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 McCray, Beau H., barker . robert knepper
Beau McCray
Posted: Apr 1 2011, 03:47 PM


Group: Barker
Posts: 18
Member No.: 2
Joined: 14-January 11

Beau McCray

barker . robert knepper

"Dey al'ays think dey can run away"

Beau H. McCray
(not off the top of my head)
Nope, genetic defect prevented initial infection, too old to be born with it
Barker (announces acts, attracts a crowd from the midway, helps out with general maintainence around the carnival during the day)
Beau McCray Sr. (father . dead) Joellen McCray (mother . dead)
Fire . Dogs . Going back to prison
Survival . Attention . Respect . Fear . Power/Control
Beau McCray is one crazy southern-fried swamp rat. His psyche is deep and murky and unclean to say the least. One might be tempted to refer to the man as insane, and they wouldn't be far from the truth. Being very fundamentally damaged from a very early age with continued abuse through the rest of his developmental years has resulted in a broken man. The unsettling thing is that Beau rarely acts as damaged as he truly is.

He's charming, at least superficially. He's likable. He's fond of children. He rarely if ever swears, and he has a certain disdain for people who act out actively against authority. At casual inspection, Beau seems to be the ideal of a soft spoken southern man, but maybe a little down on his luck. On closer look however, it becomes apparent that "casual" are the only sorts of relationships the man forms.

He's secretive, and manipulative. To him the people around him are tools, ment to be cultivated, used and then discarded for his own gain and amusement whenever he so wishes. a casual and easy liar, he sometimes will forsake the truth just because he'd rather lie, not because there is any need to.

He lacks remorse, shame or guilt in most circumstances. A deep seated rage, which is split off and repressed, is at his very core. He does not see others around him as people, but only as targets and opportunities. The end always justifies the means, and sometimes he even believes himself.

His emotions, and yes he does have them are twisted and differently felt. He wants to feel, but he isn't sure how to interpret what he has. Most are shallow, with exception of rage, which he has a surprising capacity for, and hate. He is often outraged by insignificant matters, yet remains unmoved and cold by what would upset a normal person. He has a hard time with love. He doesn't think that he deserves it, since under everything is a rotted and twisted view of himself, he distrusts anyone who claims to feel it for him, immediately suspecting them of lying and attempting to manipulate him, which makes him angry. He has an innate resistance to feeling the emotion for himself, with the subliminal idea that if he wants it, it will be taken from him which in turn leads him to more rage. When he does have something good, anything good, he manages to destroy it all with his self-loathing undermining himself at every turn.

Having always been in the middle of some sort of action, he craves stimulation and excitement, though he thinks all he wants is a little peace. He will often make the choice that offers the most risk, and he loves to gamble.

Rage and abuse, alternating with small expressions of love and approval produce an addictive cycle for abuser and abused, as well as creating hopelessness in the victim, which he exploits without ever realizing fully that he does it. He believes himself entitled to every wish, with no sense of personal boundaries, and no concern for his impact on others. He doesn't empathize well, other people's emotions either confuse or infuriate him.

Human life is an object of contempt to him, he wont hesitate to hit a woman, or resort to extreme violence when none is called for. He is authoritarian, paranoid, he has an emotional need to justify their crimes and therefore needs their victim's affirmation, respect, gratitude and love, though he suspects them of lying if and when he receives such. He has it ingrained into his mind that becoming the ringmaster of the circus will attain him the love and closeness he craves.

Beau was two years old when the fever broke out for the first time down in some quiet villiage in South America. It was nothing to him, he was an active intelligent toddler, if rather more quiet and thin that most mothers could want, on account of the fact that his mother sometimes forgot to feed him regular like. Well what was Joellen McCray to do? She got headaches you know, and the only thing that would make them shivers stop was that pretty white powder. it was hard to keep track of how often the brat was eating, and was two whole years of her life wasted slavin' over him enough? Couldn't he fix himself a bowl of cornflakes by now? For gods sake he knew how to balance the little plastic lawn chair on top of that old kitchen stool to reach the sink for water. He couldn't damn well cling to her pant leg forever. Not that little Beau did much clinging to anybody. He was a quiet, suspicious toddler, overly mature for his age, and almost completely self-sufficient.

His father was a coon-ass from the Louisiana bayou; a self involved man with a nasty temper and a drinking problem, but that didn’t matter much to little Beau either, the man wasn’t exactly hard to avoid when he spent his days yelling. When he was happy, angry, excited, telling a story, didn’t matter, it was all voiced in that same booming voice. Beau was afraid of him, but they had a mutual avoidance tactic that worked just fine for them. Until Joellen left. She just packed all of her clothes up in a duffle bag, took the money from Beau Senior’s wallet, and skipped town with Big Beau’s second cousin Bobby.

