Rika Martinez

Concept: Tulku from the Burbs.

AKA: Master Dorje

Desc: A 14-year-old mixed race young woman. Bright and winning smile. Eyes that seem to say, “I know something you don’t” Confident and polite far beyond her years. Long glossy black hair. Fuck heels, sneakers please. The beginnings of her mother's impressive rack. Musical laugh.  Has a calming air about her.   Is considering a tattoo for her next birthday, but can’t decide what. 

History: Okay. This is where it gets complicated. Rika is the daughter of a former stripper and a former biker. But that’s really on the surface of things. See. Rika is actually a Tulku. She is the reincarnation of a full-on Bodhisattva named Master Dorje. At least that was his name in his last incarnation. It goes further back than that. Rika’s mom is part Tibetan and wouldn’t you know it, this is perhaps the first life that the master was born into that wasn’t within miles of his monastery.

   And you know, Rika/Dorje is pretty okay with that. You know, being a Tulku, she/he is actually pretty chill. And Rika/Dorje has found that life outside the monastery walls is pretty interesting and complex and maybe the other Bodhisattva’s are missing out on great opportunities here out in the world.

Take her parents for example. “Jasmine” (Real name=Dawa) was working at the Caboose some years ago when she met Julio. Back in those days both had a taste for nose candy and they kind of fell into it fast. Julio used to ride with the Diablos. And while he still has friends in that M.C.  There were a couple of cabrons that couldn’t keep their hands off his Kool-Aid, and that lead to him getting ousted and getting the shit kicked out of him.  Dawa took him home...and he never really left after that.

After Rika was born, things changed. Neither one of them felt the need to anything to do anything more to themselves than a couple of beers on the weekend. Julio stopped smoking. Julio, further, put his knowledge to work and now owns his own auto-mechanic’s shop. (He’d be a rich man if he weren’t always cutting deals for poor folks from his neighborhood.) Dawa went back to school, got herself a C.P.A credential and now works at a neighborhood bank as it’s primary loan officer. (Truth be told, she’d have risen higher than she has ,but occasionally she gets a gut instinct about a person and decides to go with her gut. So far, she’s never been wrong but it does tend to get her in hot water with the bank manager.) In the back of both of their minds, is the idea that to do otherwise would be a terrible disappointment to their daughter.

And you know, funny thing, but the tenor of the neighborhood changed after Rika was born. Craziest thing.  Poor folks minded their own business and took good care of the things they owned. The gangs shuffled off to fight over another patch. There was a slow effort at gentrification. Oddly it wasn’t some weird hostile takeover. Some people just left the neighborhood never to be seen again and some new folk moved in and suddenly the Hood was essentially in the burbs. If anyone squawked about it, they didn’t squawk loud.

The main reason for this is that Master Dorje has fierce powers where it comes to the spirit world. Demons and other sorts of baneful spirits perish in terrible fiery agony at her/his touch. Most of them see her inner light and are scared shitless of it.  Ghosts tend to be laid to rest at her touch.  Her BFF Latrice had demon problems until she grabbed her wrist and whispered, “Know peace, little blossom.”  And from that day on, her demons were gone... Well. it should be mentioned that Latrice wrestles with her attraction for Rika, which Rika doesn’t help much by being a tiny bit gender-fluid. But other than that...BFF’s all the damn way.

And Rika is still growing into her powers. Even Dorje doesn’t exactly know how much potential she may yet possess.  The one thing though that is yet undeniable is that she is still mortal. And the baneful spirits may yet find a way to come at her indirectly. Rita listens to this from Dorje (She hasn’t internalized him yet) but she is at the age where she is wondering what path to walk in this life. She’s been a warrior. She’s been a healer. She’s been a priest many times.  She wonders if maybe politics might offer her the best opportunities to help people and raise souls to greater understanding. Time will tell.

Attitude: 

“Ok normally, when a person runs for student council they run on a platform of trying to get a soda machine in the Caf. And hey, that wouldn’t be uncool. But I think that maybe my platform is more about doing things to stop bullying, promote gender equality, and working for greater orientation acceptance. We’re supposed to be learning about the world. Let's learn how to make it a better one. Thank you for your time!”

Skills: Does not drive. But could likely sail a small ship unerringly using only the stars for navigation.  Has a decent pile of dots in both Mentals and Socials and is perfectly average in Physicals for a girl her age. Probably knows fuck-all about modern medicine, but could probably whip up a poultice if she had to.  Has strong social skills and is developing fairly well in beginning to understand the modern age she’s growing up in. Occult 5 with numerous Tibetan flavored specialties to draw on.  Also: 5 dots of Brawl and an attendant 5 additional dots of a soft defensive fighting style. Although Rika already knows that if something comes to blows, she’s likely already failed...and she takes those failures very personally. Speaks fluent Spanish and Tibetan

Gear: Bedazzled smartphone and over-developed thumbs to go with it. Lip gloss pilfered from mom’s stash. Gum. Pocket-knife with Diablos logo on it. Pocket diary written in archaic Tibetan.

Home: Casa Martinez is a peaceful island. The neighbors have become good friends over the years and often come around to soothe their jangled souls. Dawa has actually become fairly good at dispensing good advice to their friends.  and Julio, for his part has helped a few people out of jams that required a little more...force. Not that anyone thinks about it much, but if some disaster were to befall the Martinez family, the neighborhood would come out of the woodwork to help them out in their time of need.

Circle: Rika has her friends and a few people she knows online. Her peer group doesn’t extend very far, but she’s never ever scared of meeting new people and has the utter invincibility of a 14-year-old when it comes to walking up to new people in different places. So it may not stay that way long.

Story Uses:

“Well, that’s silly. Who’d want to hurt me?”

Obviously, There are creatures that would rather like to see Rika taken off the count. They cannot, however, (read=Are too chickenshit) come at her directly. Your PC’s might be in the unusual position of having to protect her, or, worse option, might be the ones tasked to take her out.

“Car crapped out? Must be destiny. My dad’s a mechanic!”

Rita is the sort of character that it’s kind of fun to spring on a PC, especially if they are having the worst day ever. She can, with effort, push down derangements, calm frenzies, suspend mind control, and exorcise spirits and ghosts almost at will.  She can be the answer to very many prayers.

Connections:

* Knows all the "Old Girls" at The Caboose and refers to them as Auntie (stage-name here) Can't help but bump into them at the grocery. On those rare occasions when Dawa goes to visit them, Rika tags along and even Carl and Razor Burn are polite. Anybody who knows Burn knows that it's probably because Psycho-Pirate told him once that if he so much as looks at Rika or Dawa wrong, they'll never find his body.

* On rare occasions, she has to ride the bus to get someplace. She and Charlie have had long intricate talks about things.

She's also had some contact with Lewis Flowers and she's seen his aura.  She'd like to set him free, but he avoids her like the plague.

