B119 - Lowe, R.J.[/DECEASED]

[MK Kilmarnock]

DECEASED


Name: Robert Jacob "R.J." Lowe
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Grade: 12th
School: Bayview Secondary School
Hobbies and Interests: Baseball, Hunting, Motorcycles

Appearance: For someone who's 6'7", R.J. doesn't stick out in most crowds. He has an average build for his height, a little on the lanky side at 195 pounds, but padded out with some muscle from his time playing baseball. His hair is shaggy, hanging just past his ears, and is just dark enough to be called black, while his Irish heritage is evident in his pale, easily sunburned skin. His brown eyes are set deep in their sockets, and his left eyebrow is, on close examination, slightly lower than his right. He has a sort of ovalish face, ending with a patch of stubble on his chin. Regardless of the weather, he wears some sort of neck covering, usually favoring a scarf, to cover an inch-and-a-half long scar across his throat. On the day of the trip, he was wearing a red t-shirt, brown cargo pants, steel-toed shoes, and a black scarf.

Biography: Born November 11, 1989, in Juneau, Alaska, Robert Jacob Lowe is the third of five children born to David Lowe, owner of a small accounting firm, and schoolteacher Melissa Lowe. His childhood in Alaska was rather pleasant, if slightly uneventful, having been raised in a typical upper-middle class environment. His mouth would get him into trouble at school every once in a while, but he managed to get by on mostly Bs, with the occasional A or C sprinkled in. His father would take him along hunting moose from an early age, as a sort of bonding activity between the two. His two brothers, Ryan and Richard, would join David as well, but only R.J. ever took an interest. Normally, he'd just watch and help gather his father's kills, of course. He wasn't quite old enough yet to handle a rifle on his own.

Other than this, however, Alaska never offered much to do, so when he was twelve and his father's work took the family to St. Paul, he was considerably excited. He got an opportunity to join a little league baseball team for the first time, and once he got the hang of playing, his height provided his pitches with a good angle on hitters, and he developed into one of the best arms in the league, at least for his first year in town. The change in scenery did him well in school, as well; his quick wit and natural kindness made him plenty of friends right away, once people got past his intimidating stature. Then, in March, 2003, all of that changed.

He doesn't remember exactly what date in March it was, and frankly, he prefers to forget. No one else was seriously hurt in the crash, fortunately, and his broken arm even healed well enough for him to pitch again, though he's still bitter that the driver that broadsided them was never charged with anything. That's thanks largely to the piece of window glass that lodged itself in his neck in the accident. The resulting laryngeal damage was very much permanent, and he's been unable to speak since. People wished him to get well soon at first, but after not too long, his disability left him ignored in favor of people who could keep up a conversation. People who weren't just damaged goods. He quickly fell into depression, even giving up on the idea going back to playing ball once his arm healed. David, picking up on his son's depression before it became self-destructive, decided that something had to be done.

They hadn't gone hunting together since they were in Alaska two years ago, so for old time's sake, they got the rifle back out, and took a trip out to the woods for the weekend. This time, however, the now-high-school-freshman would be given the chance to fire the gun himself. There were probably better, more legal parenting methods, to be sure, but to his credit, it paid off: months of pent-up frustration were released with that first bullet alone. For a moment, he had an escape. The two would make the trip an annual event, one weekend out of every summer, when R.J. could have a release from the built-up bitterness of living with his handicap, and with that, he was finally able to tolerate it.

Despite his bitterness, R.J. puts on a smile around others, knowing he can seem unapproachable otherwise. He does most of his communicating via text and the internet, not going out of his way anymore to socialize in person, having never learned sign language, but if he's approached, he's not averse to offering a nod and a handshake. He enjoys social contact, being a naturally friendly person, he just accepts that as he is, it isn't bound to be easy. He's had to learn that the hard way; miscommunication has gotten him into more than a handful of scuffles in the past. He's not the pitcher he used to be, but not for lack of talent. Rather, he plays more for fun than to win these days, figuring he's not going to make a career out of a hobby anyway. He's found other ways to pass the time as well, having recently acquired a license to drive a motorcycle, tinkering with the machine in his spare time, which he finds helps him think. He's not a genius, either, getting only average grades these days, but to his credit, he's smart enough to know his strengths and weaknesses.

Advantages: R.J. can hold his own in a fight, even if he's unarmed. He has a high tolerance for pain, and doesn't go down easily, while his size alone is enough to overwhelm an opponent. Should he acquire a firearm, his experience with hunting would make him a legitimate threat.
Disadvantages: Obviously, being unable to speak poses serious communication issues, and with only a handful of friends to fall back on, will make forming alliances difficult, if not impossible. His size can be a curse as much as a gift, as it makes him a sizable target. Likewise, shooting a person is much different from killing deer, and R.J. is, generally speaking, not the type to harm others, unless he lives long enough for the pressure to get to him.

Designated Number: Male student no. 119

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Designated Weapon: Shepherd's Crook
Conclusion: This school has its fair share of giants, doesn't it? Unfortunately, I'm afraid to say that B119 seems to be a bit of a broken toy; perhaps he'll be broken the rest of the way by any students who want to play with him!


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