The Story Of Tony Rivers
"I was born in San Francisco. A Life of crime and hate, sent me to prison for a few years. Little did I know Law Enforcement would be my golden ticket to turn my life around. I've experienced things unimaginable to the average citizen. Somehow those shit decisions led to me being stranded in a foreign country. Everyone seems to think that just because there are flesh-eating monster roaming the streets, means you can't live a decent life. What they don't know is I have more obstacles than most, and I won't let any of it stop me... "Let me tell you a little story."
Now see, growing up I wasn't your average bloke. I have a touch of British, Irish, Scottish, and even Native American in me. Somehow all of that bundled together created the shit I am today. I wasn't a very.... educated, child growing up. I didn't care much for my schooling, and never really realized how much that would affect my future. I learned life is pretty damn easy when you don't give a shit about half the things that's going on in your life. Yeah, I was that kinda kid. Probably still am if we're being honest. I hung out around the wrong parts of town a lot, and got into some real big trouble when things went South. A few of my buddies had introduced me to smoking. My father didn't have the ability to care, because he left before I was born. My mother, on the other hand, was pretty pissed off. She didn't know I would soon become an addict, and this just stressed her the fuck out. Her lovely child, who was supposed to grow up and be all sorts of perfect, was addicted to smokes by the age of 14... I really didn't take care of my lungs, and it still hurts me to this day. All of it just got worse when I got drunk one night at a party. It relieved me of my stress, and took care of all my problems. Alcohol was like my best friend, it helped me forget about all the troubles in my life. Really, they just caused twice as many problems as they solved.
Ya wanna know the worst part about gangs? You get in trouble for their bullshit. I learned that the hard way. We was sitting at a park smoking some blunts and drinking Henny, when a cop strolled through. He had gotten misdemeanor calls from some parents, and was coming to get us. See two blokes that was accompanying us, had some illegal firearms. On top of that, they were known gang members. When the cops approached us they let their dicks do the thinking, instead of their brains. The cop was shot once in the leg and we all fled. Within a few days, one by one, we were all exposed and caught. Almost everyone involved was charged with Gang Affiliations, Underage Drinking, and Possession of illegal drugs. Ya see for most of 'em, they just got a year or two in detentional juvy. But for me? I had just turned 18, around two months before the incident. I was sure my whole life was gon' be fucked. $20,000 for the Gang Affiliations, $2,000 for Underage Drinking, and $15,000 for selling, and Possession of Illegal Drugs. In case you ain't good at math, that totals to $37,000. I was a real big disappointment to my mum, and she had no plans to bail me out. I thought my life was fuckn' ruined. I was a broken man, when I had to face the reality, I'd be spending 25 years in Prison.
Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures/Recruited
I spent around 18 months in a level three prison. Let me tell ya first hand, that experience was fuckin' awful. I hated every second with a burning passion. You get pretty damn tough, real quick when you get into the environments of being a locked up dog. Practically all of my family had given up on me. They had all, forgotten about me. I really felt alone. It was a rough ass fuckin' time for me. Ever since the pigs arrested me and locked me up, I had hated them. I talked shit on how politics were corrupt and how Police were pigs, not knowing much about half the shit I was talking about. Politics, I was never a fan of. Law Enforcement, I would learn to love. I can still hear the warden floppin' his chops, spit flying in my face as he broke some news to me I thought I'd never hear. It went something along the lines of, "Today's your lucky day son." A bunch of random shit followed that which I never really payed attention to, and within a week I found myself a free man. The San Francisco Police Department had paid my bail, but even then, it came at a cost.. They wanted me to take over some big job that had an opening. Automatically I said no. They tried to persuade me to do that shit, and for a time I was real hesitant. They broke some harsh, but true news that if I didn't take this, job oppertunity, I was most likely gon' die a broke bitch. I went to an old pawn shop and bought a suit real cheap and went for an interview. Going against my will wouldn't compare to shit, to the first few statements the Chief dropped on me. Even writing this right now, I find it hard to believe. Apparently, my pops had left the family to take a job as a cop. Detective, to be more specific. He supposedly served long and hard, until he was gunned down in a shootout. The SFPD wanted me, for some reason, to take over his spot. In a rash, hasty decision that I regret to this day, I said yes.