* Has heard tell of Grace Cook. Went looking. Found her, but wasn't able to lay her to rest. It was frankly disconcerting. More study is required perhaps.

* Caused John Patmos to spontaneously discorporate once at a chance encounter. It was frankly disconcerting...for both of them. John has NO idea what was able to do that to him and he is, as you might imagine, a bit concerned.

* Loves The Grimoire. Her favorite after-school stop.

* Loves Rory O'Halloran's truck Paddy's Wagon. Has a bit of a crush on Walter, who has a bit of a crush on Luna Krumholtz at the Grimoire. So it's a little tricky.

Captain Roy Gunderson

Concept: Smuggler

AKA: Most people just know him as “Cap” Although there are a few who refer to him, behind his back as “Captain Smelly”.

Desc:  Leanish and tallish. Perpetual scowl hidden behind an impressive beard. Blonde, with a bit of gray here and there. Mild tremors in his fingers from nerve damage over the years.  Wears work boots and a large black pea coat with a black watch cap. Most people wouldn’t necessarily recognize him without that gear on or off his boat for that matter.

History: Roy made a mistake.  And it was pretty big one. And he, being raised Catholic, has let it haunt him his entire life.  Once, when he was a much younger man, He was in love with a young woman, and she, for her part, was in love with him. And they, being young and Catholic...Well. They loved one another.

Oh sure...They did...lots of things that weren’t the exact thing. But eventually, they’d done all that.  And, as I said, they loved each other.  They were going to be together and all that. SO. Eventually,  Yeah. At the drive-in movies,of all places.

   And you know, Roy would have married her. He did love her. He was scared shitless of course, he was super young and not at all ready to be a father. But he was going to try by god. Their parents all shook their heads and there were occasional bitter tears.

   She got big. She got round. And you know, as time went by, he began to get a bit excited about his life with her and their child. And there isn’t a day that goes by that he doesn’t tell himself that he might have made a good father. There really isn’t a day that goes by that he doesn’t miss her.

   But she came back from the doctor with the news that she was going to give birth to triplets. And all of a sudden, it was all very real, and very close, and insurmountable.

And he ran. He hopped a freighter and signed on with the Merchant Marines. He went with the idea that he would learn a trade and then maybe go back and beg her forgiveness and raise their children.  He got in touch with his brother and let him know where he was and what was happening, so his parents wouldn’t worry.

When he got the letter back from him, he found that his girl had tried to abort the babies herself and died of peritonitis. And because of the way she’d died, The church wouldn’t allow her to be buried on hallowed ground. So her parents were in something of a state, as you could imagine. And if he were to come home, her father and brothers were likely to kill him.

He tried to kill himself that night. They found him more quickly than he expected.  Several months later, he tried again. But again he wasn’t successful. He began to get the idea that God had turned his face away from him and that the only way he could just die would be naturally. He also reasoned, that she was in hell and if he committed suicide, he’d be forced to face her. He wasn’t sure he could ever face her again.

He stayed in the service, made money, spent virtually nothing on himself and banked it. Eventually, he rose in rank, because he never complained, and banked more money that way. Eventually, when he mustered out, he had a nice chunk of change, and nowhere to go really. Finally, he ended up buying his own boat.

He bought a garbage scow. It was the only thing he could afford to buy completely. He really didn’t feel like he deserved better either.  He rehabbed the crew quarters into a decent space and crewed the ship all by himself.  When he was making decent money back on his investment, he started going to see someone about his guilt. His priest eventually pointed him in the direction of a shrink who gave him some medicine to keep his clinical depression at bay.

At one point there was a bit of a cash-flow problem, but Roy knew some people, and those people occasionally wanted things moved over the open water without anyone being the wiser. Guns. Drugs. Trade-goods. Things like that. Occasionally, his conscience would bother him about the merchandise he was moving, but it turned out he was actually pretty good at it and the money was fantastic.  

Roy actually has a rare “gift” He is completely anosmic. He has exactly zero sense of smell. On the rare occasions, that the coast guard has actually boarded him, the smell of his boat is so eye-wateringly awful that they usually just let him go as fast as they can get his story out of him.  That’s by design. The smell is a saucy melange of custom made stink brewed up in the head below-decks. It’s made with stink bomb juice, rancid grease, fecal matter, and water from the bilge. Things that want smuggling are usually shrink-wrapped and tossed under a tarp that has been treated with this stuff. He’s even gone to the lengths of making the tarp look like the rest of the garbage on the deck.

Roy keeps going. He drinks more than he should. He also doesn’t seem to have a good idea of what to do with his money. He’s banked quite a bit and sent some home to his relations. He reads a lot and lavish’s affection on his tiny kitten.  But he’s really just marking time. All he really wants is to check out, and if that comes from piloting into a storm, or getting caught and shot by the Coast Guard.  That’s just fine with him. Maybe God will let him go to hell in Susan’s place. It’d be worth it to him.

Attitude: “Kid. The open water is a dangerous place. It will eat you alive if you stop paying attention to it for longer than a second. So you have to be mindful. Also, you’ll get a lot farther as a professional sailor if you simply stop complaining about the way things are. This is a hard life and it weeds out those who aren’t able to work hard or pay attention.”

Skills: Loads of stamina and composure. Can drive most water-borne vessels that require only a single operator. Has been in a few fights over the years and has a respectable number of brawl dots and weaponry dots. Bought a Barrett light 50 in case he runs afoul of pirates. Fortunately for him, you don’t have to be all that accurate with one of those. All you have to do is be able to lift the damn thing. Which he can do. He got some dots of crafts for jury rigging the boat’s systems.  and a couple of dots of Computer (He’d go insane without SOME connection. His membership in a forum that discusses Clinical depression issues is pretty much his lifeline.

He also got a few dots of expression with a specialization in poetry.  His computer on the ship holds 25 years of unpublished poetry. He’s left a note in his computer that if any member of his family finds it, they should erase every bit of it.  This would actually be a terrible loss.

Gear: Rarely without a package of fisherman’s friend.,A roll of quarters that’s been well taped, and a nice leather journal. He keeps a bag at the company where he berths that scow of his. He knows his normal work gear is terribly smelly from mere proximity, so he keeps a stash of clothing off the boat entirely. He has a flip phone. He wears a money belt as a matter of course.  Although the kid who pulled a knife on him outside The Cove ended up getting himself beat to a pulp.

Home: As mentioned, He lives aboard the scow. He’s actually done a pretty decent job on the interior of the crew deck. The original boat had five full bunks, but he’s only ever needed two of them for added crew. He pilots the boat himself and does all the work on it himself.  He occasionally takes on crew for certain bits of smuggling. Normally those guys have some breathing/Filtering apparatus so they can work above decks.  Even below-decks there is a lingering stench that one can eventually become scent-blind to.

Roy doesn’t really cook all that much.  Anosmia tends to do a number on your taste receptors too. He could conceivably live on oatmeal and ramen for the rest of his life. But he does have a pantry on board and keeps a host of foodstuff that can sit for months without spoiling. Which is good. He wouldn’t necessarily notice if it did.

