Ah, New York. It isn’t Max’s favourite city, not by any sincere metric, but it does have the decency to contain some of his favourite people. A few decent hotels. A few excellent bars. A few private rooms where the lighting forgives almost everything. So he can forgive New York in return, if only temporarily. Even now, he cuts through the outdoor seating with all the confidence of someone assuming that paths are meant to clear for him, as he finds one of those favourite people sitting in daylight. His cousin. Or rather, the crime against nature itself. Max slows beside Felix’s table and looks him over with open, theatrical disapproval.
“Without fail, seeing you in daylight is like seeing a dog on its hind legs. Technically impressive, but ultimately odd. You always look out of place, Felix. Like someone reanimated you and propped you up in a suit.” he drags the opposite chair back and it screams against the pavement with a horrible metallic scrape that makes someone nearby glance over their menu. Max does not apologise, he just drops into the chair with a smug little grin. “How have you been?” he asks, and then nods straight to Felix’s hand. Never mind the fact there's no ring there. “Oh, before I forget. Congratulations.” And just like that, Max then claps his hands together and rubs them, brightening at once.
“Anyway. More importantly, the club.” his grin returns, alive with terrible purpose. “There’s this marble I want from somewhere inconvenient. Maybe just for the bar. Or the toilets as well, depending how much we can get hold of without committing an actual crime.” A pause. “Or with one. I’m open.” He leans back, eyes narrowing as the idea rearranges itself in real time in his brain. “Do we think Bunny could get her aunt Tabs on the phone? She knows people, doesn’t she? People with quarries.” his fingers tap once against the table. “Oh. What about Lia? Lia would know a marble…” He pauses, frowns. “Artist? Is that a thing?” @manybcdthings
Max was born and raised in Sweden, though he traveled extensively growing up. He is the son of Astrid Nilsson, Agneta Ranstrom’s nephew, and cousin to Oskar and Felix Ranstrom.
Though not a Ranstrom by name, Max sits close enough to the family orbit to be known, judged, and occasionally blamed for whatever trouble follows him. He is not fully part of the main social group, but he appears often enough that most people know exactly who he is.
Max embodies the Nilsson temperament through and through: impulsive, explosive, attention-seeking, theatrical, and emotionally led in ways he rarely knows how to manage. As a result, he does not have a particularly close relationship with Agneta. She finds him difficult, unserious, and perhaps a little too familiar in ways she would rather ignore.
He sees very little of Oskar beyond needling him (with Felix) whenever the opportunity presents itself. Felix, however, is a different story. Max admires him openly, seeing in Felix a kind of rebellion he has not yet learned how to master himself.
Together, Max and Felix are chaotic, difficult, and often troublesome. Max encourages Felix’s worst instincts, while Felix can either indulge Max’s behavior or suddenly become irritated when Max takes things too far. Max has not learned the art of Felix’s precise, bitter, and sharp rebellion. Where Felix can be surgical, Max is messier. His chaos is louder, more emotional, and far more obvious.
Most of Max’s money has not been earned, though he does occasionally attach himself to a project for a while. Usually, these involve clubs, nightlife, private venues, or social spaces in whatever city has caught his attention.
On the surface, Max seems easygoing, unserious, and intent on living freely. He likes parties, travel, beautiful people, late nights, and anything that makes life feel less structured than the world his family comes from.
Beneath that, Max is far more troubled than he lets on. There is insecurity under the theatrics, and a deeper instability he refuses to name, shaped by the same Nilsson family history Agneta has spent most of her life trying to distance herself from.
Recently, Max has come to stay in New York while a new club he is funding with Felix finishes renovations and prepares to open.
His presence in New York gives him more reason to orbit the wider group, especially through Felix, nightlife, private events, and the kind of trouble that starts as one drink and becomes a problem by morning.
During this time, Max has taken a particular liking to Ines Alvarez. Ines’ dry, detached nature frustrates and fascinates him. She does not respond to his theatrics in the way he expects, which only makes him try harder to get a reaction.
Max wants to seem free, careless, and impossible to wound, while constantly acting like someone desperate to be noticed before he disappears into the same family damage he pretends not to believe in.
closed starter, ZCM NYC
agneta ranstrom & oskar ranstrom @dxrkenedheights
"Du har samma stämning som din pappa." Agneta says coolly, not looking up from her computer. There are very few people who enter her office without announcing themselves, and fewer still who carry that particular weight of presence. For the briefest moment, it almost feels like Olaf again, something in the air shifting in that familiar, restrained way he had. She registers it not as surprise but as a faint, passing recognition. "As though you are about to rearrange the entire room with your eyes." she continues, the hint of a smile touching her mouth now, as the resemblance manages to amuse her.
