#emreavsar

[mobscene-london]

BASIC INFORMATION:

NAME: Emre Avşar. AGE: 36. PLACE OF BIRTH: İstanbul, Türkiye. AFFILIATION: The Haringey Resistance. OCCUPATION: Second in Command. FACE CLAIM: Kerem Bürsin. AVAILABILITY: OPEN.

BIOGRAPHY:

İstanbul truly was a spectacle.

Tourists gathered in droves to appreciate an architectural and cultural marvel unlike any other. It was a place of history, and art, and religion, and was not remotely unwarranted in its pride for it all. But whilst it would be a lie to say he didn’t miss home, Emre knew that the city he’d seen was very different to the one reserved for outsiders. For him, the beauty had always been overshadowed by a particularly dark underbelly that he’d been caught up in long before he was mature enough to understand the decisions he was making.

And that was precisely why people like him were targeted.

They never approached the well-off, educated kids from families who actually gave a shit. The petty gangs roaming the back alleys of the city’s less savoury neighbourhoods sought out the weak and vulnerable because it was so much easier to manipulate somebody who was desperate. Back then, Emre had been exactly that. After his parents divorced when he was four years old, his mother, unable to afford caring for a child alone, offloaded her son onto some shady orphanage in Gaziosmanpaşa like he’d meant nothing to her at all.

Emre’s life in Türkiye from that point forward was, with the exception of meeting her, a consistent downward spiral. Being targeted by one of the local gangs seemed more of an eventuality than an unfortunate accident. They liked to pick up the little kids and force them to go begging in the tourist areas. Foreign bleeding hearts were a lot quicker to offer up their hard earned cash to innocent kids who were beaten, bruised, and looked like they needed a meal; all courtesy of those earning on their behalf, of course. They had to make it seem convincing.

At the end of the day, they’d take the money back to whoever was assigned to their area with the hopes of a hot meal and a few coins instead of another beating. Emre usually wasn’t so lucky. Whilst he didn’t have a talent for begging, though, Zehra sure did. Much like him, she’d had an unfortunate start in life that’d landed her in a similarly desperate scenario. With her big doe eyes and pretty features, it was no surprise that she gathered everyone’s attention with ease. His included.

They weren’t supposed to make friends. Maybe because when children got together, they started having fucking ideas. To keep them apart was impossible, though. From their very first hello, Emre had been wholly devoted to her, and as the years passed, their friendship only grew stronger. The streets of İstanbul were dangerous, but he vowed they would never be for her again so long as he was around to protect her. It was a promise that came to a particularly nasty head when the gang they worked for decided to deliver her one of their infamous beatings. Zehra was such a high earner that it became expected. After a poor day where she’d barely scraped together more than him, they’d punished her for it. Emre had relieved some kid of the knife earlier that day. The asshole responsible had seen the sharp end of it with little remorse.

It’d been his first kill. Emre had been twelve years old.

Whilst he might’ve been brave enough to serve the justice, he hadn’t paid much thought (nor did he care) about the consequences that might follow. The idea of them murdering him and Zehra being left alone was his only concern, but it seemed the gang had other plans. Finding little beggars was easy. Finding someone who’d take a life, on the other hand? Not so much. Emre was only punished for what he did to scare him into agreeing to do it again. And he did. Because what other choice did he have?

They used the orphan kids because nobody would miss them if they were gone. Nobody would care if they got hurt instead of someone who mattered. So that was how Emre earned his keep, and to their credit, he got paid a hell of a lot more for bloodying his hands than holding them out. It was enough to look after both himself and Zehra relatively well. When she became too old to earn through pity, Emre had proven useful enough to make demands. If they wanted to keep him around—and he was too damn good at what he did for them to turn it down—they’d let her go. They’d tried to scare him, but he wouldn’t budge.

So eventually they did.