Circle: Roy’s IRL circle is pretty small. Sailors. Criminals. That’s pretty much it.  He does have an online presence in a number of fora dedicated to Catholicism, Depression, and poetry.  He never ever talks about his IRL job.

Story Uses:

“Me. I simply don’t care. You want that moved, it will cost you this much. I don’t haggle.”

Got something that you need taken to a Liberian registry vessel just out past the 13-mile limit. Roy will be your guy.  Also: He doesn’t give a fuck about who you think you are. He has a price. You meet it, and he’ll get it there. Draw a gun or knife on him. He’ll stare at you until you put away.

“The Ocean...Well. Let’s just say I’ve seen a few things.”

And he has. You might turn into a large wolfy engine of destruction and he might not even blink.  But even better, Roy knows the waters around this city like the back of his hand. If you’re looking for transport to someplace weird out on the water, odds are good that he already knows where it is. and isn’t scared to go there for some reason.

Connections:

*Has made professional contact with Ezekiel Stubbs and Homer Conway from regular gun shipments into the country from Ireland.

* Schuyler Lavey once hired him to move 500 pounds of tusk ivory for some reason. Seemed to think it was very cool to have "his" own smuggler.

* Has done work and once, even earned a favor from Don Pentangelli. He's nervous about cashing it in. (But if he did he'd lean on the parish priest to get Susan re-interred in holy ground. He's just squeamish about having Mafiosi leaning on priests.)

*For the longest time, Clarinda Hale's parents kept Roy in their Rolodex as an extreme ex-fill option. Clarinda knows about him but they've never actually met. He's just a number on a card marked, "If you have to get out of the country, call this man."

*Similarly, Marcie Hawkins has him in under "Exit-Stage-Left"

Dr. Payton Breckinridge

Concept: Golden Boy and all around Mensch

AKA: His middle name is Richard and is known by people he went to school with as Rick or Ricky.

Desc: Easy smile. Bright blue eyes. Blond hair (only slightly receding) The frame of a former linebacker. Left knee bothers him when it gets cold. Still runs to keep fit. Has given up smoking but has gone over to Vaping. Still is fond of the occasional brewskis, but has become something of a whiskey snob.

History: Peyton would be an easy guy to hate. He’s from an old money family and has had every single advantage a rich white person can enjoy growing up. He’s strong, well built. athletic eats like a starving wolf and doesn’t get fat from it. He’s a good-looking son of a bitch and he heads up a medical concern that makes money hand over fist.

Also, he’s a generally likable fellow and doesn’t seem to be a douchebag about religion or politics like so many rich folks seem to be.

      There are reasons. Forrest Breckinridge, his father, and patriarch of the Breckinridge family had different ideas about the path of Payton’s life. From an early age, Peyton was groomed for a career in politics and business. What his father failed to take into account, and what his mother noticed early on, was that Payton had a very very sweet and loving disposition. Most of the advice his father would give him about who was worthy and who could be trusted and wasn’t, just sort of rolled off of him. He just wasn’t wired the way his father wanted.

   Another element of his character surfaced early, and his father completely missed its significance. Payton was raised around horses and he was encouraged to have animals. Father thought that this right and meet and proper for a young man of his station and he was further proud of Payton’s willingness to make sure that his animals were properly cared for after the ride was over.  Forrest seemed to see that maybe his ideas of Nobless oblige were taking root in some small way.

    But that wasn’t it at all. Payton loved animals. And unlike any of the humans in his life, Animals never judged him.   He made a decision in his teens that someday, he would turn his hand to doing something with animals.  And he began to plan ahead. because he knew his father wouldn’t approve.

   Payton took every bit of pocket money he could save, birthday savings bonds, and some financial advice from sympathetic cousins and squirreled it away into high yield mutual funds. He began sabotaging entrance interviews to the prestigious business schools that he’d been sent to and finally landed an interview to a veterinary school that he DID want to go to.

    So essentially, when he presented to his father that he was going to the finest veterinary school in the country, on a scholarship no less, when his father melted down completely and cut him off, he turned around funded his first year of college out of his own pocket.  

 Oh, it wasn’t easy. There was a lot of ramen and peanut butter. There were a lot of part-time jobs held down in order to stay in school. He mucked out stalls. he worked retail. He tended bar. It was actually good for him, shook out those last kinks of his father attitudes.

   And you know, They might have mended their fences eventually. Mom worked on him some. And Forrest had to admit that his eldest son had some spine.  (The same could not be said for some of the other Breckinridge offspring. Payton, for his part, still loved his father but he had inherited at least a bit of his drive and ambition. Payton knew that he could never apologize to his father because to do so, would mean, in his father’s mind, that Payton had been wrong. And Payton was NOT ever going to denigrate the life he’d built for himself by allowing him that.

Them Breckinridge men can be a bit stiff-necked.  But as I say, they probably would have patched it up eventually.

If Mother hadn’t died.  Both men loved her and both men grieved over her, and anyone who went to the funeral could see that it had affected them both rather badly. There were words. Payton walked away and while he still maintains contact with his siblings, he and father do not speak. To be clear here. Forrest isn’t some fucking monster. He deeply regrets the things he said. So does Payton. But neither is willing to budge.  It may be that it’s too late for all that.

   In any case, Payton has a thriving business called “Regional Veterinary Associates” He took a good deal of the business acumen he possesses and leveraged it into a full on veterinary practice that functions much like a shared doctor practice does.  The practice also has a fleet of pick-up trucks and horse trailers. Some have been outfitted as a mobile lab/operating theater and others are just horse trailers. And for the most part, Payton doesn’t even have to play the market anymore in order to shore up the business.  They’ve even managed to land the contract for necropsies from the local horse race-course.

Oh sure. it’s not ALL beer and skittles.  His siblings still try to set him up with women that they think Payton will like(read= not be an embarrassment to the family). They are usually wide of the mark. Most of them are far too spoiled.  Payton isn’t really one to look for himself. (“Who has the time?”)  He HAS learned to introduce them all to his BFF/senior partner, Bailey King.

Bailey has pretty good people radar and over the course of a friendship stretching back to equestrian events in their teens, has worked out a pretty elaborate series of hand gestures.  She’s usually pretty good at sussing out the women who are completely wrong for him. (Although at least one of those girls ended up being right for her and they’ve been going strong for years. Payton was best man at their wedding.)  

If there’s one real fly in the ointment. It’s that certain people still have plans for Payton. Plans that he wasn’t asked about and that if he knew of them, wouldn’t want any part of.

Attitude: “Chelsea, I’m not going to lie to you. Phantom’s leg is never going to be as strong again as it was. He’ll probably never race again. But he’s responding well to the treatment and he’s got a good even temper, so he’s not likely to hurt himself. I think you can still get a lot of use out him for the rest of his days. He might be VERY good breeding stock and I know a few people you can call.  So...his role will change. certainly.   But each day you get to spend with him is still a gift.”

