Overview

Hi! Just wondering what your expected posting rate is going to be for this game? I'm not sure if I missed it somewhere. I have V20, M20 and Mage Revised but have not had the chance to play any of them yet. I would love to give WoD a go!

are we allowed to take berserk from the hunter game? basically on some condition, you can snap cuffs, break a chair your tied to etc

Name: Igor Alexeiev Dragunov Occupation: Former Gangster Background: While it would be fair to say that Igor is a black sheep of the family, it would also be fair to say that his family tree is covered with blood money. His blood money was just painted by his own hand. Igor comes from an iconic family, both when it comes to the Soviet Union before and the Russian Federation now. His Grandfather Yevgeny Fyodorovich Dragunov while quite prolific will without doubt stay etched in history as a designer of, the now, iconic SVD. Or for the less gun-crazy Dragunov sniper rifle. The simplifying impact of this rifle is its nickname "AK of Sniper rifles", widespread, sturdy, and precise, it carries all qualities of AK-47 and onwards, while substantially cutting on its downsides which made the rifle much harder to replicate by other countries making the Soviet Union and its friendly countries only shops in town. Even today upgraded versions of Dragunov are the staple of every infantry squad. With one soldier being mandatory armed with one of Dragunov's versions. These days most common is SVD-90, or SVDK (larger caliber version for "hard" targets). His Grandfather worked and the rifles to this day are produced by Kalashnikov factories, so under the same roof as AK 47 before and AK 74 later to AK 90 now. His father, Alexei, also followed in the family trade stamping his name with the PP-19 Bizon. SMG he designed with Victor Kalashnikov and produced for the Russian Security Forces, or in plain English, the Russian version of SWAT. So young Igor was around weapons and designs for weapons his whole life, he learned to clean an old Tokarev handgun when he was around 10, and shot his first bullets from M57 at 13. Already it was obvious he wouldn't follow the path of his family, his grades in everything except PE were atrocious. His discipline was down the drain, he served a mandatory year in the army where despite excelling in everything firearms-related, earning 2 lanyards for shooting. One was achieved by his family sniper, only the SVD-90 model, scoring the longest target shot right in the center other one was for the fastest clearing of the obstacle course with a handgun. Despite that, he refused to offer a contract that was sweetened by officer training. They wanted him not only because of his arms skills but the prestige his name would bring. But then 18-year-old Igor already had contacts before he entered the army, the army had just added training. He immediately was placed in the bus with 10 other guys and 100k Euro's in cash to go for Kiev and establish a base there for quite influential people. It went swimmingly 100k can grease a lot of pockets and get local muscle. In two years he was second in command for Kyiv operation, with 50 people under their command and at least 100 street workers. Moving Afgan Heroin and Hash, money was falling like rain. Even when he paid taxes to their "patron" in Russia, his direct boss got his part. Igor was still left with 10k a week. They bought a nightclub as a way to launder money and a center of operation. It seemed life couldn't be better. Then Igor found out that they played in someone else's pond. Local mafia visited and asked for their cut, they got politely escorted after their wrists, ankles, elbows, and knees were worked over by Igor with a 10-pound ball-peen hammer. Something that will become his calling card and earn the nickname The Hammer. Ukrainians did not take it kindly and Igor had his first turf war 3 months before his 21st birthday, he had 21 by the end of war, and two bodies on his tally. The opponent outfit was decimated, but they lost 10 people out of the core 50, 13 more were wounded, and out of action for at least a month for easiest wounded. Locals were hit the hardest, 30 bodies and 20 turned tail and ran. They needed time to rebuild and Igor learning the ropes of diplomacy contacted one of the remaining three outfits, naturally their losses, as in every war were closely guarded secret. As far as the other gang knew they were as good as new. It was true that they got 10 more people from Russia and they put on a show in the nightclub at the meeting. In the end, just on that meeting, he spent 30k Euros but the deal was struck. As a sign of goodwill and acknowledgment they work in their backyard, he just gave 2 third of the territory they bled over and kept a third for themselves. In truth portion he gave away was hard to defend anyway as it was open toward all three remaining groups. Now they enlarged their territory, got at least the "pro forme" blessing of the locals, and had to worry about just borders with one group. In the long term if they play their cards right they will reap tenfold profit and be back in green within a year and really