APPLICATION:
Name: Jack Slade
Age: 33
Descriptor: A man who hunts down, kills and/or captures the supernatural for the government.
Appearance: 5'11 with a angular nose sticking out from a deeply tanned face, he wasn't what you would call traditionally handsome , but he was far from unattractive. A vain man his tar black hair was almost always slicked back with whatever he happened to have on hand, often removing his hat just to show it off. He complemented his looks with an almost 5 o'clock shadow.
He had a wide grin, revealing white teeth, and dark eye that promised adventure to whatever young lady crossed his path. A band of black metal clung tightly to his neck, often covered bu some kind of clothing.
Biography: Never a man of strong moral or conscience, at a young age jack left home to seek his fortune, in the mountains west of his home town in Wisconsin, but not to pan for gold; he figured why look for it, when others were doing that for you.
He led a decent career in the mountains of Colorado, robbing gold panners and even wagons to make his living. That is, until he found himself involuntarily employed by the union army to fight both the Rebels and the Natives.
He did ok, working in the army, but the strict rules and boring shifts bored him, to the point that he joined his Captain and group of 20 or so deserters in leaving thar ranks, fleeing into the foot hills of Montana. Due to the outlaw gangs intimate knowledge of army supply lines and payroll routes, when they weren't looting wagons, they working closely with the natives to disrupt army supplies.
One winter, when Jack was a young man of 26, the gang had been pursued deep into the mountains by a large group of soldiers and townsfolk, fed up with their raids, and cornered in a large cave system. Food ran out quick, and the soldiers were more than happy to starve the outlaws out.
The former union Captain, a man of distinct cruelty and drive, resorted to murdering one of his thugs, and roasting his flesh, as one might a rabbit. He passed it around to the rest of his men, saying he'd found a deer who had hidden in the cave before they did.
All of them heartily dug into the warm flesh, all but Jack, who was sleeping fitfully in a pile of furs.
Lucky for him, none of the greedy bastards wanted to share their food.
The sound of screaming woke Jack, and he shot up like bolt, his revolver in hand. He'd figured the Soldiers got tired of waiting in the cold, and decided to end it all in a push. But when he came into the main chamber, what he saw wasn't gun smoke and blue uniforms pouring through the breech, but his own former comrades, now fellow outlaws, changing before his eyes.
He'd watched in horror as they grew to three times their height, limbs disproportionately long, and faces skeletal. The screams of pain and fear turned into ones of otherworldly hunger, and evil. The turned on each other, stripping what little flesh remained on one an others bones, shoving whatever they could into their mouths.
Baring thinking, Jack opened fire on the abominations, his bullets snapping brittle bones and passing through paper like skin. When his revolver ran dry, and they got to close, he resorted, to his shotgun and bowie knife.
After the screaming and fighting stopped, the soldiers went in, figuring that the outlaws had killed eachother off, but were shocked to find a dozen inhuman corpses, and one survivor.
Jack Slade.
They, loaded the corpses into a wagon, covered with a large tarp, and locked jack in a prison transport, bound for Washington, DC. After a series of bureaucratic delays, jack was brought before the head of a newly formed, un named division of the government, lead by a man in a black mask. The divisions purpose, was to identify, acquire and exterminate and supernatural threat to the recently fractured government of the united states. Jack would be agent 005 of this division.
He never did meet the others. They were more than likely dead.
He was sent on three missions, one that proved to be nothing more than a autistic girl, before he managed to sneak away from them. As punishment, they had him bound and flogged, and put him to work the very next day.
He broke free twice more before the 'researchers' at DC put together an accessory that kept him from escaping. A black metal collar that not only tracked him, but could be used to execute him the next time he broke rank.
Weather good or bad, it was his job to make those with powerful magic work for the government.
Or die before they can work against it.
Normal Skills:
-Gunfighting. He'd been a fast hand before the military, and after. He practiced everyday, ready for the next fight.
-Card Sharping. During his travels while employed by the Agency, he would make money to fund his late night carousing by lightening gamblers pockets at the table.
-Brawling. He was a more than decent fighter, able to take on more than one opponent at a time. His broken nose was an indicator as to how he got these skills.
Normal possessions:
Horse and tack. Nothing special.
Two Colt double action revolvers, one on each hip.
Short barreled lever action shotgun, in a holster on his back.
Winchester long rifle with a scope. Kept on his saddle.
Bowie knife.
Dynamite.
Special Possessions:
Black metal collar around his neck, binding him to the Agency.
A large black compass, kept on him at all times. Points to the largest sourse of magic nearby, good or evil.
Silver bullets. Kept in a special cylinder on his belt, ready for whenever he might come across a were-creature.
