Amadeus Asimov

Amadeus Asimov

36 || Heterosexual || Male || Villain

PERSONALITY

POSITIVE
✔ Persistent, Humble, Passionate, Ambitious, Observant, Careful, Thoughtful, Polite, Eloquent

NEGATIVE
✖ Cruel, Greedy, Hateful, Sarcastic, Sadistic, Cold, Specist, Unempathetic

LIKES
✔ Robotics, Engineering, Mathematics, Learning, Reading, Working, Drawing, Junk Food, Money, Daydreaming, Studying, Theorizing, Quirks, Mechas

DISLIKES
✖ Quirkless People, The Government, Lazyness, Ignorance, Unwillingness to improve, Technological Stagnation, Poor People, Boredom, Complacency, Spiders, Broccoli

PERSONALITY

Behind an outward shell of a man who seems to be the scholarly-type, of an ambitious man who wishes to do nothing more than simply learn everything he can about his one passion, of a man who will never give up on his dreams and yet, remains humble about his skills and is quite able to recognize the value in someone else; lies something much, much more sinister. 

At his core, his vastly uglier side shows a cruel, sadistic man who seeks absolute power over the world and its people, to achieve heinous, cruel objectives of eradicating every single quirkless human and every fool that takes their side in a war that he knows he'll never lose: Quirkless worms are simply bottom of the human pyramid, while the Quirked men and women lie at the absolute top: the pinnacles of human greatness. 

Amadeus is, however, entirely above being so inferior in intelligence as to have only one objective: plans of overthrowing and eradicating the current Japanese government and, in the future, the entire world is something always on his mind, a greedy, sustained desire to bring a massive technological revolution forward and wipe stagnation off of the annals of the world.

In the more personal side, Amadeus has severe trouble with truly connecting with other people, even those he might take an admiration or even a liking to: his main method of communication is either condescending or sarcastic and, not only that, his cold attitude and inability to connect with others leads him to be completely unempathetic, unable to understand the complex emotions people have for other humans.

APPEARANCE

HEIGHT: 1.89 M 
WEIGHT: 76 KG
HAIR/STYLE: Black, either pushed back or buzz cut.
SKIN/SCARS: 
Caucasian, several small cut scars on his hands.
EYES: Sharp, Black eyes.

NOTABLES:  Amadeus is usually wears plain shirts and pants most of the time, sometimes dirtied with oil, grease and other things one might use for the construction of machinery.

When in the rare situation where he is not working and instead is in public, in the rare instances people can actually see him, he usually wears custom-made suits, with the "R" insignia on it, standing for Robotics, of course.

In the case that the day is cold/rainy, it's also likely that he'll be seen wearing a black trenchcoat over his suit, along with a light gray scarf.

His hair style, whenever in public, is always well kept, nothing too flashy but still shows care, something he considers to show utmost self respect. Not only that, although he is able to grow a full beard, he always remains clean shaven.
He usually wears black leather gloves, to cover for the fact that his hands are covered with small scars from failed experiments and several accidents, none of which he is particularly ashamed of, but knows fully well than to show it in public.

Amadeus is relatively tall and decently built, not too muscled but clearly cared for, specially important at his age. In public, his face is usually a calm, confident one, his stature that of an educated, well mannered man. 

HISTORY

The year is 2036. The world is at the pinnacle of technological development and, for every expert, it seemed that it wouldn't stop. The development of nations, their weaponry, their policy, everything kept improving and it seemed that, in some decades, the world might finally achieve long-lasting peace and prosperity, reach greater heights, reach for the stars.

The stars came way too early, however: the first oficially reported and confirmed quirk had been found in the United States, something that was still faced with tremendous opposition and skepticism: justifiably so. A man whose hands could radiate light and heat was presposterous to any man worth his scientific knowledge. 
That is, until that scientific knowledge got turned upside down. Throughout the entire world, soon after the first, various other quirks began manifesting themselves almost without stop, one sooner than the other.  