in green. The guy who did the books predicted they would at least double their profit, at least. His current boss then gave him a nod, which was a smart thing from him, better to separate from the ambitious second in command who was becoming increasingly popular. Give him his own territory to sink or swim in. Same deal, 10 guys came from Moscow with 100k Euro in cash, destination Odesa. From a criminal enterprise point of view The Crown Jewel. Kyiv had prestige as the capital, but Odesa had the port, border with secessionist Transnistria where the untold amount of weapons and ammo was just sitting guarded by underpaid soldiers. Cutting a part of Odesa would be immensely profitable for all included. However precisely because of that Kyiv was the most peaceful place in the world compared with Odesa. Naturally, locals had at least 3 strong groups there and dozens of smaller ones to use as fodder, Russians with different patrons already had two, Turks had one, and both the Moldovian mob and Transistran mob had their respective parts. Poland showed a strong hand with three groups. Then various governments also poked and prodded with their deniable assets. U.S., Russia, U.K., Turkey, Coalition between Saudis and UAE, Egypt, France... just to name those who had enough firepower to permanently wipe him off even before he started. But this wasn't fresh out of army Igor, doing this for the first time, this was fresh out of mob war Igor, the war he won and secured future for his group. Igor had a name of his own to lean to not just famous ancestors. Igor The Hammer. And that Igor treated 10 men from Russia and their 100k like a nice bonus, but not something he'll solely rely on. Nightclub was 40/60 and he sold his 40% to his former boss. 20 veterans from the war elected to follow him into Odesa, in a controversial move he recruited 10 more people from the group they destroyed, enemies he respected. He couldn't trust them yet, but he knew their qualities and knew now they needed the money. So he showed up in Odesa with 40 men close to half a million Euro and enough hardware that if anyone struck without thinking they might wipe him out but they would be so bloodied someone else would have the knife under their neck before long. Afghan products continued to come and were popular as always but contrary to many he did not try to muscle his way in, actually his first move was to approach Transistrians and propose a barter. They already had carved out a niche for themself but had only weapons to sell. When you have just one product soon everyone will already have one. Igor proposed to take some of those pesky weapons off their hands for A-Grade Hash and H. They diversify their trade since if they continued to give out the explosives from warehouses it would take a long damn time to even make a dent, and now with some drugs on the side market will increase. Best of all, they pay for goods in weapons. All money stays safe in their hands, and this newcomer won't set up the shop. Igor bided the time with this one, he knew after Kyiv everyone would look at him sideways. He bought three nice businesses for criminal purposes, but besides that little drugs-for-arms deal, he had going he was clean as the whistle. This time instead of a Nightclub he bought a small Pub near the beach and that was actually a good investment. It was green on its own from day one, other two...not so much. Fishing firm together with leasing a mooring dock for two ships he had and 4 containers for fish. There were good and bad days but that job barely broke even. Meaning after bribes he had to pay so inspectors wouldn't look into his containers and find boxes of hand grenades instead of oysters, AKs instead of fish, and RPGs instead of crabs. Same story just worse in his last job, a Car Dump, that wasn't at least breaking even so it was just a black hole for bribes. But that was all chump change while bartering worked for Transistrians, his patron expected cash for his goods and Igor paid him from his war chest. It took a year. Year for people to start considering him just another feature of Odesa. His stock fell in criminal circles, a boy who once got lucky and now is discovering that at 23 he's decades behind for playing with the big boys. In his own estimation from roughly 500k Euros, he spent 300k and had a successful pub to show for it that earned not insignificant but for his needs still negligible 50k in pure profit. Completely legal 50k with taxes paid and all. He kept that money separately. So clean cash has more value than it seems. For a quick getaway for example. Anyway thing no one in Odesa wondered was where are all those weapons and what are plans for them. Since normally not everything is shared among thieves, a lot of them assumed he sent weapons somehow to Moscow and they traded with Afghans who were in the last years of their war with the U.S. Now good buddies from C.I.A. and Mi-6 thought the same, and followed that up just to come up negative, and since someone emptying that weapon cache in any way was beneficial for them they kept Igor's secret. That, in fact for a year he was doing it he