#c;nathaniel

"I need to get somewhere, so if you don't mind hurrying this up, it would be appreciated." Nathaniel said, annoyed that he had been stopped once again as he left his legal everyday job.

I can call her Calie, just so you know.

“Sorry, who are you? I’m guessing I don’t know because you are another irrelevant fuck toy. So how about you scamper away and let the adults talk?”

Name: Nathaniel Napier

Alias: Nate, The Doc

Age: 24

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Bisexual

Place of Birth: Gotham City

Current location: Gotham City

Occupation: 2nd year Resident at Gotham General (Emergency)

Faceclaim: Maxence Danet-Fauvel

About:

Growing up, Nathaniels mother never talked about his father. He had no idea what had happened while he was still a baby in the womb.

It was tragic. They were poor, living in the Narrows, a baby on the way and no way to support him. His father was a failing stand up comedian, while his mother couldn't get a job. Unknown to the Jeannie, her husband had began to do crimes for the red hood gan but sooner rather then later she found out and begged him to stop. He tried to back out but the day he tried he returned home to find his home up in flames, believing that his wife and unborn child were dead he did that one last crime which in turn made him into the madman the causes chaos around Gotham.

Jeannie knew as soon as he began to surface this was the man she loved, his eyes didn't change but she wouldn't let her sun grown up knowing this was who his father was. Instead, trying to give him his best life possible.

Nathaniel had his father's eyes, a daily reminder of what she needed to do to raise him properly and she did.

While he was a rebellious teenager, he still got good grades enough so to become a doctor and while he had a job at Gotham General, his real job was being a doctor in the underground. Fixing up the criminals that ran rampant around Gotham.

He had an illegal clinic in the back of a bar in the narrows. All were welcome, it didn't matter who you were. What happened in those walls, stayed in those walls.

If there was one word to describe the tiny blonde girl that stood in front of the cameras with shaking hands and tears streaming silently down her cheeks, perhaps it would have been delicate. It was not that she was not bold--her smile and her perpetual rambling would always prove that--but instead that she was infinitely breakable, a porcelain doll meant for a world far kinder than that which now had damned her to near certain death at the hands of twenty-three others who were no more glad to be selected than herself.

Eliza was happier than she could ever remember being. Every moment she spent with Nathaniel was perfect, even -- or perhaps, especially -- the times when everything was covered in blood. It wasn’t traditional or normal, but it was everything that she never knew she wanted and she couldn’t imagine a life without him or his murderous ways. Few thoughts were spared to her old world anymore; the new one was far, far better given that it had him in it.

One day they were working on dismembering a body, or rather Nathaniel was dismembering it and Eliza was cleaning up the mess of blood and organs that were streaked across the floor. She didn’t complain about the mess as much as she used to. In fact, she’d almost grown fond of the blood and the way it painted their home and their bodies. It was like war paint, almost, or maybe it was just beautiful in its own way. Either way, she didn’t bother with scrubbing too hard as she sang quietly, pink dress as dirty as the rest of her. 

The sound of cars outside caught her attention and she stood up, a deep frown on her face as she made her way to the window. It was dark out, but the flashlights the people carried were enough for her to make out the reality of the situation.