Detective Nell Wesley

Concept: Narcotics Detective/Adrenaline Junky

AKA: Nell goes undercover fairly often. She’s developed a few personas that she uses with back story and documents to back them up. Within the department proper, they’ve started to call her “Tyson” Because she has a right cross that will make you re-think your life path.

Desc: Middling tall, built like a brick house. Muscular, but she’s working on flexibility too. because she doesn’t want to get TOO muscular to the point it stands out. Very dark skinned. Tends to keep her hair braided and out of her face. Because of the nature of her work, she doesn’t go in for anything elaborate with her hair. Eyes that betray a certain amount of laser-like focus. She has a smile like a sunrise, but you don’t get to see it very often. Walks like a boxer. She has a tattoo on her upper bicep of two Feminine symbols that have been conjoined side-by-side. Most of the guys in the force have already figured out what that means.

History: A girl grows up in the hood, she’s going to see some things. Some of those things will mark you. Maybe you see someone from the neighborhood get gunned down in a drive-by. Maybe you had a classmate fall in with drug-pushers, and the Mexicans cut his balls off and stuffed them in his mouth. Maybe you had a cousin OD on crack and had to sit next to your Aunt at the funeral while people lied to her about how “natural” he looked. They meant well. They always mean well.

   So maybe at some point, you have a teacher who sits down with you and seriously talks to you about making a difference in the world. And you chew that over for a while in your head, and while that’s taking place the crack dealers are muscling for territory in your corner of the city. And maybe you decide you want to be a cop because you want to make a difference.

     Nell gets a job with the police and she does okay. She’s not super smart, but she knows what’s what and has good experience. She makes detective (Although probably slower than some straight white dude...) and when they’re asking her where she wants to go. She makes it very clear that she doesn’t give a DAMN how short-handed Vice is for women police. She wants Narcotics.

They looked into her eyes and realized she was pretty serious.

   So they put her into Narcotics. And that’s where she’s been ever since.

And if you ask her, on any given day, she goes back and forth on whether she’s made a difference or not. The thing that makes her worry, though, is that she feels like she’s getting reckless. undercover work is fraught with perils and traps of all sorts. Addiction from having to take drugs in front of the dealers. Dealers who have very good cop radar or are twitchy and paranoid. inter-departmental politics and internal corruption.

   The thing that worries her is that the edge of adrenaline has replaced that need to make a difference. She prays at night to a God that her pastor says has damned her for her sexuality, to regain that sense of purpose...To not need the adrenaline.  But she’s seen enough junkies in her time to know how deep she’s in.

Attitude: “Tommy. You have the right to remain silent, and if you so much as twitch, I’m going to hit you so hard your tomorrows are going to fall off. Now get up motherfucker.”

Skills:  As far as she goes, Nell has worked very hard over the years. She’s not the best mentally, but she’s got better than average resolve so that makes it easier for her to stick to a program. She’s as good as any police person with a gun or a hand weapon, but she’s excelled with the Boxing and she’s kept it up because it’s great for emotional management. Physically, she’s wire tight and in GREAT shape. SHe’s got Fleet of Foot because all dealers and junkies run. Socially, she’s pretty solid. No Animal ken, and despite her size, no real Intimidation to speak of. But the rest of the social skills get plenty of practice and her Streetwise is practically off the charts. Her antenna is almost always up and it’s kept her from getting killed more than once.  Her Composure is damn near bulletproof. Having the occasional Meth addict wave a hunting knife in your eye puts your other problems into perspective for you.   Her subterfuge is also pretty damn good. She routinely has to act as if she’s high, stupid, and totally willing to fuck a guy for whatever hard narcotics he’s got to offer. She is not usually any of those things.

Gear: Nell carries her usual weapon, and a holdout weapon on her ankle when costuming permits. Her personal vehicle is a dull-as-dog-crap Toyota Camry. She has a nice little smart phone and additionally has a regular Skype number along with a program that transcribes voicemails. While this little set-up has been pressed into service for gathering evidence, it also serves as Nell personal notebook. She’s got this half-assed idea that she’s going to write a book about her experiences.  What makes this interesting is that Nell is not a very good writer, but has enough solid Resolve that she still going to write the damn thing and worry about prettying it up later. She’s also something of a game nerd, so she’s got a PS3 with a lot of music on it too.  Pity the poor bastard who gives any girl down the road for being a fake gamer girl within earshot of her.

Home: Some years ago, Nell met Moira. They got together and they were good with one another. There was the usual stress over being with a cop, that made it hard on Moira sometimes, but by and large they were good together.  They bought a house together.   But then Moira got sick. And this was before you could get gay-married in this state.  So her parents came up and shut Nell out of their daughter’s life. Even tried to sue the bank for the return of their daughters investment. (Thankfully, the judge wasn’t having it.) Refused to let her visit at the hospital and didn't let her have any of medical information about what was going on. (HIPPAA makes that sort of bullshit trivially easy.)  They even tried to prevent Nell from attending Moira’s funeral along with all of her other gay friends. Moira’s father finally went too far and put hands on her and she broke his jaw in 3 places.  Officers who were called to testify in the assault case that came afterward, said that they hadn’t seen a thing. “I didn’t see a thing, your honor. Polar bear fell on top of me.” Was pretty much what every one of them said.  So, as a result, Nell has this lovely old victorian styled house, that is too big for her and has too many memories. Mama is having trouble seeing these days, so she’s moved her into a bedroom, but that does mean that Nell can’t bring a lady friend home. Not easily.  Not that Nell’s wanted to for a while.

