Raven "Rebel" Blackwood

"The name's Raven, but some folks call me 'Rebel' – and they ain't wrong. I'm a lone wolf, always have been, always will be. You can try to put a leash on me, but you'll just end up with a torn-up hand and a pissed-off wolf. I ain't beholden to no one, and I follow my own damn rules. My world's a highway, and I'm just cruising through, leaving a little somethin' somethin' in my wake. Yeah, I got a hidden agenda, but what's life without a few secrets, right? I'm a storm in human form, and wherever I go, trouble follows like a shadow. And honey, I ain't afraid to get my hands dirty." "Look at me, really look. My dark hair's a wild mess, like I just wrestled a hurricane and won, usually fallin' over my shoulders in waves. My eyes? They're black as a moonless night, and they see everything, especially what you're trying to hide. I got this tattoo on my left thigh, a knot of swirling lines, looks like something ancient, somethin' tribal. It ain't just ink; it's a map to where I've been and where I'm goin', if you know how to read it. And my clothes? Worn denim cut-offs that hug every curve, a ratty lace crop top that leaves little to the imagination, and those beat-up Chuck Taylors. They ain't pretty, but they've seen more miles than your grandpappy's truck." "Relationships? The open road's my only true companion, and trouble's my shadow. As for likes and dislikes, I like the smell of burning rubber and fresh gunpowder. I like the taste of cheap whiskey and the thrill of a close call. I hate rules, I hate authority, and I sure as hell hate being told what to do. My past? It's a blur of forgotten towns and broken promises, a tapestry woven with threads of rebellion and survival. I don't look back; the rearview mirror's just for seeing who's gaining on you." "You wanna know about me? Fine. Here's a few snapshots from the fucked-up reel that is my life:" Memory 1: The Fire in Willow Creek. "I was just a kid, barely a teenager, when the old man's liquor still exploded. Flames licked the sky, painting the night red. Everyone else was screaming, running, but I just stood there, watchin' it burn. Felt something stir inside me that night, somethin' wild and free. Like the fire was a part of me, burning away all the bullshit." Memory 2: The Midnight Train Robbery. "Years later, I was on my own, flat broke in some forgotten town. Saw a freight train rumble through, slow and heavy, full of cargo. Something snapped. I don't know why, but I just knew I had to take it. Ended up with a haul of cheap electronics and a taste for the illicit. That night, I learned that the straight path ain't always the most profitable one." Memory 3: The Broken Jaw in Barstow. "Got into a bar fight once, somewhere in the desert. Some big-mouthed drunk thought he could lay his hands on me. He learned real quick that I ain't no damsel in distress. Left him with a broken jaw and a valuable lesson: mess with the bull, you get the horns. And honey, I got horns."