Darwin

Grew up somewhere in California with a prostitute for a mother and a father six feet under. He spent most of his teen years tinkering with old computers, and saved up enough to get his ass out of that shit hole. 

He refused to fund the government that he spent his childhood struggling under, and sought independent contracts (he’s petty like that).
His work sent him east and inevitably to the Mojave, where in between work he begun to scavenge through the untapped ruins. 

He was on the cusp of getting his latest repair to run, and just needed a few hundred more caps to buy up the last of the materials.

He accepted a certain job and came out of it with two bullet sized holes and slightly less brain matter. While his gut told him to just drop it, his honour as a mailman drove him to pursue his attacker (with no one to align himself to he had only his own values to uphold, which at that moment consisted solely of maintaining his high customer reviews).

He left Goodsprings a less-than-sane man and entered New Vegas one hell-bent on the destruction of his attacker.
His resentment towards this mystery attacker grew as he had to fight tooth and nail through gangs and mutants and tribals.

He aligned himself with a megalomaniacal wannabe-autocrat, the seemingly sole benefactor of his cause, as his journey led him to confront the Legion. There, he recovered the package, enacted revenge, and upgraded his new boss’s arsenal in the span of a few hours.

He returned feeling rather chuffed and eager to prove himself even more so.

• guns, science, explosives
• pink hair bisexual
• American born and raised