Kevin Anders- Clairvoyant (APPROVED)

[The Overseer]

Name: Kevin Anders
Alias: The Judge
Celebrity Used: Mark Wahlberg
D.O.B.: January 13th, 1978
Age: 33
Concept: Federal Marshal/Vampire Executioner
Height: 5'10
Weight: 170
Hair: Dark Auburn
Eyes: Dark Chocolate
Race: Caucasion
Religion: Catholic
Nationality: American
Languages: Too many to name
Vehicle(s): 1969 Chevrolet Camaro SS Modified/Suped-up

Weapon(s):

• Primary- Modified Silver .45, equipped with silver plated bullets, extended grip clips, dual action chambering recoil, triple-track design on the shaft, hammer muzzle, cased chamber, semi-automatic firing spring with auto-release.
  
• Dual semi-automatic .45s with firing-spring for auto-release, one clip each of silver padded rounds, other clips standard shot.
  
• One reinforced Samurai Sword, pure silver with reaction dagger blade in the hilt, balanced weight and leverage enhanced with ancient Japanese design.
  
• One military issue Uzi, equipped with one magazine of silver nitrate capsuled rounds, lazer site built into the belly and custom silencer.
  
• Two M-16s military standard with silver nitrous rounds carried in secure casing, as only used if in need. Standard magazines, one magazine carried per assualt rifle for the danger of explosion.
  
• One modified Street Sweeper, semi-automatic shotgun. Equipped with silver shards and shraps shells, ventilated barrel for less kick and automatic load action on the recoil. Firing spring for reactive fire and rounds produced. Kept in a private location as only the handguns are what is carried standardly.

Location(s): Kansas City Metropolitan Area
Fighting Style(s): Kempo, Kung Fu, Bah-Shurek, Tem-Pai, Jujitsu, Street Brawling, Karate, Ninjitsu, Kempai, Fangao and Caoperia.
Dominant Hand: Both
RolePlaying Style(s): All
Favorite Food(s): Fast and delicious
Most Hated Food(s): Healthy
Allergies: None
Marital Status: Single
Favorite Place: Kansas City Metropolitan Area
Favorite Music: Anything but Country and Kenny G
Favorite Movie(s): Classic Horror
Mark(s) and Tattoo(s): Rosary Tattoo beginning at the base of the shoulder blades, and wrapping around the draw to rest within the center of his chest. "Hellraiser" tattooed across his abdomen. Zimpunah, the lion king tattoo upon the upper left arm. Omage to Simon "Sims" Barksdale tattoo upon the upper right arm. Vampire fang scars upon the right nape of his neck, covered by the rosary tattoo. Various claw scars along his right forearm. Railroad stake scar upon the middle of his left hand, from when he was almost crucified by the Vampire gang members trying to make him an example. 14 inch sword scar beginning at the top of his left pectorial, and tracing over his chest, to show apparent over his abdomen. 9mm bulletwound scar just under the right side of his clavicle.

Powers/Special Abilities:
Precognition- Level 3
Clairvoyancy/Clairvoyant- Level 3
Intuition- Level 3