In such a changing world, where quirks were popping up left and right, one incredibly simple one popped up in Japan itself: Takumi Haruto, the eleven-year old boy who had a control over transistors. 

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Takumi Haruto was born as the one and only son to a rich businessman, a man called Takumi Ryusei, a man that could only be described as cold, detached, unempathetic and unethically greedy. A man whose company worked directly for the Japanese army, owner of factories spread across the Japanese islands. A man who held some influence in the military itself. Money poured into his bank account like a flood and, soon, he was set out for life: able to not work a single day again, while living like the extremely rich. 

When a man begins reaching an older age, however, he begins to realize how flimsy and short a lifespan can be, how death comes to all and, in the long run, money matters not to anyone. Instead of accepting that undeniable truth and live with what he has or, god forbid, do something good with his money, he raged against it. The simple notion that he'd die and his money would be out of his control lead the greedy man to a crazed stupor, day in and day out would he sit still and think of ways to circumvent it. 
Eventually, he came to a compromise: he knew he'd die, however, he would make sure that his legacy would continue to grow, that, even if he wouldn't be there to see his bloodline become the richest possible, he could at least die with certainty that it would happen. 

That was when, in a swift move, he married a young woman whom he never once felt a drop of love for, a woman with whom he never shared a kiss of true love. She was just a "prize woman" for him. A beautiful female who would make him look better to his peers and a female who would bear him worthy offspring of his name. With such an objective in mind, a year after the marriage, his son, the one who would be the heir to all he stood for and the heir to all his riches, Takumi Haruto, was born.

From an early age, Haruto was sorely made aware of his situation: while he was incredibly rich and could get anything he desired with a simple word, that's about as much control as he had over his life. His opinions were disregarded, his feelings ignored. He desired to play with robots and learn about them, his father pulled him away to study weaponry instead.
He'd want to go outside and play with the children he saw in front of the gates to his father's mansion, his father would pull him away to attend parties with other businessmen.
Whenever he wanted to do something, to go somewhere, meet someone, he'd ask his father. The answer was, to young Haruto, so repetitive that he eventually started comparing his father to a clockwork machine:
"I can't right now, I'm busy, ask later."
"I can't right now, I'm busy, ask later."
"I can't right now, I'm busy, ask later."
A clockwork movement that infuriated the young boy to no end, his need for a father being met with what, to him, was not human, but a machine: a greedy, cold and awful machine, one he wished to dismantle and never piece back together again. 

His need for emotional support was met by none other than his mother, however. Still a woman who married his father for the money, she was unexpectedly caring and lovingly strict: she taught him what it was like to be a proper gentleman, how to treat his fellow man and woman. She taught him how to speak to the public and how to manage his money through fun activities that she'd do, thanks to the depressingly large amount of free time she had. By ten, she was teaching and succeeding in getting him interested in the family business, at the less-than-friendly request of her husband, through the first love the boy had: Robots. 

By showing him anime featuring giant, weaponized robots, the boy was thrilled and enthralled to the entire genre and the own concept of "Mechas". To think that, with technology, he could one day come to develop one of those awesome robots! It spoke to him on a personal level, to the point where, from then on, he would always be absorbed in his own room, fervously reading any book related to weapons and robotics. He was unstopable, eating up the information he read like a starving man when presented with a meal. 

Life went that way for at least two more years: his dear mother would teach him all about the requirements for him to become a proper citizen and businessowner, while he completely disconnected from his father in favor of his loving mother, who was a mentor, a mother and a father to him, all in one. It all changed, for better or for worse, once he manifested his quirk. 

