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Realistic or Modern Syndicated Revived - An Organized Crime RP (CS)

Main
Here
OOC
Here

CoachA

you are. stealink... my nuts...

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❝ MAKE YOURSELF USEFUL, KILL THEM. ❞

❝ RULES. ❞

1. All RPN rules and guidelines apply.

2.The minimum requirement for each post is 2 paragraphs, and at least one post a week is expected for each character you have in the RP (of course if something comes upand you won't be able to post exceptions will be made). After 2 weeks of not posting your character(s) will be sidelined until your return, however if necessary your character may be taken over by the GM until your return.

3. No fighting. If you are having issues with another player you should talk it out OOC or in PMs to come to a solution. Of course if the problem persists you can always bring it to me and I will do my best to help you. Overall, I asak that everyone be mature.

Warning! This RP while likely get a bit dark at times. While it certainly won't be constant, if you cannot handle violence, torture, murder, drugs, or alcohol I would encourage you to not persue this RP.
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❝ SYNDICATED.❞


—PREMISE.

If you stay here long enough, you start to realize this city's got a distinctive smell. Like rainwater, gunpowder, bile and cheap perfume. The smell permeates everything- your thoughts, your clothes, your life-, and after a while you start to worry that you can't ever get away from it; it won't ever wash out.

That's the point where you know the city's swallowed you for good, and you ain't never getting out.

Me, I've been here for so long I don't even notice the smell anymore. It's part of me now, just like I'm part of it- just one more sorry sob who thought he was gonna get rich quick and was too dumb to realize when he got in too deep.

Some people come here with big dreams, too. Great plans and grand ambitions and fabulous schemes, aiming to make their mark on the world. Then they get dragged down into the muck and can't find their way back. At that point, there's only two ways to survive: adapt, and become part of the filth, or be broken. Most don't make it- I'm one of the ones who did.

And trust me when I tell you: that ain't a good thing.

The city has me now, and once it has you, there's only one way you're ever getting out again, and that's in a shiny black bag.

Now I'm living my sorry life day by day, hour by hour, and waiting for that sweet moment of release when I finally get mine.

----
Hello everyone, and welcome to Syndicated - Revived! This will be a RP all about mafia families, action, and drama just as it was originally.

Setting-wise this RP will be modern-ish, with cellphones but no smart phones. Staying with the RP's original noir flair, the location will be a nameless city ('The City' if you will) without too many details given up-front. Of course, any questions you may have will be answered.

Story-wise this RP is very simple; four different groups are trying to come out on top. The groups fight over money, territory, resourses all while the police and regular people try to go on about their own lives.

There will be four different groups:
-The Antonelllis (Italian Mafia)
-The O'Hallorans (Irish Mob)
-The Higashi-Gumi (Yakuza)
-The Iron Tundra (Russian Mafia)

—ROLES.
LEADER The leader is in charge of the entire group. There will be one leader for each group and you must apply for this role, and I will choose whichever applicant I feel will fit best. I ask that anyone chosen for this role be fairly active.

LIEUTENANT The lieutenant is the leader's second in command. They assist, advise, and take charge if the boss is unable. There will be one lieutenant for each group and you must apply for this role, and I will choose whichever applicant I feel will fit best. I ask that anyone chosen for this role be fairly active.

COP Just what it says on the tin! Any kind of police officer, be it a detective, a beat cop, forensics, you name it. This can truly be one of the 'good guys', or an officer paid off by a group. This role is free to anyone and will be first-come, first serve. For the sake of keeping a managable cast there can be up to four cops for this RP.

CIVILIAN Civilians are just how they sound, normal people not involved with any group. Perhaps they are a student, or a business owner who knows about, trades with, or is under the protection of a group. This role is free to anyone and will be first-come, first serve. For the sake of keeping a managable cast there can be up to four civilians for this RP.

OTHER Others can be muscle, bodyguards, informers, drug dealers belonging to a certain group. The possibilities are endless! Guns-for-hire would also fall into this role even though they would not necessarily belong to any group. This role is free to anyone and will be first-come, first serve. For the sake of keeping a managable cast there can be up to three 'others' for each group. Meaning three for the Irish, three for the Russians etc.
&&— ❝ welcome back.❞
 
Please put up a different post for each character you submit.

Some notes:

A nickname is how close friends and family refer to your character, but an alias is how other people refer to your character (within or outside of your group). Both an alias and a nickname will need to be included in your character sheet.

If you wanna be a dirty cop in the mafia's employ, great! Same as with spies or undercover cops: you can either include it in the CS, or just let me know!

If you have an idea that doesn't quite fit in with what I've outlined, don't worry! Just shoot me a PM and we can probably make it happen.

And if you're planning to play the Leader and/or Lieutenant of any of the groups, please PM me your character ideas.

Here is the code I will be using, but you are not required to use code for your character sheet.​
Code:
[bg=transparent; max-width: 400px; margin: auto; background: #000;][comment]

---IMAGE HERE--- code by LEVIATHAN.

[/comment][bg= transparent; margin: auto; padding-bottom: 5px;][img width="400px"]https://i.imgur.com/u32lN5x.png[/img][/bg][comment]

---BLURB HERE---

[/comment][bg=#222][border= 3px solid #910415][left][B][FONT=times new roman][color=#fff][SIZE=7]❝ [COLOR=#910415]character name[/COLOR]. ❞[/SIZE][/color][/FONT][color=#fff][/color][/B][color=#fff][/color][/left][color=#fff][FONT=verdana][SIZE=3][right]opalescent, cool, and pearly, like midsummer moths, 
like bees, gilded and sticky, with a little sting.[/right][/SIZE][/FONT][/color][FONT=verdana][/FONT][/border][FONT=verdana][SIZE=3][/size][/font][/bg][bg=transparent; background: #000; color: #222; border: 1px solid #222;][scroll=300px][color=#fff][comment]

---SECTION 1---

[/comment][font=times new roman][size=7][b]❝ cursory information. ❞[/b][/size][size=4]
[centerblock=80]
[b][size=5][color=#910415]【[/color]full name[color=#910415]】[/color][/size][/b]— info.
[b][size=5][color=#910415]【[/color]nickname(s)[color=#910415]】[/color][/size][/b]— info.
[b][size=5][color=#910415]【[/color]gender[color=#910415]】[/color][/size][/b]— info.
[b][size=5][color=#910415]【[/color]age[color=#910415]】[/color][/size][/b]— info.
[b][size=5][color=#910415]【[/color]sexuality[color=#910415]】[/color][/size][/b]— info.
[b][size=5][color=#910415]【[/color]d.o.b.[color=#910415]】[/color][/size][/b]— info.
[b][size=5][color=#910415]【[/color]race[color=#910415]】[/color][/size][/b]— info.[/centerblock][/size][/font][comment]

---SECTION 2---

[/comment]
[font=times new roman][size=7][b]❝ background. ❞[/b][/size][/font]
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Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Sed interdum malesuada tempus. Nunc egestas ultricies nisi, vel mattis neque rutrum et. Sed id varius nulla. Vestibulum faucibus arcu ac risus dictum tincidunt nec cursus magna. Etiam eleifend nec nunc at hendrerit. Aenean dignissim, velit id maximus lacinia, ligula metus venenatis velit, ac elementum dolor ligula ut nisi. Aliquam ac sollicitudin sapien, in ullamcorper leo. Duis in mauris et massa aliquet blandit et non arcu. Curabitur nec est consequat, bibendum nunc quis, ornare diam. Duis rhoncus nibh ac odio vulputate, in imperdiet lorem aliquam. Mauris lobortis, leo sed fermentum condimentum, ipsum diam accumsan magna, nec porta justo ligula in leo. Etiam in ultrices ante.
[/justify][/size][/font][/centerblock][comment]

---SECTION 3---

[/comment]
[font=times new roman][size=7][b]❝ relationships. ❞[/b][/size][size=4]
[centerblock=80][justify]
[b][size=5][color=#910415]【[/color]mother[color=#910415]】[/color][/size][/b]— info.
[b][size=5][color=#910415]【[/color]father[color=#910415]】[/color][/size][/b]— info.
[b][size=5][color=#910415]【[/color]sister[color=#910415]】[/color][/size][/b]— info.
[b][size=5][color=#910415]【[/color]brother[color=#910415]】[/color][/size][/b]— info.
[b][size=5][color=#910415]【[/color]daughter[color=#910415]】[/color][/size][/b]— info.[/justify][/centerblock][/size][/font][comment]

---SECTION 4---

[/comment]
[font=times new roman][size=7][b]❝ abilities. ❞[/b][/size][centerblock=80][font=verdana][size=3][justify]
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Sed interdum malesuada tempus. Nunc egestas ultricies nisi, vel mattis neque rutrum et. Sed id varius nulla. Vestibulum faucibus arcu ac risus dictum tincidunt nec cursus magna. Etiam eleifend nec nunc at hendrerit. Aenean dignissim, velit id maximus lacinia, ligula metus venenatis velit, ac elementum dolor ligula ut nisi. Aliquam ac sollicitudin sapien, in ullamcorper leo. Duis in mauris et massa aliquet blandit et non arcu. Curabitur nec est consequat, bibendum nunc quis, ornare diam. Duis rhoncus nibh ac odio vulputate, in imperdiet lorem aliquam. Mauris lobortis, leo sed fermentum condimentum, ipsum diam accumsan magna, nec porta justo ligula in leo. Etiam in ultrices ante.
[/justify][/size][/font][/centerblock][comment]

---SECTION 5---

[/comment]
[font=times new roman][size=7][b]❝ psyche. ❞[/b][/size][size=4]
[centerblock=80][justify]
[b][size=5][color=#910415]【[/color]vices[color=#910415]】[/color][/size][/b]— info.
[b][size=5][color=#910415]【[/color]virtues[color=#910415]】[/color][/size][/b]— info.
[b][size=5][color=#910415]【[/color]fatal flaw[color=#910415]】[/color][/size][/b]— info.
[b][size=5][color=#910415]【[/color]happiest memory[color=#910415]】[/color][/size][/b]— info.
[b][size=5][color=#910415]【[/color]a secret[color=#910415]】[/color][/size][/b]— info.[/justify][/centerblock][/size][/font][comment]

---SECTION 6---

[/comment]
[font=times new roman][size=7][b]❝ visage. ❞[/b][/size][centerblock=80][font=verdana][size=3][justify]
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Sed interdum malesuada tempus. Nunc egestas ultricies nisi, vel mattis neque rutrum et. Sed id varius nulla. Vestibulum faucibus arcu ac risus dictum tincidunt nec cursus magna. Etiam eleifend nec nunc at hendrerit. Aenean dignissim, velit id maximus lacinia, ligula metus venenatis velit, ac elementum dolor ligula ut nisi. Aliquam ac sollicitudin sapien, in ullamcorper leo. Duis in mauris et massa aliquet blandit et non arcu. Curabitur nec est consequat, bibendum nunc quis, ornare diam. Duis rhoncus nibh ac odio vulputate, in imperdiet lorem aliquam. Mauris lobortis, leo sed fermentum condimentum, ipsum diam accumsan magna, nec porta justo ligula in leo. Etiam in ultrices ante.
[/justify][/size][/font][/centerblock][/font][/font][/color][/scroll][color=#fff][font=times new roman][RIGHT][B][FONT=times new roman][SIZE=7][COLOR=#910415]&&[/COLOR]— ❝ the [COLOR=#910415]role[/COLOR]. ❞[/SIZE][/FONT][/B][/RIGHT][/font][/COLOR][/bg][/bg]

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Nicholai Milkovich. ❞
"Never underestimate those with nothing to lose."​
❝ cursory information. ❞

full name— nicholai milkovich
nickname(s)— nic, nicky
gender— male
age— 26
sexuality— bisexual
alias— checks
group— The Iron Tundra

❝ background. ❞

Nicholai sighed, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag before he began to explain his history. “I was born to a wealthy Russian family here in the city. My younger brother died when I was 18, so I inherited the family fortune when my parents were murdered 6 years ago. I have no family left, my brother and I were my parents’ only children.

