GREATEST DEATH SCENE EVER
“Alastor Stranger” l Age: 40 l Master l FC: Mickey Rourke
Alastor doesn’t like to talk about the past. He won’t tell you his real name, he won’t tell you his age, he won’t tell you where he is from. He won’t tell you he is just a lost kid from middle america who watched too many movies about travelling the world and about motorcycles and left home once he was old enough to ride one. If pressed, he will talk about the day before, with a smirk of his lips and a puff of his ever present cigarrette. ‘It’s all in the past, why do you want to know more?’ he says frequently.
Alastor did a bit of everything in his life. Legal, illegal, anything. The only real constant in his life is his bike. He moves from town to town, working here and there, his wanderlust so intense, he sometimes only spends hours in a town before moving. Women are the only beings capable to make Alastor stop somewhere. Sadly, they never stay for long; all the women he had in his bed got tired of his risk-taking behavior and his lack of roots. He followed a pair of hands to Europe and a pair of legs to Catanzaro. A pair of eyes lead him into Darlington.