What went from a simple accident when he glitched out his father's computer with an accidental touch, in which he, unkowingly, controlled just two transistors, two that turned out to be enough to cause the screen to flicker for a moment. 
The one time. The one single time, in his entire life together with his father, did he see the heinous man smile. His own son, part of the still-small race of Quirked people. 
The militaristic mind of his father lead him to, without his son's consent, take him to be researched by various scientific experts who, at the time, were still baffled by quirks. Day in and day out, the boy would be absorbed in his books while wired to several machines, with doctors analyzing his brain activity. Other times, they'd tell him to mess with mechanical gadgets they'd give him to play with, a nice change of pace from the usual murmuring and simple order.

Wtih his quirk researched, identified and named, his father's interest in him faded into nothing, like a mean, depressing brief gust of wind that shook his life up. Back to his normal routine, with an even more absent father who, in his old age, found a new passion for researching and, possibly, weaponizing quirks. 

Admitedly, he could at least see why his father would be so interested: Quirked People were something entirely greater and different from Quirkless people. It could mean that everyone born in a Quirked society could have an entirely new power: entirely new subject of study, entirely new power to develop. He was mesmerized and fascinated by even his own quirk, so much so he simply couldn't understand society's general hatred and, at best, disregard towards quirked people and quirks in general.

At twenty-three years of age, disaster struck the family in general. His father, now an old and withering man finally gave his last accursed breath thanks to a brain tumor, something that bought in a feeling he hadn't felt in a long time. A joyful feeling, one that made him feel warm all over and forcefully made him smile. He felt pleasure that the monster he had for a father had suffered horribly while dying. Disaster only struck when, in a move that surprised him completely, his Mother left him without a word. Not a hug, a kiss, a word or even a note. She dissapeared completely, leaving him completely alone in the world with a mansion and billions upon billions on his inherited bank account and, worst of all, a hole in his heart he could not fill.

Stricken by unbridled anger, towards his father who used him as simply a tool for his research and never cared for him, instead, kept him away from doing everything joyful in life, towards his mother who lead him into thinking she truly cared for and loved him, only to abandon him in what was to become a difficult stage of his life. To deal with all of it, he employed several drastic measures: he'd enjoy life to its fullest, even if it killed everything his family stood for.

He paid off everything his Father was in debt off, mostly out of pocket, the boy more than happy to let the old man's disgusting money go. Next, in a move that shocked the entire economical world, he sold every single company his Father owned, bringing him more than enough money to enjoy his life and, to make sure he had no enemies to bother him, he officially forgave every single yen of debt that anyone had towards him. 

Finally unshackled from everything his father owned, he set off on his own adventure to "find himself" in the world he lived in, to enjoy what he was entitled to after so long. 
Thing is, a boy lost in such a vast world, with more money than what he can possibly fathom and no responsibility or social experience to speak of was bound to do terrible choices: before he knew it, he was traveling the world leading an overwhelmingly hedonistic lifestyle: surrounded by women to drown out his desire for a woman in his life, by "friends" to drown out his general lonelyness and, worst of all, drugs. Copious amounts of drugs were used to have him fit in, to make sure that as many peope he found "cool" would come and attend his parties. Deep down, he was more than aware that they wanted nothing to do with him, that the women he enjoyed his time with were after his money and nothing else. 
Slowly, yet surely, this life was destroying him on the inside: he had forgotten all about the teachings of his mother on how to be a proper gentleman, to be firm and confident, to be polite yet snarky. Even his passion for weapons and robotics, which would take most of his time with reading and daydreaming was pushed to the side, a far-off memory substituted by what he stood for now: hedonism, substance abuse, women.

A trio that came to curse him.

