For centuries Warkworth castle has stood proud and strong on the coast of Northumberland. After being converted to stone by the Dukes of Northumberland, the castle was seen as a great, imposing structure. As well as famous. Shakespeare even used the castle as the backdrop for one of his plays, King Henry IV, Part 1. The castle eventually passed out of it's family, the Percy's, hands and was sold to the Office of Works and English Heritage in 1922.

Fast forward to 1960, a prominant but reclusive multi-millionaire by the name of Stephen A. King makes an under-the-table deal with English Heritage, buying Warkworth and it's surrounding properties from the country. It's purpose remained unknown until a year later, when it was announced that the historic castle would become an art boarding school for teenagers. By 1965, after extensive rennovations and additions, The King Institute for the Arts opened it's doors.

The first generation of King graduates established the school among the most elite art schools. Nearly all of them went on to have high-profile careers in each of there specific fields. The others came back and taught their craft to the next generation. It was a unique boarding school enviroment and the first type of art school to be established in the world. Overall, the Institute had a sterling reputation and there seemed nothing that could bump them of the A-list of schools.

But as the rest of the world is moved into the 21st century, so is the Institute--it's students evolving along with it. Now along with a stellar reputation to rival the one it had to begin with, the Institute is ruled not by it's teachers and administrators but by it's students. Cliques have formed within the student body and the hierarchy is obvious and unquestioned. Not only do you have to fight to get to the top, but you have to fight to stay. And King students are ruthless.

With one of their own watching and reporting their every move to the entire student body, things are gonna get interesting. Are you up for the challenge?

Jason tends to be the guy in the group you'd turn to for moral support. Even under pressure, or in the presence of an otherwise "morbid" or "emotional" situation, he always tries to calm, or ease, the mood of everyone around him. Having said this, he has no problem getting his hands dirty. Jason relies on his strength, more than his intellect, to get him out of a touch situation. That's not to say he isn't a smart cookie, just in time of crisis, when he isn't helping others, he could use help himself, and tends to have his mind wander off. This usually results in Jason breaking through problems, rather than getting over them. Lastly, Jason can be great with his hands, and a creative mind when he actually takes the time to focus, such as fixing small, electrical devices, or constructing makeshift weaponry - derived from a childhood full of pranks and whatnot -, tools and the like. Lastly, Jason is great with computers. While not the best hacker, though he has tried his hand at it, he knows the inner workings of a computer like the back of his hand, and can operate one proficiently.

Jason is quick to trust others, and see the best in them, which occasionally can lead into a downfall. He can talk until the sound of his voice is a ringing in your ears, while at other times, you'd swear he's mute, both annoying in their own at different times. He also tends to drink heavily when he becomes very emotionally upset. His drinking can, and usually does, result in an almost "different personality", although this can nearly be said for anyone who drinks. While inebriated, obviously, his reasoning becomes shallow, and he results in brute force more frequently. Though, Jason is not, technically, an alcoholic, one could go as far to say he can / is a drunkard at some points. Thankfully, as you could guess, this is only after more than one drink, and goes away with rest. He also becomes jaded when alone for prolonged periods of time, not in the "physical survival" aspect, but more of the "emotional survival" aspect.

Jason is great with computers, can fire a variety of basic handguns - from experiences at a firing range - and can craft some minor, makeshift tools. He also writes in his free time. Occasionally, he writes in a journal about his day, but for the majority of the time, he writes short stories.

Jason was born, and lived most of his early life, in suburbs. His family was, like others in the area, simply Middle Class. Jason was the oldest in the family, having a younger brother and younger sister, as well as his parents. His father was an alcoholic, possibly the origins of Jason's drinking habits, and his mother was rarely home, be she out all night at bars and the like, or on exotic trips, which she explained, were all part of "business trips". Of course, a business hardly sent someone to Hawaii for three weeks. This cycle results in Jason's father's alcoholism, of course, and neither father nor mother saw fit to stop their habits. Because of this, Jason always took it upon himself to take care of his siblings, whether he made them a meal that was too complex for them to make themselves, making sure they were in bed before their father returned, or making sure they woke up early for school.

While the top of his class in Middle School, Jason struggled to make it through High School, as well as College. His mother passed away at about the same time he graduated from College, though her passing seemed like nothing in comparison to the time she spent around her children. His father hardly shed a tear for her passing, and his drinking only increased. After College, however, Jason vowed to try anything he could to get his brother and sister out of their mental hell. He lived on his own for a few years, until... Well, until the essential "end of the world".

Jason always carries with him a picture of his younger brother and sister, though not of his parents. He wears a silver cross around his neck, though not exactly a religious man.

Sometimes, he laughs at an image, or idea, in his head before sharing it with others. His mind tends to wander off, which can result a loss of hearing or participation in a conversation. Usually, though, he snaps back into reality and continues with the task at hand.

Also, he can ride both a skateboard and bike, but nowadays, not a lot of people can't.

Jason removed his jacket and tossed it onto his dining room table. He had never really eaten there, as he preferred to eat in the glow of his television set. With a grunt, he made his way into the next room, to his refrigerator, and opened it, leaning down to get a better view. He reached a hand in and felt around, retrieving a warm can of Coors Lite. He closed the fridge and ran a finger down the can, noting how warm it was, and deducting that his refrigerator was, once again, not working. He sighed to himself as he cracked open the can and took a drink.

Jason pressed a button on his answering machine and turned to look out the window at the street below. "Hey, Jay!" an unusually happy voice, only belonging to his younger sister, rang out across the apartment. "Dad's... Not home. Again. We're here playing some old SNES games, if you'd like to come over and keep us company. It's... Ten o'clock, now, and Dad doesn't seem to be coming home anytime soon. Call me! Or... Come ov-"

Before she could finish, a desk clock beside Jason beeped twice. He looked down in time to notice that it had hit midnight, and he had arrived home later than he thought. He looked back up to the street, but before he could really look out, his vision faltered, and before he could steady himself, everything went dark, and he fell to the floor. He opened his eyes, only to see darkness. In the distance, a faint light seemed to approach him. He squinted his eyes to get a better look, but before he could, the light died out, and seemed to reappear behind him. He turned around quickly, noticing a black figure standing in the darkness. Though colors seemed to mesh, Jason clearly made out the figure.

"Dad?" he asked, unsure of what he was seeing. His father slowly, and wordlessly, removed his belt and snapped it, the snap echoing throughout Jason's mind. "You didn't think... I was watching you, did you, boy?" he asked, dropping the belt to take a drink from a can of beer. "Well... I was, you little bastard!" Quickly, he threw the beer can at Jason, who lifted his arms to shield his face. Before the can could hit, though, it stopped. Jason removed his arms to see the can break from its frozen state, shoot straight through his chest, and smack into someone standing behind him. Jason turned around just as quickly as before, and saw his younger brother huddled on the ground, weeping, a stain on his white T-shirt where the can hit. "Stop crying, damnit!" his father shouting, snapping the belt again. Jason put his hands out to try and stop his father, but it was no use. Just as the can did before, his father passed right through him as well. His father raised the belt into the air and laughed. "Your sister will whine harder when I'm through with her!" His father brought the belt down hard.

Before it could hit, Jason's eyes shot open. His breathing was hard, and he was sweating heavily. The nightmare he had was over, but something didn't feel right...