#c: mikaere

[kohaive]

she's so vindicated rn

[warystares]

FULL NAME mikaere ezra kahn NICKNAME(S) mika GENDER / PRONOUNS genderfluid / he + they AGE/ BIRTHDAY fifty / january 31st OCCUPATION retired hitman / owner of cabinet of curiosities AFFILIATION / ROLE unaffiliated ORIENTATION / STATUS pansexual / single STRENGTHS unconventional + persuasive + intelligent WEAKNESSES cruel + temperamental + greedy

HISTORY.

trigger warning for mild gore + child neglect + child death !

so, the fuckin' WORLD, huh ? that's a rough one, innit ? pretty dark place. arguably kind of scary, too. NOT FOR MIKAERE KAHN, THOUGH ! no, 'course not. they've always been one of the fuckers making the place SCARY for everyone else ! well, not a l w a y s. they've been a young lad once, too. many moons ago. not so scary then, if only on account of their small stature. but trust what they lack in height — at least in their early years, until they shoot up nearly a foot one summer just before their teens — mika makes up for in PISS & VINEGAR. ( and they're still full of it to this day, matter of fact ! ) a grubby little street rat's what they were, a no good pest made to be by FATE and her fickle hand ! no home , no family , no prospects. no, mika is raised by the STREETS, by the ( not always so ) kind strangers that inhabit them. they learn how to fight, how to SURVIVE ― which dumpsters are safe to scavenge for your next meal and which ones will get you SHOT before you can even make it your last ; how to protect what's yours and ensure no one else tries to FUCK AROUND and has to FIND OUT.

with an upbringing akin to that of a FERAL animal, it's truly no wonder mika grows up quite so DANGEROUS. but for all his rough edges, the first time he TAKES A LIFE is an accident. he doesn't m e a n to ! it's self-defense, and though he'd never admit it aloud, with the sharp silver of a stranger's blade pressed to his throat, mikaere feels FEAR for the first time. he's only fifteen years old and not ready to DIE. not here, anyway, not in the corner of some stinking, piss-soaked alley where the RATS will find him before anyone else does. so he doesn't. mikaere kahn is not fuckin' rat food. ( though if they operate on an eye for an eye, mika owes more than a pound of flesh for the vermin he's scavenged into meals of desperation. ) the coat he lifts off the man who'd come at him, the sad sack of meat crumpled in a heap on the street, it's still WARM when he puts it on. it's a warmth mika's never felt before, not truly, but it's one they will continue to seek for years to come.

with these years ( and a smattering of several more close calls ! ) comes a stark realization for the muddy, mop-headed urchin : it wasn't about the coat. of course it was never about the BLOODY COAT ! that scrap of fabric wasn't what made them feel good, was it ? the sooner they learn this, the better ; what was once an act of DEFENSE becomes one of DEFIANCE. ( against what, mikaere isn't entirely sure ― against the parents who couldn't be bothered to raise them better ? couldn't even be bothered to KEEP them ? or maybe against a society that cast him out to the GUTTERS to fend for himself ? ) and, more than that, it becomes a means to not only their SURVIVAL but their L I F E. at the start of their career, mika is RUTHLESS ― almost IGNORANTLY so, even ; they accept contracts with zero heed and full RECKLESS ABANDON. an entire d e c a d e is lost to a greedy, almost HEDONISTIC addiction to his ❛ career, ❜ to bloody nail beds and nightly BLACKOUTS. ( at least they've somewhere to slink back to now come dawn ! no more curling up under benches, behind dumpsters ! )

the funny thing about MORALS is that, if he's being honest, mika doesn't know how the fuck he managed to develop any or, moreover, where they fucking CAME from. have they just been growing there this whole time, a FUNGUS filling up his chest cavity with SENTIMENTAL ROT ? has he simply not noticed ? mikaere accepts another contract. he is thirty-five years old ; the sheen of a blade that has taken HUNDREDS of lives reflects the eyes of a person MUCH OLDER every time it is unsheathed, though the same familiar crooked smile remains. but he doesn't use the blade this time, does he ? no. no, this time he uses a GUN. and let it be known that mika has NEVER enjoyed using a gun. not once. it's impersonal, SAVAGE. but he's BORED, thinks that maybe he can scrounge up a little excitement if he flips the script and tries something DIFFERENT. turns out, that was a mistake. all of it, the whole damn thing ― just one BIG FUCKING MISTAKE !

if he'd known the target was only FIFTEEN years old, mika never would have taken the contract. if he'd gotten close enough ― FUCK, if he'd just been near enough to catch a glimpse of the kid's face, he wouldn't have ― LOOK, it's an unspoken fucking rule, okay ? you don't kill kids. YOU DON'T KILL KIDS. doesn't matter what they did, who they're related to. none of it. and the only reason it's unspoken to begin with is because it shouldn't even HAVE to be said. but he didn't know, did he ? and he didn't get close enough because for some fucking reason mika chose to use a GUN. maybe it's a long time coming. maybe not. the only thing mika knows for certain ? this is their fault. they've gotten lazy, lackadaisy. it was on them to know their mark, to do their RESEARCH and they didn't. they killed a kid. no, they'll take it back, actually, there's two things of which they're UNWAVERINGLY sure. and the second, perhaps most emphatically : it's time for mika to get the FUCK out of this game. N O W .

so he does. and to be fair, it's not actually as DIFFICULT as he'd expected. two decades of lucrative work means he's got a fairly sizeable read : pretty fuckin' FAT ) nest egg he's been sitting on. SLEEPING ON, actually ― it's just CASH in a MATTRESS. tonnes of it, though ! enough that the thing's actually rather lumpy, not much good for a sleep anymore. the only logical thing's to SPEND it, right ? mika finds a small, vacant storefront on the outskirts of the BRONX ― but small's not true, as it's deceptively long and S P A C I O U S once you're inside. well, AT FIRST. it doesn't stay that way for very long. the shop quickly becomes haven to nearly all the delightful clutter, the incredible JUNK they've collected over the years, trinkets and gadgets and miscellaneous odds & ends. an ECCENTRIC assortment, but strangely enough, one that seems to suit them. and so, the bronx becomes home to a place of myth and mystery:

THE CABINET OF CURIOSITIES.

fifteen years have passed and mikaere now LIVES in an almost loft-like addition they've built into a corner of the shop so they can stay there FULL-TIME, tinkering and organizing and keeping an eye over their TROVE OF UNUSUAL TREASURES. if there's anything you should need to sell or pawn off ― and truly, mika does mean ANYTHING ― there is no better place to find a deal ! there's not an hour of any day ( or night, especially if you bring them a drink for their troubles ) that you can't drop in.

CONNECTIONS.

to be added soon !

OFFICIAL FILE.

*     ◟    :    〔   taika waititi  ,      genderfluid    +   he + they    〕    mikaere 'mika' ezra kahn , some say you’re a  fifty year old  lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both passionate and  vindictive, one can’t help but think of the westerner by falling in reverse when you walk by. are you still a jack of all trades / retired hitman at the cabinet of curiosities / self-employed, even with your reputation as the the saturnalian ? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and a tailor-fit vintage leather jacket with hand-sewn patches, a heavy pour of dark liquor in a faux crystal wine glass, and a crooked, whisky-soaked grin, although we can’t help but think of lemon ( bullet train ), hans ( seven psychopaths ), and billy butcher ( the boys ) whenever we see you down these rainy streets.