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The Player
Name/nickname: Kathryn
Age: 25
Pronouns: female
Contact: kathrynkr at gmail dot com
Experience: Have been RPing since 2009, in all sorts of games: small, close-knit communities; giant, structured games; private RP, and memeplay.
Currently played characters: N/A


The Character
DW account: [personal profile] fucking_ebay
Name: Peter Vincent
Alias: Peter Vincent, Vampire Hunter; Master of Darkness, etc.
Age/Birthdate: 39 years old/1972
Species: Human
Canon: Fright Night (2011)
Canon point: About a month after the end of the film
Played By: David Tennant


Icon:



Abilities:
Peter is a stage magician by trade; while his work isn't exactly revolutionary, he's an experienced performer capable of turning out convincing illusions. When in stage mode, Peter is suave, confident, and sexy (his show, like so many Vegas shows, was sold largely on sex appeal). The apparently obvious falsity of his stage persona, a vampire hunter, conceals the truth: that Peter is actually one of the world's foremost experts on the supernatural. In the past, he has received (and, because it strokes his ego, granted) requests from scholars and academics for information and access to his carefully gathered collection of artifacts (his less-than-carefully gathered eBay purchases, on the other hand...not so much). Peter may not be the brightest crayon in the box (a fact which probably isn't helped by his drinking), but he knows his subject as only an obsessive can.

Soon after his arrival through the rift, Peter discovered he had gained the ability to teleport himself. It's a very ostentatious power; wherever he appears, he appears in a quick burst of flame and smoke (fortunately, he has yet to burn any buildings down by teleporting into them). Whether by inherent weakness or lack of self-control, Peter is absolutely pants at controlling his power. He generally won't teleport entirely without meaning to, but he quite frequently misses his mark by...well, a lot. He's not quite sure how far he can go, as he's never had a successful long-distance jump, but he once made it about a block and a half. Anything tied to him or anyone with a grip on him is transported along with him if he tries to teleport, but he's unable to teleport while carrying anything larger than one other person. If he tries to drag along anything larger than that, he snaps back to his starting position.


Appearance:
Tall and thin with shaggy brown hair, Peter generally walks with a self-assured swagger. He favors dark, tight-fitting clothing and leather jackets and coats, and he's no stranger to eyeliner...but he's not unaware of how to dress in order to blend in with the general public. His native Scottish accent has been softened by frequent international travel, so that he now sounds only vaguely British, and his speech is riddled with coarse language (and coarse subjects) at nearly all times.


Personality:
Peter has been haunted by survivor's guilt and his own feelings of weakness since the vampire attack that killed his parents in his childhood. He tells himself (and others) that he's a survivor, not a coward--he knows, on a practical level, that hiding was the only intelligent thing he could do while his parents were being murdered, but still hates himself for having been too frightened, too young, and too powerless to do anything against the creature that destroyed his family. Much of his adult life has been spent overcompensating by making something of a joke (and an extravagant living) out of his deepest fears; by slaying vampires night after night onstage, he could almost convince himself of his own power and control.

Though he might come off to his more impressionable fans as an artistic heartthrob, his frequent hissy fits and tantrums in rehearsals have made many people reluctant to work with him. He isn't much better at personal relationships, either; he's domineering and abrasive, seeming to demand that everyone around him either bend to his will or get out of the way. The only real relationship he's had in years was with Ginger, and her ability to mercilessly give back everything he dished out was probably what allowed them to connect at all; though unable to sustain a mutually supportive (or, well, healthy) relationship, he found caustic Ginger to be a steady, dependable presence in his life.

If Peter has any sort of shame about what others think of him--or about his body--it has yet to be discovered. He's brutally honest, at least when it comes to his assessments of other people, and has no problem at all with going about in little more than his underpants, regardless of who's there to see him. His self-loathing is matched only by his narcissism; after decades of emotional isolation, the vast majority of his attention (both positive and negative) is turned inward. While he's not constantly drunk, a day never goes by in which he remains entirely sober, either. His taste in drinks (Midori -- a neon green, tooth-rottingly sweet liqueur -- is a current favorite) bears out his overall lack of taste in general.

Perhaps understandably, Peter harbors deep distrust of anyone who isn't entirely human. He might express derision or disgust at such a person, but that behavior is driven mostly by fear.


History:
When Peter Vincent was a nine years old, he heard the sounds of his parents being killed. The creature had come to their home in the guise of a man--in later years, when he realized that it must have happened, he could never remember what made them invite the monster in. Mostly he remembered running and hiding, and the certainty that he was about to die.

After that came foster care. Without family members both willing and able to take him in, Peter was shuttled off to a group home and, several years later, down south to the home of a surprisingly patient pair of foster parents in England. By then his obsession with the occult had taken hold; by the time he came of age, he'd already begun amassing knowledge and collecting what few artifacts he could afford (all, he later learned, fake). A mixture of paranoia and denial drove his efforts, the desire to protect himself from a second attack mingling with the need to convince himself that the counselors and therapists were right and the first could never have happened. After school he left home, such as it was, and drifted throughout the country, supporting himself as a busker and continuing his study of the supernatural. He was fortunate enough to get signed on at a comedy and magic club, which was enough to give his career traction despite the negative reputation he quickly gained among stagehands and fellow performers. His popularity and his fortune grew, and in his late twenties he came to America on tour for the first--but nowhere near the last--time. His macabre performances and elaborate stunts proved irresistible to younger audiences in that country, and it wasn't many years more before he moved there on a more permanent basis. While on one of his tours, he became involved with a cast member named Ginger. To describe their relationship as 'romantic' would be somewhat inaccurate, but to describe it as what it might appear to have been--that is, enemies-with-benefits--would be too flippant a dismissal. When he relocated to Las Vegas for a semi-permanent show at the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino, Ginger moved into both the role of leading lady and into Peter's new penthouse. The pair fought constantly, but somehow the arrangement suited both of them.

