D1 ~ Seger Hawkins

Ripped. Cut. Lean. Skin & Bones. That along with scars and looks give reality to the whispers of "Seger, one serious fighter." And when you see me, thats the impression you get...and thats the way I want it to be. Fighting's all about that first impression. If you give off the impression you're a hardened fighter, then your start to get in your opponents head...and the mental game's half the battle. I'm not very big, at 5'10", and I'd put myself at maybe 165. But that one-sixty-five is all muscle. I'm not talking bodybuilder big, I'm talking more of a gymnast look. Ya know, the kind where you can see every muscle in his body, but it doesn't seem like their very big, with no spare fat. Ya, thats me. I've got some pretty sweet cornrows. They're like a jet black color. That along with my dark skinned complexion and my amber colored eyes makes up my general physique.

Now, my upper body's pretty cut up. My arms are longer than average, and I have some big hands to go along with it. My chest is pretty big, but not hugely, grossly so. Now my stomach, that is a serious, cut piece of work. Unfortunately, y'alls eyes tend to find their way to the scar that stretches from my ribcage to my waist. It's kind of raised up, like gooseflesh. And its got kind of a white tinge to the flesh around it. Kinda gross, but with abs like these, you get over. As to my legs, there nothing special. You can see every muscle ripple and flex as i move, but thats a result of the like 6 percent body fat i have. The only thing memorable is my calves, which are huge. Definitely a dominant feature of my legs.

Contrary to what anyone may say, I do have some good qualities. Not a lot, but some. For one, I'm loyal. To anyone who I like, I'm loyal and will put all I have into a cause. My loyalty goes to my family, my gang, and my fight club. My other good trait is that i'm protective to a fault. If i decide to protect you, ain't no one gonna touch you. I have a serious problem with being beat, and it pushes me to outdo people in everything.

All in all, i'd caution people to leave me alone. I'm not the friendliest guy in the world, and I don't want to be. People up and down district two call me cocky, and tell me i've got an attitude. Me? Cocky? Ya right. When you look this good and are this cool, you can afford to be. But hey, thats not the only reason people don't like me. Im a fighter, and as a result im a tad aggresive. Hell, i'm probably the most aggressive person in district 1. But my biggest fault is my lateness. Im never on time...ever.

I'm a fighter. Ain't no doubt about it. You mess with me or my crew, its gonna go down. And you ain't gonna come out on top. Thats gonna be me. I'm the champ of the streets, and your not gonna steal that from me. One of the only things I can do right. And I work at it. Running, lifting, fighting in the career training. I do whatever i can to get better and own you. I think that about puts my personality under wraps.

First off, we're gonna break this down into 3 separate instances. They go like this: scar, gang, present. I was born in August of the 44th Hunger Games. I grew up with a pretty normal childhood, till i was about 7. Then my dad came home after drinking more than he usually did. Now, my dad was always an alcoholic, but he kept it under control and didn't let us see him drunk. Not me and my little brother. He was 2 at the time. But anyway, he came home drunk and went after my little brother. See, i was cocky even back then. I grabbed a knife off the kitchen counter and chased him down and jumped on his back. He took me and threw me to the ground. He pinned me down with his knee to my chest, so i took the knife and stabbed him in the leg, right in the thigh. Blood started squirting everywhere. He rolled off me, I hopped up, grabbed my little bro, and ran up stairs with my mom, locking the door behind me. He left about 15 minutes later. He never came back. I still see him around time and it's only a matter of time before i snap and go off on him.

So from seven to twelve, I started to train. After hours and days and years of training, I've become a master of street fighting. I trained for hours to achieve perfection with the bow and with an array of swords. I gained passable standards in knives and spears. Passable to me, is close to perfect for most people. Also, I'm a pretty good gymnast after 6 years. My biggest thing was that on my twelfth birthday, I went and joined a gang on the south side of town. My mom didn't know about it and still doesn't. Its not like i ever got caught. The reason i joined was because I had an anger issue and wanted to train for their fight club. Fine by me. So, ya. We're a pretty tight crew, we've only been caught once for a minor thing that the peacekeepers couldn't tag us for

Now till now. I've been keeping to myself, getting decent grades, keeping up the training. the only real thing I've done is to get two puppies, one on my 15 and one for my 16 birthday. One is a blue pitbull type dog with eyes like me. He's a year old and aggressive. He's a fighter and rarely leaves me. The other, a wolflike behemoth with ice white eyes, is calmer and tamer, but only because he's about 3 months old. The first is Rider and the wolf is Keto.

So theres my history. Im proud of it and ain't no one gonna convince me otherwise. You think I'm wrong? Whadda ya say we fight about it?