C R E S C E N D O - The Creeping Frost (OOC/Signups)

[Cylarn]

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INTRODUCTION - A CALL IN THE CROWLEY MOUNTAINS

• TO: (Group: DCSD Patrol Division)(Group: DCSD Criminal Investigations Division)(Group: New York State Police)(30+ others)
• FROM: lfielder81@daracogov.org
• SUBJECT: RE: RE: Crowley Disturbance
• CONTENTS:
  

  Six days, and not a single call from Malton. Nothing from any of the few numbers actually connected to the phone lines out there, and no cellphone calls have been picked up - both of them combined for five days now. Unfortunately, the deputy we sent towards town forty-eight hours ago has yet to call in. A ski resort has gone completely offline. I think it's safe to say that something abnormal is happening in the Crowley Mountains.
  
  I will acknowledge that some people are receiving this email from the first time, particularly if you are part of a state agency or otherwise. You have been included as a recipient in this email because a mutual colleague may have referred you to us. Others, are members of local agencies that have been previously appraised of current events. Five days ago, we lost contact with the ski town of Lake Malton, located in the Crowley Mountains along the border with Canada. Although the town has a permanent population of only sixty people, the seasonal population included between two-hundred and five-hundred tourists and owners of cabins centered around the ski resort there. A deputy sheriff was dispatched to the town, but we last had radio contact with them two days back. As apprehension grows over the silence with Lake Malton, the Daramont County Sheriff, Gary Dupont, has requested intervention by local and state agencies, as well as by other "verified" sources.
  
  We here in Daramont County are products of the North Country, but as for the Crowleys, it's a whole other frontier when you break into those mountains. Endless seas of forests, high-reaching crags, and a lake right snug in the middle of everything. Civilization in the area is found
  in the town of Lake Malton, but you can find handfuls of homesteads and work sites - old mines, logging camps, etc - reveling in various states of habitation and abandonment in the elements. It stays cool in the summer and spring, but come fall, the snow will set in early, and sometimes even stay year-round. The ski industry loves that. A state highway - the only actual road outside of town - goes right into Malton, and snow and ice and rockslides are prone to either keep people in, or out of town. Takes hours to get down from the Crowleys into the rest of Daramont, to here in Eaton City and all that. The powerlines and phonelines extend over the mountains as if they were giant, endless snakes. Cell phone reception is shoddy at best. For the resort at Malton, they have their own airfield for a monthly resupply.
  
  In this kind of country, with how long it takes to get anywhere here, things tend to break. The lifers, a dwindling number of them, know how to survive without seeing the rest of the county. However, there are an estimated 150 guests currently reported to be staying at the resort. You can guess how unremarkable the name is, but it has slopes challenging enough to be coveted by some of the world's biggest names in winter sports. For a small town, and indeed, for the whole county, the resort is an income-booster, bringing in tourists from all around. With February, it is known that the resort is holding a series of private, yet televised competitions.
  
  Direction from the County Sheriff has been to assemble a task force within the next 12-24 hours, for the purpose of reestablishing contact with the town of Lake Malton and ensuring the safety of those currently residing there. On 2/23 0830, all participating members of the task force are to rally at the Daramont County Sheriff's Department Main Station. Once the task force has arrived in entirety, they will drive by service vehicle to Lake Malton and notify the DCSD of the condition of the town. In the event of a serious incident, guidance will be sought from state and federal authorities.
  
  Regards,
  CPT Lorraine Fielder
  Daramont County Sheriff's Department
  

So, I am trying another swing at horror. Some of you probably remember the original CRESCENDO, in which a local police force is pitted against unnatural evils and a hurricane. I know that some peope enjoyed the RP and its premise, and it feels only right to create a second CRESCENDO.As you guessed, this is the "Snow One." Where the original had a hurricane in the Florida Keys, we're dealing with high winds and blizzards along a fictional stretch of the US-Canadian Border. The Crowleys are a remote swath of wilderness, save for a few notable vestiges of humanity. Popular ski town during the holidays, but far-removed from the rest of the North Country. Due to circumstances unseen by the rest of the county, contact with the area has gone dark for five days in February of 2012. Our characters are part of an ad-hoc task force sent to reestablish contact. A motley crew of state troopers and sheriff's deputies, detectives and special agents, among others, will provide the basis for the story that we are going to tell. This is not for the faint of heart. We will be pitted against unnatural, evil forces of esoteric and terrible natures, as the lives of innocents hang in the balance. Clues and evidence of a terrible course await prying eyes and inquisitive minds. But be warned, for there is much that will find you wanting, if you go searching for it. I am the boss, and this is my RP. Co-OPs will be extensions of my authority. Obey them as you would me. Keep all limbs inside the vehicle at all times. Standard RP rules apply. Should I have to run through them? No. I expect a degree of effort in one's work; the characters you be real and believable. I am still adding points of interest, and I am more than willing to incorporate player-made ideas for locations, provided they are within reason.