Olaf's absence, even now, remains an adjustment she has yet to categorize properly. It's not sharp enough to be called pain and not distant enough to be dismissed. It's present in small, persistent ways that make themselves known at inconvenient moments. And often, she wrestles the realization that a man of very few words can still leave behind a silence that feels… occupied. She lifts her glass then, the small drop of whiskey catching the light as it tilts. Smooth and amber and entirely undeserved at this hour. "I have been thinking about Singapore. It would be shortsighted of us not to go ahead." she says, allowing the shift in conversation to come without warning, because in her mind the two thoughts are not unrelated. Expansion, control, positioning, all of it part of the same ongoing calculation.
Her hand moves in a small gesture to the chair opposite her desk, followed by a brief flick of her fingers to the drinks station, granting Oskar permission in the same breath without needing to utter a word. "We should secure offiices. Look at that this afternoon." Agneta utters, finishing off the last sip of her whiskey. It's only then that she looks at her son properly, reassessing rather than simply observing. "No. I have changed my mind." she states after a moment, her tone thoughtful rather than corrective. She looks at the door before her attention returns to him with sharper clarity. Agneta's smile returns, amused again, as she tilts her head slightly. "Not Olaf. You seem more like Felix today." she says, almost idly. "There's something...scheming about you." she finally chuckles, gaze steady and mildly expectant. "What is it?"
Tabby was born and raised in London, UK, and is the younger sister of Genevieve Westwood.
Growing up in a family deeply rooted in law and politics, Tabitha never felt particularly drawn to that path.
Where Genevieve thrived within structure and ambition, Tabitha was more of a wild child, drawn to movement, creativity, and a life without routine.
She always admired how effortlessly her sister seemed to balance work and play, though she never quite managed to find that same balance for herself.
Instead, Tabitha followed a far less conventional path, driven by a desire to travel and experience the world beyond expectations.
She eventually met Arthur Harlowe, an up and coming fashion designer, and the two quickly became inseparable.
Together they built Westwood-Harlowe (W&H), combining Tabitha’s creative instincts with Arthur’s design talent to create a brand that grew into a renowned name within the fashion world.
Their success was rapid and exciting, shaping much of Tabitha’s early adult life.
When their daughter Madisyn was ten years old, Arthur died by suicide.
The loss had a profound impact on Tabitha, and it is something she has never fully processed.
Although she continued running the brand for some time, it no longer felt the same without Arthur, and she eventually chose to step away from the company.
She passed control of Westwood-Harlowe to her daughter, Madisyn.
Since then, Tabitha has spent much of her life traveling, drifting between places and projects.
She occasionally involves herself in creative work, particularly costume design for films and theatre productions.
Despite her social nature, she tends to live a fairly secluded life, often disappearing for stretches of time.
Tabitha is very aware of her own struggles with mental health and recognizes similar patterns within the wider Westwood family.
She worries particularly about Madisyn, concerned about how both family expectations and personal pressures may affect her.
Personality
Creative and imaginative, with a natural instinct for aesthetics and storytelling.
Eccentric and unpredictable, often following impulse rather than structure.
Upbeat and fun loving, always ready to turn something into an experience.
Especially prone to causing chaos when she and Genevieve are together.
Struggles with consistency, able to organize herself for periods of time before slipping back into disorder.
Carries a quiet sense of guilt over not always being the most stable presence in Madisyn’s life after Arthur’s death.
Grounded in her own way, despite the chaos, with a strong emotional awareness of herself and others.
Drawn to freedom, creativity, and movement more than routine or expectation.
closed starter, bar area
max st. james & viveca st. james @gloriouswhispers
The invitation to Azul Veranda had Max St. James written all over it. He didn't bother reading most of the details before making arrangements to clear his schedule, which in truth was never particularly strict to begin with. Though he had a strong suspicion he wouldn't end up staying for the full nine days regardless. The look on his father's face when Max casually mentioned he would be unavailable for the next week roughly twelve hours before boarding a plane, had been enough to guarantee that something back in New York would suddenly become very important before long.
Still, a few days away was more than enough to keep him satisfied for now. Max leans against the bar as the bartender tops up his whiskey again, watching the amber catch the warm lighting of the room while the low buzz of conversation drifts around him, and he can already feel the tension of New York loosening its grip somewhere between the first drink and the second. No lectures here. No quiet reminders about representing the family name every time he decides to have a little fun. Just a few days where he can exist without feeling like someone is taking notes on behalf of the St. James legacy. And, judging by the collection of guests he's already spotted wandering through the resort, this week will almost certainly spiral into exactly the sort of chaotic entertainment he tends to enjoy the most.