had so many army-grade small weapons, ammo, grenades, and anti-armor vehicles that he likely could take Odesa if he had the manpower, and while he did up his army to 50, not counting civilians who worked at all three his businesses. That was not enough to wipe out one big player. He could've fought and won against Transistrians and Moldovans. But he'd burn a bridge for the weapons. So he even had big spies stumped. Then it came a night, a night of waiting a year and making 6 months when he contacted Moscow and sent them 100k to arrange for PMC to slowly over the 6 months move operatives from Moscow to Odesa and its surroundings. They never met Igor, apparently had a normal job and most never met each other but 100K over 6 months gets you 500. That is the price of waiting. If he was impatient he likely could get a brigade, but with that brigade, he'd get publicity he did not want. He spent 300k to wash off publicity from the last stunt. And 500 + 50 of his own was more than enough for what he wanted, After all, he did want to stay on good terms with some. But also to show his teeth, and no matter how ruthless that sounded from some groups root and stem had to be incinerated and while his weapon was not newest. Considering his army wielded assault rifles with sniper and heavy machine gun support, plus various explosives, and heavy-duty military armor. In contrast, the best-equipped enemy troupes had true, modern bur SMGs and handguns with civilian kevlar graded against handguns. The night was one of Independence Day celebrations with 30 minutes of fireworks and since it was Odesa it will be fireworks indeed. That was the time and that was the timeframe. 30 minutes since the first firework rocket exploded, if the job assigned was unfinished after that 30 minutes disengagement was to be enacted. Men arrived at the Car dump lot, weapon and armor kits were given, and targets were assigned. three Polish, Moldovans, both Russian groups, they were to stay the only Russian player in town and one Ukranian that Igor was certain wouldn't play ball in the aftermath. He had a similar idea to one he did in the capital just more ambitious, he'll cease former Russian and late Ukranian group's territory to two remaining Ukranian factions in entirety no strings attached. They were to protect his flank from returning Russians and keep smaller Ukrainian factions in line. Transnistrians will be given the Moldovian part and their business will continue unabated. Then two tricky ones, all territory the Polish Mob held would be given to Turks for allowance of passing of his ships unabated through the canal, he would pay the bribes all they had to do is first agree to it, and then make sure people approached are receptive to bribes. Then the last one and damn time for him to finally get the return on his investment, the risky one. Approaching C.I.A. asset and Mi-6, the proposal was simple he would continue to siphon weapons from Transnistria and sell them to Africa and Asia to the groups West id favorable to and sell Hash and H to the groups that were opponents of Glorious Bald Eagle and Union Jack, making them not only less effective in combat but once hooked tighten the supply as during, say, offensives launched by those fighting for Fish and Chips with the Apple Pie as dessert. Nothing would have to be signed just ignore certain ships Turks let pass without checking. If successful, he'd basically deliver his patron the golden key. Before his 24 birthday and this time significantly a bit over 7 months he'd do the largest upset in the underworld of this part of Europe. He personally led his outfit of 50 toward the Russian base help in one of the Hotel resorts, it's true there is no such deep grudge as one against the kinsman. Their leader was rather disparaging of Igor at first, rude but not a death sentence. However, two months ago he insulted youth at a rather large gathering. Then he laughed it off, cameras were there, press, not the time. But fatso sealed his faith that night. Over the shoulder, he had, appropriately, Dragunov Sniper and because Transistria's stock was Cold War one it was precisely one his grandfather designed. Wooden parts he polished until the birch was perfect before weather and termite protection, he even made sure the bayonet was oiled and sharpened. He had a year to wait for this after all. Around his belt just under the body armor was the only luxury weapon he allowed himself to fully customize, Zastava PPZ, in his opinion one of the best handguns in the world. Even if he basically customized everything on the weapon it still was cheaper than some of the large names, their loss. He'd choose this over any Glock model, he'd maybe think if offered one of the big game revolvers, he was a sucker for a nice revolver. For a second he reflected that were oddly relaxed thoughts in this moment. They reached servant elevator time where he split from his crew, he slapped his second in command on his shoulder "Иди трахни их матерей, брат" Fedjka just grinned under his tobacco yellowed mustaches and winked at him "И мне тоже сломай колено одному жирному ублюдку." The elevator