Milo Dai
N
/ Milo Dai /
“All the amazing people are
a little insane.”
Face Claim – Cole Mohr
The Crazy One
There are 35 active serial killers in the US at any given time. Though,
there are at least 271 suspected serial killers on the FBI’s list currently.
With 52.21% of those serial killers being white.
MILO’S APPEARANCE
Milo, to put it simply,
is an insanely hot person. He stands at exactly 5’7. His skin is extremely
white, with the ever so slight amount of tan too it. His hair is naturally a
platinum blonde color but is now jet black. Usually he keeps it either up in a
quiff or laying down flat against his head. It all depends on how lazy he is
feeling. His body is one of medium build. Not too muscle-y but not too skinny
either. All his muscles being fairly defined. His torso having barely defined
abs on it. A nice v-line. Finished off with the various tattoos scattered all
over his body.
His face is adorned with
medium, almond shaped eyes, the color of a clear sky or of blue kool aid. His
lashes are longer than what most other men tended to have. Thin yet somehow
still full lips, bordering between being too much and too little. A medium and
defined nose. Nicely defined cheekbones and jawline that is certainly not very
bad looking. The necklace that his mom gave him always on his neck, in fact it
very rarely, if ever, leaves his neck. He dresses in a very casual and cheap
way while still managing to be stylish. Often being forced to put thing that
shouldn’t go together into an outfit, but still somehow managing to make it
work.
MILO’S APPEARANCE (MORE IN DEPTH)
Outward Looks
5’7, 130 lbs. // Nineteen Years Old
Short black hair. Either down flat against his
head or put up in a sort of quiff.
Skinny, but with defined muscles
Frequent smoker
½ Armenian, ½ Irish
He doesn’t have much, if any money at all. So,
most of his clothes are either from thrift shops or what he manages to steal
from other people’s houses. His outfits and style are very eclectic. Even
though each of his pieces shouldn’t necessarily go together, he managed to make
it work in some odd way. He had at least one of most pieces of clothing that
were out there.
Scars, Piercings, And Most Important
Tattoos
Scars: A long scar running right over his
spine. Various small ones all over his back. One running from his left armpit
all the way down his side. A light one that runs just above and just below his
belly button.
Piercings: 16mm size gauges in his ears.
Spider bites on the left side of his mouth.
Tattoos: The initials JJD right above his
heart, those being the initials of his Mom: Jessica Jerry Dai. April, May, and
June across his chest in cursive, those being his first three months on his own.
A small red outline of New York City in the middle of his left upper arm. The
names Michael, Jordan, and Tommy right above his elbow on his left arm, the
only three decent people he’d met in his time traveling around everywhere. A DNA
strand above the elbow on the right arm. A small red wishbone on both wrists. A
list of his first ten or so victims on his right hand
PERSONALITY
Milo is a self-identified
psychopath. Full of anger, sadness, resentment, and guilt among other things.
All these feeling that just stewed inside of him. More and more so after his
dad died. Since he was the one person that Milo always needed to be better than.
But after he was gone, there was no more pretending that he needed to do. So,
he let his craziness fly.
He is very intelligent, and
he knows it. Has always been an absolute genius. Far more than most any other
person he had ever met. His brain just so happens to work a good twenty times
faster than the rest of him, so it’s not always outwardly shown to most. Or,
more so, he just looks like he’s insane. Which he somewhat is and very openly
embraces it. He always says what he thinks, with no real regard for what other
people think. If he does manage to make someone mad (which he frequently does,
or some other fun emotion like that) then he certainly finds it that much more entertaining.
He comes off as a very
confident, and even more so cocky, sort of person. But that’s not necessarily
true. He’s got just as many insecurities as the next person (maybe even more so
than most “normal” people). But it takes a lot for anyone to get close enough
to see that.
Full of mischief. Loves to
mess with people and make life that much more difficult for them. Also full of
curiosity. He has always had the urge to learn as much as he possibly could
about everything that he possibly can. Has a love for all things violent and
gory. Death, murder, destruction, it’s somewhat all he’s ever known. But
beneath everything, he honestly could be a very sweet and caring guy. It just
takes a lot for him to get too that point, and for other people to gain access
to that point.