So yes, Max is feeling rather pleased with himself. There's a restless kind of anticipation sitting under his skin as he glances idly around the bar, curiosity already sharpening into mischief while he wonders what sort of trouble this place might offer before the week is over. His eyes drift to the doors when he hears them open. And then he sees her. The shift is immediate, the quiet satisfaction draining out of his expression as his mother sweeps through the bar area. Max blinks, the freshly poured whiskey pausing halfway to his lips.
"No." the word leaves him flat and immediate, as if outright refusing the situation might somehow undo it. "See," he adds a second later, lowering the glass slowly while turning away from her with a faintly petulant edge to the movement, "now I'm just convinced you do these things on purpose, because there is absolutely no way a resort opening is more important than humanitarian aid, Mom." Max can't help but sigh, still refusing to fully look at her. "Let me guess, Dad's already on the next flight out too." he mutters, bracing himself for the answer.
Born into the St. James media empire, surrounded by entertainment, celebrity culture, and industry access from a young age. Grew up attending premieres, music events, private parties, and media-led social spaces
Raised largely by nannies and au pairs, something he resented early despite it being the norm. Developed a sense of distance from both parents, feeling more like an expectation than a priority
Never fully connected with his father’s entertainment-driven world, finding it performative and artificial. Equally struggled to see himself in his mother’s humanitarian path, feeling unable to live up to it
Carries a quiet mix of guilt and resentment tied to both of their lives and expectations
Refused to take a serious role within the St. James business, maintaining only loose involvement
Uses family connections to move easily through elite social and entertainment circles
Spends most of his time in California. Built a reputation for himself as a pro skater and surfer, giving him an identity separate from his family name
Moves between coasts, returning to New York more out of obligation than desire
Known within social circles for being unpredictable, entertaining, and occasionally difficult
Tends to drift between indulgence and distraction rather than committing long-term
Often stirs up situations, sometimes intentionally, out of boredom or curiosity
Was in a relationship with Ines Alvarez. Frequently pushed her away despite caring about her, cancelling plans, disappearing, or making decisions without telling her
Struggled with closeness and reacted to it by creating distance. Deeply regrets how he treated her, even if he doesn’t always express it properly
PERSONALITY
Charismatic, upbeat, and naturally social. Moves easily through different crowds, from industry spaces to more chaotic environments
Fast-paced, restless, and rarely still for long
Needs constant movement, stimulation, or something to focus on
Can feel disorientating to others, shifting energy quickly
Prone to impulsive decisions, especially in the moment
Drawn to excitement, fun, and whatever feels immediate
Prefers lightness over emotional heaviness
Retreats or deflects when conversations become too serious or vulnerable
Intensely caring beneath the surface, though inconsistent in how he shows it
Can swing between affectionate and distant without much warning
Prone to jealousy, often expressed in immature or reactive ways
Likes bringing people into his world, especially parties, trips, and spontaneous plans
Uses his St. James connections to access exclusive events, afterparties, and celebrity spaces. Enjoys pulling others into that lifestyle with him
Can show off or withdraw socially in the same night depending on his mood
Has a mischievous streak and enjoys pushing boundaries
Beneath it all, more thoughtful and aware than he lets on, but avoids sitting with it for too long
Comes from the Nilsson family, a long established Swedish industrial family whose wealth was built through shipping logistics and maritime trade across the Baltic and Northern Europe. The Nilssons were already extremely wealthy and well connected in Scandinavian business circles long before Agneta met Olaf.
Attended Columbia University in New York, where she studied economics and finance.
Met Olaf Ranstrom while studying in New York.
Shortly after graduating, Agneta became pregnant and welcomed their first son, Oskar Ranstrom.
Rather than stepping away from her career path, Agneta joined Zenith Capital Management and quickly established herself within the firm.
She served as COO of Zenith Capital Management for a number of years.
During this time she and Olaf welcomed their second son, Felix Ranstrom, though Agneta remained deeply involved in the business even while raising their children.
Following Olaf’s death last year, Agneta stepped in as CEO of Zenith Capital Management, stabilising the company and overseeing its current leadership structure.
Her long term plan is to ensure a smooth transition where she can eventually retire and Oskar becomes CEO while Felix moves into the role of COO, though the latter has proven more complicated than she would like.
Personality
Highly disciplined and focused.
Known for her quick wit.
Carries herself with calm authority.
Has a dry Scandinavian sense of humor.
Values competence and preparation.
Holds very high expectations of both herself and others.
Observant and strategic, often listening more than she speaks.
Protective of her family, though rarely outwardly sentimental.
