Ashley William's Background
The dossier for the falsified identity of Ashley Williams is detailed below.
My name, is Ashley Williams. If you call me anything but Ash, I might just be tempted to knock your teeth in. Now, I'm not a naturally violent man, but I do anything I need to to survive. Some people would label me as a bad guy, as evil. I'm no more evil than a shark is for eating the human that's swimming near it. Or the wolf that kills the cute little deer for food. Or the human that kills the cow for his burgers. I do what I must to live, and nothing more. I won't kill a man because I feel like killing him. I may teach him a lesson, but unnecessary cruelty is pointless. I'm 25, which means I was born in 1983, June 11th to be specific. I was always good at everything I did, though there were always people better than me… I was never bad… at anything. Now, this wasn't my powers manifesting, that didn't happen till the eclipse, but I tend to think that I didn't actually get any powers persay, just that the eclipse perfected me. Anyway, to start at the beginning. I grew up in Brooklyn, and yeah, my story starts as the classic white kid from the ghetto type deal. My father's name was Sam, my mother's name was Nancy. My mom, she was a good woman, but my father was a drunk and a no good lowlife. He hit her too, why she put up with him I'll never know. I spent a lot of time at school, and in after school programs. Home sucked, why would I want to be at home? School funny enough was my escape, well school and books. I loved books, they took me away from the harsh reality of my life, taught me there can be something better. Though I've since lost most of those delusions… sometimes they still rise and I wonder if maybe there could be something better, then the heavy weight of reality sets back in, crushing my spirit back to the diamond hard thing my life has made it. The only problem… I learned, quickly… and did well, which of course got me picked on as a geek… a lot. At the time I wasn't a fighter, I wasn't big for my age, or strong or fast, so I got beat on a fair amount by the bigger kids and the older kids. Well, it's amazing what people will do when they're desperate. I was sick of getting picked on, so… I went to a kickboxing dojo that was a few blocks away. I spoke to the owner there, and he agreed to let me attend classes, in exchange for me doing chores around the dojo. Sweeping and mopping, washing windows, that kind of stuff. In truth I think he pitied me and wanted to help, in reality, I don't care.
I was good at the kickboxing. It got me into shape, got me leaned up, and gave me even more time away from home. The problem, came when I knew that I could beat up the bullies, so… I did. Three of them came after me, my weekly beating as they put it. That was the first time I used the kickboxing techniques I'd been learning, and while… I still got pounded pretty good… they didn't get away from it unscathed in any way. After that people started to leave me alone. They could still beat on me, but they were going to walk away hurting as well. I was 15 when the shit hit the fan. You know, you get to that point, when you get sick of not doing anything, when you have the ability to stop something. I got home one night, and found my mother out cold on the kitchen floor with a split lip and a bloody nose, and one hell of a shiner. Then I heard the drunk in the living room watching TV. I went in there and took the controller from him. I wanted to provoke him. My teacher had always said not to fight unless it's self defence, so… I provoked him. took the controller, taunted him, stood in front of the TV before turning it off, finally… he got up off of the couch and came after me. He hit me, once. After that one punch I took him apart. In the end I dumped him, busted up, bleeding from lips and a broken nose, out in the hallway. In retrospect mom and I should have moved, but we didn't. Hindsight and all that huh? He didn't come back for awhile though. I was sixteen by the time he came back around. But this time he came with a gun. That was the first night I ever killed someone. He knocked on the door. I answered it, and he shot me in the chest, though he managed to not hit a single vital organ. I fell back and collapsed to the floor in shock. My mother was in the kitchen, the next shot emptied her brains against the kitchen walls. For once in his worthless life the man was sober, go figure. I waited, sitting on the floor as he moved around. I waited, until he was about ready to leave and had tucked the gun into the back of his pants before I jumped up. I grabbed the gun out of his pants and lifted it, putting the barrel to the back of his head. I hesitated, which almost got me killed. He turned and knocked the gun out of my hands. I kicked him right between his legs before snapping my palm out and shattering hsi nose. With him screaming in pain I grabbed up the gun and this time… i didn't hesitate. I emptied that bastard's brains on the wall, just like he'd done to my mother. Then… I ran.
