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Name: Drew Sullivan
Age [appearance]: 29
Age [actual]: 54
Gender: Male
Species: Vampire
Clan: Catiff - sired by Malkavian
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Quote: “Emotions make things complicated, so let’s just keep it simple, shall we?
Hair: Drew keeps his sides and back fairly short, while leaving a large amount on top to style. He often puts product in it, like pomade or gel and combes it in a front swoop. He also occasionally slicks it back, and sometimes lets it simply fall in front of his face. The color is a rich, dark brown. It shines a bit in the light, and when he was human was known to redden during summer. On days he doesn’t want to work on it, he wears a beanie cap. He has a wide assortment of beanies and rotates them out at regular intervals.
Eyes: Drew has large, dark eyes, that always manage to look underslept. The dark brown color reflects light, and catches the eyes of most. Despite some age lines around his temples, and a pair of bushy eyebrows, his eyes are one of his best features.
Frame: Drew is six foot, three inches tall and weighs two-hundred lbs. In life, Drew almost never missed a workout. He has a large, muscular upper body, and a small belly. He consumed a lot of alcohol during his mortal life, so despite his strict workout routine he never really had a totally flat stomach. Despite this flaw, his legs and thighs continue the worked out theme.
Primary Stance #1 Drew is on his motorcycle, taking off his helmet.
Primary Stance #2 Drew is sitting on the floor, knees tucked in. He is drunk on alcohol rich blood and moments from passing out.
Primary Stance #3 Dew is sitting on a building taking pictures with his camera.
Tattoos/Distinguishing Marks: Drew appears to be a handsome man in his late twenties or early thirties, but was actually sired much younger. His artificial aging is due to his rampant alcohol use in life. He has a tattoo of a blue bird on his right shoulder. He has a scar on his inner left thigh he earned when falling through a window.
Personality: Drew’s core concept can be described as crude but effective. Drew prioritizes getting the job done, and doesn’t always take time to check in on other people's feelings. He keeps a high standard for his work, and prides himself when he closes a case. He is extremely hard on himself, and when he fails takes it internally and personally.
He has suffered multiple traumas during his life. These events have caused him to be untrusting and unwelcoming of strangers, and the development of the core belief,“Everyone has an ulterior motive.” He has struggled to form friendships and long relationships and his sex life consists of one disappointing hook up after another. He has decided that keeping to himself is the best way not to get hurt.
Growing up in the foster system, Drew learned to be crafty, and can fix most things that break. Home repairs, auto repairs, carpentry, he can do it all. He never went into this work as he finds these tactile hobbies peaceful. He enjoys his job as private investigator and finds no greater thrill than the chase of a good case. He has several contacts from the City Police Department, and knows how to bribe or charm them to get help on his cases.
Drew was an alcoholic in life, and this has stayed true in death. Luckily there are plenty of bars where drunk humans dance, so he pulls almost all his feeds from them. He gave up several other hard drugs before his siring and is happy he did. He has no plans to stop drinking. He feels it quiets the rage. Drew has a dry sense of humor that helps him open up to people. He values toughness, personal responsibility and professionalism.
Drew pretends that he does not care for others, but this is stark contrast to his actions. He often lends a hand to those who are vulnerable. He beats up robbers, takes pro bono cases he thinks he can solve, and always calls his hook up an uber home. Drew has an especially big soft spot for animals and kids.
Derangement: Despite the blood not taking correctly, Drew did gain the curse of the Malkavian. Drew has an incurable form of mental illness. He has a rage and anger problem that has made him violent in the past. He was formally diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder and Antisocial Personality Disorder. He attends anger management groups and therapy to avoid his worst urges.
History:
((OOC: I have written his story in first person narrative to showcase the Film Noir style of writing I plan on using with him and because I think he expresses himself better than I do.))
Some people are born lucky, I wasn't one of them. Imagine the fucked up knowledge that you were an unwanted orphan. My parents were so indifferent they left me in a dumpster to die. Yep, I'm a literal dumpster baby, but I'm not crying about it and if you do you're just being a little bitch. Let's see. Where does my harrowing tale begin? Or is the when better? God I hate talking about myself. Anyways, I was born in Toms River New Jersey. Well, at least that's where they found me. I could've been from Red Hook, Atlantic Highlands, maybe even Seaside or Asbury Park. However, I was found in Toms River at a Burger King. The story goes like this. Some dude was boinking his girlfriend out back near the dumpster when he heard me crying. Imagine that. You're getting it in good and a literal baby pops up. How fucking literal.