Skills: He’s good(3+) at nearly every aspect of being an adult human being except lying. Manipulation 1, still... after all these years. Doesn’t mean he can’t sniff them out, though. Can’t get far in business without that. He is extremely well educated. Has lots of dots of Medicine, Animal Ken and a passel of specialties to go with them. He is a very capable equestrian and used to play polo like a demon. He learned a number of skills from his father. Academics specialty in Business, and a few dots of Politics. No combat skills to speak of.Although his football days means that he's not entirely incapable of a fight.  A very smart guy, but also fairly sociable too.  His main social skill is that he tends to be fairly relaxed, and doesn’t tend to get offended by people who aren’t trying to offend him. A skill he wishes his brother and sisters would learn.

Gear: Payton has resisted getting a smartphone for ages, but there are simply too many useful apps for a medical practitioner. He normally carries a pocket-knife which also has a straight razor blade. and a small matching multi-tool. He carries a large tool bag that he got at Home Depot. Largest one he could find with the most pockets. He keeps a bewildering array of useful medical tools and medicines in there. Normally keeps it in the metal box on the back of his Pick-up. He also has a pocket of animal/people treats. and he’s normally got his iPad on him.

Home: While he certainly LIKES his iPad, His house is mostly furnished in bookcases. Payton keeps it simple for the most part. Has a nice house in an upscale neighborhood, nice pool and hot tub. He’s got a barn out back and there’s enough space to ride...But he’s home so seldom he can’t stand the idea of his OWN horse being neglected.  His cleaning lady Marta doesn’t really have a lot to do on Thursday when she comes around. But he enjoys making breakfast for the both of them and telling her stories about things going on at the office.  Bailey likes Marta. So does Payton if he were ever honest with himself about it.

He does, however, have an extensive aquarium and a cat, Abraham, who watches the fish-tank like its television.

Circle:Payton is a people person and he enjoys knowing people from all manner of social strata. He effortlessly rubs elbows with rich scions of various families in town  but thinks nothing of sidling up to the horse trainers at various places, buying them a pint of bitters and listening to their endless stories. He’s even helped out getting the occasional cat out of a tree. Yeah, I know.  He’s sickeningly sweet like that. People just like him and he seems to have a real gift for connecting with them through their pets.  He’s the kind of fellow you want to be a better person around. 

Story Uses:

“I only tango a little..” 

He might make a good S.O. for a female character.  He’s a decent guy but he’s seen some things you know?  and he certainly isn’t stupid. Girl, you could do worse.

“What the hell? What are these chemicals? and how did they GET here?”

Also: you should be aware that if there is something weird going on in the animal world of your town, especially anything large scale. Payton is likely going to have it cross his desk. County Animal Control might know about it first. But eventually Payton will find out, and he will want to know exactly what the hell.

Connections:

*Once, DJ Psychopirate sat in the RVA lobby with Payton's arm around her shoulders as she ugly-cried for a solid hour when he told her that her kitty Vandal Savage was going to have to be euthanized. DjPp never forgets a kindness like that.

*Anytime Ms. Blavatski from The Grimoire has a medical issue. This is where they come.  Ms. B. Doesn't seem to respond well to homeopathic remedies.
*Is on a first name basis with Pat and Darlene Borland of The Borland Farm. "Most aggressive damn hogs I have ever seen."
* When RVA opened their new facility for the first time, Patricia "Carnie" Pitt came down and interviewed Payton. Commented that he was a natural on camera. Also, she brings Bud and Lou down for a yearly check-up ever since Lou swallowed a bath sponge whole. That was a bit dicey.
* Knows Lillian Penobscot of course. She's nice enough but when she gets a drink or two in her she starts talking a bunch of superstitious nonsense.  Her friend Lorna Crane seems to eye him hungrily, though. She's fetching enough, but Bailey waved him off. "You are not to fuck that woman." she said. "you are not to fuck that woman with a STOLEN dick!"
*Has known Meredith Shaw since pre-school. Probably the only time most people have really seen Payton angry was an incident at an event, where he yanked the riding crop out of her hands and broke it over his knee. Meredith is actually a tiny bit scared of the utter fury she saw on his face that day. She usually avoids him at social events if she can.
* Naturally, the Breckinridge family is one of "Those" families. Forrest has been a member of The Vermillion House for ages and has been angling to try to become a member of the Inner Circle. (They seem strangely reticent for some reason.) But Payton's name comes up in their meetings from time to time. Oh...They know he doesn't have the temperament. But his brother Bartholomew and his two sisters are a seething cauldron of volcanically hot mess. They'd prefer that Payton inherit the bulk of the family's assets and continue using them at the House's behest. They'd like that very much.

Meredith Shaw

Concept: Executive/Corporate Streamliner/ HBIC

AKA:None

Desc: Long blonde hair,normally worn up and off her slender neck. Blue eyes. Natural hauteur. A certain frosty elegance set off by a seemingly easy grace (Which took some time at finishing school to develop.) Smart eyes. Reading glasses which she’s a little vain about. An expensive smile. a scar where she had her sorority tramp stamp removed. flawless taste in clothes. Never wears jewelry. Just doesn’t like the feel of it.

History: From an old money family, raised all her life to a certain amount of privilege. Meredith is the sort of girl who was groomed to a certain amount of control over her destiny.

Just...not as much as she would have liked. She discovered fairly early, that she’d rather be the spanker rather than the spankee, and once she got over her desire to date bassists, she discovered that while she was able to find men of affluence who desired a woman who could take control...She found that she couldn’t respect most of them once she’d “Conquered” them.  Hard cheese really.

    Meredith found that she actually had a talent for numbers and a decent knowledge of how business worked and so she went out and got herself an MBA. Picked out a prestigious firm to take her internship at, and once she’d served her time, had the head-hunting firm call her at work and talked with them at length about options. The firm pulled her in and offered her a major jump-up and a fast track to a corner office. These things were never in any actual doubt.  One of the partners in the firm was a distant uncle and a meteoric rise was expected of her.  She’d never been feckless, unambitious, or lazy in her life.

Well. A girl like that is going to come under scrutiny by someone with actual power.  And that creature...liked what he saw.

   So. Here is the shape of what she does now: Weyland Diversification acquires another corporation, usually through a hostile takeover. Often the company puts down a token amount of their own money but then runs to the BIG banks for massive loans to purchase the shares (or buy off the companies management with lucrative bonuses. They’re usually floundering companies with still decent cash flow. Then they send Meredith. Meredith then determines how best to cut every single micron of fat off the company. The problem is, that whatever the massive loan was needed to acquire the company, The company is now on the hook to repay that loan.

