Jack Frost's Questionnaire

A small two-room studio apartment resides on the 4th floor of a unassuming brick structure. The interior of the apartment is covered in cool blue wallpaper that is frayed at the seem between the wall and the ceiling. various stains from previous tenants stain the walls above the off-white countertops in the right most corner. a dingy fridge and stovetop cap the ends of the counter along side a freestanding deep basin sink. a dining table with a singular orange lightbulb hanging above sits at the opposite side of the room as the door and kitchenette. To the right of this depressing room is a doorway covered by a curtain usually ties off to the side. inside this room it is noticeably more clean, the wall paper is well maintained and the floor is covered by a red and yellow rug. There are shelves lined with books, memorabilia, and an object of note is a marble bust of Karl Marx. the bed is well made and slightly raised off the ground. underneath the bed lies a small metal lockbox containing crumpled dollars, "barrowed" possessions, and a photo of a mysterious woman with the writing "On barrowed time." covering the back. Why would anyone live in such a disgusting place? one reason: its cheap.

While boldly disagreeing with the IDEA of capitalism, he's a realist. He knows that without some kind of income the revolution can never get off of its feet. This has lead him getting a small job at a local library, mainly for the free access to literature. His main source income comes in the form of cons, slightly illegal? maybe. morally dubious? definitely. But that is the risk these "victims" took when they subscribed to a belief in the capitalist system. he makes roughly $2400 excluding that which is taken out from rent, by the time a contract rolls around which is just enough to keep him afloat.

My ambition is simple. I want to save the world. I want to save the men and women who work their hands to the bone for their children. I fight for the workers who slave away at their desks for cents on the dollar while their bosses writhe in their filthy money like pigs in the mud. I will spill blood in the name of the revolution, not those who don't yet agree, they are simply uneducated. I will spill the blood of the fat cats who dig their greedy claws into the pockets of the working man. It is the natural order of life, the big greedy centralized companies will fall to the will of many, and I will lead them all in righteous war.

I used to believe in the system, like everyone does. I was taught in school that capitalism works, people are happy and this is the way the world should be run. That was until I met a kind soul who showed me the truth behind the veil. What I saw was a dead god, the corpse of our beloved government eaten away into a husk for the rich to puppeteer. Corporations OWNING politicians, lobbyists BUYING the rights to enslave a generation of workers, education ran by the hand that feeds. All of it made me sick. From that day onwards I vowed to destroy the peoples faith in this corrupt system. I understood the system, so I understood how to bend it to my will and that's why I began running cons. Scamming the life blood from these soulless beings and using the funds to fuel the revolution.

Jennet Irwin- My mother and caretaker, god rest her soul. She was a fiery woman who always sought to change the system she raised me in. She attended the political meetings of the workers union. She pushed the idea of communism at a young age and she held strong to her beliefs till the day she died. She died during a protest, she was shot down by police. She made me promise to do everything in my power to change the system for the better. i'm the closest to her.

Clyde - current cellmate, forced partner in crime. Despite Clyde and I not getting along at first we have a mutual respect for each other. More importantly, we have a mutual hatred for the system we are confined to. One task given by the warden and he and I were working smoothly and efficiently to get the job done. major respect for this man right here.



Frank Irwin- My father. He was in my life, briefly. He's still alive as far as I know.

I grew up in abject poverty, my family lived in the slums. My mother was a communist activist who taught me to never stop fighting for what is right. my father disappeared one day without a trace. my mother lost her life to a police shooting at a protest 3 years later. Newly orphaned I was sent into the foster care system where I spent my youth reading and picking fights with kids bigger than I am. I worked through most of my teen years, enough to go through high school in my later years and graduate. In school I was constantly picked on for my poverty. being a foster child didn't help either. Once I met my foster parents in the 9th grade I had no care for them. They tried to fill a gap that never needed filling in the first place. Once I became 18 I cut them off and got a job at a library and my own apartment.

I've never been in love. not once. Love is sick, it only slows me down and holds me back. for the sake of myself and those I could ever imagine holding dear, I refrain from "love". I mean there WAS this one girl. Never caught her name. short blond hair, pale green eyes, a soft touch, a fluttering feeling. Then it was gone, in an instant, worthless, the whole thing was worthless... Never will be fooled like that again, never letting my heart be broken again. But maybe, just maybe, Angus could learn to love again. in the future, the far, far, FAR future.

Worst fear? It would be fire 100 and 10 percent. Something about the way it licks and crawls along the floors and ceilings. The heat it gives off is nauseating. Every time there is an open flame I feel unsafe. all it takes is one little flame and everything could burn down. Given my current state, if I was set ablaze during a contract I don't know if any of my abilities could save me. I would feel my skin melt. My blood boil beneath my skin. An infinite sensation of pain and suffering. All of my hard work burnt to ash in a moment.

My second biggest fear would be being forgotten. There's a grim feeling I get when I imagine the world after I die. How many billions of people have died only to never be remembered again? the withering elderly rotting in their hospital beds. The missing people who never turn up. A nameless grave that beckons me. When I die, I want it to be special. I don't want my legacy to be that of a criminal, if I even manage to create one to begin with. I want my life to have meaning, even if it only gains meaning after my death.

My most prized position is my Ice skates. They grant me immense maneuverability and with recent enhancements they may allow me to travel anywhere at any speed I want. If I need to run from a contract or find my way though a group of people. These skates have saved me an innumerable amount of times. They were once just a fun little gimmick and they have quickly transformed into my favorite artifact. The only downside to them is the obvious supernatural nature of them. This effect HAS gotten me in major trouble a couple of times but just as quickly has gotten me out of trouble. 

Second only to that would be my camelback. Having immediate and ready access to my water is a life saver especially when all I have is my ice powers. It saves those precious moments from me having to open my water bottle and take a sip. or risk pulling down my scarf to reveal I'm not entirely human.