Code: Select all [size=125][u]BASIC INFORMATION[/u][/size] [b]FULL NAME:[/b] [b]NICKNAME(S), PREFERRED:[/b] [b]DOB - AGE:[/b] (MM/DD/YYYY - XX; Remember that the year is 2012) [b]GENDER:[/b] [b]BIRTHPLACE:[/b] [b]ETHNICITY:[/b] [b]RELIGION:[/b] [b]APPEARANCE:[/b] (Provide a picture, if applicable. Include height, weight, unique features, tattoos, and anything else that may be pertinent to how they may look. Remember that most departments maintain  professional grooming standards. If you do not know what is considered "professional," then you may need to be more observant) [hr][/hr] [size=125][u]MEDICAL/PSYCHIATRIC INFORMATION[/u][/size] [b]BLOOD TYPE:[/b] [b]PRIOR SERVICE INJURIES:[/b] [b]PHYSICAL CONDITION (FIT/UNFIT; your appearance should complement this):[/b] [b]PSYCHOLOGICAL PICTURE:[/b] [box][/box] [size=125][u]AGENCY INFORMATION[/u][/size] [b]EMPLOYER:[/b] [b]RANK:[/b] [b]QUALIFIED SERVICE WEAPON:[/b] (The handgun of choice for the "sworn" employee) [b]BACKUP WEAPON(S):[/b] (You are allowed, at the most, two additional firearms, that will stay in the vehicle. Backup handguns are permitted) [b]ADDITIONAL EQUIPMENT:[/b] [b]SERVICE VEHICLE (Disregard if civilian; be sure to use an applicable American police vehicle):[/b] [hr][/hr] [size=125][u]ADDITIONAL BIOGRAPHICAL INFORMATION[/u][/size] [b]KNOWN WORKPLACE RELATIONSHIPS:[/b] (If you can work out an existing connection with another character, list it here) [b]MARITAL STATUS:[/b] [b]BASIC BIOGRAPHY:[/b]