Circle: Nell still attends church although not as often as she used to. She got recognized on a buy-bust because one of the dudes involved also went to her church. Hey, it happens. She's got her cop friends and some of her people in the gay community. Her various aliases are cover for buy-busts and usually this mean going out to some club and dancing some.  It’s just putting the hook in the water. Any women working Vice are usually happy to act as a wing woman for her so they don’t have to put on the hooker boots and go trolling for johns.

Story Uses:

“You want to put that shit in your veins, that’s fine. You want to sell that shit to other people one block from a public school, I’m going to beat you into paste and THEN arrest your ass and throw you up under the jail.”

Nell, for all her worry, does make a difference in the drug business in the city. She’s not hooked on anything or jonesing for anything at all. She hasn’t been offered enough money to make her pause, and the brass get the idea that if they were to try to pull her off something, she won’t go quietly. Not by a long chalk.  If your PC is a user, That won’t bother her all that much, But if your PC is a dealer or distributor, well, you’ve just made a new “special friend”

“it would be a good idea to play this one close to the vest. Narcotics has never been all that good at keeping secrets.”

If your PC is working on THIS side of the law and order divide, odds are good that you know that Nell is one of the good ones. Where your PC falls on that whole Good Ones/Bad Ones scale, is up to you.

Connections:

*It's good thing Nell doesn't work Homicide because then she'd be in close proximity to Detectives Blanchard and Skiggs. Skiggs doesn't make a ping on her radar, but she and Blanchard don't get along. It would like come to blow and the betting would be fast and furious because they'd be a pretty even match.

*While Detective Dana Crowley never worked Narcotics, They know one another and kept bumping into one another socially. Dana likes Nell, and moreover, considers her one of the few cops she'd probably never have to worry about. Nell, for her part, is a bit attracted to Dana, but truthfully loves her as a friend, and admires her detective skills. When Nell feels really stuck, she buys Dana lunch and they hash it out.

* Reverend Dr. Miranda Goines is one of Nell's cousins. On some issues, Nell is a bit more conservative than Randa. Working in a field where you get to see people at their worst, and you also get to see the needle and the damage done will do that for you. So at family gatherings, they argue.

While Nell isn't as crazy smart as her cousin, she's got way more experience and after these arguments, she'll go off and look things up and formulate a response. Don't misunderstand. They both enjoy these little talks. Everybody else in the family is terrified of getting involved in any of that. Weirdly, the two women have a kindred spirit.

* All of the Gangbanger sets in the city have their mitts into drugs on some level so she's not exactly a fan of any of them. But she and Jamal Cooper are going to run headlong into one another someday. It's not going to be pretty.

* Darla Grumman "Come a little closer white girl. I don't bite. unless you like that sort of thing."

* Rick Deluca "Yeah. I heard of the "Eskimo".  I hope he fucks up some day, and I can be there to see it.

* Sits one desk away from Detective Bela Janofski in the bullpen. "Bela's good people and damn, if only he'd come back to Narcotics. We could use him."

Carlos "Armas Dos" Villalobos

Concept: Cartel Problem Facilitator/Corpse Producer

AKA: Most of the people who know him call Señor Villalobos. Those who he considers friends call him “Dos”

Desc: Lean like a piece of jerky. Plenty of ink. Not a bit of it less than professionally done. Dresses like a businessman. Tailored jacket. Armpit rigs. Dual holders in the small of the back. Unless the job calls for him to look like he’s from the streets...In which case, he snaps back like reflex. He still wears his mother’s cross.

History: Carlos grew up in Juarez, right across the border from El Paso. The problem with border and port towns is that if you don’t control the port. Then you cannot move the drugs. The Problem was that El Chapo had just escaped from prison and was determined to put his organization back together. There was only one thing stopping him. The Juarez Gang, and the fact they’d already suborned most of the local police. So El Chapo went them one better and put money into the hands of the federal cops.  So not only do you have the Juarez gang and Chapo’s Sinaloa cartel killing one another. But you Juarez cops and federal police killing one another. So if you’re going to be a guy in El Chapo’s gang, then you’re going to have to be good at staying alive and it would help if you’re pretty good at killing people.

Carlos is PHENOMENAL at both. In a place where 1 in 6 males don’t make it past 21, it is a testament to Carlos’s skill that he is now 32.  He makes good money. Knows El Chapo personally. Owns a beautiful home. and travels all over the world.  Granted, The reason he travels is because someone got stupid, or greedy, or sometimes because the competition is stiffer than homegrown soldiers can handle. Carlos is not a soldier. he is an Assessino. And when he goes to work. he leaves a lot of hats on the ground.

Attitude: “Listen Primo. I don’t want to be here. And you don’t want me here. I already know what happened. If you talk to me...I can put in a word for you. I may still have to kill all of your boys, though.”

Skills: In the intellectual realm, He’s picked up some skills. Not a lot of academics or anything like that. A dot or two of investigation. Some streetwise. Some subterfuge.  Plentiful dots of survival with a specialty in Urban

The only thing about him intellectually that is remotely serious is that he thinks lightning fast. His wits and his Dexterity are truly gifted. On the physical front, He’s not terribly strong, and he’s got a good amount of Stamina. He’s been shot and stabbed a few times and come out fine each time. As I say, he’s crazy good with Dexterity. He juggles throwing knives. It is his only hobby. He is additionally, ambidextrous and has the gunslinger merit. Dots in Combat marksman are not out of line for him.  He is, however, utter shit at sniping, he’s not great at hand to hand, (maybe 2 dots, it’s not like he’s not been in fights.) and he’s got some dots in Weaponry with throwing knives.