I poured funds into the company when it was first starting, and continue to… help out to this day. I consider the people involved with this company to be my family, you would do well to remember that.” Nicholai snuffed out the last of his cigarette and stood up. “We’re done here.

❝ relationships. ❞

mother— deceased
father— deceased
sister— deceased
brother— deceased

❝ abilities. ❞

Nicholai Milkovich is quite sharp, one of the smartest people one could meet. He is a skilled martial artist, having been started in self defence classes when he was a young child, making him strong in hand-to-hand combat. He is a talented long-ranged shot and skilled sniper. Though he won't admit it, Nicholai can play the piano fairly well.

❝ psyche. ❞

vices— impulsive, smoker, distrusting
virtues— respectful, tolerant, generous
fatal flaw— ambition
happiest memory— teaching his younger brother to ride a bike

❝ visage. ❞

Nicholai has clean black hair, worn in a messy undercut. His eyes are a blue-ish gray, only appearing blue in the sunlight. He stands at roughly 5'10" and sports an athletic build. Most often he can be seen wearing an expensive suit, almost seeming to be his most comfortable while in formal wear. He has several tattoos, full sleeves on both arms and a large piece covering most of his back, none of which can be seen while in his normal suits.
&&— ❝ the lieutenant. ❞
 
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❝ Lidia Zhurova ❞

All information comes with a price.
❝ cursory information. ❞

【full name】Lidia Zhurova
【nickname(s)】Lia
【alias】White Rabbit
【gender】— Female
【age】— 28
【sexuality】— Heterosexual
【d.o.b.】— October 21st
【group】— The Iron Tundra

❝ background. ❞

Lidia was born to immigrant parents who fled Russia. When they came to the city, finding work was hard, but they still found a way to provide for Lidia. She always had food at the table and never knew about the horrible things going on in the city. As she grew older the corrupt nature of the area around her grew clear. She discovered all the new ways to get money and lots of it. Wanting to help her family, Lidia started taking advantage of this system. Unfortunately, as soon as her parents found out, she was disowned and they never spoke to her again. She's doing fine on her own, but she still misses them.

❝ relationships. ❞

【mother】— Estranged
【father】— Estranged

❝ abilities. ❞

Lidia finds it very easy to gain information. Rather it be paying for it or overhearing it, she’ll find a way. She’s skilled in gambling, always knowing what basket to put her eggs in so to speak. She’s also very good with a knife and can play a variety of instruments.

❝ psyche. ❞

【vices】— eavesdropper, oversharer, money hungry
【virtues】— civil, agreeing, diplomatic
【fatal flaw】— greed
【happiest memory】— childhood piano recital
【a secret】— pays for information in ways other than money

❝ visage. ❞

Lidia has blonde, almost white hair that goes straight down her back. Her green eyes stand out against her pale skin. At 5’7 she stands above most women. She usually dresses in casual, but nice clothing to avoid being seen as suspicious.

&&— ❝ the informant ❞
 
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Martin Klint. ❞
"This city is plagued by schum and vermin who prey on the innocent, I'm just the reaper."​
❝ cursory information. ❞

full name— Martin Klint;
nickname(s)— Clint;
gender— Male;
age— 31;
sexuality— Heterosexual;
d.o.b.— September 23rd;
race— White Caucasian;
alias— The Culler;

❝ background. ❞

Martin grew up in a crowded neighborhood, with conjoined buildings that overlooked the streets like grey, concrete giants. Kids dressed in overalls, dresses or whatever rags their parents could put together; Martin was no different, his one father struggled to support himself and his son. The old, tired man wanted nothing but the brightest future for his son, constantly slaving away. But... small jobs couldn't support two people, let alone fund the kid's future so the beaten goat had to turn to the gangs of the city, doing "favors" for them and in turn, they repaid his efforts with cash.

Everything was going well for the Klint family of two, Martin and his father moved to a nicer, less-crowded neighborhood, there was a steady flow of cash and Martin had good to great grades in school. Of course, it wasn't long before his father crossed the wrong gang -- the very wrong gang. One night, he rushed, practically barreling through the door and waking up poor Martin who had fallen asleep on the couch. "What's going on, dad?" Martin asked in a timid manner. "N-no time, s-sport." His father replied, shaken and distressed. Before they could even start packing, the footsteps of several men were heard, walking in a rushed manner along the pavement. "Oh.. noo" He mumbled after which he hid Martin underneath the floor boards of their house. Hidden like a rat in a damp corner, Martin could faintly make out the words of the men as they rushed in the house before they started to beat the ever-living hell out of his pop. He tried to push out the noises but they just kept seeping into his ears, he wanted to cry but he couldn't, the feeling of dread consumed the little boy that curled up into a ball.

Finally, he pushed up the board to see the bloodied, mangled mess of flesh his father became; beaten within an inch of his life. His father survived but both him and his son will be forever changed. Since that day, a festering hate grew in Martin who, in his naivete, decided to become a police officer to stop these organized atrocities. Soon, that young police officer learned that not even the police are clean or safe from corruption. While his peers rose up the ranks, Martin due to his uncompromising nature remained a police officer but that suited him just fine, for if the police will not stop these malignant elements of society then he will.

His lifestyle has earned him loneliness but with every gang member murdered it feels as if his soul is cleansed.

❝ relationships. ❞

mother— Absent;
father— Deceased, but had a good relationship;
sister— N/A;
brother— N/A;
daughter— N/A;

❝ abilities. ❞

- Martin is good with all weapons but he is exceptionally good in bladed and impact weapons;
- He graduated the police academy with impressive results and is thus well-versed in police bureaucracy and has intricate knowledge of how the police perform their duties;
- He's been noted to have great stamina and can run long distances;

❝ psyche. ❞

vices— cruel, stubborn, murderous tendencies;
virtues— truth-seeking, brave, uncompromising;
fatal flaw— Obsessively Justice driven;
happiest memory— That one time his dad took him to the ball game;
a secretA bloody murderer;

❝ visage. ❞

Klint is a well-kept individual, who always dresses professionally and acts professional. He typically keeps his black hair short. He is 6'1" (185 cm) tall, his physique is quite toned due to all the nocturnal activities that he partakes in, also from the various physical exercises he does at home, he weighs around 180-185 lbs (82-84 kg).
Character Art is by Enrico Marini.
&&— ❝The Officer And The Serial Killer. ❞
 
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Ada O'Halloran. ❞
"Ignorance kills. You should be dead by now."​
❝ cursory information. ❞

full name— Ada O'Halloran
nickname(s)— Birdie, Red
gender— Female
age— 24
sexuality— Homosexual
alias— Riding Hood
group— The O'Hallorans/The Irish

❝ background. ❞

Ada sat down in the parlor, crossing one leg over the other and resting her glass of whiskey on her thigh, a smile gracing her lips. “My history? Well… I have one sibling, an older brother named Declan who happens to be my best friend in the world.

“My parents were quite busy during my childhood, so in my time I grew quite adept at reading people and gathering information. People find it very easy to tell me their deepest, darkest secrets. I have always prided myself on knowing everything there is to know. I was able to prove myself to my family by providing information no one else could get their hands on. I know everything, darling. I trust you will remember that.” She knocks back the rest of her whiskey and rises to leave.

❝ relationships. ❞

mother— Rowena O'Halloran
father— Connor O'Halloran
brother— Declan O'Halloran

❝ abilities. ❞

Ada is a kind and charming young woman, she could make friends with anyone. She is incredibly intelligent and sharp just like her mother raised her to be. A great singer, though only her family knows this secret. She throws a mean right hook and isn't afraid to fight someone bare-knuckled if the situation calls for it.

❝ psyche. ❞

vices— Drinker, Tempermental, Non-Forgiving
virtues— Charismatic, Positive, Intelligent
fatal flaw— Alcoholism
happiest memory— Her mother teaching her to make bread

❝ visage. ❞

Ada is a short woman, standing at only 5'2" with a curvy frame. She has long, curly red hair and brilliant green eyes just like her mother's. Most often she can be found in well-kept elegant clothing. She opts to dress trousers rather than dresses and skirts most often. She has a few tattoos here and there, none of which too large or noticable.
&&— ❝ the spy master. ❞
 
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Atlas. ❞
"This city is a fucking zoo, and I've been thrown straight into the lions den."
❝ cursory information. ❞

full name— Atlas Callahan
alias— Corvus
gender— Male
age— 36
sexuality— Heterosexual
d.o.b.— June 16th
group— Police Head Investigator (Formerly) ; Private Investigator (Present)

❝ background. ❞

“…So you’ll help me…?” The twitchy, awkward man asked Atlas rather frantically. Without ever locking eyes with the man, the disheveled detective carelessly placed his half empty mug on the tarnished wooden counter in front of him. Raising a hand up to wipe any excess alcohol off the side of his face, Atlas groaned in annoyance. “There’s nothing I can do to help you. You’re a walking, breathing shitshow of problems reeking like yesterday’s trash.” Atlas answered before rubbing his palm back and forth against his five o’clock shadow. He finally turned to face the desperate stranger. “…However, I will solve your case.”

The man was seemingly on the verge of tears and caught Atlas off guard, as he threw his arms around him. “Thank you thank you thank you! This means… so much to me…” He whimpered. Repulsed by the invasion of his personal space, Atlas shoved the man with considerable force; causing for him to fall off the barstool and land directly on his back with a loud thud. Several people inside the bar quickly drew their attention to the scene that was gradually unfolding. Standing up, Atlas brushed off a bit of dust that had made its way onto his coat. He immediately turned to take his leave but paused before looking over his shoulder at the bartender.

“Oh, the tab is on him by the way.” He informed the bartender, pointing to the disoriented man on the floor.

Those that knew Atlas would hardly recognize the gruff, resentful man that served as merely the husk of his former self. If those individuals were to describe the Atlas of the past, they would shock anyone that have encountered him in the present. He was known to be cheerful, ambitious, and most of all: righteous.

