"Ne t'inquiète pas, Georgie. Je vais bien," Milo a dit, debout. Il a jeté son sac sur son épaule et a tapé la main de Georgie. C'était une belle dame – avec un cou qui s'est évanoui, et des cheveux blancs et sarcastiques qui lui montent la tête. Ses yeux, bien que sauvages et remplis d'un air de désespoir, se plirent gentiment aux bords quand elle sourit à Milo. "Tu es toujours le bienvenu ici, Brooky. Tu rentres à la maison s'ils ne veulent pas, tu vois?
"Tu prends soin de toi pendant que je suis parti. Ne t'allonge pas trop sur le gin, maintenant."
"Aw, brouillon, gamin."
C'était la dernière conversation que Milo avait eue. Plusieurs jetons de souvenir lui ont été remis par les occupants de Dead Town – une paire de bottes, un vieux couteau sifflant, une dent de raton laveur. Georgie lui avait sculpté un petit pendentif de collier à partir du crâne d'un gopher et l'avait peint en – une simple pièce équarrie avec deux triangles recoupants, imbriqués sur lui, pour correspondre à sa marque de cou. Les bottes, bien qu'anciennes et brisées dans l'orteil, se sont avérées très utiles lors de la randonnée de 2 jours vers Paradise Land. Même s'il ne ressentait aucune douleur, les bottes facilitaient l'échelle du terrain accidenté. Souvent en marchant, il sifflait, ou se parlait. Inventez des histoires et racontez-les dans toute leur grandeur exagérée à un public de seulement la saleté et le serpent occasionnel. Mais il était content – sinon excité. Chaque pas le rapprochait beaucoup plus de la masse imminente au loin: la terre paradisiaque. 


Lorsque Milo atteignit les murs, ses pieds saignaient, son visage était sec, et ses yeux étaient souillés jusqu'à presque rien contre le soleil flamboyant. Les bottes avaient pris pour recueillir des bestioles – des insectes du désert agaçants qui mâchaient aux pieds de Milo. Il a dû vider ses chaussures de sable et d'enculés presque toutes les vingt minutes. Cela a conduit à un fantasme que Paradise Land avait – comment Lech l'a appelé – Grass? Petite plantation verte confortable contre les orteils? Quelque chose comme ça. Peut-être que personne ne portait de chaussures. Peut-être qu'ils avaient le conditionnement de l'environnement! Peut-être que c'était cool à l'intérieur des murs! Oh, mec. Son rythme a définitivement repris avec cette pensée. Cependant, il a immédiatement été confronté à un problème – il n'y avait pas de porte sur ce mur. C'est peut-être une porte secrète, pensait-il. Il a marché toute la distance du mur, courant le long avec ses doigts, mais pas de porte, secret ou autre. Il s'est déplacé vers le mur suivant, et le suivant. Pas de portes. Je commence à penser que tous les gens ici sont des fées ou des fourmis. Quelques coups sonnèrent du haut du mur, et immédiatement Milo leva la tête. Flares de différentes couleurs envolées dans de multiples directions. Quelques cris suivirent. Un peu de lockabaloo. Peut-être qu'ils peuvent me laisser entrer.
"Halloa là-haut!" Il a crié. Pas de réponse. Il coupa les mains à sa bouche et cria encore : "Hello up there!" Une tête a sauté sur le rebord, et Milo a agité ses bras en réponse. "Savez-vous où se trouve la porte? Je n'arrive pas à le trouver, et j'aimerais vraiment entrer, si vous m'aviez! »
Maybe we feel empty because we left a piece of ourselves in everything we used to love.
:.Born As.:
L-32, MILO BROOKS.
:.What You See.:
As seen above. Additional pictures, one, two, three. Milo isn't quite sure exactly what it means, but on the back of his neck, he has tattooed two nested triangles. He's got several scars, including shredded and mottled skin along his collarbone. Overall, Milo has pale, dirty skin with a greenish hue that immediately indicates his status as Half-Dead.