Socially, He’s pretty bland. He’s not much of a talker. he hasn’t had sex with anyone who wasn’t a professional in over 10 years. He doesn’t even bother with trying to intimidate people anymore. Carlos knows what he can do. He doesn’t feel the need to come on all heavy to anyone. Many people have tried to come on all heavy to him. Most of them are dead now.  If there is anything that could be considered weird about him socially, it is that for some reason, he’s very polite. and he usually gives targets an opportunity to walk away, if it can be allowed by his bosses.

Gear: Carlos has this thing about revolvers. He had some problems with automatics in his early days. An ill-timed jam nearly cost him his life. So he carries paired 38 revolvers under his armpits and at his ankles. The two pistols in the small of his back are 45’s and if he KNOWS that he’s in for trouble, he’ll supplement his gear with an additional gunbelt with another pair of matched 45’s. Carlos has this thing about killing people who he isn’t contracted to kill and who aren’t seeking to kill him, so he loads all of his guns with Glaser slug ammo.(for greater combat precision) If he’s going into a combat situation, he’ll additionally be carrying 4 throwing knives and be wearing a leather body suit with an undercoating of ballistic ceramic scale mail. He went for this rig because it impedes his movement the least but provides decent coverage. Normally, the “Attack Suit” is also topped off with a motorcycle helmet. Even in his normal “Professional” attire, he’ll be likely to have a subtle undercoating of kevlar. Fortunately, he gets his suits tailored so he simply looks a little bulkier.

His attack suit also has multiple speed-loaders for his pistols, (which he can identify by feel) and two smoke grenades.

His normal everyday carry gear includes an iPhone, A straight razor which he keeps in his jacket pocket. He’s had a vasectomy, so he never carries condoms anymore. He usually has a sheaf of hundreds in his wallet and a stack of gift cards that are worth 500 dollars each.  It’s simply easier to keep track of expenses that way.

Home: Carlos has a sumptuous home in Juarez. He gets around these parts about once a year. Sometimes more than once. It depends on whether the local distributors are dumber, greedier, or more hapless than usual. As a result, he’s leased a small condo near the very edge of LatinTown where it borders on slightly more upscale neighborhoods. Carlos’s extremely well-forged passport indicates that he’s a corporate negotiator for a south American oil company. He does, however, get a little vain about his vehicles. While he enjoys a nice sports car back home, he vastly prefers a performance SUV. Especially for tasks that involve moving a body. Don’t misunderstand, though. That SUV will have a nitrous bottle.

Circle: The local distributors live in mortal terror of him. His legend grows. He’s like the “Bill Brasky” of cartel hitmen to them. As a result, they will do nearly anything to please him. He takes that in stride and never raises his voice. If there is anything that might get him in trouble on the social front it is that he is something of a horn-dog.  He doesn’t even really seem to have a type. Except maybe “Whore” as a type. Otherwise, Redheads, black girls, Asian twins...he’s not picky.

Story Uses:

“I begin to see that my Hermanos were not exaggerating. My apologies for this unfortunate situation. Now I’m going to have to kill you.”

Let’s face it. Carlos is not a local. He’s a problem, like Aldous Church. He comes to town every once in a while, usually on business.  If your PC’s bump into him, it’s not an accident. It’s because they’ve been muscling the drug trade in town, or trying to put it out of business.  Carlos doesn’t care which. He’ll be looking to solve the problem.

It should also be understood, that Carlos has had to deal with supernatural threats before. If it is clear that the problem the cartel is having is supernatural, he will be loaded for bear, if it is discovered in the field, he’ll break contact with the threat as best he can, make some calls, and when you see him next, he will be loaded for bear.

Connections:

* When it looked like Rick Deluca was going to jail, Carlos got the call. By the time he'd arrived in the city to handle the problem, Rick had already taken care of the rich kid. When Carlos heard the story about it. He actually smiled, congratulated both him and Pablo, and said that their solution was very cool. That night, there was much tequila and then he flew home the next afternoon.

Surrender Dorothy!

It’s an unobtrusive door. It’s on the backside of a building that houses a design firm and a tiny art gallery. Neither business makes any money at all. But it’s a nice excuse for the parking lot in back with the 9-foot brick wall around and the ivy that covers it. The parking lot is a little bit larger than either business would ever ever need.  The employees don’t park here. They park in the nice public lot two blocks from here.

The cars are nice. Real nice. Upscale. The door is a dull brown. Steel fire door. Boring as hell. Practically yells, “Don’t look at me”  Has a push button lock and a keycard reader.  It opens into a vestibule which is nothing more than a video camera pointed downward and a nozzle that smells faintly of gasoline. Also pointed downward. Once you’ve been positively identified, the inner door clicks and you walk down a short hall to the elevator cage.

When you get off the elevator, You enter through a pair of doors. There is a locker room on each side. Men on the right, women on the left.  Club tradition is, that if you enter the main room, you will have taken a shower first. Even if you put your street clothes back on to go inside.  The dress code is remarkably relaxed. People walk out of the shower room in full tuxedos or clad in nothing more than electrical tape.

The main room looks like the interior of a black box theater. There’s even a rudimentary grid with Fresnel lighting instruments. The rest of the room is dimly lit by dozens and dozens of strings of white LED Christmas lights.

There is a circular stage in the center of the room. Doms and subs compete every night to put on the best show for the other clubgoers to the sounds of Trance Ambient.  There are low tables and the chairs in here are the good kind of executive rolling chairs. There is a large black metal cabinet at the back of the main room which holds toys, lube. condoms, and various other props. The center stage is usually home to a large wooden “X” cross

Or a lightly padded wooden A-Frame, but other props can be arranged ahead of time.

The only other feature of the main room is the full bar. There is a pantry-like room behind the bar for cold storage.