The Gifts:
Throughout my life alot of people have asked about my gift. Well it's simple, when it happens, I just see things, but not like you would think, it's kind of like looking at a photo album, and the images that I see there, tend to happen ten times out of ten. But I have no control over it, in fact it happens more than I would like it to. Someone's cheating on their wife, someone's about to steal a child, whatever it is, when I get close enough to them, I can see these pictures. When I shake hands with someone, or pick up something, their histories flash by me in quick images, this is like being in a movie theatre, the images are clear and big, but it still looks fake, that's why it's kind of hard to determine, but the images that are apparent would be things I was interested in, like you tell me about your friend dying, then you intorduce me to their wife/husband, the moment I shake their hand I will be able to see their memories and feelings on the person that passed away. Recently I have been able to determine the feelings by the colors behind the images, if there is anger, or hatred I see red as the screen, if there was love, or caring, it is more pink to white, if there was friendship, light yellows, guilt is green, and sadness would be blue. With the green I try to touch the person numerous times, because the only reason why they would feel guilt, would be due to them killing the person, if this is true, then I take it upon myself to apprehend them, my buddies down at the station don't mind that when I point out the evidence they will need. When encountering a Lycanthrope my skin become warm, and static electricity builds up, like small sparks dancing over the hair on my arms. Vamps are easy, when they get within five feet of me it's like my bones go cold, but I would like to think that I could spot the vamp coming well before it got that close. This gift amazes even the Vamps that I know, and yes, the guys down at the pool hall give me grief over putting a handful of Vamps on the 'Immunity' list, but we have to, cause we are not, and I repeat we are nothing like H.A.V., we take out the renegade Vamps who think they are Gods. I get along just fine with Lycanthrope, although I did have to put one down once, down, not out. I think it was a Weretiger, but I didn't study it that long. I was dating this chick who lived over off of Swope Parkway, well needless to say on a Saturday night, don't park there, cause just the few feet from your destination to your car could mean you are dinner. Anyway this guy was in the park screaming at the trees or whatever, so I just ignored him, that's the last time that will happen. I come out and the guy is on the ground, so I thought he was just taking a nap, but this weird, crackling sound came from him, like dry bubble wrap, then when I noticed the guy was getting too big for my comfort I paniced, again, bad idea. Dropping the keys on the ground caught the beast's attention, so after I crapped myself a few times I was finally able to open the driver's side door, oh how I love the door pockets, which held my baby, the .45 Kenny made, d**n he is good with guns, but for some reason he prefers knives, talk about irony. Anyway, he got me with a nasty claw to my back, I got him with five rounds into his stomach. But of course, my d**n morals would get in the way, so here I was, in my pride and joy, the Camaro, d**n werebeast passed out bleeding all over my backseat and I was flying down I-70 tring to get to Central Ave. in order to save the creature. Pulling up to Deathany, or Bethany Medical Center, the east wing of course, the creature was taken away, but that was only a timy portion of my problem. There was my sister, fresh from nursing school taking the crap job of working on the preternaturals, and now her brother. The moment she saw the claw marks she began to cry, ok, so much for her helping me, but the doc that moved to me did. He had the brightest blue eyes I had ever seen, like they could glow on their own, without any light, and they could, cause the doctor was a Wererat. Even with the laws stating you can't be prejudice against preternaturals, people still were, so he worked at Deathany. There was this unspoken respect for one another, considering he gave me the anti-lycanthrope syrum, due to the fact I brought the Werekitty there, instead of letting it bleed to death on the street, or let it get other people, either one was not a good option. So he gave me his card, Dr. Glen Lennox is his name, and I get the anti-lycan shots by the caseloads from him, they say that KC has more of that then it does water, good news for me. But ever since then I have got the heated sparks, and the original vamp attack got me the cold bones and I like to call it, so if you ever want to find me, and you've heard of me, just go on the streets, and ask for UV, cause I'm just as deadly to the f**kin fangheads as sunlight.

History:
Alright, you want my history, ok, I was born, and now here I am... ok, ok, ok I was born January 13th, 1975, yeah I know, creepy date, but I think it's fitting for me. I have two younger brothers and one older sister. We all keep in touch, even after all we have been through. Let's see here, it was maybe August of '79 when my real dad left, he was a drunk that worked at the grain plant down in Fairfax, a real bum, and I think I'm following in his footsteps, wait, I know, one thing at a time. Anyways, he left leaving my mom with two kids, a mortgage and bills neck high. Needless to say she got rid of the mortgage and a few of the bills by selling the house back to the bank, putting us in a two bedroom apartment off of 10th and Central. It was crap to say the least, but we made due and got by, as I am still here to tell the tale. Mom got two jobs, one at 'Deathany', or Bethany Medical Center working nights for the emergency room, she pretty much hands them a clipboard and talks to my aunt on the phone over at the police station. Yep, just a couple of night owls, hootin over the phone at 3 a.m. on a Tuesday morning. Mom's other job was at Paul's down on Osage in Armourdale, the best d**n onion rings in the country if you ask me. Moving along here, things were pretty touch-and-go there for a while, until I got to middle school. It was Central Middle School, just down the street, well, a few blocks, but sixth grade was there, time to get my act together... yeah right, I think fights were booked in advance for me there. It didn't matter what I did, grabbed the last big cookie at lunch, tried to make my clothes look nice, which even reflects to this day, you will see everything in my place torn up and junked beyond, but I guarantee you there will not be one unfolded piece of clean clothing, and the dirty clothing will seem neat in the hamper, I would stake my life on it, no offence to you fangheads out there.