I must've ruined that guys night. It would become a trend, because as a private eye I ruin a lot of people's nights. Rebel Rebel Invesigations at your service. I got the name from that David Bowie song. You know the one. It seemed appropriate for my particular brand of PI. I work divorce cases mostly, the occasional money laundering or shit the cops won't touch. Everyone thinks they want closure, but normally they just invent whatever narrative makes them feel better. That's fine with me as long as they pay in cash. But, that's just my mortal clients. The vamps are far more demanding: Blackmail; extortion, delivering unwanted packages. I've done it all. I do it for money and I'm really good at it. You gotta take pride in your work, and I most certainly do.
But back to the baby in the dumpster. I bet you just can't wait to find out what happened to him. I was born in 1965 and went straight into foster care. They never really found me a good fit. I was in a lot of group homes and not one of them was special. I'm not gonna say I've never had a friend. I've had a few, but none so important to last a lifetime. Friends are liabilities. They get in the way of solving cases. Sometimes you got to betray someone to get the job done, and I don't need to put a target on anyone's back. So, I don't really want to focus on it, but when I was like... six, a counselor... he... did something to me. Ummm. Let's just say he Bill Cosby will go to the same room in hell.
((OOC: Drew was serially molested by a counselor from the age of 6-9. He has suppressed most of it, leading to his vague statement above.))
Parents didn't want to adopt me. They thought I had too much baggage. I had what they call Oppositional Defiant Disorder, or some shit. I don't know. I hate shrinks. As I aged they turned it into Bipolar Disorder and said I had antisocial tendencies. It's just a fancy ass academic way to say I don't put up with bullshit. I went all over the great state of New Jersey, never hearing from my parents, and not bothering to find them. I wonder if they're even still alive.
I liked school. I didn't talk a lot in class, and I got in plenty of fights but I got the point of the whole education thing. You see, most jerks go through life thinking people owe them shit, but when you're an orphan you know better. You know everything you get in life is earned, and school is like this gift being dangled in front of you. I took it. Don't get me wrong if you can hustle without it I say good for you. But for me, I needed it. It didn't stop me from getting locked up though. When I was like fourteen or fifteen – who the fuck really remembers dates – I got caught with some weed and coke.Now I know what you're thinking, but I was holding it for a friend. Naw, just kidding, I wanted to get high. I got sent to juvie and while I was there got in plenty of fights. Everyone wanted to test the new kid and I wasn't gonna be anyone's punching bag.
After I got out I went to a pretty cool high school. I got left alone and most of the kids smoked weed. I shot up heroin for the first time in high school and my god did it feel great. I can remember the sweet bliss of escape, the pull into oblivion. It was the best, but I gave it up around twenty. Of course, there was a lot of rehabs and hospital visits around that time. I'm just full of problems. But don't worry there's some good stuff too! I did graduate high school and got a B average, which considering how many drugs I was doing and how many days I missed was an accomplishment. I had this teacher named Mr. Graves. He was a rude old asshole who smoked nasty ass cigarettes, and swore worse than me. The week before graduation he took me aside and told me that I should become a cop. I looked at him like his head fell off. He told me I needed a purpose and that going into the law would be that purpose. He told me it was that or the army and then with smoke billowing out he said, “or back to jail.” I knew the streets of Newerk, Elizabeth Trenton and Camden. I had informants, contacts, and I was really good at telling when people were full of crap. But most importantly, I'd had a shit time of life, but... that didn’t mean other people had to.
I went to college and got my degree in Criminal Justice. I thought, and still think, the American Justice System is a piece of crap but I thought “hey, maybe I'll be the one to change all that.” New Jersey State Police Officer Sullivan reporting for duty. I worked my way up to Detective within a few years. I'd quit drugs. I'd even started feeling a bit less angry. Life was good. I met a dude. Oh yeah I like dudes. If you got a problem with it I'll knock your ugly face in. Anyways, I met a dude. His name was Wesley. He was tall and kind of chunky, but he had a nice smile and a really good beard. He also had a thing for guys who drink too much coffee and smoked cigarettes. We were a match made in heaven. After like six months he moved into my apartment. He liked to play the piano. He was a theater queen. Well, I was assigned to this murder case and I was really stoked about it. It was this Zodiac killer style dude. His MO was to send packages to people with pipe bombs in them. I'd traced the postage he'd used to a specific dispensary. Then all I had to do was match the serial numbers to the purchase and boom I had him, well her actually, Stacey Reade, 27, a fashion designer. She didn't really fit the bill for package bomb sender, but hey a match is a match. I went to arrest her at her home but she'd bailed. She knew I was on to her, and she decided to strike me where she knew it would hurt. When I returned to my apartment I... I… can't.... I don't want to talk about this part.
((OOC: Drew returned home to find Wesley brutally murdered with a note saying, “See you soon." He has not been in a relationship since Wesley died.))
Anyways, afterwords I found her and was about to arrest her for what she'd done to... everyone, to... him. I shot her cold in the chest but she didn't go down. In fact, she just touched the blood and laughed at me. There was something off about her. She was a petite thing, five foot three, 109lbs. She seemed to know everything about me. She made me… see the things I feared most, and the things I’d lost.