The first few years of his
life were absolutely bliss. At least what he could remember of it was. They
lived in a nice two-story house on one of those somewhat lower middle class residential
neighborhoods. It was grey, and to be even more specific, a light grey color to
match the ones next to it. His dad worked as a construction worker who got more
than enough pay considering what he did, and his mom was a seamstress who
worked part time because she simply enjoyed being at home more. Every day, his
mom would be there when he got home from school. Waiting for him with a snack
and a smile. They would do his homework together and then just goof off until
his dad would get home. If it was a Friday then he would come home, bringing
gifts with him. Mostly for Milo, but also for his wife. Then the rest of the
evening would be filled with them simply being a family. A perfect one, at
least in his eyes.
That all changed when he
was around three years old. Where his dad in the same year both lost his job
and lost his brother, who also happened to be his best friend. Though he tried
his hardest to find a new job and get over everything that happened, his
efforts were quite futile. After many months, he simply gave up and turned to
alcohol instead. Which in the beginning wasn’t much of a problem. It was just
one or two beers here and there. All it did was calm him down a bit. Make him a
little less likely to play with Milo. But he was okay with that, because he
could tell that his dad was extremely sad, and he could see that the drinking
made him a bit happier. But eventually,
that slight drinking issue turned to a major one. A few drinks quickly turning
into dozens. With that, the abuse started.
In the beginning he never
saw anything. There would only be the occasional crash or scream, that he
simply attributed to a TV show or something. But it soon escalated into a louder
and more frequent sort of thing. After a while, Milo wanted to see what was
going on. But his mom always told him that when he heard those noses he needed
to stay in his room until she came and got him. Which he usually did, wait
until she would come back to get him. That way she could help him with taking a
bath and everything. But she would always come in being injured in one way or
another. But she would just tell him that she was okay. Said she was “fighting
really tough battles” so that she could make sure that he stayed safe and
protected. She said it’s what grown-ups had to do.
That was until that
fateful night. He was sitting in his room, playing with some toy trains his dad
had gotten him (though he couldn’t exactly remember when that had been). He was
making train noises and just generally enjoying himself. That’s when he heard
it of course. The big crash from downstairs. The difference being that this one
was the loudest he’d ever heard. He knew that he shouldn’t, his mom had told
him multiple times that he shouldn’t, and usually he would listen. But on that
day, curiosity got the best of him. So, he slowly and quietly creeped out of
his room and to the staircase railings. Which happened to have the perfect view
of both the living room and the kitchen.
Both his mom and dad were
in the living room. His mom was laying on the floor, propped up on her elbows
and looking up at his dad with pure fear in her eyes. On the floor next to her
was a broken lamp, and on her forehead a lot of blood. It didn’t take long to
put two and two together. Then before he had the chance to really think things
over, he was down the stairs and yelling at his dad to stop. Both his parent
turning to look at him. His mom was terrified and mouthing for him to run. His
dad had a sickening smile on his face. He didn’t really care though, he just ran
in front of her. Wanted to protect her from whatever it was he was doing. But
he just smiled, picked him up, and threw him to the side like he was nothing. His
body roughly hit the wall. Then, while he was trying to make the world stop
spinning, his dad laid into his mom (at least to put it nicely). He killed her.
Right in front of him. With a lamp. Which then somewhere turned into a knife.
There was blood
everywhere. On his dad, on the floor, on him, on the walls, on the lamp, on
everything. It overwhelmed all his senses. He cried and cried, but that was met
with deaf ears. His dad had stopped caring months ago, but it was only then that
Milo really realized. From there, his dad forced him to help carry his mom out,
so they could bury her in the backyard. Then made him clean up all the blood.
Which took him all night. In between all the tears and sobs he let out. The
only ones he would let out for most of the foreseeable future.
They were kicked out of
the house soon after that. Going from his childhood home to a dingy apartment
in the middle of New York city. Where he spent all his time. Under his dad’s
watchful eye. Being abused in all possible ways one could be abused. Leaving
him with scars in more ways than one.
He got fed up after a
while. When he was ten years old to be specific. His dad tried to kill his
puppy. The one he’d spent all his free time raising back to health. All he did
was say no. Which made his dad angry.
It was first the first
time Milo ever got angry. By angry he means truly extremely angry. Which ended
in Milo killing him. Stabbed him multiple times, in multiple places, with both
a knife and a lamp. How ironic.
OTHER STUFF
Birthday: July 13th, 1998
Pets: A crocodile sphinx named Malcolm
Family: Mother - Jessica Jerry Dai – Deceased
Father - Michael Jonathan Dai – Deceased
Mental Disorders: PTSD, Major Bipolar Disorder,
Occasional Panic Attacks
Profession: Thief and Serial Killer
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