Maintains a composed presence even in stressful situations.
starter for: tyler cross and wolf cross @secrettyrant
Somehow, Tyler ends up helping his dad for the day, though he couldn't tell you exactly when a few beers at the dive bar turned into hauling warped boards and fixing Pauly Collins' collapsed fence. It's supposed to be calming. Fresh air, manual labor, something solid to focus on. But his brain won't shut the hell up, circling back to the same damn video until the swing of his hammer starts landing in time with the frustration. He drives a nail in hard enough that the wood splinters slightly around the head. "And what's really fucked up..." he starts, not even glancing up, "is you should've seen this girl, Dad. She was tall. As fuck. Like ninety percent legs and one of those...mean faces. There's no way she couldn't have just shoved Nes off if she wanted to." the hammer comes down again, sharp. "She wanted that reaction. Had to. Probably saw the phones out and thought, yeah, this'll be good."
He shifts the board, forces it into place with more strength than necessary. "The whole thing's bullshit. Who hasn't gone at somebody when they keep talking shit? Seriously. And it's not like Nes didn't ignore it. She did. For months. Until she snapped, and suddenly that's all anyone cares about." his words start running together now, heat climbing into them as he works faster. "And she loses her placement over it? That's insane. There's a million other things the college could've done. Suspension, right? Literally fucking anything." another nail, harder this time. "I swear to God, if it had been the other way around, they wouldn't have done shit."
Wolf knows he isn't an oracle. He doesn't pretend to be one, but it doesn't take divine intervention to see that Tyler has been wound tight for weeks now. Shoulders high, jaw set, walking around the house like he's bracing for impact that never quite comes. That typical Cross alertness that is half way to throwing a punch. Ready. Coiled tight. If he had to pinpoint the shift, he could. He always can. It was right around the time Ines Alvarez showed back up in Center Hill, home early, college cut short, that bright California future folded up and packed back into a suitcase she didn't plan on using yet.
There was talk of a fight. A video. A whole mess that made its rounds faster than gossip ever needed to. And Wolf knows in the quiet, unspoken way fathers know things, exactly why Tyler is carrying it like it was his own scholarship that got ripped out from under him. He remembers the first time Ines got accepted and remembers the way Tyler pretended it didn't bother him. The way his son acted like distance was just logistics and not loss. Wolf had watched him take that hit back then, watched him swallow it down because that's what boys in Center Hill learn to do. Now Tyler's hammering nails into the new fence line, each strike a little too sharp, a little too loud, the wood taking the brunt of something that doesn't belong to it.
Wolf, for his part, works slower. He braces the warped plank against his thigh, runs his thumb along the split grain, then steadies it against the post before driving the nail in with controlled, even hits. Tyler keeps talking. Ranting, really. About the unfairness. About the other girl. About how it wouldn't have gone down the same way if roles were reversed. Wolf lets him. He doesn't interrupt. Doesn't correct. Doesn't even look at him yet. He just breathes, deep and deliberate, letting his own shoulders drop as if the air itself weighs something, letting the rhythm of the work slow everything down the way it always does. Wood, nail, hammer; wood, nail, hammer. Until the anger bleeding off Tyler starts to lose its edge.
When the words finally run dry, Wolf wipes his palm over the back of his neck, smearing a line of dust and sweat, and glances sideways at his son with a look that says he's been listening the whole damn time. "Yeah, you're right." he says first with a level voice. "It don't feel fair. And I agree, if that shoe was on the other foot? That other girl would be walkin' away with a warnin' at best." he drives another nail in, firm. Says nothing else for another moment or two. "Thing is, Ty...Center Hill? We treat fights like a solution. That's on us." his mouth curves faintly, more from recognition than amusement. "But in the real world? Most folks see it as the last resort. The worst thing that could happen."
He steps back to eye the line of the fence, squints at it like it's giving him his answers. "Center Hill's different. We're stubborn. Defend our own. Sometimes we don't ask enough questions before we swing." Wolf sets the hammer down against the post and leans both forearms across the top of the fence, still not quite looking at his son, because some truths land better when you don't pin a man with your eyes. "But I don't think that's what's really got you pissed off, Ty." he says quietly, his tone replaced with something gentler and far more precise. "I don't even think Nes comin' home early is really what's botherin' you." He tilts his head just slightly because it's not an accusation, not even a challenge. It's just...there. An opening for Tyler to take if he wants it.
hey look, there’s William "Wolf" Cross, a ??? year old Electrician from Atlanta, somehow managing to be charming, loyal, and caring while also being painfully elusive, chronically chaotic, and a little too eccentric for their own good.
MORE
Thinks he's probably 40 or a little older, but he doesn't remember his birthday. It's a big dispute among him and his brothers.
Has been in and out of jail a lot when he was younger but he matured once he became a father.
Josie's death shook him to his core and he's never been in a relationship since. He's focused on raising Tyler himself.