One day, during one of his daily parties on a Bar that he had bought out for that night, one of his guests began spouting the same horrible narrative that TV would always spout out about the Quirked:  poisonous narrative came out of his mouth about how Quirked people bring crime and destroy everything society stood for, that the Quirkless should unite and eradicate those inferior mutants. He even began swinging around a bottle, drunkenly stating that he'd beat any Quirked there with it until he felt like stopping. 
Someone who did not take kindly to this was the owner of the party itself. A bloodlust, intensified by hard liquor and general resentment towards the Japanese Media and Quirkless people gave him the courage to get up from his seat and walk towards the man. What came next was, as related in the media, unethical cruelty: Haruto was quick to stun the man with a punch to his jaw and, by taking a bottle on his own, breaking it upon his forehead, shards flying everywhere while the booze wetted both of their clothing. Now, the man had blacked out from the double impact. At his feet and at his mercy, he chose not to forgive him for his sins. He threw the broken bottle away: a quick death would be too good for an inferior weakling from an inferior race like him. As he began kicking his side with full force, a grim, twisted smile forced itself through the muscles on his face: the only genuine smile the boy could muster, as he saw blood be coughed out of the groaning, blacked out man. 

This rampage was stopped only by the police who had been notified by the Bar owner, his name was quickly tarnished. The media refused to shut up about it for at least two weeks, calling it definite proof that even the elite weren't safe from having quirked children, how quirked children would be villainous, violent beings, no matter what upbringing they had. 
With bail paid and the reality slowly sinking into Haruto's mind, he fell deep into a depression. His motivation had died along with his social life, a man who was now disgraced and ruined for the rest of his life, he assumed. 
The next years were, to put it mildly, horrible for him. His drug addiction spiked even further from what it was before, a pitiful effort to shut down the depressive thoughts that haunted him on a daily basis, his health worsened with all the stress from feeling like he didn't belong. His lonelyness returned at full blast, his need for parental support simply not there anymore. 

It was the end of the barrel for the poor boy, a dark tunnel with a dead end. His mind was barely ever lucid and, when it was, all that it wished was for self destruction, for release: not a day would pass without his eyes darting to the gun he secretely owned while tears fell through gritted teeth, his mind fighting his body desperately to be released from this tormented existence, while his body fought to survive. 

Though, even a barrel has its limits. At the absolute bottom, as some philosophers say, the only way is back up. U.A. was announced. Finally, Quirked people were being recognized as the superior species, a school made specially for them, to help them develop the gifts they were given! Even then, it had glaring flaws to his eyes: it was advertised as he'd like to believe, but in truth, it was a crude excuse of a quarantine facility disguised as a school. Dangerous quirks, dangerous delinquents and the poor idiots who bought into the scam were all corraled into that one remote, barely equipped installation in the middle of nowhere. 

The last straw had been drawn and Haruto would have no more of it. A flame, from the deep bowels of his depression finally shone through, rekindling long-dead flames of passion within him. It was all like a flash to him: He began taking care of himself and his health again, controlling his intake of alcohol and dropping drugs entirely, taking care of his hair to something his mother always told him was the most respectable. His face, previously covered with a mess of a scraggly beard was now clean shaven. To truly take care of his body, he began working out by himself, to keep his body healthy and full of vigor: the coming years would be taxing, and so, he'd need the stamina to get through it.

Next, his passion for Robotics and Weaponry returned at full blast. Books about everything related to them were bought en masse, added to what was to become a long, full library. Knowing fully well that his supply of money was not botomless, he put the economic teachings he had to go through to good use: he revealed a much welcome skill to invest, soon becoming a shareholder in several relevant companies, having quickly adquired himself a steady stream of money to quickstart his new projects. 

Even then, he knew fully well he had to disconnect from his old life. He no longer was 
Takumi Haruto, the irresponsible japanese boy who lived off of daddy's money. He legally changed his name to Amadeus Asimov, a name that allowed him to fully relinquish his Japanese heritage, had some people in high power bribed to clear his record and all capital that still bound him to his father sold: His mansion, his yachts, cars, jets, everything. He chose to buy his own Mansion that doubled as a laboratory on one of Japan's various mountains, along with a medium-sized, empty room under the mansion to serve as a testing facility.

Finally, to finalize his changes, he created his company: Robotiks, a company focused on technological and weaponry development, which works on requests directly done to the company, which he uses to gain funds and plans to use for a money laundering scheme.

After all, he has plans.