Peter Fiato Jul 10, 2009 6:25:07 GMT -6
Post by Peter Fiato on Jul 10, 2009 6:25:07 GMT -6
Name: Peter Salvatore Fiato
Known Aliases: 3rd Street Pete, SoulReaper.
Play-By: Goran Visnjic
Crew: Luciano's Crew
Rank: Soldier - Famous Hitman
Convictions: Armed assault - 1 year, started serving when 23. Was released early ten months later.
Date of Birth: 1984
Place of Birth: Hell's Kitchen, America
- Giorgio Napoli - Father (Alive)
- Giuliana Fiato - Mother (Alive)
- Francessca Fiato - Grandmother (Deseased)
- Juliano Fiato - Cousin (Alive)
- Alfred Fiato - Uncle (Alive)
- Rachel Tyler - Aunt (Alive)
- Randy Fiato - Grandfather (Alive)
- George Fiato - Cousin (Deseased)
Peter is a face you can trust, untill the guns are drawn. He's a very serious man, inherited from his drunk of a father. He doesn't have time to relax, and he really is stressed out all the time, due to his current job. A famous hitman. Even though he wanted to be famous with it, it's completely stressing him out hit after hit. And he is easy to crack, and get angry, and rarely cry. He is a generous type of man, the money he earns, the spare ammounts he gives to local charities. Obviously through anonymous post, but he thinks the thought still counts. And he believes in trust, as long as your not his hit, nor are you annoying him. He can be a good friend to you.
Peter tends to wear the button up shirts, no matter what the colour, he loves them. But he does like the Black and purple button up shirts, which he think suits him well. He tends to wear either long fine black trousers, or dark skinny Denim jeans with his button up tops. He also likes to wear his black loafers, in which he adores. He polishes them every night. And they go well with his dark eyes, and hair.
When performing a hit, Peter has several types of clothing. Whether it be his nice tuxedo, and tie. Or his biker jacket, and a pair of dark Aviators. It all varies from hit to hit. But whatever the hit, he never has the same eyes and hair. He wears a expensive collection of wigs and contact lenses, which are crafted purposely for these types of operations.
When Peter was little he was abused by his father weekly, if he could do it under his wife's nose. Peter got fustrated with his father, and felt feelings like depression, and stress. It was not a life for any child. Ocasionly his mother might find out, and stop Giorgio from severely beating him. Poor peter wasn't lucky enough sometimes, his parents would have big rows. And fought and fought. It made him even more depressed and even guilty, as his mother was beaten.
As Peter grew older and attended a Catholic school, his father made things worse for him. He was too weak to retaliate to his father, but was strong and big enough to bully and get enraged at school. Day-to-day Peter used to beat kids, and one day actually stole his Dad's lighter and went into school with it. But it was another poor excuse for Giorgio to beat Peter up, and his mother was getting weaker and weaker. And the beatings became more severe. Eventually Peter was expelled from the Catholic school, and attended a Child offenders prison.
Life away From Home
Peter was constantly bullied at the prison, but it was better than being beaten by his dad. He didn't care about it anymore, he had lost the will to fight back, lost the will to get back on his feet and fight for himself. He became deeply depressed, and became irritable and nervous around people. He was very timid, and didn't believe in anyone anymore. Except his picture of Santa, he believed in him deeply and it was his only source of hapiness. Obviously it got him more bullied, but by now he had stopped hurting and offending.
He left the offenders prison at fourteen, and was sent home and observed. His father hadn't forgotten about the beatings. Oh no, he began beating him harder. He had bought a long pole, and beat him senseless with it untill he was bleeding and unconscious. He was severely abused, and hurt. He just wanted a friend.
Life at the Fiato's
At sixteen the depressed Peter was kicked out of the house, for being useless. By then the beatings didn't hurt. He'd grown a high tolerence to pain, and his wounds healed much more quickly. And his dad found that the beatings never made and effect on him. Which made him angry, and fustrated that his little punching bag had become a useless piece of trash.
His mother took him straight off the the Fiato's where he could live a happy and normal life, in which he would enjoy. At first, Peter was nervous around his cousins and Uncles. But quickly grew to like them, they where very nice people. But unfortunatly his Grandad and Grandma, had passed away from old age. Which inflicted grief into his broken heart. They had always been nice to him. And they went and died.
A few years later and he had his oiwn job at the local Groceries. He'd already officially changed his last name to 'Fiato' for the obvious reason that they were nicer than his father's side of the family. Much nicer. He soon became involved into the DiLeonardo's and became a Hitman, soon after that his cousin George died sadly. He had been hunted down by a Family, which was strange. George only seemed to spend time on the computers in Chatrooms. Which probably meant he was talking to a Mafia member.
Soon enough he was a famous Hitman.
Peter droves his car in a fast motion, his target was nearing the docks, in which he wasn't looking foward to. If this guy got away, then he would be in deep trouble. His reputation and respect would fade away like everything else he'd ever had in life. Peter let out a deep sigh, before reaching into his glove compartment. Of course he'd had gloves on, that was rule number one of killing someone sneakily. He heard the mighty fine click go off as he opened it, he reached for the SMG. If only he could reach. Damn cars and there steering wheels, the words ran through his head. He finally grasped the gun and aimed it out the open window, he fired off several rounds into the tires, before receiving a jolt from the car as several bullets from the target went into his vechicle. They we're nothing, his car was bulletproof. That was rule number two. He watched the car skid and turn, and crash off the edge of the docks and into a bunch of barrels. There was too many. The engine instantly ignited with flames, and Peter hit the gearstick and moved back in reverse. He felt the heat as the car exploded into a mass of heat and flames. Peter felt happy with himself, and grinned. "Another one down" he laughed evily, driving as far away as he could. Knowing the cops couldn't point the finger.