Throughout the early stages of his life, Atlas was a model student and role model. He was in the top of his class and was known to be quite the athlete. Many had admired his charisma and positive disposition, but were even more appreciative of his staunch passion for fairness. Atlas despised those who were selfish and self-serving; for he saw them as extremely detrimental to humanity. It was because of this noble ideology that Atlas pursued a career in law enforcement. Although he found most criminals distasteful, Atlas was fully convinced that they could be rehabilitated reestablished into society with the proper care and correction. Ultimately however, his opinion began to waver as he advanced deeper in his profession. Becoming a lead investigator for the local police, Atlas was assigned his own small taskforce; designated exclusively for mafia activity. Gang violence and turf wars were rapidly emerging in the city, and the responsibility of negating the continual growth of these syndicates fell on Atlas. Being the determined individual that he was, Atlas aggressively pursued one specific crime ring; one that would change him for forever.

Atlas fell in love with a woman he met while working on a case. She had previously got involved with a loan shark, and Atlas had helped her escape the continual harassment of the debt collector. A few lunches afterwards turned into a few dates, and a few dates turned into a few years, and a few years turned into a few years of wonderful marriage.

Unfortunately, his extensive involvement eventually led to his discovery of the loan shark’s strong ties with the crime syndicate. Having newfound inspiration and motivation to completely dismantle the organization, Atlas became more aggressive in his pursuit. This was immediately noticed by the group’s leadership, and they took quick action in gathering intel on Atlas. Weeks later, Atlas woke up to a phone call informing him that his wife had been taken hostage. Instructions were to meet at a warehouse, where Atlas would hand over all of the case files he had accumulated over the course of his investigation involving the syndicate in exchange for the freedom of his wife. Once he arrived, he was immediately surrounded. The files were forcibly removed from him, and what happened in the next three seconds felt like a next seven-hundred hours of torture. In an instant, one of the syndicate members reached for a gun inside his jacket and fired five rounds into his wife’s chest. Her eyes widened in horror, and a weak breath escaped her paling lips before her now dead corpse fell onto the concrete; blood spewing from underneath and spreading all over like watercolor on an empty canvas.

There was no time for grief. There was no time for sorrow. Atlas knocked unconscious soon afterwards, and the syndicate bagged him up before tossing him into a nearby river. He had no memory past that point, and was miraculously found a day later by a pedestrian who happened to come across the suspicious body bag.

Enraged, in pain, and in anguish, the once stalwart detective desperately went after revenge. His emotions seeped into his better judgement, and eventually he was fired for being far too irrational in his decision making. The loss of both his wife and his job caused for Atlas to delve into extreme depression, and became an alcoholic as a result. His heart became hardened, and he was almost completely withdrawn from society.

Realizing he needed some form of income to pay for his addiction, Atlas attempted to open his own practice as a private investigator. After a few rough months, he somehow managed to acquire a steady clientele and a rather significant reputation on the streets for his effectiveness. His methods were unethical and invasive, and he often times came borderline close to breaking the law. Because of his dark and intense aura, those that knew of him began referring to him as “Corvus”; which is strongly affiliated with death and ravens.

While he loathes the monotonous nature of his new career, Atlas spends the rest of his time in building his own case against the syndicate in secret. He is slowly but surely gathering information from every source he possibly can, and is patiently awaiting for their next move.

Now… it was just a matter of time and opportunity before he would hunt them down once more.


❝ relationships. ❞


mother— Mentally Compromised
father— MIA
sister— N/A
brother— MIA
wife— Deceased

❝ abilities. ❞

A proficient shooter, remarkable deductive and reasoning ability, strong tolerance toward alcohol, and a surprisingly good pianist and baritone

❝ psyche. ❞

vices— Chronic Alcoholism, Smoker, Argumentative
virtues— Intelligent, Insightful, Calculating
likes— Jazz, Cats, Sarcasm
dislikes— People, Lies, Kids
fatal flaw— Joint pain, inept in learning new technology, lack of endurance, and does not work well with others

❝ personality and visage. ❞

Cold, ruthless, and unbearably cynical; Atlas is a man full of scorn. Almost every menial task is done with minimum effort, including the maintaining of his appearance. Atlas is inconsiderate of the feelings of others and will say whatever comes to his mind at any given time. Occasionally, he will interrupt one-sided conversations with the vocalization of his inner monologues; that of which include sheer and utter condescension toward the individual he is engaged with. The only reason why Atlas retains his position as private investigator is due to his stellar ability to analyze, interpret, and deduce information. Most of his clientele are already aware of his abrasive nature, enduring his daily antics for the results he consistently brings to the forefront.

Height: 6’3”

Weight: 215 pounds

Body Type: Athletic, slightly bulky

Clothing Type: Neatly pressed dressed shirts, neutral colored suit jackets/coats, loose tie and black slacks

Piercing, tattoos, etc: Bullet wound scar on chest, centimeters away from his heart


&&— ❝ the investigator. ❞
 
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Esme Byrne. ❞
"This city may not be ideal, but I'll make the most out of this new start."​
❝ cursory information. ❞

full name— Esme Byrne
nickname(s)— May
gender— Female
age— 27
sexuality— Heterosexual
group— Civilian

❝ background. ❞

Esme Byrne was born and bred in Dublin Ireland and is ever proud of where she came from. She is a new arrival to the city lucky enough to find employment at the Gatted Goy, a neutral ground pub that is a popular meeting point for all of the groups.

❝ relationships. ❞

mother— deceased
father— deceased
brother— missing

❝ abilities. ❞

Esme has a calming air about her, and has a knack for making friends with everyone. She stands up for those who need it and is quite good at diffusing heated situations.

❝ psyche. ❞

vices— stubborn, deep secrets, alcoholism
virtues— friendly, sweet, caring
fatal flaw— too trusting
a secret— she did not leave Ireland willingly

❝ visage. ❞

Esme is a slight woman, standing no higher than 5'4" and sporting a slim build. She has long brown hair most often held back in a messy ponytail. Her eyes are a soft yet striking hazel color. Most often she dresses in well kept but casual clothes, not putting too much into her style since she works in a pub. She is never seen without her signature hummingbird necklace.
&&— ❝ the bartender. ❞
 
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Gloria Goldie. ❞
"Everyone hates power until you offer them some."
❝ cursory information. ❞

real name— Lori Grace Hathaway
nickname(s)— Lor
gender— female
age— 33
sexuality— heterosexual... but open-minded
alias— Gloria Goldie; the Golden Girl
group— the Antonelllis

❝ background. ❞

Gloria's claim to fame began when a photographer discovered two photogenic sisters of the Hathaway family. The photographer asked the two young adults to take part in the city's upcoming beauty pageant, to which they happily agreed. Initially, they were ecstatic at the chance and wished each other luck. For the siblings, taking part in a beauty pageant was something that sounded impossible for them to take part in; a dream and nothing more.

Unfortunately, things soured between the two when the press released pictures of the contestants. The Hathaway sisters caught the eyes of many; including their parents. The normally absent parents were suddenly interested in their daughters, especially to who would rank higher than the other. Though never spoken directly, the mother and father implied that the winner—who had a better chance of a famed career—would receive their familial love, and the other would be left behind. Inside the Hathaway family, what should have been a friendly competition became conflict.

Over the following days, Lori became distressed, fighting within herself on what to do. Her parents chattered about the future and how society wasn't kind to jobless, inadvertedly or not nudging her down a path of paranoia. After a bout of stress and panic, she threw on a scarf, sunglasses, and hat and left home for help. Namely, the Antonelllis. She'd heard from the neighbors' gossip about them in the area and readied a hefty payment.

The day after, Lori's sister suffered a sulfuric acid attack on the streets, suffering horrific burns to her face. Though the assailants were arrested and convicted, the damage was already done. She could not take part in the upcoming pageant and was considered unlucky and pitiful. Lori expressed great concern and wished for the pageant to be pushed back while she helped her sister recuperate. Their parents sent empty condolences and focused their attention on Lori. Leana never showed her face to the public after that, departing from her family out of despair and to a distant city. The beauty pageant resumed, and to nobody's surprise, Lori won.

Some reporters speculated that Lori was behind the acid attack, and that her concern was all a facade. They were promptly fired and labeled as nutcase conspiracy theorists.

While she soared in her parents' love and bathed in the limelight, Lori did not forget how the Antonelllis helped. Not only did she repay her debt in money, but she offered a deal: they take care of whoever and whatever she wishes, and she establishes a secret trust fund for them and more. In other words, they help her, and she helps them. Though they began as business partners, Gloria took a liking to the mob and the power she held; she's involved enough to be taken as the Antonellli lieutenant.

Lori's fame only grew from there, and she was launched ito a successful modeling career. Soon after, she signed a film contract and took on the stage name "Gloria Goldie," and her talent agent landed her dozens of lead roles in critically acclaimed movies, organizing photoshoots and the like. Gloria became known as an icon of the beauty industry, and a rising star in film business. To the public, she's a marvelous woman who suffered from malicious rumors spurred by the jealous and rose above them. To the knowledgeable, she is jealous crook standing on an ivory tower of lies and deception.

❝ relationships. ❞

mother— keeping in touch
father— keeping in touch
sister— estranged
ex-husband 1— keeping in touch
ex-husband 2— ignoring
ex-husband 3— keeping in touch

❝ abilities. ❞

Gloria is a charming woman whose famed positions speak for herself. Her beauty combined with acting capability has awarded her titles as a beauty icon and rising actress; alternatively, they can be used to "persuade" other people. With her fame comes an abundance of wealth and resources, readily used for the criminal underbelly's convenient services. With a statement to the press, she can the sway the public opinion to benefit or hinder something. For Gloria, carrying leverage over others is the key to her success.

❝ psyche. ❞

vices— arrogant, two-faced, pitiless
virtues— charismatic, charming, quick-witted
fatal flaw— narcissism
happiest memory— helping her sister tidy herself up hours after they received the invitation, when the excitement was still innocent and beaming
a secret— her connection to the Antonelllis; enough to be the practical lieutenant

❝ visage. ❞

Standing at 5'4, Gloria maintains a slim physique and wavy, golden hair that falls down her nape. Her skin is clear of blemishes and doused in little makeup, courtesy of long, morning beauty routines. In public, she adorns herself in appealing dresses for the paparazzi to feast on.

&&— ❝ the icon and the aide. ❞

 
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Aleksy Yenin. ❞
"You expect me to bring this city to its knees with velvet gloves? Lyubov' moya, I will rebuild the things you have shattered. With callouses, if I must."​
❝ cursory information. ❞

full name— Aleksy Ishmael Yenin
nickname(s)— Dirizher/Conductor
gender— Male
age— Thirty Five
sexuality— Heterosexual
group— The Iron Tundra

❝ background. ❞

"Little birdies shouldn't worry themselves with the opinions of wolves, Aleksy. Me and your brothers, Aleksy, we've already set things in motion. Go back into your hiding place." - Anita Yenin, first daughter of Mikhael & Sofia Yenin.

