Room for one more rando?

[hider=Eighty][b]Name:[/b] Eighty

[b]Age:[/b] 31

[b]Description:[/b] 

[hider=Reference photo pulled from search][img]http://i00.i.aliimg.com/wsphoto/v0/1835516934/Free-Shipping-Male-women-s-quinquagenarian-hat-autumn-and-winter-vintage-patchwork-newsboy-cap-wool-octagonal.jpg[/img][/hider]
[b]Gender:[/b] Male

[b]Race:[/b] Human

[b]Magic:[/b] "Dun' know any."

[b]Equipment:[/b] Eighty carries little on him, normally. Cigs, lighter, wallet, normal stuff. When he's out conducting business however, he brings along some specialty items, including a custom 9mm pistol with differing ammunition intended for differing oppositional forces, such as silver bullets for werewolves. He also brings along modernized versions of tried-and-true monster-killing tools - retractable pocket stake, spray can full of Church-blessed water, small can of gasoline, what have you. Honestly, he thinks most of it is ridiculous, but it works, so he doesn't complain.

[b]Personality:[/b] Eighty is, for the most part, the average London ganger in terms of personality. Normally keeps to himself, tends to come off as rude, hard to trust, so on. However, unique to him among most other London gangers, are his notions towards the supernatural. Eighty is no stranger to the world of vampires, werewolves, demons, etcetera. But he sees such beings as little more than humans in terms of the big picture - everyone trying to make a buck, get ahead in life, and live freely. All this adding up, Eighty is never impressed with anything supernatural. As he would describe it, "It's all the same stuff you see in comics and movies. Big deal."

[b]History:[/b] Eighty, real name withheld for reasons he isn't keen on delving into, is someone who a good number of folks would see as a low-class, suspicious-looking, small-time criminal. When it came to his earlier years, they'd have been right. London slum dweller who never accomplished anything, and didn't strive for much else. However, who Eighty was then has been entirely forgotten - so much to say that it was effectively erased from all appropriate records by parties unknown.

For most of his mid-life, Eighty was nowhere to be seen. He showed back up in London looking much different than before, foregoing his birth name and instead using the numerical callsign granted to him by his, as he would put it, 'employers'. Eighty has since delved deeper into the London crime scene to the supernatural rung, where the much more interesting stuff happens - smuggling of magical artifacts, nonhuman organ trafficking, werewolf pit fights, and all other sorts of nasty business involving the more mystical side of life. Eighty gets involved in just about all of it, for reasons unknown, and to unclear ends.

As is to be expected, the Order tends to get involved in breaking up most of the activities listed above, much to Eighty's ire. However, much of the time, deals tend to go bad, groups will get a little too greedy, what have you. At the behest of his employers, Eighty will cooperate with the Order when it seems most appropriate to keep himself afloat in the sea of scum he makes a living off of. He hands over information regarding problem folks, and the Order doesn't fry him to a crisp. So far it's worked out, but he expects them to eventually change their mind and hunt him down.

And when that happens, he'll be ready.[/hider]