She never looked back, and Beau wouldn’t have missed her if it weren’t for the fact that his remaining ‘guardian’ was the much worst option of the two. The situation was not a good one, and he often ate his meals with other families in that trailer park just south of Mobile Alabama, but no one must have reported the suspicious bruises on the half starved little boy because he wasn’t removed from the home. His mother died, up in Brisbane the year he turned five. She was just a half remembered shadow by then to the child. She’d never come back, never written and they didn’t bother with her death. His father, Beau had become bitter quickly after her running away, but her death had warped the bitterness to real hate. The most ‘pleasant’ memories Beau has of the man that helped give him life is Beau senior when he was drunk sitting in that big old nasty chair in the living room cursing over that “god forsaken whore, leaving him to take care of the damn brat, and how he should have known better than to take up with his cousin”. The worst memories… well, Beau was careful to never share what the worst memories were.

As things were, it was sheer dumb luck that he hadn’t died before his mother, even separated by states as they were. A fluke of the DNA, and the combination that gave him eyes of two different colors also protected him from the first outbreak. He was too young to know that heterochromia was just a fluke, one that humans shared with many animals, but was much more rare. His father insisted that it was because of the tainted blood in him, just like it was with them damn animals that didn’t know no better either. That was his father’s reasoning for every flaw that little Beau ever had. His bad blood. By the time that he was old enough to wonder if there might be another, more scientific answer to why he was so marked, everyone who could have told him were dead.

By the time he was five years old it was clear that little Beau was going to be a very troubled youth. He was possessive, prone to violent outbursts on the slightest provocation, and didn’t seem able to differentiate between right and wrong. Kayla Roberts, the next door neighbor had a little girl, Lillian, who was the same age as Beau, and she did her best for the sweet, quiet little neighbor boy, but his father frightened her too much for her to take any extreme actions. She just did her best to make the little boy feel loved and wanted, but she’d only moved next to them after Joellen had taken off. By then it was too late for the boy.

He was obviously very attached to both Kayla and Lillian, but he had odd ways of expressing it. He would freeze up if he was touched, he would tolerate their hugs and the thousand little affectionate gestures, a pat on the head, a brush of a hand on the cheek, holding hands, but it was obvious that he never really enjoyed it. On the rare occasions that he initiated contact it was brief, but fierce, and never expanded on. A sudden tight hug was never followed by an ‘I love you’ or even a smile. He was a serious little boy, but he craved approval and affection more than he craved air to breathe, he just didn’t seem to understand what behaviors would get him the response he wanted.

And then there was the jealousy issues. Beau hated Frank Roberts, Kayla’s husband and Lillian’s father. It wasn’t that Frank was a bad man, or that he’d ever really done anything to the little neighbor boy, all he had to do to be on the child’s bad side is be a grown man who had more claim on the women Beau considered his, than Beau himself did.

It was an accident. Anyone could tell you so. The troubled child only meant to shove Frank to express his anger, he was only seven years old after all. He never meant that Frank should fall, he didn't think about the big decorative boulders that lined the front walkway to the pretty little trailer. He didn't think about them until they turned red. Dripped with red. Such a pretty color. Beau ran.

It took three days for the police to find him, scared to death, freezing cold, and mean as a cornered rattlesnake. They brought the hostile child in, placing him in juvenile detention until his trial. The sentence of involuntary manslaughter was both the best and worst thing that ever happened to him. It got him away from the toxic environment that was his father's house, but eight and a half years imprisoned did his already damaged development no favors, taking him from sullen to outright violent. He would have been released sooner, but the social workers assigned to his case did not feel that he was able to be rehabilitated.

He was released on his sixteenth birthday, but his freedom lasted all of nine hours before he was in police custody again, this time being taken to jail for aggravated assault after beating his father unconscious. He would have killed him if they hadn't pulled him off. He was given seven years in a county prison. His father passing away while he served his time.

He was 23 when they let him out again. This time the freedom lasted a bit longer. He found Lily again, and convinced her to give him a chance. She agreed, but really more out of a desire to have some one who was willing to help her with her four children without question. Lily was a prostitute with a heroine addiction. Each of her children had a different father, but Beau treated them all like his own. They made their screwed up little family work for four years, even having a child of their own, but it wasn't to be.

Beau was woken by a pounding on the door of the hotel room he was renting for his work doing repairs on bridges outside of town by the police. He was taken into custody once more, this time 27 and completely clueless as to the charges. Or at least he was until they told him he'd be serving life plus one for the brutal and horrific murders of his little family.

He served nine years before managing an escape with his cell-mate. he kicked around a few years staying as far under the radar as possible before finding the circus where he's been the last three years.

Has Heterochromia and a weird birth anomaly that may be related to his incestuous paternity that made him immune to the very initial outbreak. It is no longer effective against contagion
Me again XD
Posted: Jun 28 2011, 09:04 PM


Group: Admin
Posts: 55
Member No.: 1
Joined: 14-January 11

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