Origin: New York City, New York

Early Life

Tess didn’t grow up dreaming of fame, she grew up craving answers.

Raised in a working-class household, Tess learned early how quickly stories get buried when no one powerful wants them told. Her father worked city contracts and vanished from her life after being tied to a corruption scandal that never quite made sense. Official reports said one thing. Street whispers said another. No one ever followed up.

That silence stuck with her.

By her late teens, Tess had one obsession: truth doesn’t protect itself, someone has to fight for it.

Finding Her Voice

Tess paid her way through journalism school doing internships, night shifts, and freelance writing under a dozen aliases. She wasn’t flashy, she was thorough. The kind of reporter who triple-checked sources, recorded everything, and never forgot a name.

Her big break didn’t come from a viral story.
It came from an uncomfortable one.

She uncovered a pattern of hush money payments tied to a local business empire. The story barely aired, but the fallout behind the scenes was explosive. Editors noticed. Politicians noticed. People who didn’t want her digging noticed too.

That’s when Weazel News offered her a desk.

Weazel News Rise

Tess climbed fast, not because she played politics, but because she understood them.

She became known for asking questions others wouldn’t, staying calm while chaos unfolded live, reading between official statements, and exposing the gaps.

Her on-camera presence is sharp and composed, but her real power is off-screen. Tess cultivates sources quietly: first responders, clerks, lawyers, gang affiliates, government staffers, people who trust her not to burn them.

She doesn’t exaggerate. She doesn’t speculate. She lets the facts ruin people on their own.

Public Persona vs Reality

On camera, Tess is the city’s steady voice.
Measured. Professional. Untouchable.

Off camera?
She’s meticulous, guarded, and rarely surprised. She keeps burner phones. Backup drives. Copies of copies. Tess doesn’t trust systems, she trusts receipts.

She believes Weazel News isn’t about being liked. It’s about being recorded. Because history remembers what gets filmed.

Motivation

Tess isn’t chasing fame, she’s chasing accountability.

She wants criminals exposed, corrupt officials nervous, and the city just a little harder to lie in. She knows she’s walking a line, between reporting and becoming a target, but she accepts that trade.

If something happens to her?
The story’s already written. And it’s already scheduled to air.

Toni Marie Collins was born and raised in the rougher corners of Boston, where loyalty meant everything and life had a way of hardening people early.

Growing up, Toni always carried a stubborn streak mixed with a soft heart she tried hard to hide. By the time she reached freshman year of high school, she met Arthur Asher, the boy who would unknowingly shape the rest of her life. 

Arthur was her first real love. The kind that felt endless when you’re young. They spent every second they could together through their early teenage years, surviving school drama, family struggles, and the chaos of growing up in a city that never slowed down.

But life changed fast.

At only thirteen years old, Toni discovered she was pregnant.

Terrified of what people would think, scared of disappointing her family, and even more afraid of ruining Arthur’s future, Toni hid the pregnancy from everyone, including Arthur himself. She buried the truth beneath oversized hoodies, lies, and distance. Before the school year even ended, her family abruptly moved away from Boston. Toni never got the chance, or the courage, to say goodbye.

To Arthur, she simply disappeared, but to her, she was protecting the one she loved.

Months later, Toni gave birth to a baby boy. The moment she held him, she knew there was only one name that fit him, Leo. 

As Leo grew, Toni saw more and more of Arthur in him. The same eyes. The same stubborn attitude. The same crooked smile that used to make her weak in the knees back in school. Every laugh from Leo became a reminder of the life she ran from. She traveled from town to town, doing whatever jobs she could to survive and raise her son alone. Diners, gas stations, bars, warehouses, if it paid enough to keep a roof over their heads, Toni worked it. Still, Boston never really left her heart.

Five years later, on a cold rainy night, Toni finally returned. With Leo asleep in the backseat and fear twisting in her stomach, she drove through familiar streets until she found Arthur’s old family home. Rain poured down around her as she stood at the front door, Leo in her arms, praying by some miracle he would still be there.

When Arthur opened the door, time seemed to stop.

Older now, harder around the edges, but still unmistakably him. And standing there beside Toni… was the son he never knew he had.

Toni explained everything the best she could through tears and guilt. She told Arthur about a job opportunity that would take her across the country, a chance she couldn’t afford to lose. But she also admitted something even harder, she couldn’t take Leo with her.

With shaking hands, Toni placed Leo into Arthur’s arms. The little boy stared at him with the same Asher eyes staring back. Arthur didn’t know whether to yell, cry, or collapse under the weight of everything he had just learned. But despite the pain, despite the betrayal and the years stolen from him, he took Leo inside. 