moved up and he took the sniper off the shoulder, Artjom was paranoid even in his own fortress, info indicated there were 5 guards in front of the door where he will "watch the fireworks" with two models. Sat what you want, the old half-emptied balloon had good taste. He saw the blood near the pool once without the makeup, even without as much as lip balm she was gorgeous. He knew the perks that came with this job when you climb high enough, he felt some of them when they were on top in Kyiv. Still imagining Atrtjom with either of them felt like someone taking a dump on Mona Lisa. While thinking he was automatically checking the rifle. His Grandpa knew how to make them reliable. He cracked his neck and visualized the hallway from the pics he smuggled. Once the servant elevator opens bell will inform all the guards so he should exit right away, with a measured step server called to the room. Not too fast not hesitating calm steps, by the look on the picture between 4 and 6 so say 5 steps before he clears the corner and they can see him. Take rather four kneeling with the last one and expose just the rifle and the shoulder/elbow line. They will be momentarily confused by what they see. Enough for the first shot, they are not soldiers but did finish the same year he has, some might be former soldiers from the Chechen Wars. They'll gather their wits fast, he'll have time for just one more shot before they react. Three of them left. The sensible thing would be to retreat to the room but Artjom is a coward he has the button for locking the door, and while they break in he'd have time for another shot. Then they would have cover too and time on their side. He reaches behind. Two grenades. Frag and smoke. Frag means possible collateral, smoke means he possibly getting shot. However, option two instead of breaking the door rushing his position, 50 ft distance, he'd still have time for one shot before two are upon him. Then he'd have to change to a pistol. No Change to the pistol while they charging and getting up at the same time. When he customized PPZ, bullets were what he spent most time on. Four possible versions, in the end, he agonized between .40 S&W and .45 ACP. Now his life might depend on it. Then girls. The unknown variable. He takes a tactical face mask, stupid name it was basically a balaclava with some synthetic faceplate, in theory, it should be able to stop bullets from an average handgun from a distance of 30 ft. or larger and grazing shots from higher caliber bullets. The fabric was some kind of silklike material that was supposed to be cut-proof which made no sense to him since they really assumed someone would bring a knife to a gunfight. There was also a standard riot helmet to go with it but no way in hell he's wearing that. He took it more because it hid his face and felt not secure when he placed it on but dumb. He hoped for at least a false sense of security. The elevator stopped and the door opened bell sounded like a signifying the first round. He started walking when the first fireworks rocket exploded coloring the hallway blue, then shifting red. He sighed, this will be like he played laser tag on LSD. As in his mind, he knelt and exposed just his rifle, it took a moment to realize that instead of guarding all guards were watching fireworks one even opened the upper window and lit up a joint, high probability from hash he sold to Transistrians. In the unreal scene, he squeezed the trigger three times before they realized they were being slaughtered, late, way too late. The last one was in his scope, joint still in his mouth, trying to untangle MP5 when he placed the bullet in his head. The sixth and seventh bullets went into a lock, it WAS sturdy. Igor slowly got up and scope still on his eye he approached the room, and he saw nothing. He went left to right from the doorway still nothing moved. There was the sound of water on the balcony "Hot tub" he realized, a great place to watch the fireworks with two models. He learned the Sniper against the door and picked up one MP 5 It had a laser target system. Igor wasn't a fan but it might come in handy later, with mechanical precision checked is SMG operational and loaded. It was, he moved toward the sound of water. He moved onto the balcony diagonally, the way they taught him in the army to reduce the enemy's space. He was not ready for the scene he saw and he just killed five people in cold blood, their brain-matter decorating the doors. Still, under the merciless trippiness of fireworks, this looked...insane. Artjom and the Blonde were in the hot tub, both naked, one hell of a juxtaposition if there ever was one, and while both were alive neither of them reacted as someone confronted with a large masked armed man should. The Blonde was looking at him with her feline eyes almost dreamily, half smile on her lips, he could swear almost inviting, It took some willpower to move and look at Artjom, his flabby body had an even larger resemblance to a deflated balloon, there was a line of spittle hanging from his upper lip all the way to the chin, his eyes were unfocused looking nowhere, mouth opening and