"Duty, Is the Death Of Love"
To be honest I had no fuckin' clue how much the job would affect me. I started as a homicide detective, for some stupid ass reason. I always just assumed it was because that's what my father did. I don't know why the cops believed I had the ability to start on that job, when I never even believed in myself.. I thought it was one big ole' mistake. I shoulda had more confidence in myself. I was a total badass at the job. I was always real good with the people, because in reality, I was one of them, the only difference was I was wearing a badge. Some shit the cops seemed to lack, was an ole' ability called situational awareness, and the skill to improvise. I myself used a good bit of both of those to solve my cases, and I'll tell you what, I solved a lot, of fucking, cases. Somethin' I regret to this day, is I never wanted to try and start a family whilst I was working the job. I didn't want somethin' to happen to me and leave my loved ones' all alone like I once was. I never had a lover because of this stupid fuckin' mistake. At the end of the day it was always a hard-ass job, dangerous too. I took a few bullets myself, as well as some scars with a knife. Yeah, just imagine that. I was supposed to be coming AFTER, a murder, after, it was all resolved, and I was still in constant danger. I never understood how cops put their lives on the line every fuckin' day they wore the badge. I'm probably just rambling at this point but who fucking cares. Yanno what I have enough time to brag a little bit. My hands have some serious burns on the palms, wanna know how? I don't give two shits if you said no. Here's how. There was this case right, where a father tried to murder his wife and child. He failed at both, instead no one could find the kid. I was roaming the house tryin' to find some clues when I found the kid trapped under a motorcycle. He was near unconsciouss, so I'm assuming that's why no one heard him. He had burns all up and down his legs from the bike overheating. I wasn't thinking at the time so I flipped the bike over with everything I had. My hands were burnt to shit, but in the end of the day, I probably saved that kid from a lot worse... His name was Jonathan by the way. Anyways, I shouldn't have put the job, that I didn't even like, in front of starting a family. I feel I might always regret it. I might even go as far as saying I regret that more than takin' the job in the first place. The job.. made me experience more than most. For obvious reasons, I had to inspect a good amount of dead bodies. I'm not a skeptical man, but all those faces still fuckin' haunt me. I tried to overpower it with smoking, and the job became easier as time passed, but there are a good amount of faces I can't get out of my head.. Dead, faces.
One real important quality you can adapt, is to not trust a single fuckin' soul. I served the force a long fuckin' time. Around 5 and a half years, if I had to guess. In reality I was never even fired. I was just sent away like fuckin' livestock. We had a good ole' meeting, and they determined they were gon' send a force to this shitpile called Chernarus. Apparently they needed some backup for some infection that was spreading. Me, being the best, and only, homicide detective, was shipped off as well. I tried to get some information on what the fuck I was supposed to be doing, and got no clear answer. All I was told from the boys upstairs, is I was needed to stop the mass amount of murders and suicides in the region. They wanted me to inspect any people that were dying, and give the information to any military forces I could find, to help prevent that kinda shit. I'm pretty proud of this, wanna know what I told em? my exact words, "Fuck off." That probably wasn't the best choice of words. They threatened to take my job, and throw me in jail for failing to do my duties. I didn't know if they could even arrest me for that, but shit they were a fuckin' police station saying it to me. Not wanting to lose my job, and not wanting to go back to the prison shit-hole, I accepted. I thought it might take a few months, half a year maybe. And what now. I think it's been around two years now, since the country has went to shit. When I'm writing this, atleast. I'm really hoping I'm alive for a lot longer. Two weeks after the force of cops landed in the country, I already wanted to blow my fucking brains out. I got little to no sleep, and the amount of deaths was like a fucking video game.