For the next five years, Toni and Arthur learned how to become parents together while living separate lives. Leo traveled back and forth across the states, spending time with both of them. Co-parenting wasn’t easy. There were arguments, resentment, sleepless nights, and wounds that never fully healed. But somewhere between airport pickups, late-night phone calls, birthdays, and holidays, the fire between Toni and Arthur never truly died.

What started as forced communication slowly became friendship again. Friendship became trust. And trust slowly rekindled the love they thought they had lost as teenagers.

Then everything changed once more.

After five years, Toni lost the job that had kept her moving across the country.

With nowhere left to run and tired of living half a life away from the people she loved most, she made the decision to come home for good. Toni moved back to Boston.

Not as the scared thirteen-year-old girl who disappeared without a word… But as a woman finally ready to face the life she left behind.

Trent Winslow spent the first half of his adult life believing in the system. Rising through the ranks of the Franklin County Sheriff’s Office in Ohio, he eventually earned the title of Sheriff. He was a strict, by-the-book lawman who believed that order was the only thing keeping the world from tearing itself apart. However, years of dealing with internal departmental corruption, gridlocked political bureaucracy, and watching criminals slip through legal technicalities shattered his faith in the badge. Realizing the system was broken beyond repair, he stripped off his uniform and walked away from a life sentence on the right side of the law.

Seeking a fresh start away from his past, Trent packed up and relocated to Napalm City alongside his wife, Christine Winslow. The gritty, uncompromising landscape of the city was a perfect fit for a man looking to reinvent himself. Trent didn't abandon his tactical training, weapons proficiency, or absolute intolerance for disrespect; instead, he redirected those traits toward a community that valued an unwritten code over a broken system.

It didn’t take long for Trent to find a new brotherhood within the Angels of Death MC. Swapping his sheriff's uniform for the black and crimson leather cut of the club, he climbed the ranks to secure the critical patch of Sergeant at Arms. As the club's iron-fisted enforcer, Trent sits at the clubhouse table to maintain absolute internal order, protect club operations from rival factions, and defend their territory.

On the asphalt, Trent leads the pack from the saddle of his custom skull-faced chopper. He remains a fiercely protective husband to Christine and an unyielding shield for his club brothers, tracking down anyone who crosses the line with the cold, calculating precision of a former sheriff.

ViAnna Vance was born in Oster, Ukraine, growing up alongside her older brother in a town surrounded by poverty, alcoholism and violence. She learned young that Oster was a place where people heard screaming through walls and simply minded their own business.

Her fear of blood began at the Oster Workshop. ViAnna followed her brother after hearing screams from an abandoned building and found a man barely alive inside. His face was covered in blood, one eye swollen shut, his nose broken and several wounds torn across his face. When his remaining eye found ViAnna, he tried reaching toward her. His attempts to speak became wet, choking gargles as blood ran from his mouth. ViAnna stood frozen while his breathing weakened until one final bubbling sound escaped him and he died staring directly at her. When she realized his blood had reached her shoe, she panicked, vomiting outside before spending that night repeatedly scrubbing it clean. ViAnna would eventually become comfortable with violence and death, but blood—especially on her hands—would always bring part of her back to that workshop.

At fourteen, an Angels of Death member began targeting her after noticing she spent time around the Lost. One evening he cornered her, restrained her when she tried leaving and sexually assaulted her despite ViAnna fighting back. She never told anyone exactly what happened. She returned home shaking, bruised around her wrist and clutching a piece of AOD insignia she'd torn away during the struggle. Her brother understood without asking. What happened turned AOD from a rival club into something deeply personal; even years later, seeing their colors could briefly make ViAnna feel fourteen and powerless again.

By fifteen, she practically lived around the Oster Lost MC, a struggling charter of barely seven members. She cleaned bikes, carried parts, delivered messages and slowly found the first place she considered family. At sixteen she earned her Prospect cut, only to be arrested shortly afterward when a Lost job went wrong. ViAnna stayed behind so another member could escape and gave police absolutely nothing during questioning. After her release, she never returned home.

She did, however, take her Prospect cut.

ViAnna never lost it.

She eventually snuck aboard a cargo ship leaving Eastern Europe and ended up in Mexico, surviving through cleaning, kitchens, warehouses, vehicle work and whatever else paid. Eventually those jobs became criminal work, bringing her into Luna Moonshade's Las Lunas Cartel. ViAnna started with inventory, money, vehicles and deliveries before becoming valuable for her ability to remember numbers, faces, debts and inconsistencies others missed.

