- 13 Mission Posts
Sun Mar 15th, 2020 @ 9:11am
Name Maximilian Wells
|Height||5'4" (162.5 cm)|
|Weight||55kg (122 lbs)|
|Hair Color||Chestnut Brown|
|Eye Color||Cobalt Blue|
|Physical Description||Scrawny, skinny, tiny and baby-faced are all words that would accurately describe Max Wells. Small even for his young years, he has a feminine bent to his appearance. His long hair, habitually kept in a braid, and fine pale skin both add to that appearance.
Max has scars, the scars on his hands and forearms are mostly from his work, the scars on the rest of his body are not.
|Other Family||Former Owner: Jebbadiah Simmons
Blood Brother: Odin Lowes
Personality & Traits
|General Overview||In a word - neurotic. Max Wells didn't have the kind of childhood that creates mentally stable young men. Outwardly, he is an energetic, outgoing and friendly young man. However, those few who get to see behind the mask will find a troubled and deeply insecure child who's only self-worth comes through his engineering prowess.|
|Strengths & Weaknesses||Strength: If it's broke, he can fix it. Max is a mechanical savant and has an affinity for machines that he struggles to find with people.
Strength: Innocent look. Max can generally pass as an innocent child when he has to, allowing him to merge into crowds and not stand out.
Weakness: Youth. Max is not what one would call wise, he has a tendency to spend his money quickly and on random crap and to do dumb stuff because it's there to do.
Weakness: Body Shy. Due to past trauma and insecurity about his multitude of scars, Max is extremely reluctant to reveal his body unclothed to anyone and will go to great lengths to avoid it, wherever possible. He almost always wears long-sleeved shirts, long pants, and gloves.
|Ambitions||To continue being free.
To kill every slaver he can find.
To have his own ship, one day.
|Hobbies & Interests||Max has an innate interest in anything mechanical and enjoys tinkering with bits and pieces of tech he finds lying around. He especially enjoys building drones and automated systems.|
|Personal History||Max was born to unknown indentured parents on the border planet Santo and his earliest memories are of working in the planet's vast fields picking strawberries.
From as soon as he could walk without someone holding his hand, Max was a worker. His early childhood was one of endless toil, backbreaking labor, and mindless repetition working in the strawberry fields of Santo.
His owner, a heartless bastard of a man named Jebbadiah Simmons who cared not-a-bit for those who worked his fields, as long as they continued to work, was also an opportunist.
In Max's tenth year, he fixed a broken sprayer drone with nothing but a screwdriver and an adjustable wrench. The boy's motivation was simple, he didn't want to end up spraying the field by hand, but Simmons took notice and pulled him out of the field and into the farm sheds.
Life in the sheds was by equal terms better and worse. The food was better, the work less labor intensive and for most of the time, he had a roof over his head and a stool to sit on. On the other hand, the shed foreman, a middle-aged bitch named Oh, was a cruel, petty woman who asserted her meager dominance in whatever ways she could.
The constant stress took a toll on the boy and he became sullen, withdrawn a silent. Constantly on edge, constantly waiting for next mistake that would bring down the wrath of Mrs. Oh.
When Max was around thirteen, three and a half hellish years after coming to the shed, the boy who would become his 'brother' entered his life. Mrs. Oh had spent the morning stalking around the shed and he'd been on tenterhooks as usual, when Mr. Simmons, his owner, walked into the shed dragging a boy along with him. He was tall for his age, with long blonde hair and green eyes.
Odin Lowes had been a street rat in the city who'd fallen foul of Jeb Simmon's operations there and been brought to the farm to work off a debt he could never work off. Where Max was quiet, reserved and sullen, Odin was sharp-tongued, cunning and wicked-dangerous with his hands.
Odin took Max under his wing, sheltering him from much of Mrs. Oh's rage and teaching him how to survive, how to fight, and more importantly how to laugh, how to live, and how to get out.
Within a year, the pair of teenagers had escaped the farm and ran away to the city.
The next two years of Max's young life were the best he'd had up until that point. In the city, Odin seemed like a king, he knew people and, with a little hard work, they made a decent living running odd jobs and errands. The young man quickly adapted to life on the streets of the city, figuring his way around a pocket just as quick as he'd figured how to strip an engine coil. Odin had told him he'd got talented hands.
Over time, the two built a sort of brotherly relationship. Odin was the street smart, fast thinking, strong-arm and Max was the thinking, planning, sleek-moving ghost. Together, they worked the streets, took mechanical work when they needed the coin, and lived like little lords.
When Max was 15, he found Odin dead. Stabbed to death in an alley with no apparent motive or reason. The loss of his mentor and protector brought his world crashing down around his ears. Without his brother, working the streets was too dangerous. Without his brother, he didn't have the contacts to find work and before long he found himself homeless, vulnerable and alone, with nowhere to go.
Still, the lessons Odin had instilled in him kept him in good stead, kept him moving despite his demons and kept him determined to survive. Max spent a year working the docks, running odd repair jobs and fixing junk. Being a child, it was hard to prove that he had the skills or knowledge to do any kind of serious mechanical work, but he eventually signed on a crappy light freighter going to Albion who couldn't afford to pay anything and were desperate. That ship was impounded upon arrival and the crew arrested. Max made it out by playing the child passenger, who couldn't possibly have anything to do with the goings on of adults.
Now, at the ripe old age of seventeen(-ish), he's looking for a new job and a new home.