He was born just in time to be old enough to have feelings when the family started tearing itself apart. They were old blood, the kind you don't fuck with out of respect of their ancestors, but old daddy Mikhael was too soft. Even for his own children. Uncle Sasha agreed, but he couldn't stand those snot-nosed brats or their whore mother either. They wanted someone with bloodlust to lead the family. Someone with the ambition to actually take back what they'd once been promised.

Aleksy was raised on his fathers blood, a horrible secret and a traumatic scene that kept playing over and over in his mind. His siblings tearing him limb from limb, for the better interest of the family. Sasha approved of their decision, but his disapproval of their existence kept appearing in that glint in his eye. His mother was a broken down woman, too tired and too afraid to do anything any longer. Her hugs and sweet words were vitriolic and faux, no more comforting than a worn out teddy bear.

Unknowingly, they'd all paved the way for a loveless child, and he would burn the village down.

"I believe it's what Sasha wanted. To start over with a clean slate, so to speak. Not a bad idea." - Iov Aminoff, Retired Consultant

Their nepotism sickened him. These incestuous tendencies could bring any dynasty down. Aleksy didn't regret killing them all. In fact, he felt a weight drop from his shoulders once his siblings were dead. The little birdie wouldn't have to sing the wolves to sleep any longer. No more empty words just to please. They'd had their chance. Too little, too late, and there was no room for apologies. Sasha gladly took him under his arm and into the rest of the family. Remorseless, confident and fearless. At this point, with the correct education and guidance, Aleksy might just have been what the family needed. There would be a time in coming years where the branch in The City would need a new leader. Perhaps he should be one to throw his hat in the ring.

"Sh, sh, sh, ssshh... Dorogaya mama moya, I simply need you dead; but should you suffer horribly from the process, I can't promise I won't enjoy it." - Dirizher

❝ relationships. ❞

mother— Sofia Yenin - Deceased
father— Mikhael Yenin - Deceased
sister— Anita Yenin - Deceased
brother— Fyodor Yenin - Deceased
brother— Ivan Yenin - Deceased
brother— Luka Yenin - Deceased

❝ abilities. ❞

"Ideas are far more powerful than guns. Give them guns, just don't let them keep their own ideas." - Aleksy, paraphrasing Stalin.

Deceitfully charming and caring, Aleksy is not afraid to spin webs of stories before he lets his venom sink into his enemies. Similarly, his closest advisors are very likely to believe he thinks very fondly of them, but the truth is seldom that pretty. Kindness is a weapon, just like any other.

Indirect combat, small pistols, micro-explosives and traps are Aleksy's bread and butter, but the greatest lie the wolf ever told was convincing the rabbit that he is harmless. Aleksy is a ruthless, intelligent and unsympathetic opponent, taught by generations of elders and decades of experience in the fine art of dismantling human anatomies.

Educated and guided by the cold, hard minds of The Iron Tundra since his pre-teen years, Aleksy is well aware of the intricacies of diplomacy and the ins and outs of the police.

Perhaps his most uncanny talent is seemingly to just appear out of thin air in a cloud of cigarette smoke. Unless he wishes to be known, Aleksy is quite a hard man to find.

❝ psyche. ❞

vices— Cigarettes, Bloodlust, Sadism, Compassionless and Loveless
virtues— Charismatic, Manipulative, Calculating, Headstrong and Determined
fatal flaw— Inability to trust, Utterly Selfish beneath his lies
happiest memory— Becoming the leader
a secret— All.

❝ visage. ❞

Aleksy is tall, around 6'4", chiseled and scarred man, indicative of the fact that he's not afraid to fight his own battles and clean up after himself. He's handsome, and his icy blue eyes seldom betray his hateful inside, but rather aim to make you feel comfortable and safe in his presence. He sports a blond undercut perpetually backcombed in a vain attempt to keep it down. Black, expensive, stretchy suits are the only outfits you'd find him wearing, and his rings are covered in fingers. Those, however, are probably replacements for knuckle dusters rather than for style.
&&— ❝ the LEADER. ❞

 
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Astrid Haralson. ❞
I'm not always sarcastic. Sometimes I'm asleep.​
❝ cursory information. ❞

full name— Astrid Eryn Haralson
nickname(s)— Dee
alias— Sherlock
gender— Female
age— 25
sexuality— Heterosexual

❝ background. ❞

As a girl, I have always had trouble fitting in. Being raised by a dad does that to you. Don’t get me wrong, I love…uhm, loved my dad. But daddies cannot make pretty braids or perfect PBJs, they cannot make the little girls’ slumber party that much fun and…yeah, not that I had so many girl friends to have a slumber party, but you get the point.

You know, my mom died after I was born. Sometimes I think it was my fault but daddy said never to blame myself. I grew up to be quite a likeable person. Or at least I like to think that about myself. Daddy raised me the best he could and hell, he taught me a lot. Okay, I knew nothing about how to match colors for the perfect outfit but I could beat the hell out of an idiot bullying me or my friends. My dad taught me how to deliver a punch and hell if it wasn’t the greatest thing ever.

After high school, I wanted to go into the ring, just like him, but Dad insisted that I had to go to college first. I took a bio class one day out of curiosity, and I ended up loving it so much that I changed my major on the spot. Dad was so proud- thinking I was gonna end up being a doctor one day. Then he died, two months before I got my degree. He never got to see me graduate.

Coroner said the cause of death was him succumbing to injury after a fight, but I didn't buy it. I knew my 'Pa wouldn't just give in like that- he was the strongest man I knew. But as far as the cops were concerned, what the coroner said was fact, pure and simple- case closed. And that made me mad as hell. After all, when something or someone takes a person you love away from you, the very least you deserve is to know the truth about how it happened.

I didn't want anyone else to have to deal with what I went through so, after I got my degree, I went into forensic pathology. I studied my ass off so that, when someone brought a body to my table, I'd be able to tell their family just how they got there. It's the least I can do.

❝ relationships. ❞

mother— Esther Haralson (deceased)
father— Einar Haralson (deceased)
sister— N/A
brother— N/A

❝ abilities. ❞

skills— Astrid has been fighting since she was old enough to throw a punch. After her dad died, she expanded from boxing to mixed martial arts, and enjoys competing in fighting tournaments. She's active and athletic and in very good shape, tall and agile enough to do well playing most sports, and a strong swimmer and runner. She's also extremely persistent when given a task- very thorough and detail-oriented and determined.
weaknesses— She might appear as a fearless lady but, truth be told, Astrid is claustrophobic. There's no big story behind the phobia- she simply hates small spaces (using elevators very rarely, for example). While she is your person to execute the task, she is really bad at negotiations. Her stubbornness prevents her from making compromises and even though she manages to do so, the deep frown on her face tells the story before she can. And surprisingly enough, her car is her weakness. It belonged to her dad. Touch the car and she forgets the task immediately, being too focused on what is going on with her ‘Sweetheart.’

❝ psyche. ❞

vices— respectful - hard-working - honest
virtues— stubborn - impatient - heavy smoker
likes— dogs - her car ('67 Chevy Impala) - bourbon and coffee
dislikes— cold weather and rain - stupid people - rap music
fatal flaw— her foul mouth
happiest memory— her dad teaching her how to fight
others— she has three dogs, all mutts collected from the street. There’s Jerry, Rusty and Al. She loves them more than anything and, for now, they are her only family

❝ visage. ❞

hair— long blonde hair, slightly wavy
eyes— blue
height— 5'3''
weight— 119lbs.
body type— athletic, toned
clothing style— casual, comfortable, formal at work (she’s the type of girl to wear a pants suit for the job)
tattoos— seven birds on the neck; tiger lily on the right inner bicep
&&— ❝ the role. ❞

[/SPOILER]
 
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Connor O'Halloran. ❞

"Right, boys, we got some work to do."
❝ cursory information. ❞

full name— Connor James McKinley

nickname(s)— Pa, Uncle.
Alias — The Bull.
gender— Male
age— 48
sexuality— Heterosexual and happily married.
Alliegience— O'Halloran

❝ background. ❞

"I remember the day my father, Jonah O'Halloran, started the clan," Connor said from behind his desk, idly inspecting the skinning knife he had in his hands as he sat in his large, leather chair. "He came home one day from the factory, grabbed his gun, and left again. I was only little, mama's wee leprechaun, learning just enough before getting thrown into the factory right next to my da. But things changed that night. See, the Antonellis had an understanding with Lil' Ireland. We'd give them one paycheck before we told 'em to go fuck off. Every once and a while someone would try to short them, but our Collectors knew that a little squeeze would make the money magically appear."

"The Higashi Gumi didn't see it that way." Connor stopped fiddling with the knife just long enough to make sure his audience was still paying attention before continuing. "They muscled out the Antonellis out of Lil' Ireland and thought the best thing to do was to squeeze us dry. The day my da grabbed his gun was the third time he had his check ripped from his hands. Straight."

"My da had a way about him, something about how he looked just screamed 'do what this guy's doin'. And when one person saw da with his gun, they grabbed their gun and told someone else. Word spread fast, and soon enough my da had managed to round up almost every man with a gun on the block. You shoulda seen it, all them people, neighbors all of them, marching down the street and making a bee line right for Higashi Gumi turf. Next day, the headlines of the papers were filled with 'Violent Slaughter of Higashi Gumi Members' and shite like that. Over night, my da and his posse killed every Gummy in Lil' Ireland, and poof, just like that, the O'Halloran Clan was formed."

"Now my da made it very clear, that this wasn't gonna be for profit, that this was just to protect us and our own. But you see, I didn't really see it that way. I agree that this is to protect my own, but you can't do that without a little bit of money coming in. And when my da passed, God rest his soul, I took the appropriate steps to get that money coming in. Soon enough, we had our own small time businesses. Speak-Easies, illegal gambling and fighting, you name it we had it. Didn't branch out pass that, don't need to, we're gettin' by quite comfortably."


❝ relationships. ❞

mother— The aging matriarch of the Clan is alive and well. As well as one can be when nearing the triple digits with each passing year. Connor does whatever she asks, within reason. She gets the opposite end of the table and likes to be an armchair general when it comes to the running of the house.

father— Deceased, rest his soul.
wife— Rowana O'Halloran, a firebrand of a woman that stole Connor's heart while out pheasant hunting.
son— The next in line to lead the O'Halloran clan and his right hand, Connor cherishes his son and wants nothing but the best for him. When will Connor hand over the reigns to his son, you may ask? When the his last, dying breath leaves his body.
daughter— Fiercely protective of her, there have been more than one occasion where it took Rowana herself to stop him from walking out the door with a shotgun to 'check up' on the lover.

❝ abilities. ❞

A Huntsman at heart and particularly fond of pheasant hunting, Connor is a quick and sure shot with a rifle. And, naturally, once you kill whatever it is you're hunting, you have to dress it, leading Connor to become quite familiar with a knife. And add his fondness of fighting, particularly bar room fighting in his youth, Connor is somewhat of a scary man if you meet him in a dark alley.