“Did you enjoy my little pranks,” she asked me as I cried in fear.
She drank my blood that night. The experience freaked me the fuck out! I went to the hospital and committed myself and after I got out I immediately relapsed. Heroin and booze were the only things I cared about, that and forgetting her. I didn't get the chance though. She showed up three weeks later and drink from me again, this time almost killing me. Luckily, this junkie I was fucking used Narcan on me or my ass would've been dead. Did I say luckily?
I got fired from the force. I guess this was in like 1984. I was like twenty six or something. They were kind of sympathetic. They just all thought I was crazy. I thought I was too. That was until Stacey swept into my chosen drug den one night. She offered me power. She offered me freedom. She offered me the chance to see things more clearly about this world. She said her gifts could show me truth from lie, and the only price I had to pay was the illusion that was my life. I looked at my arm covered in track marks. I conceptualized the unpaid bills in my mind and the shitty apartment I was fighting so hard to keep. But what really did it for me was that I couldn’t think of a damn person who’d miss me.
I remember laughing as I accepted, expecting to die. I thought this must be a trick. There was no way I was gonna be an actual vampire. Well, remember what I said about me being lucky? I'm not. Next thing I knew I was dead, but also alive. I hate thinking about this crap. Anyways, I was a Kindred. I even got my own handy dandy fangs, a lust for blood and a few new tricks. Stacey was a crap sire. She basically taught me the basics. It was things like how to feed, who Cain was, that the Sabbat are bullshit, etc. Then, she abandoned me. “You must find your own path,” or some other such garbage was her excuse. I guess she bit off more than she could suck with me. Oh well, her loss. Worst part, my anger and mood swings got worse. What used to just annoy me, now made me punch a hole in the wall. Thanks, Stacey, you prankster bitch. To make matters worse, I was what they call a Caitiff. My blood was supposed to be Malkavian, but for some reason I came out different. Imagine that, even among fangers I’m wrong.
Since I moved to the city I’ve been doing my best to get my business up and running. The humans were all about it; a lot of chick clients wanting pictures of their boyfriends cheating. It’s not exciting work but hey, it pays my bills. I've stayed away from other vamps but I know that has to change. I'm searching for some contacts to beef up my business profile. Till then, my main goal is solving cases. I like my work, and I really like the money. I got booze to buy and feed to mortals. The old fashioned way was better but I'm not getting sober just because I'm dead. I quit the heroin, but I need to drink. It's the only thing that keeps my temper under control. Otherwise I'm gonna punch my fist right through some dumb a-hole.
I'm unbound and work best without “politics” getting in the way. This city has all the creatures, and making myself a supernatural PI has gotten me work from demons, fae, and even angels. Why would I back a District Leader, when people seek me out from all districts? As to the normal fucks in power, the Cammies are a bunch of young Republican uncle fuckers who blood bond and do all these crazy ass rituals. The Anarchs are at least good people to chat with. They're smart, funny, and most of all they know how to survive I can relate to that. I don't consider myself an Anarch because truthfully, I don’t care that much about anything. I'm not going to all the meetings, or handing out pamphlets, and nobody will ever dare call me politically correct and walk away smiling. But maybe if the Anarchs need me, I'll show up. Till then, I drink. I solve cases. I work alone. My whole time on this earth I've been unlucky, so maybe it's time my luck changed. Maybe it's time for me to get a win. Meh, probably not. Pass me a beer.
Awareness of Supernaturals: Drew is aware of vampires, some species of demons, ghosts, witches, some fae, and angels. He has met many supernaturals through his work as a private investigator. He knows most of the clans of Cain, has heard of Mimic demons, and has a small library of books on demonology. He has not come across weres or shifters yet.
Occupation/Job: Drew runs “Rebel Rebel” Investigations, a supernatural P.I. firm. While he takes plenty of mortal cases, he is known for taking jobs that focus on supernatural elements. He has broken strange spells, banished unwanted pests and done delivery missions of supernatural artifacts. His reputation is still small, but he has enough cash to pay the bills and keep the doors open.
Domicile: Drew keeps a one bedroom apartment above his business, “Rebel, Rebel Investigations." The building is located in the Brazilian Quarter, putting Drew within the jurisdiction of Jake McCloud. The area is dirt poor, and Drew has had to install burglar bars on his windows to stop the break ins. The interior of his office has black out curtains on all the windows, cheap fluorescent lights and old creaky chairs. There are two pieces of good furniture in the room, a heavy oak desk and a matching liquor cabinet. Inside is several top shelf alcohols. Drew explains these were the ones he never got to finish when he was alive. The second floor is where Drew lives. A terrible tile kitchen is unused. A living room has thrift store furniture haphazardly arranged. A bedroom with no windows and a mattress are the only other things of note.