So let’s say that Weyland put down 5% on a 200 million dollar loan to acquire a company that makes baked goods. And they’re able to acquire the company, now that company’s bottom line is untenable almost immediately. The INTEREST on the loan is enough to make you start firing people immediately in order to get costs back under control. Fortunately, Weyland has a bright girl like Meredith there to tell you who to fire, and for this useful service, they’ll charge the company a management fee of about a couple million dollars a year. And you know that money isn’t going to come from the board or it’s chairman. It’s going to come out of the bennies and payroll of the workforce.

  And let’s say that the company slashes its workforce and benefits and manages to pay off some of the debt from both sources, Then that just leaves it in a vulnerable state for being re-sold at enormous markup.  Or they can go bankrupt and shutter themselves, but the vultures at Weyland will still be able to get most of their assets liquid before that happens.  It’s a bust out scheme really.  And it’s destroyed more than one factory town.

Meredith makes a lot of money. And all the people that get fucked by this system...Well. They all chose to be poor and smoke the crack or whatever.  Each new assignment excites her a little because she goes to the companies, and usually figures out the most alpha male employed by the company, seduces him, ties him up and works him over for hours without ever really letting him come, and then, as soon as is humanly possible sees to it that he gets fired first.

Yeah. she likes it like that.  Her “master” taught her that game.

Attitude: “Look. I’m not saying that our company is necessarily all about positive changes in the business world. Capitalism isn’t a moral philosophy. it has no moral compass. But we do what we do, and we protect our shareholders. If it were a problem, the market would correct it.  You can’t blame us for that”.

Skills: High intelligence and high manipulation are a must. Ivy league education with a specialization in business. Recent events have given her cause to purchase a handgun and run a couple hundred shells through it every other week. She’ll have dots in firearms, but probably no style merits.  She has dots of Mentor, and that mentor will have told her what to be on the lookout for when dealing with other supernatural creatures.  So she’ll likely have at least 1 dot of occult and possibly an Unseen Sense or two. (Standing orders are that if she runs into something like that, to call home immediately.) She’ll be likely to be loaded up on socials skills and computer. She’s also a seasoned Equestrian and is like to have some dots of Animal Ken. She tends to treat animals the same way she treats humans.

Gear: Top of the line Laptop, with a top of the line laptop bag. A LOADED smart-phone. Her sig-sauer, which her Mentor suggested she carry Glaser slugs in, and an extra clip in her purse. On company business, she'll take one of the armored Lincoln town cars with one of the company drivers skilled in defensive driving.   Her own vehicle is a cherry red Maserati. Most cop cars can’t catch it.

Home: Meredith has a few places to hang her hat should there be a need. When traveling for the company she’ll take the best suite in a Residence Inn, or failing that, the largest suite in the Radisson nearest to where the job is.  Here at home, she has a cozy little brownstone in a neighborhood where no one takes home less than a million a year after taxes.  She also can go home and stay in her old room in the Shaw family manse, she’s had a decorator in and it no longer looks like she just left for prep school

Circle: Her family and her few friends, They love her but even they have to admit that Meredith has ice water in her veins. Most of her peer group at work consider her spooky bright and a little scary. Not to mention that while a lot of those guys are complete sexual jackals, Meredith makes it clear that if a co-worker and she have some sort of sexual issue, THEY will be the one leaving the company, not her. As a result, most of those dudes give her respectful distance. They saw what happened to Tripp.

No. If Meredith has any love at all in that heart of hers, It all belongs to Uncle Josiah. He was the one who saw her and truly understood her for what she was for the first time in her life. He elevated her.  He made her more than she was. More than just some rich girl.  More than just some human digging in the dirt.

Story Uses:

“Me? I’m just the tip of the iceberg. The iceberg that’s going to fall on you.”

She not a pawn by any stretch. She’s likely to be more of a Bishop to extend the metaphor. But she’ll be the human face of the corporate monolith that is crushing your company.

Some people take exception to that sort of thing. She’s been shot at more than once, and on some occasions, the security measures that Weyland have adopted have made a serious difference.

“I’m not interested. 98.4% percent of all men at these sorts of functions bore me to tears.”

The other pathway that one might encounter Ms. Shaw is via some desire to enter high society. She’s not easily impressed nor is she likely to show any emotion at all. These gatherings are expected in her social circles. But she’s not making money doing it, so unless she can network it’s mostly a waste of time. Most of the men at these things are duller than dog shit. and vanilla to boot.

Connections:

*The Shaw family is a long-time pillar family of The Vermillion House. Those functions are a bit different from other social occasions that she's forced into.  Normally, she's allowed to wander around with a mask on and a riding crop in her hand and whack anything thrust out at her. This alone puts it head and shoulders above most parties she attends. Uncle Josiah is NOT a member of the inner circle, but he is considered a staunch ally of the House.

*At one of those functions, she met Schuyler Lavey but finds him utterly tiresome. He's constantly trying to prove he's more domme than she. Uncle Josiah may be looking a way to use him, though, so for now, he gets to keep his genitals.

*Through the House she also knows Reverend Mike Plumber. She wonders if he knows that his eldest son enjoys being pegged as much as he does.

*Has done some business with Holmes, Gillis, Baker, Savage, North, and Dean but hasn't really bumped uglies with anyone there. They are, after all, "The Help"

*Met Dmitri Garrett at the gun range, and after a bit of gun talk, got his card. She's kicked some business in his direction involving companies that got clever at hiding assets.

*Knows Lillian Penobscot. In fact, calls her "Aunt Lilly" One of the few people she actually likes a bit. Aunt Lilly seems weirdly glamorous to Meredith and seems to know plenty about the shadowy world to boot.

*Officer Honus Brightwater swears he's going to catch that hot bitch in the Maserati someday and then he's going to jam it in every hole she's got. It is almost certainly the worst decision he's ever made.

Jamal Cooper

Concept: Set leader

AKA: J-Money,  Bones.

Desc: Wiry and full of energy. Refuses ink, although he tells people it’s due to religious conviction, it’s because he’s got a weird phobia about it. Hot light of potential madness spilling out of his eyes. (Already a bit paranoid) Talks too much for his own good. Never wears anything he couldn’t break into a dead run in. Wears a black suit on occasion when attending his local mosque.

History: Jamal and Tyronne came up together. They used to be tight. Then Jamal got popped and went away. There wasn’t much Tyronne could do.

Jamal had never been inside before, and well. He got approached by some guys who felt he ought to be part of the community. Jamal wasn’t keen on it, but he went along because it’s rare for anyone to be able to get along inside without crewing up. 

  Slowly, over time, and with a lot of time to think about it, Jamal became a true believer. Hey, it happens that way sometimes. Now, granted, the flavor of Islam that Jamal embraced was a fairly radical (and skewed) strain of it.  And sure, while he idolizes Malcolm “X”, Malcolm, were he alive today, would probably find a follower like Jamal to be horrifying and incomprehensible.