I was sixteen, and homeless, though that didn't last long. It was 1999 now, nearly the turn of the century, and the millenium. I found a man to take the bullet out of my chest, and he actually did a damned good job, don't have much of a scar from it. I used the money I took from my dead father's wallet to pay for the services. With that taken care of, I went to the police and told them what had happened, for the most part. Some embellishment and altered facts. But, they didn't arrest me, though I did have to take 2 months of counseling before they'd let me go back to school. I also went to the courts to ask for emancipation. They denied me, and they told me if I couldn't find someone to live with then I'd be put into a foster home. I went to, of all people, the owner of my dojo. He agreed,and the court agreed as well, though they were a bit skeptical. He applied for guardianship and it was granted. I didn't change on the outside, but on the inside… I realized just how hard life could be, just how much it might demand from someone, life taught me then… that I must be an animal to survive… so an animal I became, caged… restricted and muzzled, but still an animal. I got a job, a real job. Working as a carpenter's assistant of all things. I continued school, and continued my lessons at the dojo, though I had branched off and was studying some other styles of fighting, slowly piecing together my own kind of form, not quite kick boxing anymore, but close. I finished high school at 17. At this point I was almost ready to move out, just waiting until I hit 18, at 18 I was going to move out on my own, my wages from my job were also quite pretty decent. My body was in very good condition, from the hard work, and the hard training, It was a good thing too. My life as I knew it ended in a swift and precise way. Turns out, the guy who ran the business, had a gambling problem, he owed the wrong people alot of money, and they'd come to collect, from his hide if need be. They showed up at the jobsite with malicious intent and I met them with equal intent. They busted down the door to the house we were renovating for a wealthy owner, and stormed inside. There were four of us in total, and 6 of them, with thier boss behind them all. The other two employees stood back and away from our boss, leaving him to his fate. I wasn't going to do that, not from compassion, or even some sense of good smaritanism. This guy provided me a well paying job, a job I wanted to keep.
They didn't pull out guns, guns would drop cops. No, but they did pull out bats, and a knife, and a couple of brass knuckles. The fight that ensued was brief, though brutal, and bloody. In the end I put down 3 of this guys men, and put them down hard before one finally pulled a gun on me. The job, was not worth my life, so… I finally backed off, but again, another lesson in what people will do to survive. I fought, but once my life was in danger, i backed off. Every fight in my life has brought a lesson, taught me more and more what kind of things I have to do to survive. In the end, they took each of the boss' pinky fingers, and left him with some threats. But me… they took interest in me. The crime boss took me outside, and told me about the underground fighting rings. He wanted me to fight for him, make us both some money. I declined, but he gave me a number to call if I ever wanted to rethink it. I never did call him. I came into the rings in a different way. For the next 2 and a half years I worked, though I had alot of trouble holding down normal jobs. I tried the fast food thing, but it didn't work, tried the supermarket thing, didn't work. Nothing normal worked. When I was 18 I didn't have the money to move out, though I wanted to badly. Then I stopped a shoplifter while working in a convenience store. I saw him stealing and approached him. He attacked me. He knew what he was doing, but he simply didn't have the training, or the level of fitness that I did, his actions though… echoed the way I felt… he was a cornered animal. Hungry, searching for food, and when he found it… he was going to protect it or die for it. After the police came, took statements from the other customers, and took them away one of the customers approached me. He mentioned the fights, and this time… I took the offer. He said he'd represent me, and his deal was alot sweeter than the one the crime guy had offered me.
It was 2003 when I fought my first fight. I felt alive… I felt powerful.. .I felt invincible… until I got knocked out. I went up against a veteran fighter. The only reason he didn't destroy me right away was that I had training. But come to find out, training and fighting against other people who know how to fight.. are two very different things. I did great at first, but when he realized how green I was… he took me apart. I lost my first 6 fights before finally winning one. YOu have to learn to balance how much effort you put into hitting your opponent, and how much energy you put into simply continuing… standing, staying upright and ready. If you can wear down your opponent you can win, they'll make a mistake, and it will be over. I won my first fight that way. A big guy, a bit too big to be in the fights, but usually got through on sheer brute strength. I wore him down, taking his lighter hits and dodging his heavier ones, throwing a few key shots here and there, but mostly just enduring. When he began breathing heavy is when I pushed him. I stepped in, delivering a rapid series of jabs and strikes that he struggled to block. He did block most of them, but the point was tiring him out. After I landed the first jab I knew I had him. It struck him square in teh chest. So I threw another series of punches before switching my target. I cold cocked him right on the chin, and he fell, out cold. I didn't win another fight for awhile, but the wins were good money, so it didn't take much to live comfortably, comfortably for Brooklyn. But all in all life was pretty good. I got better though, and better until I was winning most of my fights. Not all, but I was winning most. The fights were brutal, and my body might as well have become wood. It hardened me in ways I wouldn't have guessed at, but in the end, it was a living, and it was fun. It was during the fights that I earned enough money to move out and get my own apartment. The dojo owner was a busy man anyway, and he had never truly had time for me. He had taken me in as a favor, to help me, but not for me to be anything more than that, a room mate that he was helping out. You know, life is a bitch though. I finally got settled in, fighting twice a week, winning more often than not, had an average apartment, but nice things. Of course though, lady fate was laughing at me the whole time, she knew she was going to take it all away.
