Duncan Heighway, a man of some talent and a lot of bravado. Most of his success relied on his act, though he would also be sure to back up his antics with a strong performance in the ring. See, Duncan wasn’t some ponce who picked up the sport for a bit of fun in his pastime, he made a living out of it from the moment he could throw a decent right hook. Being a traveller often comes with negative connotations and it’s fair share of stereotypes, some true most not. One that’s played up a fair bit is bare knuckle boxing, I mean don’t get me wrong they lads scrap and they scrap bloody well but it’s not the lawless flailing about it’s made to seem in the papers and on the tele. Nevertheless that’s where Duncan got his start.
He started training from a young age, pretty much the only avenue he had in life. He didn’t attend school very often, I mean he’s no moron but he ain’t exactly going to be doing his tax returns any time soon, didn’t want to learn a trade… Just wanted to box. Day in day out he spent at that gym, became a second home if you would. Come about age of 14-15 he was approached by a trainer, an old bloke, one of the types you see in movies, former world champion type, though this chap wasn’t that successful, just a few front page knockouts here and there, but a good tutor as it so happened. The two formed a proper Muhammad Ali, Angelo Dundee kind of bond, you know the type… unlikely but prosperous.
Overtime Duncan grew to be quite the technical boxer and was always complimented for his ability to pick apart his opponents, though his personal life always held him back from the big time. He never quite shook those stereotypes put onto him from his family, always scrapping outside the ring and getting in deep with this bloke and that one. It wasn't long before Duncan was accepting any fight that came his way just so he could pay off any debts he had from those past few months, that's how he ended up in this shithole...
See about two months before he flew out Duncan's brother, Connor, was contacted by the team of some proper up and comer from a place called Chernarus, not a clue, never heard of it. Money was good, very good actually, 10 round scrap winner takes home a tasty pot. Get put up in a fancy hotel for a few days before hand, what's not to love. Of course Duncan gave his team the go ahead to arrange the fight and so, not two months after the team flew out to Chernarus.
Since his permanent residence was forced upon to him in Chernarus, Duncan has sought after a group of people he can survive alongside. Luckily for him, the boy found DISTRICT. Now these lads ain't the kindest bunch of fellas, but he fits in well. Duncan plys his trade as a loud mouth, hard hitting, gun toting scumbag for the DISTRICT boys. He does the dirty work no one else does, torturing, killing... You name it he'll do it. Dedication to the cause, no more, no less. Duncan would fight to the last drop of blood if it meant upholding the name of his lads.