Below the Main Room, accessible only by a spiral staircase is the area known as the “Descent”  It’s a dark hallway of doors on both sides lit only by black light. Each room is a separate mini-dungeon much like the main room upstairs. Each room has a metal cabinet like the one upstairs. Multiple rings bolted to the wall, multiple pulleys, and one comfortable loveseat. The cabinets downstairs also feature clean towels and a tiny mini-bar.

Needless to say, the cells are heavily soundproofed. Unbeknownst to the clubgoers, each cell is linked to a secret passage.

The Staircase continues downwards beyond the Descent, but only the staff ventures down there. The owner’s office is down there as is the laundry and the room where they disinfect everything. (Fun fact: You can sterilize sex toys in a dishwasher) Also, They store the larger frames, cages, and whatnot down here. Happily, all that stuff is modular because otherwise getting it up the spiral staircase would be a massive pain in the ass.

The Membership:

While membership in Surrender Dorothy! isn’t exclusive, it’s certainly not cheap. it costs a 1000 dollars for a years membership, and just like a gym membership, you won’t get your dough back if you don’t go. Both Doms and Subs and Switches understand the whole concept of rules, so generally, everyone is well behaved. It is incredibly rare for anyone to require the Bouncers attention. (He’s very large and surprisingly fast.)

Only one person in the history of the club has ever been banned from the place.  And even Lothar Van Doren freely admits that he had a lapse in discipline and got caught up in the moment.

Members are usually given a small velcro wristband upon entering the club. Doms are red, Subs are blue, switches are yellow, and guests of another member are green. This makes rolling up on someone and propositioning them a great deal less socially ticklish. These can be acquired at a kiosk in the locker room. One can also acquire a simple black mask that ties in back. (Think like Zorro’s mask.) Not everyone feels the need to conceal their identities, but some people in the political realm don’t want to take that chance. One of the club members is an Assistant District Attorney.

The Owner:

He’s a rapier slim Italian gentleman who appears to be in his early 40’s. He dresses very well and carries a  riding crop whenever he is within the club. Rumors indicate that he’s a night folk of some sort. But no one seems to know what kind. He goes to great lengths to conceal his true nature. In fact, He simply has people refer to him as “Cagliostro”  He even hired a person for sixth months to come into the club and impersonate him. the man was clearly not the same man, and yet he seemed to know everything that the former Cagliostro knew. (Vampire? Demon? Magi? Beast? I’m leaving this one purposefully vague.)

“Mr. C.” as many of the staff and clubgoers know him, also owns the design firm and the gallery upstairs. After all, they are a handy tax write-off. He’s not a member of the Vermillion House, but he is a treasured ally.

People that you know that might go:

* Blaise Newkirk doesn't really go in for that sort of kink. But he considers the membership fee money well spent since he's allowed to bring guests who ARE into that sort of thing.

* The Vermillion House, as mentioned before, is considered allied with the club. It is of course not unusual for members of one to visit the other.  Members of SD, are carefully vetted before being invited to a House soiree. And members of the House enjoy slumming it with the lesser rich and their plebian guests. These include Ralston Van Doren (switch), Meredith Shaw(dom all the way), Schuyler Lavey (ditto), and Lorna Crane (bossy bottom)  sometimes Lillian Penobscot tags along even though this isn't really her scene.

* Frederick Wyngarde can't afford to be a member of the club, but ever since he went along as a guest to the place, he started using Fet-Life to look for women with a few extra dollars.

* Milo Karanikas Considers his membership to be a good investment. He uses the place to network and scout for people who are interested in films.

* Some of the senior partners at Holmes, Gillis, Baker, Savage, North, and Dean like the place. Ilyana Baker will top anyone. She's too type "A" for anything else. And Gilbert Savage, well...He'll do anything to anyone and let anyone do anything to him.  Just as long as they can deal with the aftereffects. 

* Mr Cagliostro ("Piacevole per incontrarlo. Speranza indovinate il mio nome.") is one of the few people in the city who actually knows who Lara X is. But as you can imagine, he keeps his mouth shut. It's really no one else's business.

Krieger

Concept: Meth Supplier

AKA: Krieger’s real name is Ronald Lee Talbot. No one calls him that since he was 13 and both of his parents died in a car wreck.  Some people also call him “Blitz”  Most people who know him don’t know that Krieger isn’t his name.

Desc: He’s big and broadly framed. He had a promising career as a full-back before he dropped out of high school. He’s a storm of prison skinhead ink with hints and notes of Odinist worship. He likes the Viking aesthetic, it speaks to him. But he hasn’t really read anything about pagan worship. Before he got involved with the Meth, he looked a lot fatter than he really is and he used to eat like a horse. Now he just looks like wound up corded muscle. His skin is pockmarked and doesn’t look healthy. He’s hairy like a Viking and he’s tried various half-assed attempts to braid some of that, but he doesn’t have the finger dexterity or the patience. His teeth are in poor shape and couple are missing. Although, that was true before the Meth business.  Krieger has been in a lot of fights. 

Krieger has the kind of eyes that make you think that he might be thinking about eating a nice danish while he’s strangling the life out of you with his enormous hands. 

History: The main tragedy of Krieger’s life is that he’s only about half smart and grew up redneck as anything. It meant poor decisions. It meant education that didn’t really mean a damn. It meant a lifetime of blaming shit on people he’d never even met, all his damn life. It meant growing up in social dynamics that were Darwinian at best.  And maybe that’s the only reason why he’s alive.