[The Overseer]

Being poor, and whiter than white at that school didn't seem to sit well with the other kids, in class, in the halls, bathrooms, lunch, gym, you name it, I faught there, I even faught a few times in the principal's office, but hey, what are you gonna do when an 8th grader comes at you with a stapler, sit there and ask him to not? Then you will be going to the nurse, or possibly hospital after that if you did. But I did have a way out, the old Merridome Theatre on 10th and Minnesota Ave. used to show the old creature features there on the weekends, even in the winter. And there I got away from it all, watching films like the original The Haunting, The House on Haunted Hill, Dracula, Nosferatu, I was a Teenage Werewolf and so on. Now High School was on me, and now it was time for me to straighten out my act, I think I spent two minutes in the drama club, before they kicked me out at laughing at the rather large MacBeth that was casted, I didn't know jack about it, but it was still funny, I'm still yet to read that, maybe I should... nah, so onto sports, nothing seemed appealing, but I was tall for my age, and basketball must have been my calling, or my curse, talk to my blown wrist about that one. But in High School I met Kenny Barksdale, his dad was in the HAV, or Humans Against Vampires for all you who don't know. Back then they were some kind of vigilante group, so I would joke with Kenny about the Pitchforks and Torches bit, I remember once I took a prop torch from the drama club when they were doing the hunchback of Notre Dame, Kenny didn't like it too well, but we laughed none-the-less.

People say that High School is the best four years of your life, hell, that's all I remember about them to be honest. I graduated, but not top of my class, or any honors, in fact a teacher at the ceremony said she was shocked I would even show, well I scratched her car up in the parking lot right after that, serves the pregnant dog right. Blown scholarships and grades that barely got me the diploma, in fact I think I had to pay for the paper and frame, anyway, so onto work, here comes the apron and strange paper hat, hell it was better than the streets, and all the d**ned onion rings I could eat, life was getting much better. But the papers kept flashing reports about Werewolves, or, creatures coming to the area, then the Vamps followed soon behind, but then it was said they were always there, just below the surface. Who knows, and I sure as hell didn't care, leave me to my deep fryer and the girls from the neighborhood that came around, maybe it's just me but there is something about a mexican chick in cut-offs during the summer that could turn a gay man straight. I know enough spanish to get a phone number or two, but when I call and their father's used to answer, everything was 'Si' and 'Como estas'. Now those were the days, taking my $235 dollar paycheck every two weeks and spending half on my 'car fund', then the other half on those 'senoritas'. Yes, I just winked with that, can't help it, I'm a guy reliving his puberty days, leave me alone.

Mom remarried, he seemed nice I guess, but too much of a f**kin hippie, she was happy, I was quiet about it. That lasted about three years, just enough time for two half brothers and more bills mounted. So instead of the sweet '89 Camaro I saw on the lot down off of 12th and State Ave. called Mid-West Autos, ok, they didn't exactly have BMWs and Mercedes', but I didn't exactly own my own company here, so I was shooting for the $4,000.00 Camaro. But the hippie wanted back to his commune or wherever he came from, leaving my sweet $3,876.47 to pay the bills he left for my mom. I almost caught him that night to beat that money out of him, but I didn't, and had to kiss my Camaro goodbye... excuse me, I need a tissue... ok, I'm better now. Giving mom the money wasn't the hardest part, it was not getting the car that was, but we live and learn, or just have to pay for other people, whatever the case was. Mom did make a deal with the debt collectors enough to give me back $795 of it back, and at that time bummin rides from friends and walking was getting old, fast, so I started looking in the Thrifty Nickel, well, past the females that would marry you if you were old, rich and near death there were the cars, thrown in there randomly along wih the refridgerators, video games and furniture. I laughed when I saw that Kenny's uncle Pete "The Pusher" Barksdale was selling a '69 Camaro in 'Good Condition'. Hell, good condition to Pete meant it would get you off his property, after that get ready to be 'pushing'. But when Kenny's dad said it was a good deal, I couldn't pass it up, not even for the $300 asked for it, so knowing Pete well I took $265 down there with my buddy Matt and his truck, as a just in case. The car started right up, and sounded d**n good. What I didn't know was that Kenny and his family had all pitched in to make the car run, labor on the weekends and parts from their own pockets. I didn't learn this until last week I think, which made me kick myself for not lowering the offer to $250 for Pete.