❝ psyche. ❞

vices

- Unreasonable hatred for the Higashi Gumi, quite frankly he's a bit of a racist.
- A bit of a gambler, but he knows how good his luck is and often keeps it small.
- Unreasonably stubborn.

.

virtues
- Keeps his nose out of other's businesses (usually)
- A loving father (both to immediate family and the extended family of the Clan)
- More than willing to get his hands dirty and help where help is needed.

fatal flaw— If he sees a way he can screw over the Higashi Gumi, he'll take it. A well known fact.
happiest memory— It was autumn, they had just sent the dog in to flush out the pheasants. Soon enough, out they came. He missed both his shots, but he did see one drop. Cursing his poor aim, he marched over to see who had managed to bag the only pheasant that flushed. And there he saw Rowana, already at work gutting her catch. He'd never seen anyone more beautiful than her.
a secret— Connor owes a debt to the Antonellie's, something he has managed to keep under wraps from everyone else.

❝ visage. ❞

Almost constantly dressed in business casual with greying red hair and standing at a short 5'6", Connor O'Halloran looks nothing more than an aging blue collared worker on his day off at first glance. Though if one were to look closer, they may notice a nose that has been broken many times, or perhaps the suspicious, if minute, scarring on his face and hands. Or if one were to have x-ray vision, the several bullet scars on his chest from an attempted hit on him. Yes, Connor looks like an ordinary man, but he's anything but.

&&— ❝ the Boss. ❞

 
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Zhou Shui. ❞
"Sha bi! Get the fuck out of here! Capische, pendejo? Oh my God, just fucking shoot this stupid cocksucker."​
❝ cursory information. ❞

full name— Zhou Shui
nickname(s)— The Koi
gender— Male
age— 24
sexuality— Heterosexual but open-minded
group— The Higashi-Gumi

❝ background. ❞

"Yo, I know what you're thinking. 'Lil' Chinese boy, what he gonn' do?' But lemme tell you that this deal? Your entire fuckin' gamble with expanding on the east side? That's my product your peddlin'. Prime Columbian product, you dig? Fresh from Chinese labour camps. Every off-brand iphone and grain of fuckin' white, right down from my mom and pops back home in Guangzhou." Shui's smirk widened as the leader of the dockside smugglers' blood pressure was visibly rising. From the gap between his thumb and index finger Shui breathed in a line of fine powder, and threw his head back. "Oh, kicks like fucking twelve gauge, doesn't it? God fucking damn, holy shit..." He turned his attention back to the smuggler and bit down on his cigarette as he offered a wide grin.

"Yeah, them kids ain't got a sense of quality, but quantity? We can pull. That's why it burns and gives you a hangover, but shit, people keep buyin'. And you liked those profits just as much as us, didn't ya? Lil' too much to share the agreed amount, right? Real fuckin' sad you didn't expect a guy on this side of the sea to be able to crunch the numbers." The smuggler reached for the pistol tucked in the back of his jeans, but from out of nowhere came a flash of movement, cracking his wrist in half. A large man stepped out from behind the crate next to him, a now bloodied bat in hand. As Shui was doubling over laughing, trying to catch his breath, several more men armed with guns stepped out from nooks and cranies all over the warehouse, demanding the smugglers get on the floor.

"Hahahaha- your fuckin' face! How dumb would I have to have been to come alone, you think? Pops is good friends with the Japanese boys, the Yakuza, and we're paying them good money to keep our little business safe. Percentages, in fact. In a lil' deep, you're realizing? Sha bi, a little late for that now. Jericho, start with his knees and work your way up. Nobody fucks us and lives."


❝ relationships. ❞

mother— Zhou Huang - Good relationship, inherited several Chinese child labor factories.
father— Zhou Qing - Good relationship, acquainted with many oriental crime syndicates.
sister— Zhou Koda - Good relationship, is conducting similar work in Japan.

❝ abilities. ❞

Shui is all business. As long as money keeps coming in, he can live however he wants. He's got good connections, all the cash he'd need to motivate someone, and is great at giving gifts. He's learned all he knows about selling product and making good deals from his mother, all he knows about making friends and contacts from his dad, and how money equals might out of experience.

He'd rather not do any fighting himself, but when it comes down to it he's a quick little bastard and knows a thing or two from his private teachers back home. If you don't know how to fire a piece, you're not doing yourself any favors in this business.

❝ psyche. ❞

vices— Women, drinking, smoking, snorting, injecting, talking shit, what's not to like?
virtues— Rich, clever, confident.
fatal flaw— Arrogant.
happiest memory— All the time, life is a fucking party
a secret— Before partnering up with Higashi-Gumi Shui had fucked up two prior partnerships out of recklessness.

❝ visage. ❞

Shui stands at 5'6" with jet black hair and pale features. His Chinese heritage is always on display through his traditional jade beads and decorated Zhongshan suits. He's covered in tattoos of traditional Asian dragons, cherry blossom trees, Chinese texts, buddhas, taijitus, tigers, phoenixes, demons, koi and even a small tattoo of a panda to really drive his ancestry home.
&&— ❝ the Dealer. ❞

 
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Hamada, Tenshi
"...Let's just pretend that I said something cool okay?"
c u r s o r y information.

full name— Tenshi Hamada
nickname(s)— Ten, shi-shi
alias— 遊び人 (asoH-beneen, aka a playboy)
gender— Cis. male
age— 29
sexuality— Pansexual
d.o.b.— December 5th, 1990
race— East Asian

b a c k g r o u n d.

Ever since he'd stepped foot into this world, everything he'd ever known, everything he'd ever witnessed had spawned from the makings of a business deal. His own parent's marriage, (courtesy of a contractual alliance), his birth as an heir to The Higashi-Gumi and of course the way in which he was raised. It had all been done in the name of becoming a successor- a legacy to the great Takeo Hamada, to keep on keeping on as westerners often say. And so, a stranger to expressions of love (be it familial, romantic or platonic), Tenshi had never really experienced a homey nor mushy gushy upbringing. In fact, much of his childhood had been spent being at the receiving end of several boring lectures from his father and of course a few beatings here and there for having acted like the delinquent he'd always been. For, strange as it sounded, Tenshi had always been the black sheep of his little "family," always getting into trouble at boarding school, facing suspensions and whatnot. It seemed that the very power he'd seen time and time again, had somehow led him to believe that he was indestructible. After all, a few phone calls from his father and everything would be fine yes? Yes. He was used to being a disappointment anyway. But the thing is, his father is no longer.

And yet, Tenshi continues to live on with this notion even beyond his boyish college years, where after one too many drinks, the idiot had foolishly challenged a stranger to a bar-side dual of a sorts. Needless to say, the bar had been in shambles by the end of it and he'd been thrown in jail. It's an experience he rarely talks about. And so, often at the edge of destruction, Tenshi continues to walk on thin ice- despite having so much to live for and so many to protect. A nasty habit he's trying hard to shed, but can't help but fall back on as a means of coping.


r e l a t i o n s h i p s.

mother— Which one? Having had a father with an equally promiscuous reputation, his childhood had been a revolving door of stepmoms who'd often encouraged him to call them "mom". So again, which one?
father— Deceased

sister— N/A
brother— N/A
Cousin— Raised as a sibling, Hamada's cousin is one of his only present family members. A default best friend, she's very much alive & well.

a b i l i t i e s.

A black belt in Karate (embarrassing, he knows) and a rather suave conman, Tenshi may surprise many when it comes to his actual efforts. After all, despite not displaying it, he's grown quite close to that of his inferiors and would do just about anything (when and if push comes to shove) to keep them safe. Particularly his cousin. And so, often utilizing this fan-favorite face of irresponsibility and gullibility, Ten may as well beat someone at their own game. What's more is that the man can be quite unforgiving when it comes to his opponents, after all, there's a reason why the Yakuza holds such gruesome stories. Cross them and they'll show no mercy.

p s y c h e.

vices— Lavishly wild parties, one night stands, booze and mindless flirtation. These things make up a good 75% of who Tenshi has become. Oh, and of course his insanely messy quarters and sometimes childish fits, we can't forget those.

virtues— Decietful, clever, protective and humorous. Tenshi is like his father in that sense (as much as he absolutely hates to admit), he just doesn't want to see his colleagues nor the Yakuza itself hurt.
fatal flaw— Strong-willed. Ten does whatever he wants whenever he wants, not once considering the repercussions nor his handy-dandy schedule (nor the protests of his worrisome cousin, ahem). It all has to go his way even when it comes to compromise, spoiled as it sounds. But hey, he is an only child. Getting his way has always been inevitable.
happiest memory— When he got accepted into his dream college- all on his own. Not to mention the honors in Economics, an extremely difficult field to master. But he did it, and it stays up on his bedroom wall.
a secret— Ten still keeps in contact with one of his old professors, whom serves as a father figure of a sort. Only, he hides their relationship in hopes of keeping the man away from the family business. Though, some speculate that his routine afternoon visits lead to that of a family, a family that he's never shown to anyone.

v i s a g e.

Standing at an average 6''0, Ten holds a rather striking appearance for someone meant to be the boss of a Yakuza. After all, most expect some wrinkly old Asian man- much like his late father, but when they see him....It's safe to say that he never fails to surprise others. Moreover, his face often houses a rather enticing lop-sided smile, one that he often uses to communicate with potential suitors but has since become a natural expression for him. His hair however, bears little to no effort as it's often unkempt 24/7, upheld by a simple head band or constant hand. His way of speech is rather dramatic at times, for, coming from a highly educated and established background, he often finds amusement in exaggerating his statements, but is eloquently spoken all the same. His fashion sense in itself is quite questionable, as he's the kind that prefers hoodies and joggers to that of suit ensembles and the whole nines. But when he finds that he has no choice, often adds his own Tenshi Hamada flare by unbuttoning a button or two (or three) and crumpling up his sleeves. After all, it's hard to party in a well-tailored outfit.

&&— ❝ The Oyabun. ❞



 
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Hamada, Miyako. ❞
A child who lost everything sits on the doorstep of a house that is no longer there.
❝ cursory information. ❞

full name— Miyako Hamada
nickname(s)— Miya
gender— Cis. Female
age— 23
sexuality— Bicurious
d.o.b.—July 5th, 1997
race—East Asian

❝ background. ❞

SInce the very beginning, Miya had always been good at tending to things. From helping nurse her hungover father back to health day in and day out as a child, to now, doing the same for Tenshi . It's true what they say y'know, that the young woman was always meant to be a healer, to nurture and to care for. Although, having had such self-destructive people in her life, it was only natural for her to succumb to that role. For truly, Miya has not a clue of what she really wants. And she reckons that, had her mother not run off & left her behind, had her father learned to hold his liquor rather than losing to it, she would've experienced a very different life. Not the life of the mother medic of the Higashi-Gumi, as natural as it comes to her. Not at all.