Historical Summary The Crowley Mountains and Lake Malton have been inhabited for thousands of years - first by indigenous Americans of the Algonquin-speaking tribes that made a living fishing and hunting in the area. While few Native Americans remain in the Crowleys, much of the land bears significance to the Algonquin peoples, particularly the Cree. European influence arrived in the region in the early 17th Century, with French and Dutch fur trappers making contact with the tribes. This contact, while initially benign at first, soon birthed strife between the native tribes and the ever-increasing number of encroaching settlers. A series of conflicts between the Native Americans and the Dutch, French, and later, British and American Colonials, would be fought in the region, making for several bloody sagas of lore on both sides. The original Fort Malton, established by provincial troops of New York and Massachusetts in the midst of the French and Indian War, was burnt to the ground in 1770, which prompted one of the few major military actions involving British and colonial forces fighting on the frontier before the American Revolution. The destruction of the fort was followed up by massacres of the local tribes, and displacement of the surviving tribes from the region. Despite the blood that was shed over the Crowleys during the colonial period, the settlement and exploitation of the region has never been at an optimum. Harsh weather and the high altitude have killed the unprepared on many occasions, and dissuaded the well-prepared. Economic operations, such as the logging and mining businesses that proliferated between 1840 and 1940, went through their fair share of boon and bane in the Crowley Mountains. Rich men came into the mountains, hoping to find wealth. Many of them left poor, ranting of the Crowleys being a cursed, evil place. Indeed, more stories developed in this time. There were stories of unexpected equipment failures at the worksites, causing horrible cave-ins and timber accidents and such calamity that few willing workers native to Lake Malton could be found by 1940. In addition to the mysterious accidents and losses of life among the workers, tragic stories of families being predated upon by the creatures of the wilderness have been told over campfires and in newspaper columns alike. With the entry of the United States into World War II, the dwindling supply of young men needed to mine coal or cut timber was cut off, as most of those young men volunteered for service overseas. As a result, only two timber operations are active and none of the mines are open. The economy suffered for a time, until a handful of local businessmen invested in and developed what would become the Lake Malton Ski Resort, buying local real estate and hiring contractors to develop ski trails and hills, and to build towering lifts. The native population of Lake Malton, descendants of the early settlers and soldiers and timbercutters to seek out the Crowleys, shifted in their livelihoods to accommodate the new tourism boom. Although the permanent population did not expand by much, the GDP of the area grew to the heavens. Most permanent residents live comfortably on the profits generated from the ski industry. Local (Known) Points of Interest (Work-in-Progress) Town of Lake Malton Lake Malton Ski Resort, Main Campus - A massive lodge-style building that serves as the main hub of the ski resort. The admissions office and facility administration center are located here, along with the bar/grill, access points to all of the ski lifts to the surrounding ski mountains, and a small neighborhood of winter cabins. The Resort Ski Patrol and the Resort Security have their offices here. Malton Country Store - The oldest building in Malton, constructed in 1805. It has been in the sole possession of the Martin family for the two centuries of its existence, and has provided the town with all manner of provisions, from horse feed to the latest books. In recent times, the arrival of competing businesses has greatly harmed the livelihood of the Country Store, forcing them to draw in heavily on their rustic appeal to offset the considerable expensiveness of some of their more "trendy" products. Wal-Mart - Recently opened, although considered by the main office in Bentonville to be a "Mini-Wal-Mart," and is indeed one of the smallest Wal-Marts in the country. The influx of tourists prompted the Chamber of Commerce to make an offer to Wal-Mart, who in turn granted a Wal-Mart to exist in the small town. Halbek Outfitters - A popular seller of brand-name outdoor clothing and ski apparel. Has been in operation since the early days of the Malton ski boom. Its owner Stanislaw Halbek, a former Olympic ski champion and Polish veteran of World War II, has been the sole owner and proprietor of the store, and is a reportedly shrewd businessman. G & Y Auto-Maintenance - An auto-repair business that services the entire population of Lake Malton. Highly regarded by the community. Lake Malton Town Hall - The center of affairs for the town of Lake Malton; the Chamber of Commerce and other town functionaries are located here. Town hall meeting are held on a weekly basis, enabling the town's permanent population to voice their opinions on town matters in a public forum. Lake Malton Volunteer Fire Department - The center of operations for the twenty-man part-time fire brigade that provides emergency services for the town. In addition to two aging fire engines, the town has a single ambulance on-call 24/7. Rescue services are usually contracted through the Air National Guard, Daramont County Sheriffs, or - most commonly - the Resort Ski Patrol and Resort Security. Riesdorff Boulevard - The town's primary lakeside drag, packed full of boutique businesses, cliche fancy eateries, and such. Quincy Firearms - The local go-to spot for firearms in Lake Malton. The primary selection consists of hunting rifles, shotguns, and handguns. High-end AR-15s and other similar self-loading rifles are rarely in stock. Dunbarr Ski Shoppe - The top independent ski service merchant in town; Dunbarr's offers a wide selection of ski equipment, and provides maintenance work for customers. Lake Malton Service Airport - A small, local service airport, consisting of a single runway, four hangars, and a control tower. Primary traffic comes in the way of supply planes. Lake Malton General Clinic - The town's sole medical provider, aside from the Resort Infirmary. A general practice physician, Doctor Gilbert Capaldi, and a small staff offer routine medical assistance to the local population. Catskill Frontiersman Bar & Grill - The main haunt for locals, if they're looking for a decent steak and cold brew. Like most of the other food service locations, it really draws on the rustic airs of the environment.

[Tayner]

Tag

[Reverend Norv]

As this is right on the Canadian border, would RCMP be included, or just American LE?

[Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States]

Ah yissss. I have to look back what my previous character idea was...

[Cylarn]

As this is right on the Canadian border, would RCMP be included, or just American LE?

You know, I'll allow RCMP and SQ, provided that your character has a reason to be on the American side of the border within the present timeframe, and has secured permission to join the task force. That said, I don't want a ton of Canadian cops; the majority should be a mix of sheriff's deputies, state troopers, and investigators attached to the State Police or other interested agency.

[Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States]

I think I'm going for a state trooper from the marine detail, troop G. Someone boats.

[Cylarn]

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: "My full name is James Eugene Riker."
NICKNAME(S), PREFERRED: "I prefer Jim, or Riker."
DOB - AGE: "03/07/1977 - so 34."
GENDER: "Male."
BIRTHPLACE: "Caught the accent, huh? Yeah, I'm far from home, I've been told. My hometown is Boone, North Carolina. Been living up north though ever since college. Dad lives up here in Eaton."
ETHNICITY: "Caucasian; my roots are Dutch and Scots-Irish, mixed with Moravian and whatever else from the settlers that came to the Salem area."
RELIGION: "Agnostic. We'll leave it there."
APPEARANCE:

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MEDICAL/PSYCHIATRIC INFORMATION

BLOOD TYPE: "O-Neg."
PRIOR SERVICE INJURIES: "Got a chronic cough from breathing in God-knows-what back in '01. I've been shot twice and have three circular marks; a through-and-through on my left hand, and another on my right clavicle. The first time I was shot was through the left hand during a welfare check. The second, I was doing advisory work in Baghdad and got caught up in a market shooting; some insurgent asshole shot me through the shoulder."
PHYSICAL CONDITION: FIT.
PSYCHOLOGICAL PICTURE:

