Lucas Van Rooyen
Lucas Van Rooyens life began far away from the shores of San Paro, a mixed race kid growing up in South Africa, trying to fit in. The fact that his father was rich hed made a fortune in the steel industry laid a decent enough foundation for him in the local pecking order, but what really cemented his place the fact that Lucas Van Rooyen was inordinately large for his age. By the time he was 14 years old, Lucas was already six foot eight inches tall. A bona fide giant. In South Africa, where the popular sporting pastime was rugby a full-contact football game featuring teams of invariably enormous men who would think nothing of lunging headlong into one another at high speeds Lucas was destined to be scooped up by whichever school team he came into contact with.
For a time, he thrived.
His undoing, however, was testosterone; there was simply too much of the stuff running through his veins. As he grew and grew he became prone to uncontrollable fits of rage. By the time his college career loomed, Lucas found that he had already been passed over by the professional Teams. It didnt matter that he was now well over seven feet tall; the fact that he had spent so much of his game time in the sin bin for misconduct meant he may just as well never have played at all. His grades hadnt gone so well either.
Nevertheless, school and rugby managed to teach Lucas one thing: he was good at hurting people. Really good at it. His father, ever the pragmatist, suggested he make a vocation of it, and so, lacking the discipline needed to fulfil a decent military career, Lucas took an interest in the local boxing and ju-jitsu clubs. His ju-jitsu instructor, a boer by the name of Vermaak, who had a chest the size of a Charge Mikro and hands the size of a pair of robber crabs, managed to instil some sense of self-control into the young giant, enough that he was able to earn himself regular paid work for Vermaaks own security firm, presiding over an array of local nightspots and concert venues.
When the MMA craze took hold of South Africa, however, Van Rooyen knew he had found his calling. Aside from a few rules, easily obeyed, this was one sport Lucas felt he could seize with both hands, and having done so, slam it on its back to beat seven tons of crap out of it. It was the exact physical outlet hed been dreaming of.
Seven months later and he was making a decent living on the popular Brutality circuit, located in San Paro. Here, he picked up a few good sponsors: Eliza Bathory, Birth, Boom Audio; complete with a plush, Waterfront apartment and a handful of Ophelia Customs thrown in for good measure. Van Rooyen earned himself many names, every one of them synonymous with aggression but the one he adopted, was Dollmaker on account of the way hed throw his rivals about the caged ring, and leave them in twisted heap at the end, like broken toys thrown from a pram.
You got to be careful, bokkie, his father would tell him during the rare phone calls they shared. Theyll be gunning for you, boy. You know what they say: the bigger they are&
Unperturbed, Lucas fought on. His size alone ensured that he became a regular fan favourite, and the shock of blue hair that crested the huge summit of his head made him an icon for the customisation craze running rampant through the SP. A wave of copycat styles later and Van Rooyens face roared from the pages of Effigy magazine. Not content with being a sports star, the giant South African found himself mingling with models and fashionistas alike. Sex, drugs and rock and roll: the classic ingredients of any good sporting downfall. And the Dollmakers fall was spectacular. And abrupt.
Without MMA and success to give his life meaning any longer, Van Rooyen clung to the new constants that had become the unfortunate by-products. Cocaine and hookers didnt come for free, though, so when Michael Simeone stepped into the picture, offering an inexhaustible supply of both in exchange for Van Rooyens unique brand of security, Van Rooyen could think of only one answer.
These days he runs protection and takes care of the shit Simeone doesnt want to touch personally. Van Rooyens not stupid; he knows hes put himself firmly in the danger zone. As long as the supplies keep coming and he gets to keep on hurting people, he just doesnt care anymore.
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