating than anyone could have predicted. It was too soon, too abrupt, too painful for all friends and family to withstand. Without preexisting, solid connections to those still around, Minjun was simply unable to process such a thing. So he vanished shortly after, gone at the age of sixteen.
Where his path twisted was left to the whims of rash choices and quick cash. Not once did he stop in a city for more than a few months. There was already a comfort in discomfort, of a fast lifestyle, of living on the outskirts of what the city life illuminated to the unassuming eye. Years passed and he was hardly a stranger to busted knuckles and deep bruises. Violence had been such an addictive vice to cope and stay alive. Hidden spots to trade spilt blood for cold cash, he keeps at it because it's all he knows to do.
With fame came the slacken ease of his own hubris. Unbeatable was he as reflexes and skill were honed razor sharp and lightening fast. Oryn hadnโt thought much when approached by a hotshot prospect all those years ago. Some tall, thin,ย weasellyย build of a man that always got his way. If not, well โ he wagered thatโs what the spread of hired muscle was for ( sad hairlines, ill-fitted tees, and all ).
โMy guy, I like your style, but why donโt you go down in the second and make three times your worth?โ
My worth?ย He wanted to scoff, let a rare smile whet that steely gaze. But he doesnโt. Not a single muscle moved aside whatโs needed to give a timely response.ย โNo thanks.ย Not worthย my time.โย Itโs the wrong thing to say to an influential figure, butย moneybagsย wasnโt the only one haughty with pride. Of course, there were more words to be said,ย he was certain of it, but it wasnโt given the chance to take air. There was a match to be done and he intended on getting his shareย fair and square.
Turns out, consequences canโt always be avoided entirely. Someย borrowed timeย can certainly go a long way, but to think oneself impervious to the finality is just downright foolish and stupid.
And thatโs what heโd been.
Fucking stupid.
None of the details reallyย stuckย in the end. Someone,ย or a few someones,ย got the best of him somewhere at some time, relocated him from joint to joint, kept himย passiveย by some substantial damage.ย The worksย of some revenge plot wanted by someone with too much time on their hands, i.e. the aforementioned fat cat with deeper pockets and evenย deeperย connections.
All he knew was that his audacity of defiance wasnโt something taken lightly. That much he could understood. To disrespect someoneโs status apparently warranted punishmentย fourfold.ย Not to mention how he broke his opponentโs elbow like a stick and made their most prized cash cow useless for โfar too longโ.
Then nothing. Not a single blip stored in the banks of his bruised, sore memory.
The state he found himself upon waking was fucking awful. Whatever pain heโd known prior couldnโt evenย beginย to compare โ hopefully never will ever again. And if that wasnโt enough cream to the spoiled crop, things kept getting progressivelyย worse.ย The more rooted he was in reality, the more aware he became of three specific things.
The first, and arguably most important, being howย deadย he was supposed to be. How heโd actuallyย been deadย for precisely six minutes and fourteen seconds. All of that pumping to the chest might have added to the slew of injury, but hey โ it kickstarted his poor heart with aย vengeance.ย So much so that the medic almost thought heโd come toย swinging.ย And perhaps he might have if that were possible.
Aside from being beaten to a bloody pulp, he also lost some weight. Which was to say how heโd be walking the world a limb lighter. The mangled mess that was once an arm couldnโt be saved.ย Remember that cash cow? Remember how cleanly that joint had snapped by his own doing?
Maybe itโs best that he lacks the details after all.
Thereโs hardly a stump past the junction of his left shoulder, but it still doesnโt click. Not completely. Probably wonโt when another wrench is thrown by way of a single subject immediately after that discovery. A delicately guisedย ultimatumย that would bind him to a name,ย a popular organization around these parts,ย for having saved his mottled skin at the last minute. That alone awoken the throttle to run again โย run as fucking far as he possibly could.
IVs were torn out in a flurry despite the startled warning given by the attending medic. And, shit,ย that fucker was right.ย There he went like a off centered pendulum. No one tells you how unbalanced one less arm can be, but he still fought to make headway. Didnโt stop until the nurse was yelling right at him while simultaneously preventing another crash landing.
Right, about that third thing. It doesnโt make itself known until right then. Thereโd been enough clarity for him to understand whatโs said with the aid of sight, but itโs grossly muffled.ย Temporal bone fracture,ย heโd be told later on โ once this whole thing blows over.
In the end,ย his own self-proclaimed end that is,ย he relents to the offer. Theyย hadย given him the chance to live again after all, but that didnโt mean he had to like it. Ever.ย Or so he tells himself to keep that thistle of self-hatred deeply rooted at the core of his psyche,ย because heโd be so entirely lost without it.