   Look. Krieger has a few skills and some native intelligence, a guy with his build and his capacity for violence, well the Nazi’s are going to come around and start talking sweet to him.  “Yeah, buddy. It’s totally not your fault you can’t hold down a job. ‘specially when them greasy latino fucks are stealing them from guys like and me.”  Before you know it, These guys are your best friends, and they’re telling you all kinds of totally smart stuff.  And even though you’ve never so much as clapped eyes on a Latino, Muslim, or Jew in your whole life, Well, your pals have laid it all out how those fuckers have stolen your natural birthright.

Easiest thing in the world.

And you know, they might come around some night and say, “Hey Krieger...We got this project and we kind of think you’d be good at ramrodding it. We got this factory where we cook up the Meth and we need someone to boss it and see to security.”   And Krieger, having had some of the Meth, and liking it just fine, jumped at the chance.  

Shockingly, it turned out to be a good fit. They expected he’d flame out like the last guy did. Unless you have that environmental gear like they have on “Breaking Bad” you’re going to get way high just being around the meth while it’s cooking. And that’s how a lot of the fatalities happens, especially since the cooking process is volatile too. Boom.

But Krieger, He’s an odd duck. He likes the Meth, don’t misunderstand me. But he considers the trust that his Aryan brothers have laid on him to be the best fucking thing that has ever happened to him. So he exercises SOME discipline, as much as he can. and he sees to the security end of the operation with a monomaniacal zeal.

The primary factory is in a double-wide trailer at the top of a holler loaded with some of the most nefarious man-traps and deadfalls known to man. Krieger’s daddy was a jarhead in Vietnam, and his stories left an indelible impression on young Ronald.  Anybody coming up this way is liable to set something off and it will be like they kicked a hornets nest. HORNETS ON METH!

Attitude: “Dude. It’s the only real job I’ve really ever been good at. So I’m going to do it well. Come up on the Holler, looking to take this away from me and my brothers, and you’re going to get you a fight.”

Skills: Mentally, Krieger is no great thinker. He doesn’t deal with surprises well. (And he KNOWS this about himself. So he endeavors to plan stuff when things are nice and quiet)  He’s poorly educated but shows a certain amount of technical prowess, much of it learned from his father. and he does mathematics just fine.  

On the social side. He’s big and scary looking. He’s not nervous around women and he’s already figured out that there are some women who’ll gravitate to him, either because he figures they’ll get meth out of him. (likely true) or that he’ll smack them around. (Also likely true.)  He’d likely have a bit more streetwise if he could concentrate better.  Surprisingly, Krieger is turning out to be pretty good at his command of the men who do security. He treats all of them like his brothers, and he always seems to have some kind of plan for when cops or rivals come around. 

Physically, Krieger is a fucking monster. He’s weakest on dexterity certainly, that and his low wits tends to make for poor defense. He does, however, have a strongly athletic(3+) body while it’s holding up. (Meth really does a number on your body long term.) He is, however, Hella strong and he’s got plenty of Stamina to go with all that. He’s been in lots of fights so he’ll have pretty decent scores in Brawl and Weaponry.  He’s not a trained combatant, he might have a dot or two in some kind of Wrestling style.   He’s not a great shot, though. His weapon of choice in that realm is a pump action 12 gauge.

He’ll also have crafts, not a ton of dots maybe, but a number of specs for it. He’d have some automotive, a bit of electrical, some plumbing, some drywall, some carpentry, and a spec in Improvised Explosive devices. Gotta love that internet.  Krieger does at least make certain that the stuff he builds gets tested before it becomes part of the security set-up.  Also, he has Animal Ken out the blowhole, The pit bulls at the complex are very very well trained.

Gear:  He doesn’t trust smart phones and they aren’t much use up the Holler anyway. So he sticks to land lines and his flip phone. Oddly, his little Wal-mart go-phone has lasted way longer than they usually do. Krieger doesn’t text. He’s got a truckers chain wallet where he keeps his necessities. For personal protection, if he’s encountered away from the Holler he will likely have a nice big hunting knife. Anything other than that would be a parole violation. Up at the holler, expect that he’ll have his shotgun near to hand. Even in the bathroom.  He’s paranoid that way.

Home: Krieger is working on a little project. He’s taken some of his money and plowed it into another Trailer, This one is in town and he’s outfitting it as a satellite lab, or a back-up in case the old one goes tits up. He spends some time there every few days or so, He’s getting a read on his neighbors there in the trailer park and he’s working on a venting system that will pump production fumes out into the rainwater drainage outflow pipe at the bottom of the hill.  The trailer is already wired to explode with several pounds of homemade plastique. It will likely shred this trailer and the trailers on both sides of him.  His personal bedroom looks like an armory out of a low-rent spy movie.  He’s been keeping the project quiet for the moment because he wants to present the second lab as a pleasant surprise to the AB leadership, or at worst, as a thoughtful backup plan, that he put together... just in case.   This is the best gig he’s ever had and he means to keep it.

Circle: If you aren’t a redneck, Member of his extended family, or a member of the AB, or some woman looking to smash. Krieger doesn’t want to know you. And he’s big enough and mean enough that he can make you go away if you aren’t armed or a cop.

Story Uses:

“Howdy bruh. You look lost.”

Naturally, Krieger doesn’t really have much to do in town. A lot of what he does, he does out in the county, and then bikers come around and distribute the product, every so often, the Aryan Brotherhood sends someone around to check on things and lay money on the boys for doing a good job. Every so often makings get brought up the holler. They’ve got a source that can make a palette of pseudoephedrine go astray. That shit comes straight here.

“Keep pushing asshole and you’re going to end up feeding the Allfather’s crows.”