So with my d**n nice car in place, enough money to get my little brothers nice school clothes and supplies, and some left over to burn the world was my oyster, and I wanted to live life to the fullest, or just go down to Argentine's pool hall to hang out and shoot some billards every friday and saturday night. d**n my boyish good looks, at least that's what my sister would tell you is the reason I get I disagree into trouble, but on one warm saturday night I was just kickin back with the guys, havin a d**n good time until she walked in, the sexiest chick I think I had ever seen, either that or she wanted me to believe she was, and had the power to back it up. I didn't know that she was Vamp, and neither did my friends, so I stroll on over there, with my pimp ass, thinkin I was the nuts. I thought I was giving her all my best lines, even the one about me oweing her a compliment later on cause she was just too d**n fine. She laughed at my jokes, or she was just laughing at me and hiding it well, yeah, I would bet on that, anyway, she said she was in town for a while, and wanted me and a friend to meet up with her at her hotel the next night, all sexy like too with pulling the address from between her breasts slowly, making me look at them, not that I wasn't mind you, but she made sure I would look just that much longer. When she said she had a friend Kenny was the only person I thought of, instantly and nuts, cause Kenny is like my brother, in fact no, he is my brother, no like about it. So me and Kenny stroll up to the hotel, Run DMC blasting from the hand-me-down Nissan tapedeck and lookin like two wild and crazy guys. I still thank god that Kenny told his pops about this chick, cause when we got in there the only thing I saw was all that blood, I thought it was paint, or the color of the room, but when that blood smell hit me, you know, it smells like melted pennies mixed with rotten honey, I knew then that it was real.

She moved faster than I could blink, as the rest of that moment was really fuzzy for me, it was like my eyes got lost in the red, and I was drowning in it. The last few gunshots finally woke me up, and there stood Kenny's dad with the woman's head in his hand, another guy was cutting her chest open like a watermelon, the sound of the rhine being split with each slice of the blade as it mushed into the actual watermelon part, except it was in reverse. Thankfully she only cut my neck, and I didn't see Kenny's dad follow closely behind us on the way there, but I did learn that he was a Vampire slayer, and thinking back I am guessing the watermelon cutter, was Kenny, following in his dad's footsteps. Kenny's dad took me to the police Academy that next Monday, telling me I resisted the Vampire better than anyone he had ever seen. I looked at the bandage and said he was full of nuts, but in a nice way, Kenny's dad is the best man I know, and after that night, it made him undisputed in my book. Training to be a cop was easy, just learn how to spell, know how to drive, and make sure you don't shoot yourself in the foot, got it, and I did. Graduating quickly as it seemed I was good at that, being a Cowboy as Kenny's dad would call it, but I guess he saw something in me that I didn't, at the time. Yes, now I was 18, legal to smoke and get into clubs, and I was a rookie cop to boot. Mom was proud, Denise, my sister didn't approve, only because her boyfriend and the father of my niece and nephew, was a drug dealer and thought I would bust him on my first arrest. I wouldn't, and haven't to this day cause he treats her good, gives her a better life then we had, even if it is dirty, bad money, it is good to her, and that's all that counts in my book. Stevie and Luke, my brothers, just wanted to ride in the squad cars, begging me to take them to school every morning with the sirens on, going about 60 miles per hour down the street. One morning I did, minus the 60 miles per hour of course, but the lights flashing and the sirens blazing none-the-less.