Sees himself as Center Hill's "uncle" so usually can be found helping someone out of some sort of mischief. Or causing it with them.
hey look, there’s Connor Edwards, a 32 year old from Atlanta, somehow managing to be helpful, dedicated, and quick-thinking while also being painfully impulsive, chronically troublesome, and a little too avoidant for their own good.
MORE
Currently not working and does under the table or less than legal jobs for a quick buck.
Has a hard time not breaking the law
Doesn't really care, but also cares a lot
Dex's nephew, who's helped him endlessly due to his addict parents.
Shep sends Roxy and Theo to check the outpatient clinic across the overgrown parking lot, a satellite building the group hasn’t cleared yet. The structure looks intact from the outside, but the windows are dark and the front door hangs crookedly in its frame, as if something hit it hard months ago.
It’s late afternoon. The air feels stale near the entrance, colder than outside. The waiting room beyond the doorway is dim, lit only by thin bands of amber light cutting through broken blinds. Chairs are overturned, papers stuck to the damp floor, and something smells faintly medicinal with a hint of rot underneath.
To the left: a corridor of exam rooms, doors half-open.
To the right: a small reception area with a toppled shelving unit.
Straight ahead: a dark hallway lined with closed doors, the end swallowed in shadow.
A faint noise comes from deeper inside the building, a soft metallic rattle that stops as soon as they enter.
The place feels like it’s been waiting untouched for months.
Supplies Given:
Shared bag (6 inventory slots)
1 Comms
PLOT HOOKS
Pick any or none — tag me when you interact:
The crooked front door (something hit it?)
Reception area shelves (paperwork, med forms, or hidden supplies)
Exam rooms with half-open doors
The long dark hallway
Metallic rattle deeper in the building
Old medical fridge against the wall
Handprints on one of the glass panels
Movement of dust on the floor like something recently brushed past
OOC:
Choose what direction you take first — exam rooms, reception, or the back hallway.
Tag me when you interact with a hook so I can reveal what’s actually there.
This can be tense, funny, chaotic, distrustful, surprisingly soft — whatever your characters do naturally.
Shep paired you because: Theo spots traps, threats, and human signs. Roxy reacts fast and could stop things before they start. This building is too unpredictable for a weaker pair
The hospital falls behind them, but Theo glances over his shoulder every so often, making sure the big carcass of a building is still sitting where they left it. All bare bones and ghosts. Home for however long luck lasts for. Broken windows stare back, each shard catching the low sky and that red tear running through the clouds. The same one that's been haunting them for half a year.
Shep pairing him with Roxy isn't the worst call the man's ever made, but it's not a comfort either. She's noise and motion and sharp edges, the kind of chaos that keeps him on a higher setting without trying. But she's got a kid and that changes things. Actually, it changes a lot. People with something to lose tend to fight harder, think faster. And sure, Bowie probably keeps her head in the game more than any pep talk ever could. But still, it gives Theo a sense of responsibility he didn't really ask for. Roxy's a mother. Which means he'll be clearing her corners like they're his, whether she needs it or not.
The walk to the outpatients clinic is short, just a squat little building hunched a few hundred yards from the main hospital. Theo slows before they're even on top of it and his eyes run the front like a checklist. He lifts a hand, a small snap of fingers and a flat palm back to Roxy. Wait. Even though he's half convinced she won't listen. Up close, the damage is a lot easier to read. The doorframe is bowed inward, metal bent like something heavy drove into it from the outside. Impact, not shredding. The hinges are crumpled, pocked with dull dents, but there's no claw scoring, no long scrape marks, nothing that says monster. The threshold itself is clean, no footsteps and nothing that looks like anyone was here for a long time.
Theo still doesn't say anything to Roxy, his focus is on that faint metallic rattle deep in the clinic. Like loose hardware bumping against something hollow. Then it dies off. He still listens closely, and there's nothing that follows. Not a single step, not even a breath. Just a flat, loaded quiet. These days, he's not sure what's worse. "You feel anything?" he whispers, finally asking for her wolf senses as his glance cuts to Roxy. But Theo's locked in, gaze dropping inside the doorway. The dust just beyond is softly disturbed in the smallest of ways. Brushed through in a shallow path, too light to read properly. A rat, a mouse. Something that didn't weigh much.
Theo flicks two fingers to the side, a curt signal for Roxy to peel off and take the angle that gives her a clean lane on the entrance. He waits just long, then rolls his grip on his pisol, shoulders leveling out. He steps through the warped frame and into the dim of the clinic, attention narrowing to corners and shadow lines as he begins the sweep. Silent as ever, and quietly hoping Roxy reads the damn room. Just this once. @hxckedvxid
How They Joined: Theo had been tracking a small crew of anti-supernatural humans who were raiding safe towns and ambushing lone travelers. After they stole supplies from witches, he made it his job to dismantle them methodically, quietly, permanently. He crossed paths with Shep’s group when the hunters tried attacking a few members on the outskirts of a half collapsed Kansas town. Theo intervened and helped shut the threat down. He intended to keep moving until a sudden Wretch surge swept the area. With a Magical Storm rolling in and the town rapidly overrun, sticking with the group became survival, not preference.