   Like for instance, Jamal has a set of his own now and is seemingly keen on controlling drug trade on his patch. While he is draconically strict about anybody in his set using drugs, He doesn’t seem to have a problem with selling poison to anyone outside of his crew.  He’ll fuck any woman who floats into his field of vision, but any woman who wants anything more than that will have to abide by his increasingly conservative standards about how “His” woman should act. (which, if we’re being truthful, is how he drives off any woman who wants to get serious.)  He talks a lot of shit about religion and politics without seeming to recognize that it’s guys like him that are part of the problem.

Jamal's set is known as the “Wild Eyes” and they have a rep for being able to hit hard, and fast, and fade into the woodwork. Sadly, they also have a rep for having a lot of fucking soap opera shit going on behind the scenes. Jamal’s set tends to attract a certain type of dude, and usually, that sort of dude is the kind with an amount of bad wiring that wouldn’t make him useful to any other set.  Over the years, Jamal and Tyronne have gone at it some.  Jamal tends to win little battles, his hit and fade strategy tending to win the day in the short term. But Tyronne thinks things through and when he DOES move he usually reaches out and crushes some element of Jamal’s operations completely.  Jamal goes off and licks his wounds, rebuilds and when he feels like he can come back on Tyronne, the cycle starts all over again.  Likely, someday Tyronne will completely eradicate the Wild Eyes. But that day hasn’t come yet.

Attitude:  “Allah has shown me that my way will be to control these streets. Organized crime is the natural enemy to disorganized crime. Someone. Nah...fuck that. I...I will need to be the one who does that. This is my work. These are my streets and when I am unchallenged here...I won’t need the drugs. I won’t even need the guns anymore. You’ll see.”

Skills: Say what you will about Jamal’s mental acuity, his ability to think fast is not in question. He’s can think on his feet. He's good enough with guns to have Gunslinger, and fast enough on his feet to outrun most trouble. He’s manipulative enough to stay on top of his Set (usually by pitting his boys against outside enemies or one another.) He has average resolve and a paltry amount of composure. (He tends to flip out when stressed).  He’s got dots of whatever passes for a dirty street fighting style in your chronicle. He’s decent with a shiv.

Gear: Jamal is weird about his guns. He never uses an automatic if he can help it. He had a stretch there where he had a couple of jams and swore never again. He carries his sidearms (twin nickel-plated 45’s) under his armpits and two smaller pistols in a jackass rig on each arm. He also has a kevlar vest that he took off of a policeman, who had no further use for it. For close up work he favors sap gloves and a straight razor with silver filigree. Likes his weapons flashy, Jamal does.  He carries a dumb phone and a little notebook. The little notebook is likely to get him sent away for a LONG time if it’s ever recovered in a bust. Jamal naturally congratulates himself on the idea that his operation can’t be hacked.

Home: You can’t be white, a cop, or be wearing colors from any other set and be walking around Danforth Duplexes (and most of the surrounding subdivision) without Jamal getting a call. Jamal moves around within the neighborhood from time to time in order to make it harder for anyone to draw a bead on him. The guy who owns the complex is scared shitless of him. (And the fact that Jamal keeps a professional eye on the guy’s son is just icing on the cake.) Most of the Wild Eyes also bunk down here so any rush against the complex is going to draw them out.  You can usually tell who the bangers are in the neighborhood parking lot by the rims. Nobody else living in the Danforth can afford that shit.

Circle: Most of the people that know Jamal, who AREN’T in his crew, don’t really want to know him. His rep is that he’s crazy/volatile. This includes the people at his Mosque and the members of the Zimbabwe Elks Lodges that he’s been trying to cozy up to. Jamal isn’t trying to kid himself about going legit, he just wants some hooks into people with real money. The only people who are looking maybe to connect up with Jamal are a small group of Ascended Ones who might be willing to use him as a distribution network for their product. Who knows, Jamal might be useful as a hunter too.

Story Uses:

“Yo man. The war is already here. Yo dumb ass ain’t chose a side yet, that’s all.”

The constant back and forth between him and Tyronne is going to be a backdrop in any story that takes place in the streets or the neighborhood. Nobody wants to get caught in that crossfire, and they don’t don’t want anybody they love to get caught there either. But that shit happens. All the time. Also, if you’re part of a faction that’s simply trying to do your own business, the question is not IF you’ll be dragged into the mess. It’s WHEN.

“Well you know. I had a vision for how it was all gonna be. and then someone came along who saw it my way...”

Jamal, unlike Tyronne, is ripe for some kind of supernatural recruitment. Although truth be told, he’s something of a loose cannon. This is not to say that that can’t be fixed or rehabbed. But still, he’s a bit of a fixer upper.

"I am here because Allah sent me to you tonight. Your words will determine what will happen next."

Jamal has a twisted relationship with mainline Islam. and it comes out in odd ways. He's secretly contributing to his local Mosque and that's a fairly positive thing. But occasionally things happen in the community that make him want to get involved as some kind of avenging angel. This is rarely good for anyone involved.

Connections:

* Immanuel Washington and Jamal went to school together. Neither seems to know about the other being in town. Manny is likely to be one of the few people that Jamal could run into that has exactly no fear of him. it would likely go badly for Jamal and whomever was with him.

*Jamal swears that a few years ago he saw Grace Cook out walking around. It happens that he's not bullshitting.

* Cullen Gillis of the law firm Holmes, Gillis, Baker, Savage, North, and Dean is a distant relation (Neither is sure exactly how. Jamal just calls him an uncle.) Cullen is also a member of the Zimbabwe Elks, (although he hasn't been terribly active in years.) Cullen is trying to determine whether Jamal would be a useful asset or more trouble than he's worth.

*Some years ago, Detective Bela Janofski was involved in a buy-bust that went very south and he took 4 bullets.  Guess who was the asshole who started shooting first?

* Charlie seems to have a sixth sense about when shit is going down between the gangs. He'll often look up and mumble, "Wild Eyes on the wind." and then make himself scarce.

Ezekiel Stubbs

Concept: Head of the Gallowsbait M.C.

AKA: Zeke. Big Dog. Boss-man.

Desc:  Big. Muscle-y. Covered in various types and styles of ink. Hirsute(long black hair with the occasional hint of silver) Bearded. Keeps himself clean. One piercing in his ear. Hasn’t worn anything other than jeans and a denim jacket in years. Rarely bothers with a shirt. Big rawboned hands. Engineer boots. As like as not, has a bike chain around his waist, which of course doubles as an impromptu weapon.  Normally carries a large hunting knife that’s likely visible.

History:There are some men who are never going to be happy doing much of anything for other men. The desire to set one's own course and call one’s own shots is a powerful motivator to some. Zeke has always been that kind of man.  His dad was an abusive shit and that probably wouldn’t have been a problem if Zeke hadn’t caught a serious growth spurt. Zeke’s dad had it out with him and tried to kick him out of the house one summer afternoon after drinking a case of Milwaukee’s Best.  Zeke crippled him for life. And nearly got sent to prison for it, but his momma realized that when Stubbs senior got out of the hospital, he’d take it out on her. So she began to talk about things she’d never talked about before...and Stubbs Senior was the one who ended going to jail.