closing but no sound was leaving. "Drugs." he thought but what kind in hell's name? Then he noticed dark liquid in the water next to the bath like spilled in struggle, wine, or..."Blood." Igor was fit 24 Y.O. He wouldn't call himself a fitness nut but when your life depends on being stronger, faster, more accurate, more skilled, and more coordinated than the next man you take practice slightly more seriously. And considering his age he was at the peak or close to the peak of his physical abilities. He was manhandled as a 3-year-old child by a woman tall about 5'4" and weighing some 144 pounds. To his amazed consciousness did not seem like she was particularly fast or strong, but rather he was slow and clumsy as a bear on the ketamine binge. He would swear on a stack of Bibles she had a disapproving look on his face like his mom would have when he had done something bad as a child when her small hand grabbed MP 5 and yanked it out of his hands. It wasn't a feeling of incredible strength but rather his own weakness. "That was quite enough of that, you already made a mess in the hallway and ruined a wonderful evening for Layla and me, we really lack "us" time you know." He didn't, but he nodded anyway since it seemed the right thing to do. "I assume winding down firefights on lower floors is part of this little coup d'état" The remainder of the other puzzle pieces shocked him back to reality still he didn't even think of attacking the woman, and while she was naked too, albeit brunette, he did not think the same things as when he glanced toward "Layla" "No, coup d'état is downstairs and all over Odesa for roughly 5 minutes more. She tilts her head "Ah, fireworks. Streetsmarts, not just a butcher, more of a spider, so what is this?" Igor looked at still zoinked out Artjom "This is personal business." She almost stalks toward the hot tub grabbing Artjom by the scruff of the neck picking him up as a cub and lays him out next to the tub before entering herself. She takes the glass full of dark liquid and takes a sip while Layla while almost taller by head gets lower in the water to cuddle under the odd woman's arm. Igor spares them a glance before dragging out his melee weapon...chisel-peen hammer. Only 5 pounder but he doubted Artjom would properly enjoy the difference. Once the chisel part digs under his kneecap and Igor leverages it out of the socket Artjom finally returns to reality with a scream. Both women looked grisly performing as if someone would watch the play. As the last of Artjoms screams dies out. The balcony looked like an abattoir and blood steamed off Igor's body. He leaves the balcony and takes a shower taking lighter fluid and burning everything except body armor which he places into a small duffel bag from which he retrieves a pair of jeans, t-shirt, and sneakers. He disassembled the sniper and placed it next to body armor and grenades. He only moved PPZ to a clip-on holster and hid it under the t-shirt. Once done he looked on the balcony, Artjom was still in the bloody heap he left him in but both women were gone. He almost thought he dreamt all when he noticed the MP-5 imprint of the small palm clearly visible on deformed metal he impulsively shoved it into the nearly full duffel bag. And leaves, and he finds his men waiting for him, but there are fewer of them, and many had field-dressing. In the end, he'll know the extent of his success then or the magnitude of his failure. Still, he was optimistic. His group was a purely criminal element and they managed. Trained PMCs would surely do better. As they sit in the van and peel off he raises eyebrows to his second in command. Fedja grins and pushes a large duffel bag toward him. 8 of his little ones could fit inside. He looked inside Fedjushka added it was exactly where you said how did you know? They own the Hotel I was in Moscow with nearly the same layout once I saw the blueprints it was clear. Organization's safe, cash, and valuables for quick spending in case of emergency. He Saw Euros, Dollars, Rubbles, some gold, most in various jewelry but a few bricks too. At first glance, they already recouped their costs. Even if they get stiffed on the exchange it was close to a million U.S. dollars there. He figured half leave or change in dollars and the other half in Euros. Just to isolate himself from financial instability. Once he pays his men, sends the cut to Moscow, and gives out the bribes he was looking at 300k easily with what remained of his war chest if everything went right he eliminated all the groups he planned to do no business with, had the almost half the million again, and was on the verge to have the keys to the canal, historic deal with Turks and two government operations and the pipeline to large cache of weapons and drugs. He more/less won this game by just waiting and one night of violence. Still, he had a feeling he had forgotten something, something odd, and scary, his eyes fall on the small duffel bag and small hair on the back of his neck stood at attention. Almost forgot...To Be Continued

What's the next step? Do you want me to stat this character? Flesh out her background?