[The Overseer]

Now we come to my 21st birthday, Westport it was, that was a definate as Kenny was buyin, and I was drinkin. I think that night I drank my weight in tequilla with rum chasers, but it was more like seven, eight shots with two, maybe three orders of rum to chase it. I was tore up, from the floor up. Kenny, and his great judge of character picked a fine ass chick from the crowd to come 'entertain' me, which she did, damn she had legs for days and a chest that would make a baby hungry. Ok, bad wording, but this chick was good god damned fine, make you want to thank the lord, as I will have to after this for taking his name in vain. But she was worth that, and only that as I stumbled to the cab with a motel room key, Kenny smiling like the pimp he is and the chick holding me up, this was looking to be the best birthday I ever had. Until the moment the cab pulled up to the dark house, the kind of house they can't even show you in horror movies and special Halloween shows on 'real haunted places'. It sobered me up real quick, but damn if the chick didn't make me want it in the worst way, and yes, that meant walking into the house without back-up. Stepping inside it smelled like dirt, but like out-of-town dirt, no soil in Kansas City ever smelled like that, and I knew something was not right. Oh great, yet another fuckin fanghead comes around the corner, this time for some reason I just knew, like looking at a Target employee and just knowing they do not want to answer your dumb question about where the bathroom scales, or silverware are, this time it was so clear to me the vamp might as well have had a big neon sigh flashing 'Bloodsucker' right over them like in a Roadrunner cartoon. Beep-beep, as it was off to the races, trying to catch the cab before it took off down the street, well there was the red again, like two glowing eyes all the way down the street, well unless I was Michael Johnson with rocket shoes, I was not catching that damn cab again, so to face the already dead, just my luck.

I drew my issue in just enough time to get one shot off, thankfully it was right between the eyes, buying me some time, how much time, well when the damn thing started moving just a split second after it hit the ground, that was the end of my little breather. At that moment I remembered the hotel room, and the blood, but at night, blood looks like motor oil, used, old, black oil on the pavement, nearly blending, but the road was cracked and riveted, like rice cakes, one big, black rice cake. Running down the street again as the footsteps were heard once again, this one was not as fast as the hotel biter, point goes to me. Turning around in midstride I fired off two more shots, hitting the fanghead in the shoulder, then the thigh, hell yes for training and those stupid wooden targets that looked like Kojack for some reason. Seeing the highway now as I knew I was deeper into Missouri, hopefully I was at least still in Jackson County, but I wouldn't bet on it. Turning to run across the field that seperated busy I-70 from me as my jacket got caught on the post of the fence, no time to pull myself free I fired off one more shot before my issue was thrown into the sea of black grass, it getting swallowed easily as I felt that cold hand wrap around my throat. For some reason I thought of watermelon, damn I could have used some right now, yeah, Kenny, cut me a big slice m'man. That wasn't going to happen, but what did I could not tell you, I guessed it was something involving that jagged fence post and the vamp cause the last thing I remember was walking along I-70, sliding into an older buick that belonged to a night janitor just getting off work. He was a damn nice man and I must have said thank you a hundred times, followed by 'I really appreciate this'. He was wise, and didn't take it the wrong way, in fact I will never forget his laugh, it belonged on a kid's show to announce the oddly colored big animal suit.