See. Stubbs senior was a cop. And once Mama Stubbs started talking to her lawyer, the department was more than happy to let Zeke slide in exchange for a bit of silence.

Which is not to say that Zeke hasn’t had run-ins with the law since. Some guys who don’t even know the old man see fit to make life difficult for some scumbag biker who caused him some trouble. And Zeke’s done some time for some things.  Some he did. Some they just liked him for.

Zeke and his mama relocated and got themselves a double-wide. Zeke went to work with his hands, He did Vo-tech in high school and has some talent with it. But eventually, he drifted into some types of criminal activity. At first, it was just mechanic work in a chop shop, then it involved muling drugs and eventually arms. He bought a scooter. Got himself a patch and rose in trust in the ranks of his former M.C.

He got along with Big Mike for the most part, and probably would have stayed with the Last Knights for the rest of his life.  But he got popped for an ill-advised run carrying drugs (Thankfully, not across the state-line) and got sent to stir for a while.  He was willing to take the weight.

But then Momma got sick. The cancer eating her up faster than a state fair corn dog. Big Mike had eyes and ears inside and heard that Zeke wasn’t handling that all that well. Rather than let the cops make him a deal, Big Mike tried to whack Zeke inside.

Oh sure, the cops are pretty sure that Zeke killed all three of the guys that came after him...But they sure couldn’t prove any of it.  So they put him in solitary. they figured he’d talk after about a week of that.

6 months later, they gave up and since his sentence was nearly up they let him back out into Gen-Pop. They figured he’d talk without his protective custody at the end of his sentence.  And you know, a few dudes rolled up on him looking to take a slice of his short-time for themselves. And they’d be all hard until they got a good look at his eyes. Something had happened to him in there. Lifers may not give a fuck, but even they can tell when a man will kill you just as soon as eat a cheese danish.  Even the jack-offs left Zeke alone.

Zeke got out. Momma had passed away while he was inside. Big Mike expected Zeke would do something stupid and come right at him after he got out. They weren’t prepared for what happened next. Zeke disappeared.

Actually. He got on his Hog and drove away. Got himself a job as a mechanic in a place two towns over owned by some Aryan Brotherhood guy (Zeke had crewed up while inside.) and essentially dug a hole, threw himself in and pulled it in after him.

He ratholed his money away. He ate ramen and washed his hair with bar soap. He bided his time. He acquired necessary tools. He made a few trusted friends.

He was patient.

Finally, on the anniversary of his mother’s death, he returned to town and in the space of 2 days, Big Mike and the Last Knights were mostly dead and their operation was on fire. Big Mike had been a creature of habit and Zeke had had 6 whole months to plan.

Zeke has started his own M.C. and has made something of a name for himself among other bikers and criminals. His M.C. isn’t large but it doesn’t really need to be yet. He’s got a chop shop of his own now and he’s making moves to pick up drugs and arms trade. Certain groups are thinking about making an approach. Certain other groups, other M.C.’s have also made an approach, talking about alliances and patching over his small group. Zeke makes it very clear, and he is at least polite about it at first, that the Gallowsbait M.C. will NEVER be beholden to any other group.

Attitude: “Human beings aren’t made to deal with isolation. Even a lone wolf like me has limits.  So for a while there, I think I may have gone crazy. Every nightmare I ever had came home to roost in that little cell. I screamed myself raw and nobody did a mumbling thing.  I seem to recall the devil turning up and asking me if I was willing to sell my soul for freedom.  I remember thinking about it some, and I said, “No thanks Mr. Scratch. But I’ll sell you every last ounce of my fear for a chance to get back at the men who put me here...And the devil... He smiled and said it was the most intriguing offer he’d heard of in a long time. Next day I wake up and my mind is as clear as bell.  Who knows baby. Who the hell knows...”

Skills: While he’s only got about 3 dots of resolve, he has the functional equivalent of 7 dots of Composure. He’s big and strong and has pretty good dexterity. He hasn’t got much education at all and while he’s not much of a manipulator he does have the kind of decent presence that a person who is completely fearless tends to generate. If he lives, He’ll be the kind of guy that becomes a legend among other bikers. People seem to recognize that this man has no fear. Also, people who pay attention will also gather that he is a veteran of hundreds of little conflicts and handles himself pretty damn well.  In addition to this, Zeke Stubbs is a pretty decent mechanic and knows his way around a gun and ammo workbench.   He is also a very competent driver of nearly every land vehicle ever made. More than capable of driving his cycle and firing a shotgun at the same time.

Gear: Not the best shot under the best conditions, Zeke tends to go in for shotguns and mac 10’s so he can lay down a lot of bullets in a short amount of time. Up close he’s a fucking nightmare with that hunting knife and his fists. and if the target is already on the ground, he’ll go to work on them with his bike chain. His cycle carries his guns only if he’s expecting trouble, but he’s got pretty damn good radar about when trouble is coming. 

Home: While he still technically owns the double-wide, he’s almost never there and rarely sleeps there. He’s trying to think about selling the place.  He’s got a cot that he keeps in the top office in the chop shop and this is normally where he sacks out.  If he’s in one of those rare moods where he’s looking to get his swerve on, he’s got a deal going on with a guy he knows at this super cheap hotel out by the interstate.  Turns out the fella working the desk on the overnight likes a bit of meth and it happens that Zeke has a source for that shit. The sort of girls that Zeke is likely to take to such a love nest...Well, they aren’t likely to bitch about the decor or the distinct lack thereof. 

Circle: Zeke knows people. Bikers, criminals, all types and ethnicities. His AB ink makes this problematic at times, but as he often explains, He never lets race get in the way of a good deal. And over time, some have seen that he’s not kidding.( He does not, however, allow people of other races into the Gallowsbait M.C. It’s just not done.) Although there are a few guys in one of the Vietnamese rackets that found out that the operative word in that explanation is “Good”. The deal they wanted to hand him was a bit of an insult. People got their “feelings” hurt. He’ll have contacts in Underworld, Street, and Prison.

Zeke is known to be a “man of his word” He’s always considered that being a man of his word made business easier. It also means, that he never makes idle threats.

Story Uses:

*”Son. I ain’t got no kick with you but you are skating on the edge”

Zeke doesn’t go out of his way to look for trouble, that said, you can’t intimidate him. You might kill him, but if you leave him breathing, he won’t stop. As a result, he might become the kind of antagonist that one just runs into headlong...by accident.

Also: if your character is a law enforcement professional, He WILL see you coming and hate you when you get there.

*”Shit. Why didn’t you say so? We can do that. You have cash?”

