Rugged, grim smile and a scarred face that'd break any mirror. Crimzon might've tried in his younger days, but grooming his look never became anything more than wishful thinking for him.
Crimzon works guard duty in Polis, grinding the streets for unclean business and cracking down on violent kingpins - of whom there are plenty of in the disgusting overpopulated streets in the massive slums where he patrol.
Cold solitary nights in the barracks, warm splatters from the blood of his friends and the perpetually looping sound of grinding metal eating into his mind has taught Crimzon one thing - Don't ever bond.
Males & Minors.