2011 was the year when Peter's past came back not so much to haunt him as to steamroll right over the life he'd built for himself. A high schooler named Charley Brewster gained access to Peter's flat by posing as a reporter from the Las Vegas Sun; when the teenager stopped asking stilted questions about fact versus myth and began pushing photographs at Peter and tearfully begging him for help slaying a vampire named Jerry, Peter panicked, accused Charley of being a looney, and bravely ordered Ginger to escort him out. It was, of course, none of Peter's business. Odds were the teen was a looney, and even if he wasn't, it wasn't as if Peter could actually do anything about it. That was what he told himself, at any rate, right up until he gave in and looked at the photographs Charley had left him. Fortunately, Charley and his girlfriend, Amy, were still alive when Peter called them up. Unfortunately, Charley's newly undead best friend tracked him straight to Peter's front door, and gained entrance by posing as a delivery man. It wasn't until Peter had fled to his panic room and looked at the video feed of his flat that he realized Ginger--whom he'd sent to answer the door, calling her a lazy cow and giving her the finger along the way--was dead. Once again, Peter hid while vampires tore apart his home. This time, however, he was not the only survivor. Charley returned with the news that Amy had been taken, and that he intended to storm Jerry's suburban lair. Peter, who had already packed his bags, refused to go with him. Charley expressed disgust at Peter's pragmatism--or cowardice--saying he would rather be killed than become a man like Peter. When Peter saw that Charley couldn't be convinced to run away, he at least offered the teen the use of one of his relics, a stake blessed by Saint Michael purported to return humanity to the victims of any vampire it killed.

Stripped once again of his illusions of security, Peter almost convinced himself that he would do exactly as he'd said he would and disappear off the map in order to save his own neck. Instead, after contemplation aided by several healthy helpings of Midori, Peter abandoned his common sense, outfitted himself with all of his best eBay-bought weaponry, and intercepted Charley at Jerry's home. Together they infiltrated Jerry's basement lair, but were quickly outmatched. Jerry recognized Peter, both from the latter's well-publicized shows and from the night he killed Peter's parents. He mocked Peter ("You have your mother's eyes...and your father's aim") and casually set his vampire 'children' on him after shutting Charley in a room with the now-vampiric Amy. Charley escaped and came to Peter's rescue, ultimately lighting himself on fire and literally tying himself to Jerry in order to cause the vampire to panic and get an opening to stake him. True to the legend, the vampire's influence left all the people he and his minions had converted, including Peter, whose transformation had begun a few minutes earlier, after several of Jerry's offspring fed on him.

Though Peter ultimately played only a supporting role in killing Jerry, the death of the vampire brought him closure. He remained friends with Charley and Amy and, after an emotionally stunted period of mourning for Ginger, resumed his performances. His departure from Las Vegas came only when he was picked up by the rift and deposited in an alternate universe's version of Manhattan. With no money and no agent (apparently the Peter Vincent of this world, if he existed, was no celebrity magician), Peter reluctantly accepted the protection of the Rebels and the meager living quarters that came with it. He has lived in Manhattan for about a month now and is somewhat familiar with the overall situation. He has no interest in actually fighting alongside the Rebels; his goal, if he has one, is to escape Manhattan and/or to reestablish himself so he no longer has to live in a high-rise hovel.


Writing Sample:
The view from his apartment, Peter has decided, is shite. Everything about his apartment is shite, actually, from the dripping sink to the hand-me-down sofa. The people who gave it to him are shite, too; if they really wanted to help him, they'd've got him out of the city by now, not put him up in a place that looked like bedbug central, surrounded by a bunch of things they blindly insisted counted as people and, therefore, neighbors. Bad enough having neighbors at all without those neighbors being bug-eyed monsters and fuck knew what else. Peter had kept the door barricaded from day one.

His feelings on the matter are compounded today by the fact that his (shite, can't keep anything cold) refrigerator is empty. His inability (or refusal) to cook and his tendency to stock up on liqueurs instead of groceries mean that he's already spent his (shite!) little piddling allowance on takeaway and liquid comfort, all of which is gone now, leaving him sober and hungry until he can get another shitty little handout in a few days.

Knocking things over and complaining quite loudly to the empty room about all the idiot rebels who bloody well ought to know who he is and treat him a good deal better than this makes Peter feel a little bit better. It also drives home the fact that there's no room service to call, no personal assistants to drive to tears, and no Ginger to fix it for him. If he wants to eat (and, more particularly, drink), he's going to have to do something about it himself.

It doesn't take much to make a street show. Cards would be handy (if painfully cliche), but he doesn't have the money to buy any. He does have a coin or two left, though, which will do for a start. Peter's rusty at this -- it's been literally a decade since he made the switch to stage magic -- but it's like riding a bicycle, right? Anyway, if he fucks it up, there'll always be more people walking by later. The question is whether he'll be able to draw in a (paying) audience, or if he'll end up chasing them all off.

"Oi! You in back!" He's just done a rather impressive bit with a borrowed Rolex (whose owner is rather relieved that it is not smashed to pieces after all), but has noticed someone hanging back and watching without coming within paying range, which is just not on. "Get your cheap arse over here; you're next!"


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