Name: Adina Metzger Age: 25. Occupation: Writer. Bookstore Owner. Paranoid Weirdo. Conspiracy Theories. Sometimes petty criminal. Background: Born in Yonkers New York to a professor of political Science at Columbia and a used car salesmen. Adina went to Columbia and majored in anthropology always an introvert and strange girl she was always looking for the stranger parts of life and eventually became a successful writer of dark supernatural fiction. Or at least that is what she tells her parents. While she does make money with the sell of her books, it's never enough to actually make ends meet so she also undertakes various other ways of making money. Opening up a book store. Ghost writing. Blogging and running a few online message boards. And on occasion doing a little under the table work, she would never call herself anything like a fence but if you have something to need to sell she can sell it for you. Personality: Paranoid, introverted, Snarky and a bit of a general mess. Appearance: Long strait black hair some freckles, glasses, she gives off a general 'cute' librarian vibe. Depending on how you feel about Yonkers accents.

Name: Severian Taxil Age: 45 Occupation: ARG Designer, Nomad, and Dead-End Job Haver Background Severian had your average Gen X dysfunctional background. Poor family. Alcoholic father. Emotionally abusive mother. It wasn't exactly fun, but plenty of people had it worse. He never felt like he belonged even before becoming one of Generation X's disaffected youth during the 90s, dropping out of high school and bouncing around meaningless jobs before going back to school in his late 20s. While it was stimulating intellectually, it was no balm for his soul, and Severian remained rootless and dissatisfied with the world. That would change one fateful night. What started as a few drinks at a local bar ended with an icepick in the ear of a local politician who was involved in a contentious (though minor) issue, and disposing of the briefcase that contained the relevant papers. Severian still isn't sure what drove him to this action. Regardless, it's what happened next that was important - Severian watched as that casual, senseless death became the focus of attention. More importantly, he was riveted by the stories that people created to explain. Tales of corruption. Rumors of backroom dealing and purchased votes. He could only watch in fascination as people built complex narratives to explain and elaborate on what had occurred. Stories are how we understand and define the world. Perhaps, thought Severian, the disaffection which had always ridden him was because our stories had lost their power. Religion no longer satisfied the human soul, and art and entertainment, no matter how compelling or engaging, now occupied a step too far removed from the experience. No longer were these things sufficient to allow us to experience the numinous and the sublime. Reality itself was worn thin and washed out. How then, to satisfy the craving, to fill the need? Severian decided that he would become a teller of tales, but as had been established, neither page nor stage could satisfy. Thus the world itself became his canvas. Uprooting his life, Severian became a nomad. For the past decade and change he has wandered from place to place, spending a few months, sometimes a few years in a location as he weaves a story. In Las Vegas it was a carefully crafted set of tarot cards, supposedly ancient, that could be used to play a game in which the stakes were immortality. In upstate New York, it was a mysterious fire at a farmhouse full of partying college kids and painstakingly crafted images that suggested a mysterious entity and had at the scene of the tragedy. Over the course of the years, he has created artifacts and forged ancient tomes. Whispered rumors of cults. And yes, sometimes he has taken life. While this haunts him, he is still driven; creating stories of the mysterious, the numinous, the hint of the supernatural. He strives to introduce a sense of the sublime into the mundane world, and as the Romantics knew that involves encounters with the sense of horror and helplessness as often as it does wonder. Appearance His dark hair flecked with gray and hazel eyes, Severian is a man comfortably settling into middle age. At 6'1" he's slightly above average height, with strong features, and though he's not overweight he doesn't seem like the kind of man who'd pass up taco Tuesday for the gym. His voice is a deep, smooth rumble, marked with just a hint of a drawl. With a fashion sense that includes things like strong-framed glasses, bowling shirts, and bowties, it's not hard to spot him coming. Personality In most respects, Severian is laid back and easygoing, perhaps too much so in some people's opinion. He doesn't seem particularly interested in, or even engaged with, the hustle and bustle of the workaday world - content to simply accept things as they come. This is not to say there are not exceptions. Conversations that stray into the realms of semiotics or epistemology reveal a more engaged and invested Severian (not that these topics tend to come up over your average cup of coffee), and he has firm stances on the subjects of human rights and existential personhood. There is, of course, his secret plan to change the world - but everybody needs a hobby, right?