Thoughts on the Group: Theo recognizes the value of numbers. The extra eyes, extra guns, extra hands. But he’s seen enough failed convoys and imploded safe towns to know groups can rot from the inside out. People get soft. People cling. People become liabilities. He respects Shep’s steadiness and Beck’s competence, and he likes JJ in a way that’s rare for him, straightforward, dependable, no bullshit. But deep down he doubts whether leadership will make the hard calls when the moment really hits. He keeps his distrust of supernaturals quiet. He’ll work with them. He’ll protect them if they’re part of the group but trust is a big word.
Carries a simmering grief that shapes his judgment more than he admits
Strengths
Combat-ready at all times — he reacts before most people process what’s happening.
Unshakable under pressure — chaos sharpens him rather than rattles him.
Efficient problem-solver — cuts through emotional noise, focuses on what keeps people alive.
Loyal once earned — if he decides you’re worth protecting, he doesn’t bend.
Predicts danger early — strong intuition for ambushes, monster movement, and human threat patterns (especially relevant given Wretch behavior and urban danger zones ).
Weaknesses
Doesn’t ask for help — refuses to lean on anyone, even when injured or overwhelmed.
Over-analyses people — sees flaws, fractures, and inconsistencies like he’s scanning for enemy tells. Makes connection difficult.
Emotionally compartmentalizes to an unhealthy degree — isolation masquerading as discipline.
Trust issues — especially toward supernaturals; he manages it, but it’s always there.
Believes he’s built to be alone — and fears he’s right.
Biggest Motivation
Theo hasn’t had a true purpose since his daughter died. The world collapsing gave him something he understands: surviving, protecting, hunting threats. He doesn’t call it purpose, but it is something to move toward instead of drifting.
Biggest Fear
That there will come a time he has to leave because the group fractures under pressure. The worst-case is that he’ll need to nudge Shep into making a brutal decision.
BACKGROUND
Before the Rupture
Born and raised in rural Louisiana, Theo joined the Marines young and gave the military everything he had. Career over relationships, deployments over settling down. He never married, but he had a daughter, Emily. Bright, stubborn, sharp as glass. Losing her was the one thing that ever knocked him flat. The attack was written off as an “animal mauling.” He saw the scene. It wasn’t. His own digging turned up a pattern of similar deaths across several states, but every lead ended in a dead end, a silence, or something that didn’t make sense. He buried the case because there was nothing left to chase until the Veil ruptured and monsters poured through the cracks. Now he’s haunted by the possibility that Emily’s killer wasn’t human at all.
Encounters During the War
Louisiana Exodus: Saw Wretch surges tear through small towns.
Crossing Arkansas: Survived a near-fatal encounter with a Lure after following what he thought was a child calling for help and realized too late the silence was wrong.
Human Threats: Put down multiple raider groups and one anti-supernatural faction responsible for interrogating and hunting witches.
Magical Storm Displacement: Experienced a Major Storm while traveling, watched lightning fork sideways, Wretches behaving erratically, shadows moving against physics.
Avoided a Brute collapse: Escaped a Brute wandering through a half-destroyed overpass and watched it punch straight through the structure like drywall.
Month 3 Convergence: Met endless caravans, rogue hunters, displaced families, witches on the run, and more monsters than any one man should ever see. The central corridor was chaos.
closed starter, quinlan & ben
olympia, ben's office.
Quinlan enters without ceremony, the door whispering closed behind him as if it, too, understands the value of discretion. The light in Benjamin's office, Quinlan thinks, is calibrated to flattery. Soft diffusion across the walls, chromatic glass dimmed just enough to make the space feel important. And Olympia, as always, performs its peace beautifully. From above, it gleams like a system perfected. Untouchable, orderly, efficient. But even illusions this polished develop fractures. The Wards are still in their blackout, and silence has begun to rot into speculation. Journalists are circling. And Corin Rell, ever the bureaucratic garnish, had stumbled through the briefing just moments ago like a man who knows more than he was willing to say.
That hesitation has stayed with Quinlan longer than it should.
He moves across the office toward Benjamin, nodding briefly and without any performative warmth. They both know why he's here. Without a word, he activates the NeuroPad and the AR overlay flickers in the air between them, pale blue light rendered sharp against the room's curated calm, data spilling forward in real time. "Initial analysis, the train suffered simultaneous system failures across stabilizers, braking protocol and tier three response. No mechanical precursor. No environmental trigger. No pattern." Quinlan says, his voice even and composed.
