Shawn Duncan (App finished)

Nickname(s):Silver Shadow
Weapons: Brass Knuckles, Baseball bat (Named Miguel Cabrera)
Canon/Original: Original Character
Relationship Status: Single
Family: None
Place of Birth: Detroit Michigan
Current Location: Wandering ( He doesn't know where he is)


Height: 6'1
Body Type: Slender, atheletic
Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: Silver / Black
Special Markings:  Heavily tattooed
Played By: Alessandro Silverfox


Likes: Booze, women, fighting, drugs, sleep
Dislikes: Noise, questions, mercy, pain, looking weak
Strengths: Hotwiring cars, picking locks, decent mechanic
Habits: Shawn smokes, drinks, and snorts any substance he can get his hands on.
Flaws: Alcoholic, drug abuser, hotheaded, doesn't trust easily, tends to ask questions only after the dust settles, hears voices
Dreams/goals: To see his brothers again
Fears: Dying alone
Overall Personality: Shawn is your classic definition of a loner.  He views asking for help as a sign of weakness.  Something about his upbringing and being forced to always play the tough guy has molded him into the man he is today.  He doesn't trust easily and is more likely to cave your head in with a crowbar than to extend you a hand in friendship.  Though he acts tough and acts like he doesn't need anyone ever; Shawn really doesn't like being alone.  Sometimes he hears voices.


History: Before the outbreak and the world decided it didn't want to be safe anymore; Shawn was a criminal.  He belonged to an outlaw gang known as The Fools Dice Club.  They were a group of degenerate low lives who only cared about partying and gambling.  They stole cars, scrapped them for parts, they held illegal street races around the city with said stolen cars.  They robbed they killed and partied until the end.  All in the name of fun.  They were know as the Kings of the gutter rats.  They wore this title with pride.  Shawn especially.  They were very similar to a motorcycle gang, only instead of bikes they have flashy expensive cars.  Usually ones they didn't pay for with hard earned cash.  

Shawn's role in the club was that of enforcer.  He excelled at violence, and he made his living with it.  Breaking legs and roughing up anyone stupid enough to end up on the bad side of the Fools.  Shawn had two daughters, and they were his joy.  He lost them in the chaos.  He lost his club.  As far as he knew every other member of the fools were dead or turned.  Ever since he's spent his days and nights in a blur of alcohol and drug induced ignorance.  He would rather drink and snort the pain away than to remember that his daughters were probably dead and he would never see his brothers again.

After the dust settled and everything quieted down Shawn fell into a bit of a depression.  The world sucked now.  There were no more parties.  No more debts to be settled.  His role as leg breaker and tough guy meant shit to no one.  He worked so hard for this reputation and in the end it only meant he was alone.  Shawn tried to seek out the club.  It was over run.  The bar which served as Fools headquarters was covered in undead entrails and blood.  The fences were down and body parts littered the ground.  A literal nightmare he didn't have the balls to step into.  Shawn never went back.  He couldn't bring himself to step foot into a graveyard for his friends and memories.  So he left.  It wasn't an easy decision but it was the only choice he had.  

He grabbed a motorcycle that used to belong to his buddy and fellow Fool's Dice member Mouse and packed it with enough booze to last him awhile.  An alcohol delivery truck was crashed outside the walls.  He found himself wondering how long the taillights flashed an ominous red warning before the battery of the fucking thing died.  Standing there staring at his demons, that was the furthest he could bring himself to memory lane.  He opened the back of the truck and it was like Christmas morning for a man trying to forget.  He grabbed the high proof stuff and shoved as many bottles into the motorcycle's saddle bags as he could and he left.  Turning the chapter on his life, on his debauchery and his pain.  Though the pain would  never really leave him.

Shawn hit the open road.  He wanted to put distance and time between the thoughts and dismemberment of his brothers.  Speeding out of Detroit it wasn't long before he found himself in Kentucky.  He never had plans to visit, but he also never had plans to run out of gas.  Piece of shit bike.  He was lucky he never crashed it.  Blurring the lines between okay to drive and piss drunk had never been so reckless.  He ran out of gas outside a tall building.  Quiet and foreshadowing his loneliness, the building itself looked lonely.  Shawn stepped off the bike and headed inside what was an old self storage building.  Busting into the joint wasn't really a problem for a criminal.  He pushed the bike off to the side behind some bushes and made his way inside with the only remaining bottle he had left.  Jack Daniels.  "Well Jack you old son of a bitch.... Looks like it's just you and me now." He drunkingly mumbled as he made his way through the maze-like twisting corridor's.  This place was home for the moment.  He bust open a few units and found fresh clothes.  One storage unit had boxes and boxes of shoes.  Jordan's.  Not exactly his style, but he slipped a pair on just because they were in better condition.  

Another storage unit he found furniture in.  He cracked open and empty unit and drug a mattress in and a box of old nudie mags he found in another.  This was home now.  A 10x30 storage unit with a pissed stained mattress and a box of Uncle Bob's secret vice.  Hell the box even said "Uncle Bob's shit keep out!!!!" scribbled on the side in desperate sharpie.  "Thanks uncle Bob." Shawn mumbled after tossing the sticky pages aside and falling asleep.  This was his daily routine.  Scavenge what he could to get drunk and fall asleep in an empty storage warehouse.  At least that was the plan for the time being.  He was having his own private pity party and he was the VIP.  Shawn has been here for months.  Years? The timeline is fuzzy when 90 proof is the only words you care about anymore.  He doesn't really remember how long he's been here, but this is what his life has become.



Alias:  Kick
Other Character(s) on TWDN: None this is my first one
How Did You Find Us:  Long story but I was invited by Mallory (A while back ago, finally made it)