Character Information Name: Nick Mancini Age: 32 Occupation: FBI Special Agent - Violent Criminal Apprehension Program - Denver Field Office. Background: Personality Nick exhibits the standard type A personality traits. He is extremely loyal to his job, his friends and the U.S. He is quick with sarcasm, a short joke, or funny story as well as very being social when needed, an ability that assists him during his cases. Along this same line, he is often outspoken, voicing his opinion even when he is in the minority. Although he gives most people the benefit when they fail, he does not let that benefit extend to himself. While not a perfectionist, he seldom accepts anything less than complete success and failure causes Bradley to become sullen and withdrawn to reexamine his actions. In daily interactions, especially when deep in thought, either private or professional, he can be heard humming classic rock tunes and when he is perplexed for answers, he often subconsciously touches the small silver crucifix that he wears, a source of solace from his catholic faith. When off duty, he can be seen with one of his Classic rock tour caps, from his large collection History & Background Born in Destin, Florida as the only son of a Catholic Social Worker and an Army Colonel. Nick grew up in his father’s shadow, bouncing around several U.S. Military posts. His self-induced military career began with graduating from the Citadel military academy, with Honors and dual BA in Political Science and Forensic Anthropology. He declined enlisting as an officer and the chose instead the enlisted route. Career History: Nick began his career as a volunteer. Enlisting at 18, he completed Advanced Infantry training. Continuing to volunteer, first for Airborne school and then for the Elite Army Rangers. He excelled in the harsh, deadly world of Army Special Operation Forces. Like his father, Nick grew not only as a soldier but also as a leader, gaining high marks on his evaluations for both leadership and technical proficiency. These skills were forged among his men in places such as Haditha, Takur Ghar, and Kandahar, eventually earning the Silver Star, 2 bronze stars for valor and 2 purple hearts for injuries received. After 11 years in the army, Nickleft the service and after applying was accepted to the FBI. After graduation and probationary assignment, he volunteered for advanced training in the FBI’s Critical incident Response Group’s (CIRG) Violent Criminal Profiling course. He was assigned the FBI Field Office in Sacramento to the celebrated Violent Criminal Apprehension Program. He was promoted to the rank of Assistant Supervisory Special Agent, in ViCAP for his work in the identification and arrest of the “Straw Man” serial homicide suspect. and moved to the Denver Field office.

Character Information Name: Dr Isabel Morales Vasquez Age: 28 Occupation: Medical Doctor, working at an inner city hospital Background: Isabel the daughter of illegal migrants from Honduras who benefitted from the DREAM Act and is the first in her family who has been to university. Although she is intelligent, much of her success is the result of never giving up. She is single, but she has parents and siblings that expect her to provide and also try to meddle with her life. For her it is both a privilege and a challenge to be a doctor at a hospital: She is often mistaken for a nurse, and she is driven to show the world that she is at least as good as any other doctor. In her freetime, she loves cooking Honduran food and collecting Honduran folk legends for her blog. She is also fending off her relatives' efforts to find the right man for her.

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