He lets the overlay scroll a moment longer, through the presented data offers no other insight. Then, it collapses and the light folds inward before disappearing entirely. "You'll want to emphasize that Stratline initiated a full diagnostic sweep within minutes." he continues, fingers moving to his cufflink to adjust it. Not out of necessity, but because the ritual of precision matters. "Council oversight is active and, of course, on going. The manual override systems engaged as designed. Present this as a success of containment, not a failure of infrastructure."
His eyes finally flick to Benjamin, sharp as ever and there's a brief enough pause that suggests calculation. "I'd advise caution in naming cause, Ben. Too many variables and too little confirmation. If we misattribute this and the diagnostics contradict us in four hours, we'll have given every conspiracy theorist their favorite day in history." @manybcdthings
The Phoenix Collective (TPC): Formerly aligned through Ward upbringing; severed ties after his detention, now thought of as a traitor
The Underlight: No known connection
Hijackers: Has detained several
Independent gangs / collectives: Known in The Wards, mostly disliked
Religious groups / cults: No affiliation
Political Leaning:
Not outspoken / Appears status-quo aligned through Vanguard role
Reputation:
Among Vanguard: feared, respected, “doesn’t miss”
Among Wards: traitor, sellout, or “something went wrong with him”
Among civilians: intimidating but effective
Rumor: “He came back wrong after they detained him.”
V. HISTORY SNAPSHOT
Origin Summary:
Ward-born laborer with a reputation for being protective, hard-working, and fiercely loyal. Grew up adjacent to Phoenix Collective circles through community ties, though never a full activist. Known for stepping in during fights and shielding younger residents.
Key Life Events:
Childhood and adolescence spent in The Wards working odd jobs
Long-term relationship with Charlie Prescott; became stepfather to her daughter, Teddy
TPC-aligned socially (friends, neighbors, values)
~2 years ago: witnessed excessive violence by Station Officers during a Ward incident
Stepped in to stop it → detained by Vanguard
Returned weeks later as a reformed recruit, loyalty shifted, with authorization for augmentation
Ended relationship with Charlie; she refused contact afterward
Became one of Vanguard’s most effective retrieval specialists
Over the last several months, experiencing increasing glitches and memory inconsistencies
Where they are now and why:
Working for Vanguard because it is the only stable structure in his life, and because they claim to have “saved him from the Wards.”
Privately, he wonders why fragments of his past feel wrong and why certain faces trigger fear or grief he can’t place.
One Major Secret:
[REDACTED — DM ONLY]
Publicly, he is a traitor in The Wards but some suspect there was more to his detention than the official Vanguard statement implies.
Someone in Vanguard intelligence gave him an order. Specific, and detailed enough that they must have known his name and file history. Theo followed it. Later he discovered no record of the handler exists, in ANY Vanguard database. He has never spoken of it since. And no one seems to know the work he carried out.
One Major Motivation / Loyalty:
To hold on to control — physically and mentally.
One Major Fear:
That he’ll hurt the wrong person in a moment of heightened adrenaline.
VI. RELATIONSHIP NETWORK
Family / Guardians:
Estranged from all Ward-born family ties (if any remain)
Former step-family:
Charlie Prescott (ex-partner)
Teddy (stepdaughter; no current contact)
Friends / Allies:
Few in Vanguard; colleagues respect him but do not consider him a friend
Rare contacts in Equinox (bartenders, mechanics, etc.)
No remaining allies in The Wards
Rivals / Enemies:
TPC members who knew him before detention
Ward acquaintances who consider him a betrayer
Certain Station Officers who dislike his intensity
Anyone he’s retrieved more than once
People Who Want Something From Them:
Vanguard: continued loyalty and obedience
Corporate clients: discreet retrieval and containment
Ward residents: answers he cannot give
Old faces: closure, explanations, or revenge
Open Hooks for Other Players:
Former Ward acquaintance shocked to see him changed
Someone who crossed paths with him during a retrieval
A journalist investigating disappearing citizens
Someone trusting him to retrieve a missing person off the books
 Social Positioning: Elite (achieved through system mobility and political ascendancy, not lineage)
ABOUT
Public Persona:
Composed, elegant, difficult to read. Speaks with deliberate precision. Seen as a polished Olympia statesman with an unusually silent temperament.
Private Reality:
 Calculating, hyper-observant, selectively emotional. A man who survived upward mobility through systems that were not designed for him — and internalized their rules with surgical discipline.
Core Traits:
 Strategic, reserved, exacting, unshakeable, quietly intimidating.
Appearance & Aesthetic Notes:
 Dark tailored suits, immaculate grooming, low-voiced calm. Always appears like he’s already planned the next five moves.