Conversely, he might make a great ally for anyone on the wrong side of the tracks.  Even a law-abiding person who comes from white trash stock might be okay knowing this guy and he’s damn useful.  He might decide you’re damn useful too.  He might want you to join the M.C.   He might be insistent.

You should, however, be advised. If you are not White and/or low class, Then you and your approach will scrutinized for any sign of the “High Hat”  if you give offense and talk down to them, there will be problems.

Connections:

* Has sold and is willing to continue to sell weed for Teflon John Galloway. But Johnny wouldn't be no damn use to the M.C. and no end of trouble. Still, the guy is a genius with the chronic.

* Tyronne "Tiberius" Glover is okay. As far as him and his set are concerned, we only got one rule. "Don't start none. Won't be none." We got crunk one night at one of those places on his turf and talked about our relationships with our parents. I'm not saying we're besties or anything...But I feel like he understands.

* Yeah, I know Homer Conway. We've done business. He's alright. 

*That dumb-fuck cousin of his, though. Officer Honus Brightwater We met once at his place and he looked me over and made certain assumptions based on my ink. Then he started talking...

* About twice a week the M.C. heads over to The Caboose and spends money. Carl gets worried sometimes, but for the most part, the M.C. behaves itself and if they've been selling drugs there he hasn't seen it...exactly. Certain of the ladies and maybe a DJ or two tend to perk up when they come, so...it's not outside the realm of the possible. Certain of the girls favor certain of the bikers, and there is an occasional bit of soap opera behind that.

Lawton Krase

Concept: Mercenary Wanna-be

AKA: His real first name is Calvin. He is not a fan of his first name.

Desc:  Barrel-chested. Moves like a martial artist. Close cropped hair and the kind of handlebar mustache that firefighters cultivate. (Fun fact: Firefighters cultivate that sort of facial hair because it’s the only kind they are allowed to. Beards and other configurations of facial hair prevent a good seal on the face mask. It’s the same reason Lawton cultivates his that way. He’s a total pussy when it comes to tear gas.) Nervous energy pervades him. He’d just as soon be up and pacing. Or sitting back and whittling something. Tends to tan well.

Sleeves of tats. But not much anywhere else. Muscle-y as all get out.

History: There are people who are interested in living a life filled with action and excitement. The sort of people who are willing to make an effort to learn tactics and combat skills and be willing to be shot at in picaresque shit-holes all over the world. Some seek the rough virtue of the life of a masterless samurai and the lucrative life of a killer for hire.

Lawton is, to put it mildly, one of those sorts of persons.

It’s so sad that he’s not particularly good at it.

Lawton is, perhaps too excitable for the work of a mercenary. His military training was truncated by the fact that he washed out for psychological reasons. His martial arts training came from a belt factory. He’s actually a decent shot, but his nervous system is a hot mess from Speed and Amphetamine abuse.

   Ordinarily, this would be enough to make certain that he wouldn’t be able to make it in such a rarified career. But sadly Lawton talks a real good game. (And is dumb lucky about surviving in the field.)

    In fact, Lawton is, technically speaking, a pathological liar. It’s not that he’s necessarily a bad guy, but he talks so much that eventually, he’ll tell you all the factual information about himself. in order to keep talking, he occasionally has to make things up.

Lawton does have the ability to project an air of complete confidence. And this usually makes it possible for him to get “Work” but it never seems to last for long. He can keep civilians completely buffaloed, but real professionals eventually see through his act.

   He’s done some things. Shot some people. He’s also screwed up a number of operations, usually through poor judgment or his own excitability. He hasn’t gotten a reputation for it yet, but it’s only a matter of time.

Attitude:  “So I was doing this thing in Angola. A little search and rescue op. And one of my guys gets his rappelling gear knotted as he’s making his descent. He’s hanging there all upside down in front of the window, and we can’t blow the charges because of it...So..I give the order and cut his line. Jacked up his back for about a month. But we got the hostages out at least. Can’t remember that dude's name, though. Kind of a screw-up. Know what I mean?”

Skills: He’s strong and has a lot of stamina, but not particularly dextrous. He’s got some presence and manipulation, but can sometimes flip out in the face of a tight situation. Mentally, well. He’s not nearly as smart as he thinks he is. He’s the Dunning-Kruger poster boy.

He’s not exactly unskilled. He’s got some combat ability and he’s not a bad shot, but I wouldn’t give him more than 2 dots in anything. He just doesn’t have the discipline for it.

Gear: Like most people who aren’t really all that skilled, he’s got a relatively serious collection of weapons. I can’t remember right off the top of my head what book it’s in, but there is a merit called “Arsenal”  I’d say he’s got about 3-4 dots of sidearms and a dot of long arms. (One really well cared for Dragunov sniper rifle that seen some actual use.) He’s got some mil-spec armor, Ultraviolet laser sights and low light gear for those sorts of operations.

He also has access to smoke, stun, and gas grenades. Most of his firearms are silenced. Properly kitted out he looks every inch the bad-ass he thinks he is.

Home: Lawton lives with a certain amount of “operational paranoia”.  He owns a mobile home in a circular trailer park. Only one access in and out. Enough trees to occlude a snipers sight lines. Money in the freezer and 2 separate safety deposit boxes. fake documents (Shitty ones, not Clavo’s work) and a getaway bag next to the hatch that opens into the crawl space. The pick-up truck is souped up and ready to run, should things get hairy enough for a disappearing act.

Circle: As you can imagine, not much of a social bee. He can turn on the charm like a sociopath when he’s looking to get merc work. But he keeps to himself mostly. On those occasions when he’s got extra money he tends to spend it on guns, expensive whiskey and cheap whores.

Story Uses:

“You can relax little lady. This ain’t my first rodeo.”

It’s going to be a sad night for anyone who hires Lawton for any kind of special ops work. Or answers his classified ad.  His poor judgment is likely to ruin any bit of action he gets involved in and he’s liable to lie like crazy after the fact. And god help you ALL if he ever ends up in a position of command.

“Don’t worry sir. I’ll handle it.”

On the other hand, if someone were to take Lawton “In hand” and give him some better training and discipline, he might turn out to be damn useful.  And you know what, he might even make a great retainer for someone if they can put up with his constantly running mouth.

Connections:

Immanuel Washington has had some dealings with Lawton. If Washington thinks anything about Krase at all. it is that he is dangerously undertrained, emotionally unstable, and worse, not very professional. Washington won't kill him out of hand or anything, but if they end up on opposite sides of something, He'll put him down without a second thought.

Although they've never met, He's done some cut-out work for Don Pentangelli. Mixed results naturally.

He's had "dealings" with a number of the girls from Bryson Import/Export back in the days when that other guy ran them. Now they're a little out of his price range.

Has bought a fair share of under the table weaponry off of Homer Conway.

Occasionally, The Vermillion House has uses for men like Lawton. In fact, he's usually along for one of those collection runs of theirs.  He CAN at least keep his mouth shut about that stuff. He's seen what happens to people who don't.