She'd met Tenshi when she was but a mere six year old. Through the guise of a holiday visit when really, her father had been hacking his lungs away and drowning his liver until ultimately, both had given out. And so, what had once been a temporary arrangement had unfortunately become permanent, and in little Miya came, soon pulled into a world crawling with dangers. A world her mother and father had hoped she wouldn't ever have entered, but had done little to protect her from. Although Tenshi had done a good job at easing her sorrows- in fact, he'd always been quite different from that of the underworld-esque setting that her uncle Hiro would often encourage. Full of life and extremely down to Earth, he'd been her best friend up until now. The only family she had really, well, that and Saki of course, who seemed to have unfortunately inherited his brother's will to carry out criminal activities. Sigh, she would always have to take care of them, wouldn't she?


❝ relationships. ❞

mother
—Her birth mother lives seas away, and despite her desperate efforts to rekindle her relationship with her estranged daughter, has yet to hear back from her
father—Deceased
sister—N/A
brother—N/A
Pet Has a rather ahem, big-boned stray-turned domestic cat that seems to laze around the estate

❝ abilities. ❞

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Sed interdum malesuada tempus. Nunc egestas ultricies nisi, vel mattis neque rutrum et. Sed id varius nulla. Vestibulum faucibus arcu ac risus dictum tincidunt nec cursus magna. Etiam eleifend nec nunc at hendrerit. Aenean dignissim, velit id maximus lacinia, ligula metus venenatis velit, ac elementum dolor ligula ut nisi. Aliquam ac sollicitudin sapien, in ullamcorper leo. Duis in mauris et massa aliquet blandit et non arcu. Curabitur nec est consequat, bibendum nunc quis, ornare diam. Duis rhoncus nibh ac odio vulputate, in imperdiet lorem aliquam. Mauris lobortis, leo sed fermentum condimentum, ipsum diam accumsan magna, nec porta justo ligula in leo. Etiam in ultrices ante.

❝ psyche. ❞

vices— info.

virtues— info.
fatal flaw— info.
happiest memory— info.
a secret— info.

❝ visage. ❞

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Sed interdum malesuada tempus. Nunc egestas ultricies nisi, vel mattis neque rutrum et. Sed id varius nulla. Vestibulum faucibus arcu ac risus dictum tincidunt nec cursus magna. Etiam eleifend nec nunc at hendrerit. Aenean dignissim, velit id maximus lacinia, ligula metus venenatis velit, ac elementum dolor ligula ut nisi. Aliquam ac sollicitudin sapien, in ullamcorper leo. Duis in mauris et massa aliquet blandit et non arcu. Curabitur nec est consequat, bibendum nunc quis, ornare diam. Duis rhoncus nibh ac odio vulputate, in imperdiet lorem aliquam. Mauris lobortis, leo sed fermentum condimentum, ipsum diam accumsan magna, nec porta justo ligula in leo. Etiam in ultrices ante.

&&— ❝ the role. ❞


[/SPOILER]
 
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❝ Lottie O'Neil. ❞
Information is easy to get, when you know the right methods


❝ cursory information. ❞

【full name】
— Lottie O'Neil
【nickname(s)】— Lots
【gender】— Female
【age】— 23
【sexuality】— Homosexual
【d.o.b.】— October 21st
【alias】— Mouse, Bonnie Rock
【group】— The O'Hallorans
❝ background. ❞

Lottie's mother was an Irish immigrant, she got her start in playing bit parts for small ads, eventually hitting it big when she met her new manager and future husband and after a long successful career, the two eventually settled down together and had two children Lottie and Lorrie, the two girls were twins and were nearly inseparable. They did nearly everything together played with dolls, doing makeup on each other and even starting acting lessons together, Lottie and Lorrie loved each other's company. Even when they started to compete with each other for spots in tv ads and movies.

Unfortunately like everything in this city that bond they shared would eventually break, just after their 21st birthday Lottie and Lorrie were out celebrating including drinking they were both nearly black out drunk when a rando offered them a shot of drugs. Lottie refused to take it, not wanting to become another child actor who became addicted to substances, Lorrie on the other hand decided to take the risk and took the drugs. The next day she had said she was totally fine but Lottie wasn't to convinced and their parents didn't even know, slowly though Lorrie started to miss acting interviews and tests, all the while her funds where slowly drained. It took a few months of investigating but eventually Lottie and her mother found Lorri ODing in her room.

The ambulance was called and she was taken to the closest hospital, fortunately she did manage to survive but Lottie was angry at Lorrie for not being able to resist and when her mother took Lorrie's side and tried to defend her it ended up in a screaming match, with Lottie storming out of the room in frustration that neither of them took it to seriously, in a blind anger she started to use her connections and money to find and to get hired as a secret broker for the O'Hallerans and for the past 1 and a half years that's what she's been doing gathering information for them as well trying to find the chain of people of who supplied her sister the drugs that nearly killed her

❝ relationships. ❞

【mother】
— Estranged
【father】— Deceased
【sister】— Estranged
❝ abilities. ❞

Lottie is a charming woman who uses her acting skills and flirts with people to extract information from people, although when that fails she is quite effective at extracting information through....other methods, including torturing or bribing someone. As an action movie star she is a decent hand to hand fighter and has a basic understanding of guns, only ever having uses either fake guns or blank. She's a decent Contralto singer but doesn't singoften enough, her acting skills allows her to blend into nearly any scenario

❝ psyche. ❞

【vices】
— Condescending, Vindictive, Power-Hungry
【virtues】— Charismatic, Flirty, Flexible
【fatal flaw】— Pride
【happiest memory】— Watching her mother's first starring role
【a secret】— She sends money to her mother to help kick her sisters drug habit

❝ visage. ❞

Lottie stands in at an impressive 6'0" height, she sports a curvy yet slim build and has silvery brown hair that goes down to her shoulders. She is rarely ever seen without wearing a form fitting suit while showing an ample amount of cleavage to distract others. She wears contacts that makes them look purple but are often seen hidden underneath dark sunglasses to make it difficult for others to tell what she is thinking

&&— ❝ the Broker &
The Actress. ❞
 
WIP


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Lilith Falciani. ❞

"I don't need to know the reason. They're dead as long as you've got the money."
❝ cursory information. ❞

full name— Lilith Miyako Falciani

Alias— Shade
gender— Female
age— 24
sexuality— Demi-Homosexual
d.o.b.— September 12th
race— American Japanese
Association— Higashi-Gumi (provisional)

❝ background. ❞

Lilith

❝ relationships. ❞

mother— Dead

father— Dead
sister— Peggy Falciani

❝ abilities. ❞

A Sergeant in the 75th Ranger Regiment, Lilith specializes in infiltration and exfiltration, sniping, and close quarters combat.

❝ psyche. ❞

vices— info.

virtues— info.
fatal flaw— info.
happiest memory— info.
a secret— info.

❝ visage. ❞

5'

&&— ❝ the Assassin. ❞








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Peggy Falciani. ❞

"Got'ta live like it's your last night alive!"​
❝ cursory information. ❞

full name— Margret Mahiko Falciani

Nickname— Peggy
gender— Female
age— 19
sexuality— Bisexual
d.o.b.— Febuary 4th
race— American Japanese

❝ background. ❞

Peggy

❝ relationships. ❞

mother— Dead

father— Dead
sister— Lilith Falciani

❝ abilities. ❞

Being an ordinary civilian, Peggy has very few actually practical skills, though she is quite a talented painter. She has however had some training in gun shooting and CQC thank to her sister's insistence. For her safety.

❝ psyche. ❞

vices— info.

virtues— info.
fatal flaw— info.
happiest memory— info.
a secret— info.

❝ visage. ❞

4'

&&— ❝ the Student. ❞


 
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Viktor Kuznetsov. ❞
"Lose a pound; workout every day; comb your hair this way; run a razor over your eye; keep up with him at all costs... At least the vodka's good."
❝ cursory information. ❞

full name— Viktor Ivanovich Kuznetsov
nickname(s)— Vik
gender— male
age— 35
sexuality— Heterosexual
alias— Prizrak
group— The Iron Tundra

❝ background. ❞

Viktor was a Russian businessman working a small office job back in his country. He was your average, law-abiding citizen that went out at night for drinks and returned home exhausted. Acting was a hobby of his that never took off... at least, not the way he would've preferred. A business trip took him to the city where the Iron Tundra resided. Being the person he was, Viktor did not think they would even bat an eye towards him. Yet, a group of the mafia rushed and kidnapped him off the streets.

Viktor found himself at the Iron Tundra's hideout, terrified and frozen with terror. Bound to a chair, the gang presented him to the boss, Aleksy Yenin. They combed Viktor's hair back and held his head up. Under any other circumstances, it would've been funny how similar they looked to each other. With the odds of coming across someone so alike slim to none, there was no way the Iron Tundra would let go of the opportunity. Viktor missed his flight back home, and a missing persons case was opened. Upon discovering evidence of the Iron Tundra's involvement and Viktor's emptied bank account, the authorities declared him dead. While his mother and father mourned their son's "murder," back home, Viktor was forced into a position he never wanted, complying because of the unmounted terror of what would happen to him if he refused to cooperate.

Over the years, Viktor grew somewhat accustomed to his lifestyle. As Aleksy's body double, they gave him better treatment and luxuries that most people in the city did not have access to. All he had to do was wear the stone-cold glare, adjust his gait, and speak in a more refined and calculating manner. A task exponentially easier said than done. Aleksy has plenty of enemies who wish to put a bullet in his head, and Viktor isn't certain if he's willing to take one for him.

❝ relationships. ❞

mother— alive
father— alive

❝ abilities. ❞

Viktor has mimicked his boss for months on end; he's nailed his characteristics, from the way Aleksy taps his foot to how he expresses anger. Even when faced with extreme pressure, Viktor can save face and repress his true feelings, but that isn't to say there is no breaking point.

❝ psyche. ❞

vices— timorous, paranoid, drug addict
virtues— compassionate, reasonable, affable
fatal flaw— cracks under too much pressure
happiest memory— info.
a secret— relies on drugs to cope with the stress as a body double

❝ visage. ❞

Standing beside Aleksy, there'd be barely a difference between the two. If there was anything distinguishing from the first time they met, the Iron Tundra has since whipped Viktor into a near exact replica. Viktor stands at around 6'4, and shares the same chisels and scars as the boss; they inflicted some on him for authenticity. His blonde hair is cut and combed back to match Aleksy, and he's usually adorned in similar suits like the boss'.

&&— ❝ the body double. ❞


 
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Lyosha Yenin. ❞
"Family has a tendency to stick together - don't you agree?"
❝ cursory information. ❞

full name— Lyosha Matvey Yenin
nickname(s)— Lev, Leo
alias(s)—Diesel
gender— Male
age— Twenty-Six
sexuality— (Closeted) Gay
d.o.b.— Twenty-third of October
group— The Iron Tundra

❝ background. ❞


Lev was born and raised in The City. Conceived on a business trip from his father from Russia, his early life became a complicated affair; his mother's own connections with the city's Irish mob who felt wronged by his absence pushed his father into emigrating to the City and seeking a marriage. He supposed that his parents had to have had a decent relationship, seeing as he couldn't remember fighting, but their chronic avoidance of one another plagued him through his childhood.