One Las Lunas snitch learned another side of her. ViAnna confronted him with proof of his betrayal and beat him with her bare hands when he continued lying. She didn't stop until his blood spread across her knuckles. The moment she noticed it, her breathing became shallow and the Oster Workshop flashed through her mind. ViAnna frantically wiped her hand clean using the man's own shirt. He mistook her reaction for weakness. ViAnna pulled her handgun, shot him, stared at his body for several seconds through short breaths, wiped her already-clean hand against his shirt again and walked out.

That was when Las Lunas understood: ViAnna wasn't afraid of violence. She was afraid of blood.

She was increasingly kept on the cartel's non-bloody side, handling money, businesses, inventory, vehicles, communications and negotiations. Eventually that included weapons orders, where ViAnna discovered one of Las Lunas' established customers was the Ohio State Lost MC. After crossing an ocean to escape Oster, she'd somehow ended up working with another charter of the same club she'd Prospected for at sixteen.

That night she pulled her old Oster cut from her belongings. The leather was worn, but PROSPECT was still there.

ViAnna eventually became one of the people handling Las Lunas' relationship with Ohio until business became familiarity and familiarity became loyalty. When she finally stood before someone wearing the Lost patch again, she realized she'd never completely left the club behind.

Eventually ViAnna left Mexico for Ohio carrying an undying hatred for the Angels of Death, a fear of blood she couldn't completely control, years of criminal experience, and the same battered Prospect cut she'd carried from Ukraine.

Ohio became home. The Lost became family again, and ViAnna eventually rose to Sergeant at Arms. Most people would only know the temper, loyalty and woman who refused to let disrespect slide. Few knew what had created her, and almost nobody knew she still kept that old Oster cut and was still using it today.

But Ohio wasn't forever.

Eventually ViAnna realized that chapter of her life had run its course. She had spent years surviving whatever came next—escaping Oster, disappearing into Mexico and eventually finding the Lost again in Ohio. This time, she wanted something different. She wanted to leave because she chose to, not because somebody was chasing her or because survival demanded it.

So ViAnna left Ohio and headed for Napalm, carrying the same battered cut with her, now saying Nomad, She didn't know exactly what kind of life waited there, only that for once she was willing to find out.

Oster had created her. Mexico had hardened her. Ohio had reminded her what family felt like.

Napalm was where ViAnna Vance intended to start again.

L.F.F.L.

Origin: Tokyo, Japan

Yuto Shin was born into a life that never truly gave him a choice, only a direction. 

He grew up in Tokyo, Japan watching his father move through the world with quiet authority. To outsiders, his father was disciplined, distant, and respectable. To those who knew better, he was Triad, respected, feared, and deeply loyal. Yuto learned early that power didn’t always come from loud violence, but from patience, precision, and reputation. By the time he was fifteen, Yuto made his choice willingly: he joined the Triads, not out of coercion, but out of devotion. He wanted to walk the same path as his father and one day surpass him.

That future was ripped away in blood.

A rival Yakuza faction, looking to destabilize Triad influence, orchestrated an ambush that left Yuto’s father dead. The message was clear: stay in your place. The Triads mourned the loss of a valuable man. Yuto mourned the loss of his anchor. The rage that followed could have consumed him but instead, it sharpened him.

Unlike many who burn out in vengeance, Yuto learned restraint. His mother, still living in Japan, became his last tether to a normal life. Their relationship survived the violence and secrets, not because she approved of his choices, but because she understood them. She had loved a man who lived by the same code. She only asked one thing of Yuto: don’t die chasing ghosts. Yuto promised nothing but he never stopped calling.

By his early twenties, Yuto had become something rare: disciplined, intelligent, and terrifyingly effective. The Triads saw in him not just his father’s legacy, but something more refined, more dangerous. When intelligence surfaced that the Yakuza boss responsible for his father’s murder was maneuvering to establish operations in Los Santos, the decision was made quietly and decisively.

Yuto would go to America.

Officially, he was sent to expand Triad influence overseas. Unofficially, he was a blade pointed directly at the past. At just 23 years old, Yuto arrived in Los Santos with a clean identity, a ruthless mandate, and a long memory.

The city tested him.

Los Santos was louder, messier, and more chaotic than anything Japan had prepared him for. Power shifted fast. Alliances were fragile. Violence was public. But where others struggled to adapt, Yuto thrived. He built his own Triad branch piece by piece, recruiting loyal companions who respected competence over ego, silence over spectacle. He ruled not through fear alone, but through consistency. Betrayal was rare. Mistakes were not forgiven twice.

Yuto Shin does not chase revenge blindly. He builds. He waits. He learns. And somewhere in Los Santos, a Yakuza boss believes the past is buried, unaware that the son of the man he murdered now controls a growing shadow beneath the city’s neon lights.

Yuto isn’t just following in his father’s footsteps anymore. He’s carving his own path, one that ends with balance, blood, or both.