While there are some occasional doctrinal issues with the Nazi party and the KKK, both of whom still identify themselves as Christian groups, a lot of these issues are glossed over in the name of combatting a common enemy.  The Aryan Brotherhood has a strong Odinist contingent among them and most of the people that Krieger looks up to, are a part of that. While Krieger still tends to view things through a redneck Christian lens, he is slowly starting to adopt a more Odinist attitude.

Wouldn’t it be something if one of his AB higher-ups discovered that he had a talent for Hedge Magick?

Connections:

* Sheriff Hank Settles knows that there's a Meth lab up there in the foothills somewhere, but he ain't exactly sure where, and he knows from hard experience that even if it's not some kind of fishing expedition for locating a moonshine still or some patch where the grass gets grown...Going up there is a good way to get himself and all of his deputies killed.  All Hank can do right now is keep an eye on who comes and goes and if he sees some means of getting some outside help, he'll take it. Unlike Grass and Shine, This stuff is pure poison.

* Is it any surprise that he and the boys tune in Alex Mahoney and get all riled up out of proportion?

* Once got defended by Christine Horowitz on an aggravated assault charge. It didn't go well. Krieger would like to repay the little jew girl someday, predominantly with the lower half of body.

*Robert Nathan Herbert "Quite possibly the smartest guy I know, and he got me the BEST deal on a truck..."

* Krieger and Ezekiel Stubbs knew one another inside. He turns up at the holler once a week and they always welcome Gallowsbait MC as long lost brothers. Each is convinced that the other guy is dumber and weaker too. But that's ok. Brotherhood is more important.

* Has dumped a body a time or two out at The Borland Farm. Krieger wouldn't know about the place at all except that Darlene is a cousin.

* Homer Conway is a primary contact for the weapons that the AB buy and he also explains that ordinance at Krieger's personal trailer.  Homer is careful with Krieger. He likes the younger man, who reminds him of himself when he was that age, but he's also on guard that the Meth could turn him into some wound up nutcase while his kids and grandkids might be in the house.  It's true. You can turn your back on a drug addict. But you can't turn your back on a drug...especially when it's waving a razor-sharp hunting knife in your eye.

Detective Marty Bennetti

Concept: Vice Cop (Crooked)

AKA:  Cops who are wise to Marty refer to him as “The Weasel”  It is kind of rare for someone to call him Weasel to his face directly. Usually, the blood has to be up.

Desc:  He’s got a nice smile. He’s kind of charming in a greasy low-rent way. He shortish and has a decent head of hair still. Curly, a little salt in among the pepper. He’s got good energy and people who don’t know him very well tend to think he’s funny. He’s still got one of those little gold horn deals that Italian men used to wear around their necks in the 70’s. It was a gift from his pop the day he graduated from the academy. He’s never taken it off. Marty’s still got good muscle tone, he’s kind of vain about it.

History: A guy like Marty, he doesn’t happen overnight. It’s the little things that nibble away at a sense of rightness.  A free coke here, a comped meal there. Soon, maybe you stop a guy along the side of the road and he thanks you for pointing out your busted taillight and then hands you 1000 bucks.  Maybe somebody makes an approach in the department and your paycheck starts getting supplemented in exchange for going around and making pick-ups of cash. And maybe you don’t skim...Because that would fuck other cops on the pad. And that would be wrong.

   Marty’s kind of a puzzle that way. He’s crooked. Make no mistake about that. He’s so crooked that he has to screw his pants on in the morning. But every once in a while Marty remembers that there IS a line and you CAN cross it.

   That’s the thing. Some cops are bent because someone owns them and they want it that way. Marty’s bent, because he’s just corrupt. He thinks nothing about taking protection money from pimps and a weekly fuck from street whores to turn that blind eye.  For the most part, if someone on the inside asks Marty to do something. He’ll go along, but every once in a while, there’s a task that’s just a bridge too far.  He usually does it...But he does occasionally ask himself... How far is TOO far?

Attitude: “ Dude. Everybody does it.  Don’t kid yourself.  In some way, in all the ways that matter. Everybody does it.”

Skills: Physically, He’s okay. He’s in decent shape overall, he’ll have dots of boxing and police tactics. Also, he’s been a boxer since he was a kid, so he’ll be very good at it. His Brawl is non-trivial. He’s liable to have brawling dodge too.  He’s got average scores in firearms and weaponry from his days as a beat cop. Socially, He’s got really good people radar and a positive gift for smelling out lies.  He’s also got a certain amount of low animal cunning when it comes to knowing when someone is trying to rock his boat.

Mentally, Well. He’s not the brightest crayon in the box. Most of his investigative chops come from experience, not from any real brains. And he’s not exactly a genius when it comes to hiding his extra income.  It may just be a matter of time now.

Gear:  Sap gloves, A couple of holdout pieces, a smart-phone, Condoms (natch),  He’s got a couple of stashes of money, weapons, and party drugs in various spots around town.

Home: He owns his own home. (Again, not really all that swish at concealing his illicit income.) and he’s got a nice car. (GTO, most hookers know it on sight.)  He’s also got a bolthole or two where he keeps his stashes.

Circle: Marty is known, if not necessarily well liked, by most of his fellow cops. There are a couple that actually do owe him their lives, though.  Marty’s still pretty big on that whole “Brothers in Blue” attitude and unless you’ve got hard evidence linking him to a crime, you might find yourself utterly surprised to find him backing you up or saving your bacon out of pure instinct. Marty actually seems to get along better with beat cops than fellow detectives.  At least some of the Brass have heard the rumors about his moral flexibility...But then again, some of the Brass are on the inside too.

Story Uses:

“Look, if you had anything substantial, you wouldn’t be talking to me like this. You’d have me in handcuffs and you’d be punching me in the dick. So let’s just drop it ok?”