"The World Ain't All Sunshine And Rainbows"
"The world ain't all sunshine and rainbows. It's a very mean, and nasty place and I don't care how tough you are it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me or nobody, is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain't about how hard you hit, it's about how hard you can get hit, and keep moving forward, how much you can take, and keep, moving, forward.. THAT'S HOW WINNING IS DONE!" -Rocky Balboa. Like that quote? It came from an old movie and I honestly use it in my everyday life. It's one of the realist quotes you'll ever find. See when you get trapped in a country full of flesh-eating fucks, you gotta learn to take accept that shit and fight to make a change, or else you'll end up dead like all of the others that died during the outbreak. And it ain't just about living, it's about living and fuckin' enjoying it. Wanna know my goal? That's fucking it. See I'm not your average Joe, I won't just bend over and let nature fuck me in the ass. I'll keep fighting 'til I'm dead. That's exactly what I fucking did when a city I was staying in, was overrun with infected during the start of the outbreak. I didn't even know how to kill the pieces of shit, I just didn't want to die. I fought my way out, and kept fighting. I tried to help out when I could, and I don't reckon that's gon' change. You'd be surprised how much my job helped out for a catastrophic outbreak like this... Now that I'm actually thinking about it, maybe that's why I haven't let go of the occupation just yet.. Maybe it's just me being a badass like usual, or maybe my job has really been the reason I've stayed alive for so long.. Either way, I don't intend to die anytime soon. Most have been fighting for their life since the start of the outbreak. I've been fighting for it, since I was a little fuckin' kid. What would the point be of all that fighting, if one day I decided to just give up? All anyone can really hope for anymore is to make something of their shit situation. Some, are better at that than others, I like to think I'm one of the best... You know why? "Because I'm Tony fuckin' Rivers."
*The following events are cases Tony was assigned to, and how they affected him mentally and physically. These events are not in Chronological order.*
"Bourbon and Branch Bar Shooting"
It was just a normal day at the office. Tony sat there, waiting for the minutes to run down off the clock so he could get up and walk out of the station. It was a rather quiet day and he was bored out of his mind. He clinched the styrofoam coffee cup in his hands, and watched the legs on the clock move ever so slightly. All of a sudden things got hectic, just nothing seemed right, everything seemed out of order. He saw the chief walk out of his office and threw on his jacket. "Your gonna be working your ass off for the next few days... We need an experienced detective, and your the only one we got." Tony wasn't concerned, worried, or even curios. He just let out a sigh at the supposed work load and continued looking at the clock waiting to go home.
It was supposed to be a normal persons' weekend, but Tony had a brand new assignment. It was everywhere on the news so he already had a clue of what he was working with. The next day he went into work anyone of importance met in a room and they had a briefing. They gave Tony all the information he needed. They offered him a new partner, but he declined. See, there was a bar shooting, the Bourbon and Branch bar to be exact. Supposedly only one attacker. 4 Killed, 12 injured. Witnesses described the man as Nate Rogers. The man got away and was seen driving a blue van down the highway. They had received no additional information of the shooters location so Tony suspected he had ditched the car, and had to find other leads to go off of. He packed some bags, filled his car with any relevant information about the case, and tucked an AK-74 in the trunk. You know, just in case.
Day after day, city after city, he worked his way to a little town called Moraga. He asked some civilians a few questions and found himself outside of a little apartment complex. He confronted the owner of the place, and showed the picture of Nate Rogers. Surprisingly to Tony, he was actually there. "Room 214," she said. He knocked, and no answer. He knocked louder and heard a "Jesus I paid my rent now leave me the fuck alone while I take a shit!" Tony didn't give two shits of the actions he had to take next. He could have called in backup, he could have been safe about it, or called the nearby police station. Instead, he acted hastily and kicked down the door, pistol drawn. He heard some glass break, and assumed it was the window being broken. He was right. Nate Rogers lunged at him, glass in hand. He managed to get one slice in, to Tony's upper forearm, before eating 5 bullets. One to the chest cavity, one to the waistline, one to the gut, one to the throat, and one to the shoulder. Nate Rogers laid there, with little bits of life in him for about 20 seconds, and eventually passed away.
(More coming soon)