:.Also Known As.:
Miles, Smilo, Brooky, "Hmfduhgn"
:.Appear To Be.:
19-21. Exact date of birth and age unknown.
:.The Doctor Said.:
Male.
:.I Swing Towards.:
Bisexual, foodsexual, people-who-don't-yell-at-me-sexual

:.People Say.:
Those in Paradise Land would say he's a danger, a threat, a "deado" and a menace. Those in Dead Town say he's sweet – a bit delusional, perhaps, and overly hopeful. His optimistic nature is probably what got him killed, in their opinion. Before the incident, he was trusting of almost anyone he met, in an child-like manner. Now, though he's much more skittish and wary, he's still exceptionally trusting of strangers.
He doesn't often consider any dangers presented to himself when he's attached to a group. His focus almost immediately turns to the group as a whole, and what would benefit them. If that requires putting himself on the line, he'll do so without a second thought. Milo smiles constantly, thus, the nickname Smilo. He's generally a very happy guy, and though he's been through a lot, he still has hope for each new day.
:.What I Like To Do.:
Whittling, resting, and talking. He's always afraid that eventually he'll lose his ability to hear or speak, so he tries to do both as much as possible.
:.Profession.:
Scavenging, surviving.
:.The Past Was.:
Milo was raised by a surrogate father until he was 10. This surrogate father was a fleshunter, a skinner named Lech who dealt food, supplies, men and weapons to the surrounding rogue groups. Lech killed his mother shortly after she gave birth to Milo, and handed him off to one of the pack-women they held captive to cook and set up camp. This woman, Verity, loved him with all the love she had to give. He may as well have been her own son. Lech paid Milo no mind until he was old enough to walk and carry a gun. Then Lech introduced Milo as his son to all his customers, and taught him how to shoot, kill, skin, recruit – you name the dirty deed, Lech taught him. However, as much as Lech claimed he loved Milo, he was a harsh teacher. Each misfire was followed by a blow to Milo's neck or ear. Sometimes, the fleshunter would tell Milo about Paradise Land, and how wonderful it was – but that they weren't allowed inside, so they were going to train Milo to be a good boy so he could overthrow Paradise Land's leaders, and the whole pack would live in a palace. Near the end of his time with Lech, Milo proclaimed he didn't want to be a skinner, but a gardener, like Verity. Lech fell into a rage and struck Milo repeatedly. He soon sold Milo to one of his highest paying customers for 3,500 units.
Milo was put into a harsh program, known as the Guard, under his new possessor. The man's name was Roran Keaton, and he was wealthy – too wealthy. The Guard was established for his estate's protection and purposes. Milo was trained to shoot and kill those wandering into Keaton's territory, along with 19 other children in his segment. The purpose of the Guard, and Keaton's estate, was to one day invade and overtake the Paradise Land. According to Keaton, soldiers are best bought, then bred, so he acquired his soldiers young, with the intention of training them to do his bidding.
Milo spent the rest of his living days on Keaton's estate. He was a good soldier, and a good man – though transferred several times, he befriended and touched many of Keaton's soldiers. He was content, and his grandiose visions of Paradise Land faded. Soon after he graduated to ranking-age (that is, 19 years) his segment brought down a stray harpy that had been surveying for Paradise Land. They taunted it, hurt it. Milo thought she was beautiful. This is when he discovered his gift. The segment commander told Milo to kill the harpy, and handed him a knife. It was supposed to be a reward for Milo's quick graduation and loyalty to Keaton. It would have been his first blood. He had no intention on killing the harpy, but freeing her. However, when he got close enough, the harpy struck him with her wing. Milo was thrown several dozen feet and landed on his hands and torso. The pavement ripped his clothing and chest. The segment commander rushed forward to incapacitate the harpy, but Milo, still dazed from the fall, simply stretched out his hand, and the commander disintegrated.
The harpy went free, and Milo was executed for insubordination, mutiny, and treachery. He awoke in a shallow grave outside Keaton's estate with two shotgun wounds in his chest and no shoes. From there, he walked. He walked, and walked, and walked, until he came on the refugee settlement. Immediately, they cast him out and directed him towards Dead Town. He's been there ever since. He now bides his time and waits for the opportune time to visit Paradise Land.

:.The Proud.:
Half-Dead/Former Metahuman
:.A Glorious Gift.:
Matter Transmutation/Disintegration. If he thinks hard enough, it'll turn into a little pile of ash. However, after his death, he's not been able to replicate the disintegration to the extent he did before. He tries a little every day.
:.What I Have On Me.:
A jacket, a hat, a gun, and a smile.

:.Who I Know.:
None yet.
:.Blood.:

Lech (surrogate, deceased.)
Verity (surrogate, unknown.)


:.Behind The Scenes.:
A song.