His father was killed in an altercation with a Yakuza member when he was a teenager, and as the money began to dwindle, he turned to petty crime to help his mother pay the mortgage. He worked for a number of years redetailing cars - putting on custom rims, painting, and most importantly filing off all of those pesky serial numbers. He found love, and lost it. Got into fights. Disappointed his mother.

And then Lev met him.

It was as close to ideal as it could be, running in the shadows as they were. Cruising, drinking, getting in fights at bars. He was perfect.
He was trouble. A Yakuza member. A conflict turned terrible. A gunfight. A man killed. Nothing Lev had done before, but he'd seen it, and it wasn't a surprise-

They had to remortgage the house to pay his bail... and, well, he ran on it.

He kept it on the down-low for a while. Went back to work, kept his head down, kept quiet. Whispers echoed through the garage at the end of the night. Something was happening, and it was bound to be interesting, and he wanted to finally be involved. He'd heard about the familicide. Heard about the activity recently. And when the garage finally let him go, he had a thought:

I should really get to know my cousin.


❝ relationships. ❞

father— Kosma Yenin (Deceased)
mother— Katerina Georgievna
cousin— Aleksy Yenin

❝ abilities. ❞

Lev's greatest strength is that he manages to relate to others on a meaningful level very quickly. He's a rough sort of everyman, giving the impression of a normal lower-working class person, and it's easy to find that disarming. He's good at lowering tension in a room and deescalating conflict situations - but that doesn't mean he hates to fight.

On the contrary, he enjoys a good set of fisticuffs, and never shies away from a bar fight. He has some reservations about killing or maiming innocent people but will follow orders to a fault as a method of self-preservation. Likewise, he can use a gun adequately, but would prefer not to if the issue (especially issues pertaining to honour) could be solved through non-lethal combat.


❝ psyche. ❞

vices— Under-ambitious, flattery
virtues — Temperate, reasonable, friendly
fatal flaw— an extreme ability to forgive and a tendancy to follow
happiest memory— that one bar fight.
a secret— I mean...


❝ visage. ❞


Standing at just over six feet, Lev has an imposing figure. He wears very casual clothing; the grease-soaked jeans and sweater or loose-fitting leather coat he usually wears along with his long and wild brown hair and short beard gives the impression that he might actually be a construction worker just getting off-shift, but his icy blue eyes are intense, and seem to see through the people he pays attention to - almost as if he already knows the truths you might bestow upon him.

In a more professional environment, the sweater tends to be replaced by a white dress shirt, and the jeans with a... slightly less stained pair of jeans. The work boots never come off, but he has a black pair - you know, for formal events - like funerals, or weddings, or more funerals. He's had a few friends die recently.



&&— ❝ the bodyguard. ❞


 

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Dulce Cabreras. ❞
"Only dead lambs sleep."​
❝ cursory information. ❞

full name— Dulce Maria Cabreras.
nickname(s)— N/A.
gender— Female.
age— 22.
sexuality— Homosexual.
d.o.b.— October 12th.
race— Hispanic.
alias— Sweet Mary.
group— O'Halloran Family.

❝ background. ❞

"La Santa Muerte demands her tithe."

The big players in Mexico's drug trade usually tried their best to keep things quiet. That was the smart thing, keeping a low profile and letting those with bigger egos expose themselves, then rushing whatever properties the poor dumbasses were forced to abandon for themselves. An endless game of chicken, for whom the players there was only a matter of when their time on top would end, not if. But every once in a while, someone with a sense of panache takes the throne. And they can't help but make themselves known.

Itzel Lopez, la Santa Muerte, liked to preform "miracles." Healing the sick, reawaking the dead, killing with a mere touch, things that would make gullible people revere and fear her in nearly equal amounts. With her newfound following, she seemed to absorb dozens of minor cartels every night, and with them, their territory. Whoever didn't have a farm to offer to get turned into a grow op for her profit had to start paying a tithe for "protection." And those who couldn't pay usually had something else taken from them that was much dearer than mere money. In the case of the Cabreras family, this took the form of their livestock. Then, because her lackeys had a habit of pocketing her tithe for themselves, and going back for seconds or thirds, it took for form of Maria Cabreras's jewelry, their car, and eventually, when they had nothing else to offer, on threat of death, their only daughter, Dulce.

In a run-down village turned abandoned compound, she and the other "puppy soldiers" conscripted by la Santa's men were abused and molded in an attempt to turn them into ferverous young followers to continue her reign as they got older. Under the supervision of captors, the children were shot at, starved, forced to endure conditions no adolescent should've been forced to, but the end goal was achieved. She'd made them all, Dulce included, into killers. As they grew older and learned to carve slivers of privacy out of their prison, she and the others decided who would be their very first targets: la Santa Muerte, and the cruel monsters who willingly followed her.

The night of their "black quinceniera," they were presented with ceremonial macuahuitls, smiling and laughing along with people pretending like they were now family. When the intimate ceremony was over, and they returned to their rooms in la Santa's compound, their plan was finalized in the dark, and could begin. In the shadow of night, Dulce and the others slaughtered the guards on watch with the same arms they were presented with. Floor by floor, they cleared her home, until they all stood around her bed like vultures, watching as she slept. Together, they put an end to her reign of terror, but knew they would be hunted. That night, they raided her home for valuables and said their goodbyes before splitting up for good. Dulce ran north for America, with the only set of skills the cartel had supplied her.

❝ relationships. ❞

mother— Claudia Cabreras.
father— Jesus Cabreras.

❝ abilities. ❞

Dulce has a very real knack for barbarism. In fact, it's her specialty. Guns are all well and good, but when an employer wants to send a message, she reaches for anything blunt, heavy, or serrated to get the job done. The same habit makes her a force to be reckoned with when she needs to pull information out of someone.

❝ psyche. ❞

vices— Painkillers, because sometimes, you just have to get out of bed with a broken rib.
virtues— Professional, respectful, competent, family-centric.
fatal flaw— Disallegiance.
happiest memory— Her first birthday in the states, just as her career as a hitwoman was taking off. Nothing special about sitting alone in a trashy apartment, but at least she was free.
a secret— A good part of every score she makes goes towards moving her parents around every few months or so.

❝ visage. ❞

Dulce's build is not that of a fighter, but of a survivor. At 5'6", she's thin enough that her ribs start showing after a few skipped meals, and small enough to go unnoticed when she wants to. With elegant speed, she enters combat a golden blur and escapes as a blur of dark-brown hair.
&&— ❝ la sicaria. ❞

 
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Veronica Rothchild. ❞

"Society is full of secrets,

it's what you do with them that matters."
❝ cursory information. ❞

full name— Veronica Astoria Rothchild

nickname(s) — Vera, Nikki
gender— Female
age— 23
sexuality— Heterosexual
affiliation— the Iron Tundra
alias— the Heiress

❝ background. ❞

The wealthy Rothchild family presented an image of perfection to the outside world. Warren Rothchild, a wealthy politician and CEO with a perfect, clean image. Victoria Rothchild, the model of a perfect wife and mother. And Veronica Rothchild, the perfect well-behaved daughter.

Growing up, things had been.....good with their family. She had never been very close with her father, but her mother was a loving and kind woman, true to her public image. Her childhood was spent mostly in happy memories with her mother. But after the she was taken from them by cancer when Veronica was 11, it was like all pretenses between her and her father dropped. He made his thoughts of her clear. Their relationship became like a deal. In public she pretended to be his loving daughter, and he her caring father. (Of course, now she only did it in exchange for access to the Rothchild family bank account and status). Behind closed doors they were outwright hostile toward each other. He saw her as a necessary nuisance, and she saw him as a credit card and family name.

Veronica breezed through the front doors of her family's mansion, shopping bags in hand. She intended to drop them off in the sitting room, she'd deal with putting things away later (or more likely just get someone else to do it for her). She had a lunch date to get to in about an hour. Not that she cared much about being on time, fashionably late, as people said, was more her style. Whoever it was would wait for her. She cut through her father's study as it was the fastest route to the sitting room. In any case, he shouldn't be in there. He probably has a lunch meeting, policy signing, baby kissing, whatever it is he usually does. Unfortunately; however, luck was not on her side as she found her father sitting directly behind his desk. Whatever, she'd just ignore him, if he deigned to acknowledge her presence that is.

"Veronica", Warren said loudly, stopping her as she walked through his study, "I need you to do something for me...".

"Whatever it is I'm not doing it, so don't bother asking", she snapped, interrupting her dad, "I'm here to drop off my bags, that's it. Find someone else to do your work for you, pay someone, I honestly don't care. Just don't ask me to do anything for you," she finished, rolling her eyes.

Her father slammed a hand onto his desk, anger causing him to be additonally direct, "I wasn't asking Veronica. You WILL be acting as an intermediary between the Iron Tundra and I. During our dealings, I wish to deal with them personally as little as possible."

The Iron Tundra. She recognized that name. That was the Russian mafia. It was like a bomb had been dropped on her.

"What the hell. NO. I'm not doing that. I'm not getting involved in this. The mafia, Dad?! What the hell are you doing? How long has this been going on?! No...just...whatever it is, you keep me the hell out of it", she yelled, starting to make her way out of the room. Upperclass society was chalk full of secrets and of course she knew her father wasn't the "good man" his public image suggested, but dealings with the mafia, she never expected.

"I was hoping it wouldn't have to come to this. You don't have a choice", he said, pulling out a group of papers from his desk drawer. Veronica's heart dropped. It was photos. Of that night. "Surely you don't want these getting leaked", he continued. "You wouldn't", said Veronica, neither of them was any stranger to manipulation, but she never thought he'd go that far. "I doubt you have any idea what I will or won't do", he responded angrily.
----------
One month ago, Veronica had gone to a party with a group of "friends". At the party she had run into Rosamund Vanderbilt. God, Veronica had hated that girl, they had never gotten along despite running in the same social circles. Her and Rosamund had gotten in an arguement that night, Veronica couldn't remember what about, but she had ended up stalking off to get another drink. Whatever, she'd thought, Rosamund Vanderbilt was beneath her. Later in the night, Veronica decided to head up to the roof, she'd had quite a few drinks and was looking to cool off. Opening the roof, she was hit with the cool night air, and the sight of Rosamund walking on the roof ledge. She was clearly drunk. "Rosamund," Veronica yelled, "What the hell are you doing? Get down from there." Rosamund turned around quickly, her surprise at someone else being on the roof causing her to slip and miss a step. Both girls screamed as Rosamund plummeted off the roof's edge, falling around 20 floors to the sidewalk below. Oh my god, thought Veronica. It can't be my fault, I didn't do anything. Rosamund just tripped, I didn't do anything, she thought, trying to convince herself. Rosamund was dead. In shock, not knowing what else to do, Veronica dialed her dad's number on her phone with shaky hands.