 Marty seems to have one real gift. He’s able to squirm out from under the belt sander of destiny. And maybe that’s not going to last forever. But Marty doesn’t think long term. Never has. He’s got some half-assed idea about retiring some day and buying a boat and living down on the Keys somewhere.

“Ok. Cover me. I’ll circle round and draw his fire.”

Marty’s one of those guys with “Paydon’s Curse”  You never can tell what he’s going to care about. He likes his money. He likes his pussy-for-hire, he likes his occasional party drugs and he likes being able to shoot people with no real consequences.  And if he has to do some sketchy things to maintain that life, he’ll do it with a smile.  But every once in a while, his angels get better of him and he does something selfless and heroic. Not because he knows it will patch his reputation. (although it has done that at times.) but because he figured he’d never be able to look himself in the face again.  So far, these things haven’t proven to be mutually exclusive to one another. One day...They will be.

Connections:

* Detectives Blanchard and Skiggs have kind of a mixed reaction to Marty. Marty once saved Dick's life in a shootout with a suspect. Although later on, he got tagged for that corruption case just because they were hanging out together. So, As far as these two are concerned, he's good people, but it doesn't do to hang around with him too much or too publicly.

* Detective Dana Crowley wants to arrest him so bad that it makes her clit hard. But so far, he's managed to keep his shit under the radar.

* Drago Velikovski doesn't like the guy but understands he's a necessary evil. Police protection is never going to be free.

* Detective Bob Greider has noticed both sides of Marty's character. He hopes the better angels will win out, but he also knows that isn't the way to bet.  He also understands that if Marty DID catch an inconvenient case of conscience.  Somebody would ventilate his brain case.

* He's a regular listener of Alex Mahoney

* Before he moved up to Detetctive the last rookie he was partnered with was Officer Wesley Ullman. As such, Ullman knows a few things about him but doesn't talk about it. As a result, anytime Marty hears that Ullman is having money troubles, he'll find a little cash in his locker. Ullman is grateful...But also bothered.

* Somebody once asked Miss Virgie Hawkins what she thought about Marty. she said, "I'd trust him with my life. But I wouldn't trust him with my money."

* Someone keeps dropping anonymous hints to him about a porn operation in town. The operation belongs to Milo Karanikas and this is just The Vermillion House covering their investment.

* While no one really knows about Bryson Import/Export. Marty has boned most of Esmerelda's staff and Esmerelda herself. He'd know them on sight.  If he ever caught wise to them, they'd end up with an unwanted partner and WAY more overhead than they have now. Even Pablo would have trouble making a cop disappear.

* Marty is Big Dan Tarleton's guy on the inside. It's worked out pretty well for them both.

* He's bought guns off of Homer Conway in at least 2 situations those guns ended up in the hands of people who had to be shot because they were brandishing a weapon. Hey. it happens that way sometimes. Tragic.

* Detective Bela Janofski once put his badge and gun on the desk and said he was not going to work with that fucking weasel. The captain could see that he was serious as a heart attack.

Tim Deacon

Concept: King of the Homeless

AKA: Often goes by “Deke”

Desc: Lean and hard like a steppe wolf. He’s usually stubbly because he shaves periodically. He doesn’t like his beard. But he doesn’t have a lot of razors and tends to go days without shaving.  His hair is longish and stringy. His left eye has gone white with cataracts and he can’t see out of it. His right eye is blue and has a burning anger in it. He’s a caucasian male and in his late 30’s. He looks way older. It’s not the years. It’s the mileage.  He has an Army Rangers tattoo. He still does his PT. Lives on canned fruit, yogurt, and coffee.

History:  Once upon a time, the Army was a pretty decent deal for a poor boy wanting to go to college. Tim was pretty good at keeping his head low and he served in the front end of the Iraq War without getting himself horribly killed. And that probably would have been the end of the story right there. He’d served, even with some distinction as he’d become a spec operator. He wasn't the BEST army ranger. But he was good enough to be ONE of them.

But Tim got stop-lossed. He ended up being stuck fighting a war that was supposedly “Over”. And as things go, his luck ran out.  He and his squad ended up stuck in-country when an IED jacked up their transport. They were able to get out, and those guys were good enough to fight their way out of the planned ambush. But it still meant they were stuck for a ride back. Transpo was on the way...Or so they said.

   We may never know. The squad was trekking to safe ground for evac when they ran across some outback military installation that was WAY off of any map that their higher ups seemed to have. A quick look around led to a bit of shooting, and then the installation exploded and belched forth a cloud of sickly green looking smoke.

   Most of the guys died right then.

When Evac turned up, an hour later, Tim was the only one still twitching. Nobody is really sure what happened to Warren or Shimizu. Maybe they crawled away or something...

   The next bit is all too familiar. If being blind in one eye wasn’t enough, the terrible seizures were enough to get Tim sent home.  He went back, but he wasn’t the same. He couldn’t turn off the readiness.  He would get furiously angry over nothing and he’d get twitchy over things that nobody ever seemed to understand.  His parents tried to help, but they didn’t have much to help with. The VA was fucking useless. Eventually, even his girl realized that she was in WAY over her head and pulled the ripcord.  He couldn’t hold down a job. He couldn’t stop from going 0-to-sixty in a second flat. Booze and the bullshit VA meds weren’t even taking the edge off.  It was only a matter of time before he simply fell off the grid and stayed there.

   And that’d be the whole story really. But for one thing. The seizures were prophetic visions. And they tended to be literal visions with wildly overwhelming sensory input. Not some kind of metaphorical vision which tells you fuck-all until it’s almost too late.  The only problem is, the seizures were pretty terrible and impossible to control at all. You never knew what would cause them to kick off.  