The police raided one of the fights. Now, by this time, I wasn't quite as I am now, but I did understand that life is survival of the fittest, though I don't think I'd have done then, the things to survive that I'm willing to do now. The police raided a fight, broke in, guns drawn and cuffs out. Everyone bolted, me included. But I had the unfortunate experience of running into a spunky cop with an attitude. I ran out the back door of the building, and caught a nightstick in the gut, then across the back. I spun to try and get to grips with her, but then I got a nightstick upside the head, and it all went black. I woke up in a jail cell at the local precinct. They asked me some questions, demanded to know the names of the guys who ran things. Put me through a lie detector test, all manner of questions and demands, but in the end… I didn't have the information they wanted. I was released.. but on probation. They charged me with disturbing the peace and reckless endangerment, but settled with giving me probation. Twice monthly visits and all of that. And if I was caught at the fighting rings… I would do jail time… hard jail time.
I stayed in the fights until the eclipse… that damned.. blessed eclipse. I was in the middle of a fight during it, and since I don't activate my powers… they set in… manifested if you will. I killed the guy, on accident… I punched him in the side of the head… and he dropped like a sack of bricks. I had crushed his temple and caused his brain to begin hemorrhaging. I'd hit him hard enough to bruise his brain. That's what killed him in the end, the bleeding, the laying on the floor bleeding, though I didn't find that out till I went to court. I blinked, shocked… and frankly amazed at what I had just done. But… I could feel the difference in my body. How much easier it was to move… how much quicker I could move. Even before the body hit the ground I realized something very very strange had happened. They declared me the winner, but when the checked him, and found him dead… .someone called the police. I didn't know they had done so.. until they came. I was just leaving the building, the deade man's blood still staining my hands. They pulled up without sirens and with very little sound. Though I heard cars coming, something I wouldn't normally have heard so distinctly.. I didn't realize they were police until I was surrounded. I look up, still in shock at how I felt, what I had done. They had guns though, and I had no clue what was going on with me, but when they stepped forwards to hand cuff me… the instincts that I had been honing, those of survival kicked in. Cuffs meant jail. Jail meant a cage. A cage means no freedom. I fought, and I fought hard. I hurt people… though I didn't kill any. I'll tell you something… tazers hurt like hell… I felt them hit me, those little darts cutting into my skin and sending jolts of pure agony through me. I dropped, and I dropped hard.
Prison… a place I never thought to see myself in. There was no trial. I'd violated my parole, and I'd killed a man doing it. Self defence was out of the question. I'd been fighting in the ring. It wasn't intentional though, and they believed me on that, the lie detector helped even if it wasn't admissible evidence in court. I was charged with manslaughter, though I was offered a deal. I could take twenty years in prison, or risk a possible life sentence with the jury. Naturally, I took the deal. Twenty years versus potentially my entire life. So, I was sentenced to twenty years in prison. Twenty… years. My life as I knew it was over. October 2006, the day after the eclipse I was in prison. In there I discovered who I am… what I can do, and… what I'm capable of. Rikers Island… was not a picnic, and it was not a comfortable place. People would have you believe prison isn't as bad as some make it out to be, no, it's not. It's worse, though it only got worse when I was transferred. I was sent to the Downstate Correctional facility… a maximum security prison. It wasn't a prison, it was a hell.. a personal hell for every single inmate. Every moment of every day you have to watch your back, even the guys you think are your friends will stab you in the back for a simple pack of cigarettes. Everyone in there has to become an animal. I was no longer unique… I was now amongst my own kind. But I had one advantage… whatever that damned Eclipse had done to me. I got in fights, a lot of them at first, though that died off eventually. People stopped fucking with me when they realized I could hurt them, though I never allowed myself to go all out on them. I held back, and a few times it got the shit kicked out of me. Especially with groups. When a group of 3 and four guys attacked me… I shouldn't have been able to beat them, so I didn't. And I suffered for it. Though I never let them beat me in a private area, only in public. The inmates didn't get it at first, but they understood that if they attacked me in public, I'd let them win, so they stopped jumping me in private areas, and only attacked me in public. Prison… was hell. I became an animal in reality, doing anything I had to to survive, taking what I thought I could take, and beating who I knew I could beat. YOu know it's funny, one of the only things that kept me sane in prison… was school. I spent hours on end running math problems through my head, and it's a practice I still ascribe to. Math, and the prison library when I had access to it. I even had a job in there at one point during my stay in prison. I like to read, though it's not something most would expect of me.
The explosion… that made things only that much worse. When the bomb went off in New York everyone could see the explosion, the ash filling the sky.. raining down for miles around the source of it. The dead, the loss of law and order within the city… all of it set off the inmates, things got more and more violent, inmates got more bold and more wiling to take risks they normally wouldn't. We did not however, hear much about the things going on in the world. The discovery of the evolved, the revelation of what was going on everywhere. We were cut off from the world, so I still didn't know that there were others like me out there.
