Personal Information

Your name: Riley
Your age: 25
Contact info: PM

Character Information:

Full Name: Kevin Scherp
Nickname: [Optional]
Species: Human Hunter [Vampire, werewolf, superkid, witch, human or hunter?]
Powers: Ever seen the trick where someone throws a set of keys and it lands perfectly on the hook on the wall?  He did that, once. No really, it was totally awesome, just like in the movies.  He doesn't have to prove it because he already did it.  Other than that, no.

Family:

• Father: Henry Scherp (assumed dead)
  
• Mother: Matilda Scherp (assumed dead)
  
• Siblings: Melody Mirabelle Scherp (assumed dead)

Age: 23
Birthday: August 11
Gender: Male
Orientation: Straight
Status: Single
Occupation: Busboy/Waiter
A pretty color: Purple!

Appearance:

Eyes: Pale blue
Hair: Dirty Blonde
Body: Fit, muscular
Other: Favors worn jeans and basic t-shirts.  Boxers, never briefs

Personality: Loyal to a fault, Kevin will never leave a man behind, and always follows his moral compass (albeit one established by someone with a less than favorable settings). He views the world as black and white. There are good people (mainly humans) and there are bad people (mainly supernaturals). He also considers himself to be very chivalrous


Likes: Comic Books, specifically: Deadpool, Batman, and the Watchmen; building things out of wood from bird houses to shelves; tinkering on his old truck that seems likely to give out at any moment


Dislikes: Appearing weak, girls in makeup, the Green Lantern


Strengths: Loyalty, basic brawling and hand gun skills, has minor tracking, following, and eavesdropping skills


Weaknesses: Blinded by upbringing; Recently broken right arm (freshly healed, though still repairing fully); pretty blondes and buxom red heads; emotional and quick to anger

Fears: Fires and dying by smoke inhalation
Weapon of choice: Colt .45 revolver that was his father’s

History: Kevin’s past is full of woe, as the childhoods of orphans tend to uncover. His parents died brutal deaths at the hands of a small pack of sadistic supernaturals, the only reason Kevin did not die was due to the fact a sophisticated group of hunters happened upon the scene. Too late to save his parents or his sister, the group led by Professor John Gordon took Kevin into their fold. He was not the only child to be snatched from the maws of wicked beasts and placed into the care of Professor Gordon and his associates. Every 8-14 months a new recruit was found, sometimes saved, sometimes adopted from orphanages.

He grew up pleasantly in a small town outside of Denver, and knew no other world than the Professor’s since he was 8 years old. Physical training began at age ten, and they all received the finest of educations. Arithmetic, science, literature, all the rudimentary courses were covered and the children always received the highest marks from regional standardized tests.
Children do not stay young forever though, and by the time Kevin could drive, he’d already staked a vampire and had grown accustomed to late nights searching for clues of supernatural baddies. The group mostly stayed local to Denver, but every so often other hunters would ask for their assistance, or the Professor would send teams of them to scour truly bad nests. Typically they didn't stray further than North America, including Canada and northern parts of Mexico. By 18, Kevin had been sent on half a dozen trips, some taking as long as six months to finally root out the problems.

Excitement had raced through Kevin at the prospect of a solo-mission in Virginia. His primary mission was to survey and report, but should a few supernaturals be brought down in the process, it was of no mind to the Professor. Kevin would spend as much time as he could documenting the locals and identifying the threats to the local populace. Should the need be sufficient, a team would be assembled and assist Kevin in cleaning the town. (optional)

Sample post: The office had the familiar scent of stale cigar smoke, and just a touch of gin in the air. Bookshelves lined the walls, most tattered and ancient, some in a form of English, others clearly not. A white haired man wearing round spectacles read the beaten spines, his back to the door. As Kevin entered, Professor Gordon didn't divert his attention, didn't move at all as he began to speak.

“Your latest assignment is there.” Professor Gordon said. His hand came up to skim one of the books, poised to pluck it from the shelf until he changed his mind and turned around, nodding to the tabbed manila folder on his red oak desk. “It’s a tiny town, in Virginia.”
Kevin crossed the room and to pick up the folder, immediately he began to read the pages. Facts and figures about the town were laid out before him, a map of the overall town, statistics, and crime rates. In his brief glance it seemed to be a quiet town. Before Kevin had a chance to speak, Professor Gordon continued his orders, “You will have three days to memorize the packet and pack your things. I doubt this will be a quick mission. The supernaturals in this area seem to be quite good at hiding their tracks.” In a languid movement the professor sat in his high-backed chair. His eyes watched Kevin, waiting for the right question to be asked.

“Sir,” Kevin started, “I don’t see why I need to look into this. It seems to be quiet and peaceful, nothing in these records indicate any kind of disturbances.” Typically the crime rates were higher, more accounts of missing persons, but everything for Bitter Springs seemed to be in order.
A grin curled on the old man’s face, a response to a joke only he understood. “Precisely. It was built in a common time period for permanent supernatural nests, and yet nothing is extraordinary about it. No grave amounts of missing persons, no wanton dog attacks that cannot be explained. It is perfectly and utterly clean.” His eyes glimmered with laughter as he lauded his own brilliance, “It’s cleaner than a nun’s behind, and nothing should ever be that clean.

“Oh, sure, I’ve been wrong about my quiet suburbs before, it’s why Stephens will be visiting Montana, and I’m sending Erickson to Alaska. Three quiet towns, three just a little too clean. It’s going to be difficult; I do not expect your reports to be full of much import… At least not until you’ve found them.” Professor Gordon held a fist to his abdomen, “I can feel them Kevin, I know it, in my gut. One of these three places will prove worthwhile.”

Kevin gave a nod of his head, “Understood, sir. I’ll pack my apartment and drive out in one of the SUVs within the next 72.”

In response, Professor Gordon threw his arms out onto his desk, “You will do no such thing. This is undercover.” He emphasized his words by stamping a single finger down on his desk, “Deep undercover. You will take that old clunker you love working on and the bare essentials. I want you invisible. Be a bartender, be a librarian, be anything you like but do not, I repeat, do not bring attention to yourself. Take out and straggling supernaturals as you find them, but I don’t expect you to find them quickly.”

“And when I do, sir? Find them, that is.”

The smile returned to the Professor’s face, “Why, we’ll kill them. Every last one of them.”

Welcome to Bitter Springs!