Ambassador D. Wes was known only as Deacon Wesley while he was looking after a young Tyrell Turney when the latter's mother was away earning what little money they had. With an eight year age advantage on the eventual leader of Apocalypse-86, he felt it was only right to tell the young buck what was waiting for him, seeing as he would soon be old enough to be tried as an adult. He was what a role model looked like on that side of the city, the quintessential example of the survivalist rage required to stay fed and alive, despite the best intentions of the surrounding society.

Wesley will do whatever work you need done, and he'll spend as long as it takes to do it right. Problem is, he's got a relatively uncommon condition that you probably thought was pretty normal whenever a film or book needed an easy bad guy to fear. So he smooths out his fur, practices some other guy's words and borrows his clothes while he's at it, hoping that you'll be too distracted by his perfectly knotted tie to look him in the eye and suddenly remember that you've got a more qualified applicant to get back to.

Unlike Terror Mike, D. Wes never prepared for a career in the spoken word, in the classic sense. Content to toil away, wearing whatever color collar his kind were said to have, he was approached by his one time charge for a 'project.' Aiming to represent every angle of this subdivision, Terror Mike knew that D would be the perfect representative for who and what was real within the community. An "Ambassador" of sorts, as Mike had put it, a buck who could dress his way onto the camera and then speak his truth after it was too late to cut.

The Ambassador doesn't waste time with metaphor, coming in between Terror Mike's rhymes to translate the educated buck's words into a literalized fury to be understood by those who need to hear it the most. He can always be recognized by his caustic, raspy voice, described by some self-adoring critics 'the guy who always sounds like he needs a cough." During his lines, D. Wes frequently borrows the Flamethrower from Sister Project Activate, believing that these words can never be said loud enough. His presence is raw intensity, something that must, on occasion, be contained by his bandmates to keep him from correcting unruly members of the crowd or disagreeable producers of audio and video.



Prez-Elects lockin' the skins 'cause they wanna win
Slaving the people, while taking pictures 'neathe the steeple
Promising to clean up this town by putting a slum child down
This shit ain't loud enough yet so Terror Mike, where the fuck you at?