Life continued this way until his late teens. Emre had learned the gang was smuggling people to the UK with fake German passports and papers to attend to their heroin trade. The buy in was insanely expensive, but there was little he wouldn’t pay for a better life. Of course, his price was lessened because he could earn them even more abroad than he did in İstanbul, but they sure took advantage of knowing he’d never leave Zehra behind. They’d bled him dry to pay for her passage; triple the amount it would have cost anybody else. They burdened him with the most dangerous jobs, the most brutal workloads, and drew out his time in the city for as long as possible until eventually, Emre had managed it.

They made it to London just after Zehra’s eighteenth birthday.

Life would never be perfect for someone like him, but it sure got better after that.

They were set up in a shitty two-bedroom flat they had to share with six others, but like always, Emre was there to look out for her until they could do better. Haringey wasn’t exactly an ideal spot, but it was sure better than any of the places he’d spent his childhood, and almost immediately, he was set to work with the gang that operated in the area. His connection? Mehmet Demir.

Perhaps the most striking difference between İstanbul and London came in the way he was treated. It became clear that this time his talents were appreciated instead of demanded, and whilst a certain work ethic was expected, it came a lot easier when it was born out of respect for the old man instead of fear of him. Mehmet taught him everything he needed to know about the city, and eventually, just like his son Hasan—a man who would eventually become a brother to him—he was crafted into a loyal member of the gang. Similar to Mehmet, Emre was the quiet but dangerous type; he kept his head down, but had instilled enough fear over the years that people never mistook it for weakness. It came in handy.

Emre never knew his father, but he liked to imagine he’d have been like Demir.

For seventeen years, Emre has called London home. He’s watched as Zehra has flourished in her freedom, crafted an impressive life all of his own, and learned to know what family feels like in the process. And perhaps that familial feeling is precisely why he never second guessed Hasan’s decision to separate from the rest of the gang. The turmoil the Rutherfords brought to Haringey enraged them all—even if Emre just missed out on witnessing their very hostile takeover—but not nearly as much as the fact people like Hasan have to take a backseat to the likes of Kerem and Azra because of it. Emre doesn’t regret becoming a part of Hasan’s splinter group; partly because he knows it’s the right call, but mostly because there is nowhere else he would be than at the side of his best friend, and a family who’s given him everything.

Whatever London might bring him now, he can hold his head high knowing that he always has—and always will—do the best he can for the people he cares about.

SOCIAL CONNECTIONS:

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single. FAMILY: None. CONNECTIONS:

Zehra Şimşek: Best friend. About the only thing that kept him going through his bleakest moments. There wasn’t much good in his life besides her until he moved to London, but even now, she’s the best of it all. Zehra is without a doubt the person he’s closest to. They’ve been through so much together, and supported each other through some pretty shitty experiences, that their bond isn’t comparable to anyone else. There is nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

Hasan Demir: Best friend. Without question, his brother. It doesn’t matter if they aren’t of the same blood. Emre’s trust isn’t easily earned after the kind of childhood he had, but nobody is more deserving of it than Hasan. They learned the ropes of London together, and have grown as members of the gang alongside each other. Emre trusts his best friend’s judgement, but also knows that if he ever had issue with his decisions, his protests would be heard. Their partnership and leadership is the best thing for Haringey moving forward, and he truly does believe that. 

Mustafa Ilhan: Good friend. With the exception of Zehra, he’s the only connection Emre has retained from İstanbul. The formation of their friendship was an unlikely one, given Mustafa’s status in the gang, but he’s more than proven himself over the years; both back at home, and here in London. Emre is glad he decided to make the journey, and especially so that there’s someone else looking out for Zehra now. 

Elif Ateş: Good friend. Just about all of Hasan’s gang has collectively taken Elif under their wing, and Emre is no exception. The loyalty she has shown not only to the Turks, but them specifically, is worth more than anything to him. Whilst he doubts her brother would be cruel enough to seek her out and punish her for turning her back on their traitorous family, Emre has vowed to have her back. Ayaz lays a finger on her, and he’ll break his fucking legs.