"What do you want", Warren Rothchild snapped as he answered the phone. "Dad.....", she said with a shaky voice, "I don't know what happened. I didn't.....it was an accident...she just....she just fell. I think I startled her, but I didn't do...I didn't...she just fell". "Where are you?", said Warren. "The roof of the DuPont building, there was a party, I was at a party", she answered. "Go home. I'll handle it", he replied. "Go home, what do you mean go home? What are you going to do", she asked. "Go home. I said i'll f*cking take care of it, you've clearly done enough already", he yelled before hanging up. Veronica did as he said.

Rosamund's death had been ruled an accident. When no other evidence arose and no one came forward, the detectives correctly ruled it a drunken accident. But these photos. They showed both girls arguing at the party, both of them going to the roof, and then a mussed, tear-stained Veronica exiting the roof, alone. If the police got ahold of the photos Veronica would certainly be arrested. Tampering with evidence, lying to the police, on top of the fact that the photos implicated her.
-------------
"It was an accident. You know it was an accident. I'm innocent," she pleaded with her dad. She had no idea how he'd gotten the photos, they must have been off cameras in the party, and near the roof's stairwell entrance. He must have lifted them while "taking care of it". She never should have called him that night, she should have known. How long had he been planning this?

"Somehow, I doubt the police will see it that way. These photos paint quite the incriminating picture don't they. You'll be in jail before you can say anything. And even if you did, who would believe you?"

He was right. She knew he was right. She had no choice and he knew it.
"Fine. I'll do it", she muttered, before continuing on her way, desperate to get out of the room.
"I'll tell you the details when it is time for you to begin", he said, smile on his face.

"Go to hell you sick bastard", she whispered under her breath, slamming the door as she exited the room.

❝ relationships. ❞

mother—Victoria Rothchild (Deceased)

father— Warren Rothchild (Politician and CEO of a large securities company)


❝ abilities. ❞

Her charisma, name, wealth, and beauty have secured her a powerful place amongst upperclass social circles. She knows the secrets of many others in society, which she is able to manipulate to fit her will. That combined with the wealth at her disposal have given her a large amount of influence within The City. Additionally, the weight of her father's and family's name is known to open many doors for her.

❝ psyche. ❞

vices— Vain, Two-faced, and Manipulative. Partying and Spending her father's money.

virtues— Charismatic, Calculating, Headstrong, Rich, Flirty
fatal flaw— her own vanity, manipulativeness, and spending habits.
happiest memory— spending time with her mother as a child.
a secret— involvement in the death of Rosamund Vanderbilt (explained in backstory) and now her involvement with the mafia.

❝ visage. ❞

Veronica inherited the good looks of both her mother and father. She stands at 5'5 with light blonde hair and blue eyes. She stays skinny and fit, though is not particularly strong, not having done much physical work at all during her life. Veronica takes pride in her appearance and is always dressed in upscale fashionable clothes.

&&❝ the Intermediary




 
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Vincenzo Antonelli. ❞
You can get much farther with a kind word and a gun than you can with a kind word alone.
❝ cursory information. ❞

full name— Vincenzo Antonelli
nickname(s)— Vince, Vinny
gender— Male
age— 57
sexuality— Heterosexual
alias— The Bear
group— The Antonellis

❝ background. ❞

Vincenzo Antonelli was born into the oldest crime family in the city, born and bred to be the next great Don. He was raised well-within the 'family business' and knew it's various in's and out's from a young age. Though his father kept a tight hold on him for most of his childhood, Vincenzo had his fair share of a wild youth.

He met his late wife at the age of 21 and fell head over heels for her in record time. It didn't take long for the two of them to be married and have children. Vincenzo is the father of two children, twins, a boy named Luca and a girl named Eleonora. Sadly his wife was murdered and children assumedly kidnapped never to be seen again. Vincenzo has long since given up hope for ever finding the twins, them having been taken so many years ago.

❝ relationships. ❞

mother— Deceased
father— Deceased
wife— Deceased
sister— Deceased
son— Missing/Unknown
daughter— Missing/Unknown

❝ abilities. ❞

In spite of his age Vincenzo's eyes remain as keen as ever, he is a skilled shot as well as highly observant. When the mood strikes, he knows exactly how to tear down a captive and make them sing out their deepest secrets. A wily old man, Vincenzo can always find a way to gain the upper hand.

❝ psyche. ❞

vices— Heavy smoker, explosive temper, vengeful
virtues— Kind, understanding, reasonable
fatal flaw— Melancholy
happiest memory— His wedding

❝ visage. ❞

Vincenzo is a well-built man for his age, keeping fit and healthy as best he can. He stands at 6 feet tall, with dark brown eyes and black hair peppered with grey. He has a short neatly kept beard and the smile lines around his eyes show his age. Most often Vincenzo can be seen wearing a well-tailored suit, but on some occasions he may be more dressed down as he much prefers casual clothes rather than his 'monkey suits' as he calls them.
&&— ❝ the Don. ❞
 
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Emilio Venturi. ❞

Maybe I’m bad-natured or maybe I’m young​
❝ cursory information. ❞

full name— Emilio Venturi

nickname(s)— Emil; Spot
alias— Demon
gender— Male
age— 21
sexuality— Homosexual
race— Caucasian
group— The Antonellis


❝ background. ❞

Emilio was born to two very devout Christian parents in the City. From a young age, his parents’ religion was extremely prevalent in Emilio’s life. Their ideals and morals were forced on him, some of them bigoted or discriminatory. As Emilio grew older, he started to question his own beliefs, and when he was a pre-teen it was obvious to him that he was gay. Someone who became a rebellious teenager and wanting to defy his parents, he came out to them as a teenager without thoughts for the consequences. His parents, not caring about their son as Emil thought they did, promptly kicked him out at the age of 16. Having no other family members that he was aware of, Emilio was stuck with a life on the streets.

People were hesitant to give him money or interact with him at all really, as a result of his skin condition which alarmed people who’d never seen it before. After about a year, he was barely living, and he became involved with a small gang. He didn’t have many skills but they needed someone to do their drug deals, so Emilio took up that job. He found that he was actually a very competent and efficient dealer, and soon he had a bit of a reputation around the City for being someone who knew how to do a deal like the back of his hand. Unfortunately, the group that he’d originally been with crashed and burned after a few years, as a fair few of them were caught by police. Emilio was able to escape, and when he was 20 he joined the Antonellis, where he’s been doing deals for about a year.

❝ relationships. ❞

mother— Dead to him

father— Dead to him

❝ abilities. ❞

Emilio is a very, very quick learner, which is part of the reason he became so good at deals so quickly. He is extremely efficient and is very good at remembering processes and steps that he has to take in each deal, as well as making split-second decisions like negotiations. He’s not a fighter but he’s surprisingly good at keeping himself out of trouble; he’s a runner.

❝ psyche. ❞

vices— Defiant, secretive, rebellious, dislikes answering to superiors (but does it begrudgingly)

virtues— Efficient, strategic, inconspicuous
fatal flaw— Fiercely independent - doesn’t trust others and doesn’t ask for help
happiest memory— sneaking out of church with a friend and seeing a movie instead
a secret— His sexuality is a secret because he understands how dangerous the Mafia is, and the story of his family is also a secret. Basically no one knows anything about him.

❝ visage. ❞

Emilio’s defining feature is his skin condition, vitiligo. Many people in his church spread rumours that he wa some sort of demon - hence, his alias - and when he was homeless people always shied away from him because of it. Other than that, he’s quite lean and of average height. His hair is brown with splotches of white, as are his eyelashes and eyes. He’s fair skinned, and where his skin is pigmented different it is even lighter. In terms of personal style, it’s essentially just cuffed jeans, sneakers, a t-shirt and a bomber jacket.

&&— ❝ the dealer. ❞
 
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Satorie Sommerfeld. ❞
Hi "Unarmed I Swear Please Don't Shoot"! I'm dad!​
❝ cursory information. ❞

full name— Satorie Sommerfeld
nickname(s)— the Bartender
alias— N/A
gender— Female
age— 23
sexuality— Heterosexual
d.o.b.— 4/19/X
race— Caucasian
affiliation— T.C.P.D - SRT Baker
hierarchy— Corporal

❝ background. ❞

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Inspired by her father's legacy during the Liberty War, Satorie always wanted to join the military. A lawful delinquent since a young age after her father went off to war, Satorie carried with her a certain flare for noble actions, despite repercussions unto herself. When Satorie turned seventeen, she was met with a folded flag at the front door. Rather than beset and afflicted with grief, Satorie made her it her mission to realize her vision. It was not long after that her distant mother was caught in a skirmish between the Antonelli and their rivals in the street. A young child with vengeance in her heart, would soon make the City her stage to realize her justified wrath. While she could not join the military, Satorie settled for law enforcement, reassuring herself that the fight for The City was as noble as her father's crusade overseas.

Being one of the few steadfast warriors that remained undaunted, in a time of discord and rampant corruption, Satorie made as many friends as enemies. After partaking in Operation Pointblank, Satorie was promoted to corporal and was made a Special Response Team operator soon after. Sera have since developed a certain aggressive perspective, keen on ridding the City of bad blood. As fearless as she is naïve, Satorie kept to herself her self-endowed cause, but will not hesitate to put herself on the line to preserve peace and order.

❝ relationships. ❞

Mother— Distant parent (Deceased)
Father— Liberty War participant and Satorie's idol (KIA)
M. Klint— Satorie's senior officer.

❝ abilities. ❞

[The Bartender]
Nicknamed "the Bartender" since Operation Pointblank for her astute performance with a Colt Monitor in the field, Satorie is well-versed with a variety of automatic firearms. This skillset is further complemented by Satorie's childhood experiences at the range with her dad.

[Physical Conditioning]
Since her father's death, Satorie pushed herself with extensive physical training. When she got past SRT selection, Satorie continued training with the other SRT members. Always up-to-shape for a fight or two. Her small profile makes her an agile person on foot. Aside from firearms, Satorie is also gifted with a pair of batons that accompanied her since joining TCPD.

[Mounted Dragoon]
Satorie knows a way or two around vehicles when she served as a patrolwoman. Particularly exceptional when in pursuit, albeit reckless.


❝ psyche. ❞

vices— nicotine-addiction, alcoholic, blunt, and tempered.
virtues— just, reliable, adaptive and cheerful.
fatal flaw— driven by vengeance and justice.
happiest memory— her first river catch with her dad.
a secret— has a cache of unregistered weapons hidden somewhere in the city in case of an all-out war.

❝ visage. ❞

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Satorie's most outstanding feature upon impression is that of her low profile, short figure. She stands at five foot four, possesses a pale complexion with short blonde hair that is usually tied up in a twin pigtail fashion. She also has a pair of green eyes complemented by a pair of aviator shades. The Bartender usually don a neutral face most of the time, keeping strangers and acquaintances at bay unless directly addressed. Satorie's attires are usually black and white in color, with a belt to house her batons and extra magazines. Usually seen lugging around a black duffel bag. Satorie sports a southern dialect, accompanied by some idioms and adages when she speaks.
**— ❝ the blonde crusader. ❞

 
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