Ok, let's skip past my 'career' bullshit, I worked hard, and late, keeping that rundown apartment was much harder than the place was worth, but I still did it, day in and day out, night in, night out. Thank you mom, one important thing she did pass onto me, her work ethic. One night, I think it was Thanksgiving, my pager was going off like crazy, mom on the house phone, sis on her cell, this was about six years ago from today, and I could care less at that, but I went through to drop off my reports when I heard screaming. Right hand on my trusted .45, definately not police issue, but they didn't seem to mind, my issue was now my back-up. Walking into the Chief's office was something I don't know if I regret or not, but it was bad none-the-less, as I saw the fat bastard all over Jenny, the night receptionist. He was giving it all he had, and you could tell by her screams she was not pleased by his three-inch wonder. When I think back on it, he wet himself when I opened the door, literally throwing Jenny onto the floor, then kicking her as if to sweep her under an imaginary rug. I just shook my head, then heated words were exchanged, and damn my morals, cause I would not tell his wife, or anyone about this. So with my word of honor and silence, he made me hand over my badge and issue right there, Happy Thanksgiving Kevin, and have yourself a Merry Little Christmas. I put my issue on the desk, then held my badge in my hand as I punched him directly into his oily, fat nose, dropping the badge onto the desk as I just walked out, tossing the reports all over the squad room. 'And the Academy Award goes to...'

Well after my little temer-tantrum I made it home easily, yeah, the run down apartment. And the shower I took that night was the most refreshing one I had ever taken, the soap was newer than I had ever remember a bar, and it was half used. I think being fired from the force was the best thing that happened to me, cause that night I slept like I was back in the womb again. But Monday rolled around too quickly, the weekend was spent at mom's, well mom and Dave's, her husband even to this day. The food was wonderful, and I think I gained eight pounds, well, call it hopeful thinking that is. But that Monday morning I took one step out of my apartment, still just in boxers, freshly lit smoke hanging from my lips as the clouds from it moved over my right shoulder. I reached down to pick up the paper when a black, steel-toed cowboy boot stepped on it. I knew instantly that it was Kenny's dad, I think that cherry flavored thin cigar smell gave him away, Cherry Black and Milds to those who would know what he smokes. That partially gapped yellow smile seemed to deflect the morning, well soon to be afternoon light shining from the small window behind me as his gruff, grizzled laugh echoed easily in the hallway. He made me an offer I couldn't refuse, to kill murdering vampires for a living, the pay was three times as much as I had made, which would still be shit, but better shit pay. The hours were up my alley as well, whenever I was awake with a few nights off, to 'heal' as he would so colorfully point out.

So now here I am, just a handful of years after the Addison vs. Clarke law was passed, but I have the training for this, Sims, Kenny's dad Simon, teaching me about 'shielding' myself from the vamp powers, all the nice little tricks and equipment of the trade, which would explain the rosary tattooed on my chest and collars, and this nice taste for vengence. Damn, I knew I would do this, time to back up a bit here. Six years ago, months before the Addison vs. Clarke case would go to be passed, we were on a routine 'check-up' on a nice little fanghead coven when Simon went to secure the basement by himself, mistake in any case, yet I was still young, and I trusted him. My gut screamed at me to go with him, in fact at that moment I ran to the bathroom to put my breakfast into the sink and stare at myself through a molded mirror. I didn't hear him scream, or any of his weapons go off, as the Master Fanghead he encountered down there was far too powerful to even think of defending yourself against. So after about ten minutes I decided to check this out, my gut screaming at me again so out comes the real rosary, blessed by Padre Gonzalez and Mother Katherine, as the more the merrier on that note in my book. I rounded the basement corner when I saw the fucker draining Sims like Sims was some sort of big ass slurpee. I got three shots into the bastard, oh the beauty in silver coating, before I grabbed him by his coarse, horse like hair and drug him up those stairs. I had 13 more shots left, and I was going to use them all in him, but this time my memory, or conscious held on longer, as the gap between the hallway to roasting marshmallows on the prick's corpse was less.

Now we are here, as I know the difference between a good vamp, and one gone bad. I could never kill a human, I know that, but put a vamp gone bad in my path, and I will run right the fuck over them, in fact I'll back up and go over them again, no, a few dozen more times, just to make sure. Whether you may have enjoyed the story this far, don't get your hopes up, because I will be dead before it is finished. But now that we have caught up, these paragraphs will mark each week that passes, or if it is a busy week, then each chapter will be a week, let's just pray that I don't have busy days that take up chapters... yes, let's pray on that.

[Garou]

Approved Character.

Post any Cleb names and Name tags to the proper boards please if they are not already.
~N