Interesting Facts / Quirks: Drew has a fairly sharp memory when he’s sober. It helps him as an investigator. Drew still goes through symptoms of alcohol withdrawal when he hasn’t had any liquor infused vitae in a few days. Whether this withdrawal is physical or psychosomatic he does not know. Drew wears almost the same outfit everyday. Blue jeans, black motorcycle boots, a tank top and his signature biker jacket make up the base frame. He alternates a variety of colored beanies for bad hair days and if he really wants to look professional will put on a flannel shirt.
Hobby/Hobbies: Drew is an ammeter Demonologist, and has a small library of books on the subject. He enjoys craft projects, like fixing doors, redoing electrical wiring and woodwork. He rents some space in a local hardware shop to do his own projects. He uses a camera in his PI work and has taken up the hobby artistically as well. He is an avid motorcycle enthusiast and it it is his main form of travel. He is a skilled driver and occasionally races. He loves the thrill and the danger. He also wouldn’t mind a rider holding him from behind. Drew is also interested in philosophy and considers himself a nihilist.
Likes: Alcohol, money, interesting cases, learning about the supernatural, casual sex, motorcycles, danger, a good fight, alone time, alcohol, philosophy
Dislikes: Crying, sharing, boring cases, the Camarilla, people trying to control him, the foster care system, the American justice system
Strength: Drew’s personal strengths include, resolve, wits, creativity, bravery, and a caring disposition. He is also an avid lie detector and uses his investigative skills to sort fact from fiction.
Weakness/Flaw: Drew’s biggest weakness is his natural hatred and distrust of people. His low self image has convinced him that people are motivated only by their own greed and this has closed him off to new connections. His alcohol use is also a problem, as he often works on cases totally wasted.
Vampiric Disciplines:
Potence - Drew has supernatural strength and can channel that strength into various situations. While at a base level Potence just demonstrates the overall strength of the vampire in question, Drew has worked towards the mastery of specific techniques.
A. Soaring Leap - By channeling the power of the blood, the vampire can leap to heights beyond that of a normal mortal. Drew can, with a few quick leaps, easily scale a building for surveillance purposes or to make a quick escape.
B. Prowess - Drew can temporarily draw tremendous strength for a single activity like lifting a car. After this act is complete, the vampire using it will need to feed or will feel very weak.
C. Spark of Rage (requires presence) Drew can use a combination of his Potence and Presence disciplines to pull the rage of a person to the surface. This ability is often used during fights to make his opponent sloppy. Clan Malkavian perform a similar act through their own discipline, Dementation, which is what inspired Drew to learn this old and almost forgotten technique.
Obfuscate - Obfuscate is a low level form of mesmerism that allows the user to appear dim. Drew uses Obfuscate to spy while working cases and to provide escape when needed. Like Potence, Drew has mastered a few specific techniques of Obfuscate.
A. Silence of Death - This strange technique, taught to the Malkavian clan from the Banu Haquim, allows Drew to completely cancel out sound that he makes when moving. When making a stealthy escape Drew can rest easy knowing as long as he does not kick over a trash can he will escape unheard.
B. Unseen Passage and Vanish - The most classic form of Obfuscate. This power allows Drew to appear invisible for a brief period of time. While more novice users of this discipline can't disappear in front of the naked eye, Drew can dim himself at will, in effect vanishing into thin air.
C. Ghost in the Machine - While normally the mesmerism of Obfuscate only works on the naked eye, this subtle ability allows the powers of Obfuscate to work on live video feeds. This means that Drew can sneak past security cameras with ease. However, once the footage is reviewed the effect begins to fade. Each subsequent viewing makes the image clearer.
D. Cloak the Gathering - Drew has learned to extended his obfuscation to not only himself, but a comrade no larger than his own body, and any objects he is touching. This includes his motorcycle. His motorcycle is especially loud, so even under Silence of Death, a character with supernatural hearing will detect a light rumbling. Drew first demonstrated this ability in Moving Out (Anthony's Song). (http://www.roleplaycity.com/forum/index.php?topic=7456.0)
Presence - Drew has what some vampires call, “The Lingering Kiss.” Presence allows Drew to manipulate his aura in a variety of ways to create certain effects. Drew can use this form of supernatural charisma to get information, food, or intimidate an attacker. Drew has mastered a few techniques of Presence.
A. Awe - Drew can make himself more physically attractive to onlookers. Those who are not sexually attracted to him would at least find his company pleasing and interesting.
B. Daunt - Drew can reverse his pleasing aura into an intimidating one. His warm beauty becomes cold and menacing. This can deter attackers or sublimate weak minded people in social situations.
C. Dread Gaze - Drew can for a brief time show his fangs and spark terror in mortals and and send an intimidating message to supernaturals.
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