I got hospitalized after one fight. I had beaten up each of a group of guys, taken things from them… things were the currency. Cigarettes… drugs… alcohol, anything from the outside was currency, money had no meaning. I took stuff from each of them, they got me back. They came with not just fists, they came with shivs as well. They attacked me in the yard, thankfully.. .there were guards nearby or I'd have been dead. I broke a leg, and a couple of arms, but they stabbed me, and bled me good before the guards got there. I was hospitalized, but not publicly. They took me to solitary and had doctors treat me there, not willing to take me outside of the prison after the damage I had inflicted, and the number of fights I'd been in. It was there, laying on that bed, bleeding everywhere as doctor's stitched me up that I vowed not to let that happen to me, ever… again. I was in solitary, for nearly a year, contact with only a few guards when they came for me. Yet again… I fought for my life. But it didn't last long. I attacked them when they came inside. They had guns held openly and I assumed they were there to kill me. The guards outside oddly… just stood there, staring as if they weren't really seeing what was going on. I fought, and I fought hard… but one of them was.. incredibly strong. Every time he hit me I went down hard. I got back up, but was slower each and every time. Finally he put me down, and I couldn't get back up, that's when they tranqed me. Those guns weren't guns at all, they were tranq guns. The darts hit me, and the stuff started acting. I wondered why they didn't just dart me to begin with, but then I realized… they knew about me… though not what exactly I could do. They didn't know if I'd have to be weakened for the drugs to take effect quickly or not, so they made sure I was to be safe. I blacked out, consciousness slipping away into darkness.
When I woke up… I was in a prison… Moab to be more specific. Their mistake though, was putting me in the green level. I will hate that drug of theirs till I die. It… took everything away. Everything that made me special. For the first time in my life I wasn't a piece of human waste cast adrift into the streets. For the first time I had some kind of meaning, and those damned drugs took it away. I was scared… though I'll never admit that to anyone… i was very scared. And in here, math helped keep me sane, math and what reading material they did allow me. But… I had one advantage. I was a fighter, and that they couldn't take away from me. So, I waited and bade my time. I watched the guards, the shifts, everything, mapping out an escape plan. It was a simple one, but should work with minimal interference. While in prison I met a few people. I made… acquaintances with some women on the other side of the fence. There was a guy… that every day, would stand at the fence, make cat calls, taunt the women, just in general.. be an ass. Now, while him being an ass to them didn't bother me, the guy himself annoyed me to no damn end. I told him, that if he did it again the next day, I would beat him to a pulp. He did, and I … started to. The guards pulled me off of him, and I let them, but he got the message and stopped. The women decided I had done it to help them, and started to talk to me through the fence. I got to know them a bit, especially Angel and Jet. Though… I did get a good amount of amusement, when i saw the spunky cop that had arrested me… sitting in the yard one day. She had bright red hair now, but it was still her. We talked, though not much. Turns out she'd been sent here for having powers… everyone here was evolved. There were innocent people here, and there were very guilty people here. Many deserved to be in, like me, but many also did not.
My escape attempt, came a week before the break out. When a guard came to give me my shot… I killed him. I jumped him, pinning his arms to the floor and choking him, it took awhile, and I could feel his life bleeding out beneath me. This death… this one meant alot. This was a man who was just doing his job, nothing more, and he had to die for my survival. I took his ID to get me out of the prison, and left. I ran into two more guards along the way… both died, and both hurt. I don't like to kill, but I will do anything I need to to survive. I didn't walk away unbruised by any means though. One I had to beat to death, which is… a messy business, the other I killed like the first. Unfortunately for me… there was some kind of commotion going on in the prison, other than my escape, and it brought the guards running. When they came across me… running through the prison… alone, they attacked me. I can fight… I can fight like the devil himself. But I can't take that many at a time, weakened, slow, and them with weapons, me without. They, after beating me bloody, took me down to the red level and dumped me there. I got little food over the next week days, but I wasn't surprised. I'd killed three of them. They also didn't bother drugging me after that. I was in red level and I wasn't getting out. They just dumped food through a slot from time to time and then left, leaving me alone with my thoughts and my demons. When the breakout occured I was ripped through time… skipped an hour or so, but was flung all the way to West Virginia. I woke up there… busted up, but alive. Confused as all hell I made my way to New York, to find the place what it is today. On the way to New York I got caught up on what had been happening, and having been a victim of the government I decided it was time to fight back. So now, I'm looking for the Ferrymen… not to join them, but I heard there's a sub group… that fights the Government… I want to find them. I've also heard rumors that there's a few other of the prisoners in New York, so that's another thing I'll be looking in to.