   The event that caused Tim to realize his visions weren’t some kind of insane delusion involved a no-shit vampire preying on Frieda. Frieda was a friend on the street. Not the brightest crayon in the box, but friendly and kind. Tim saw some horrifying fucker with some flappy rash of a face biting her on the neck near the Dansky Overpass and her dying from it.  For some reason, he began staying close to her. Frieda had always been kind to Tim. Had held him when the shakes came. The vision kept gnawing at him. So he kept an eye on her.  One night, she got a call on her go-phone and left the shelter. When he woke up, she was gone. 

   He followed her to the overpass. He knew that’s where she would go. She met the no-shit-i’m-telling-you-for-real vampire and they talked a bit before he grabbed and began biting her.

   Before that dickhead knew exactly what was happening. He found a wooden stake sticking out of his front.  Deke decided that maybe he might want to pay more attention to the things he sees in the seizures.

    Now, things are different.  Deke has a spot out near the underside of the 12th street bridge where he meets with his people. Deke’s people always seem to know where and when good food is about to be thrown out. They’ve gotten pretty good at staying off the cop’s radar and staying out from under the other Nosferatu. Deke even catches the occasional lotto number and hands it off to someone in true need for a small percentage.   Only one guy ever tried to short Deke on his percentage. That guy went to the emergency room.  What does Deke spend the money on?  He’s got a gun or two laid by. Some canned goods and some bottled water. There’s always SOME kind of hammer coming down, right?

Attitude: “The seizures are pretty bad. I haven’t bit my tongue in half yet...But even if I did...It would be a small price to pay. I was willing to serve my country. But my country hasn’t given me fuck-all back...But MY people?  My people do.”

Skills: Socially, he’s only really good at empathy and streetwise. Mentally, he’s not more than average at anything that doesn’t involve tactical knowledge or understanding. Physically, he’s strong. fast, and has more stamina than anything else.  He’s got Danger Sense, Toxin Resistance, and fast reflexes. He’s got dots of survival out the YANG. and a spec in Urban survival.  He’s got a pretty good knowledge of small unit tactics, and now, as a direct result, so do some of the homeless people under his banner.  (Also, in addition to his precognitive abilities, he's developed Unseen Sense(Ghost) he just doesn't know exactly what that's all about yet. He thinks it might be hallucinations because it kind of seems connected to his visions...but not actually a part of them...per se.)

Gear: His shotgun is old but still functional. He’s got a pistol, but bullets and shells are always in short supply. So those arms are for ugly surprises, but he’s got a machete that has seen plenty of use, and it never needs to be reloaded. He’s got a go-phone (many homeless people do so they can do factory work on a daily hire basis.) He’s got a wallet, but it's mostly just to house his most necessary possession. His library card. He’s often at the library trying to come up with some kind of plan to help his people or study up on vampires and whatnot. He’s gone to some trouble to be friendly to the librarians there so they don’t freak out when he gets the shakes real bad.

He’s got a good set of bump keys that bought online with a visa gift card. He’s become pretty conversant in their use.

Home: One of his people found a spur tunnel that connects to the boiler room of three of the older buildings of the university medical school. Mostly, it enables him to move around in the hospital section pretty easily. But he doesn’t like to linger there very often. The spur is buttoned up pretty tight when he’s away and he gets by swiping small things from the cafeteria line. He’s also snagged a couple of sets of scrubs and a lab coat. You know, just in case.

Circle: Tim knows a few people outside the homeless people. A couple of them were helped by his timely intervention. He’s a known face at the library of course, and nobody seems to look at him twice near the hospital, but he’s not sure that he can settle in there exactly. One really bad seizure there and the balloon would go up for him. While he could probably sneak into one of the rooms where the interns sleep and sack out there easily, it’s simply too risky. He does brave the shower room very early in the morning every chance he can get. Frieda is his personal secretary/aide-de-camp and has pretty sharp people radar.

Story Uses:

* “Catch you fuckers at a bad time?”

Depending on where your characters fall down on the good/evil scale, He could be a timely bacon saver or the monkey wrench in your carefully laid plans. He likely won’t get involved with you or your people unless there is a direct benefit to his people...But you never know. You may have a larger role to play than you know.

* “ Look. I know you have no reason to care, but it’s my people I'm thinking about here.”

That hammer? The one that’s always coming down? It may be that the characters have been shown to Tim in visions as a possible solution. So maybe he reaches out to them. 

Connections:

*Was forced to step in once and intervene when some neighborhood punks were hassling Miss Virgie Hawkins. She never got the chance to thank him before having to flee. If she sees him again... Lord only knows what strange twist their lives will take.

* Occasionally, Tim sees John Patmos in his visions, he still has NO idea who this guy is.

* Joseph Cartolano is always good for a box of donuts and occasional loaves of bread. In return, Frieda calls him anytime the homeless people hear anything about vampires moving around.

* It didn't start out to be personal, Tim knew he needed to allow a person an opportunity to get out of the limo, so he showed up with his Bucket and went to town on the windows at exactly the right time. But Lambrose Karanikas was such an utter shitheel about it, that now they look for opportunities to fuck with him.

* Dr. Dennis McMurtry is also a person who comes around every once in a while to drop some cash on the community in exchange for open eyes and ears. Every month, they get a visa gift card in the mail for about a 100 bucks. The Doc is good people.

* Ain't a person down here who wouldn't kill or die for Dr. Ronnette Franklin. Errybody knows that.

* Charlie "Funny thing about that old man. He sees stuff too. but he sees it different. When he comes around, though, If he's got things to say, I sit up and pay attention. He sees things I CAN'T. "