III. ROLE ON THE STATION
Current Occupations:
Council Member (Olympia) — influence over infrastructure, transit, and cross-level policy
Senior Executive Liaison to Stratiline (informal but recognized)
Where He Spends His Time:
Olympia Council Hall, Stratiline executive floors, controlled-access transit hubs.
Living Situation: The Sky Pinnacle
Education / Training: Graduate of the Ascend Institute’s discontinued “Civic Leadership & Economic Stewardship Track” — an experimental political/business pipeline that ran for a short period, took only Equinox talent, and ended after controversy regarding its outcomes. He was one of its final cohorts before the program was dissolved.
PID Status: Registered
 Access Permissions: Full Olympia-level clearance; permanent cross-level access via Stratiline.
Council: Affiliated — Sitting Olympia Council Member
 Station Officers: Rumored / Indirect — policy coordination, classified transit concerns
 Vanguard: Rumored / Indirect — occasional presence in closed briefings involving sabotage or unrest
 Corporate Entities: Affiliated — strongest ties to Stratiline; secondary connections to Olympia donors
 Ascend Institute / Ascend Program: Former participant (program dissolved)
Underground / Fringe
The Phoenix Collective: None
The Underlight: Redacted (DM Use Only)
 Hijackers: None
 Independent gangs/collectives: None
 Religious groups/cults: None
Political Leaning
Public stance: Status-quo loyalist
 Private perception: Strategic operator whose loyalties serve stability, not ideology.
Reputation
Seen as a controlled, highly disciplined councilor with a reputation for never acting impulsively. His logistic and policy expertise is widely acknowledged, but his rise remains a point of quiet speculation. Several political commentators have noted that two promising Olympia candidates unexpectedly withdrew from the election shortly before the final ballot — both citing “personal matters.” No connection was ever proven, but the timing led to persistent rumors that Kelly leveraged internal Council disputes or unearthed sensitive information to eliminate competition.
Respected by Olympia elites for his stability. Unreadable and slightly foreboding to everyone else.
V. HISTORY SNAPSHOT
Origin Summary: Born in Equinox to a mid-level Port Nexus logistics supervisor and a community educator. The family lived comfortably but far from Olympia’s influence. Quinlan was academically sharp, conflict-averse, and known for a disturbing ability to anticipate outcomes.
At 17, he was one of a handful selected for a short-lived Ascend Institute pilot program designed to cultivate political and economic leaders from lower levels.
 The program collapsed within six years following allegations of misconduct and deep structural bias. Most alumni quietly disappeared into mid-tier administrative roles.
Quinlan was the only one who rose higher.
Key Life Events:
Entered Ascend pilot track at 17, relocated to Olympia under scholarship conditions
Interned within a political office known for its ties to Stratiline
Joined Stratiline’s administrative hierarchy in his 20s, rising unusually quickly
Later became executive liaison, specializing in cross-level transit allocation
Entered Council race under low visibility and won unexpectedly
Rumors have followed his election win that two rival candidates withdrew after private information about their campaigns surfaced — nothing confirmed, nothing proven, but the timing has never sat comfortably with observers.
Where He Is Now & Why:
Deeply embedded in Olympia’s political and corporate power structure. He has become an indispensable figure in transit and security policy due to his unique combination of system literacy and discretion.
One Major Secret:
Secret 1:During the lead-up to his Council campaign, Quinlan gained access to internal political briefing notes not meant for public circulation. Shortly afterward, two rival candidates abruptly withdrew citing “personal conflicts.” Nothing was proven, but those who were there still believe Kelly used privileged information—quietly, discreetly—to clear his path to the seat.
Secret 2: REDACTED - DM USE ONLY
One Major Motivation / Loyalty:
Maintaining total control over information, flow, and movement — the quiet machinery that actually governs the Station.
One Major Fear:
Exposure of the systems that enabled his ascent.
VI. RELATIONSHIP NETWORK
Family / Guardians: Equinox parents still alive; Sean and Margaret Kelly. Minimal contact butHorizon Reports state Quinlan as a family man. No registered spouse or children.
Friends / Allies: Select Olympia power brokers, transit executives, and council collaborators. Known to maintain alliances quietly rather than socially.
Rivals / Enemies: Reformist councilors, certain investigative journalists, former Ascend alumni who resent his success.
People Who Want Something From Him: Corporations seeking transit advantages, politicians looking for leverage, lower-level intermediaries who believe he can open doors.
Open Hooks for Other Players: Former Ascend peer, Equinox childhood acquaintance, Stratiline coworker from earlier years, political rival, transit engineer he once overruled, journalist chasing Ascend program fallout, security officer curious about his election year movements.
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