"Lieutenant Riker is an interesting character to work with, and to observe. He is not much of a stereotypical cop; the caricature of which, is often cultivated through training. Riker is a genuinely friendly and good-natured person, which some would say is an oddity when you're talking about someone who has been in over fifty different high-risk situations in his career, including 9/11. He is observant and mindful, without harming his character. Likewise, he has demonstrated empathy without impuning his badge or allowing himself to be cajouled into doing the wrong thing. Among superiors, peers, and subordinates, Riker is viewed as one of the department's warmest employees, although he has brought grief in some of the more 'tricky' cases the department deals with. He does not shy away from telling the truth; he has outright excoriated his fellow deputies, those implicated in police brutality cases, for their actions."

AGENCY INFORMATION

EMPLOYER: "Been with Daramont County for seven years now, since my transfer from NYC."
RANK: "Lieutenant over a Patrol unit."
QUALIFIED SERVICE WEAPON: "I carry a Ruger SR9, chambered for 9mm."
BACKUP WEAPON(S): "In a gun locker in my Tahoe, I keep a SIG Sauer SIG516 and a Remington 870. Those are backup guns."
ADDITIONAL EQUIPMENT: "You keep enough gear for whatever pops up. I keep a sleeping bag in my Tahoe, along with a folding shovel and boltcutters.
SERVICE VEHICLE: "I drive a 2009 Chevrolet Tahoe Police Special, unmarked black beauty. Perks of being a Lieutenant."

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ADDITIONAL BIOGRAPHICAL INFORMATION

KNOWN WORKPLACE RELATIONSHIPS:

MARITAL STATUS: "Happily married, five years come this August."
BASIC BIOGRAPHY: "My story? Sure; I'm not from here, as you might've guessed. I'm from the Appalachian Mountains - mind you, the Blue Ridge portion of them. Dad's from here, though; came down here after spending four years at Lejeune and got hitched with the North Carolina Highway Patrol. Mom's a Southern gal from a bigger city than ours called Winston-Salem, but they chose a place kinda like this. Man, Boone was great; a lively mountain town, had a college right there full of drunks, and for a kid, plenty of things to explore. Lived there until I was twelve. I spent afternoons and evenings hiking the wilds that surrounded the town, sometimes with friends and plenty by myself. The mountains stayed with me, I suppose."

"By the time I turned twelve, Dad copped a promotion and a transfer to the HQ in Raleigh, the state capital. That's a real city right there, and for me, it was a culture shock in a lot of ways. Mom got a job as a dispatcher for the Raleigh Police, which put her in a position working as many hours as Dad was. They weren't always there, so naturally, some resentment grew because I didn't have them when I felt like I needed them. So, teenage rebellion kicked off and I decided that I 'hated' cops. I drank, skipped school, did a lot of shit of that sort. Despite my crap, I was sheltered; the city cops all knew Mom and Dad, and cop kids have a tendency to be protected from the consequences of their actions. Mom and Dad made sure I paid in spades, however."

"Junior Year was a turn-around. Got into competitive swimming, and performed quite well. I stopped skipping school, and the grades went up. Wish I had some sort of inspirational story, but the truth is that I just sort of started acting normal. Best way I can describe it. Got offers from some colleges to swim; took up UNC Chapel Hill on their offer of an athletic scholarship. Close to home, and a prestigious school to attend; yet, I was only there for two years before I accepted an offer to transfer up north to Rutgers, to compete with their team on a full scholarship. I was fast, but not fast enough to get past Trials for the '96 Olympics. Part of me wanted to make a career out of the sport, but with '96 gone, my best prospects laid with collegiate coaching, and I honestly didn't want to coach. The career fairs and my Criminal Justice classes guided me towards law enforcement. I did ride-alongs with different departments, like with the NYPD and Newark PD, but one department stood out to me - the Port Authority Police Department."

"PAPD has jurisdiction over most of the transit systems shared by the City and New Jersey. They patrol the Turnpike and the Bridges, inspect the ships, and help lost kids in the airports and bus terminals find their parents. My experiences with the officers my senior year were good, and I liked the sense of purpose and professionalism. Three days before I graduated from Rutgers, I accepted an official offer of employment from the PAPD and attended their academy several months later. At the close of '99, I was assigned to my first beat; patrolling the Bridges. Things weren't dangerous, but the calls and contacts just do not stop coming in at such a large port. Missing kids, stolen bags, hardly-functioning vehicles breaking down at Rush Hour on the George Washington; nothing ever stops. Thankfully, I only drew my service weapon twice on a person in the time between December of '99 and 9/11."

"9/11, guess I shouldn't beat around the bush. I was with the ESU when all that crap went down, with what those fucking terrorists did. ESU - the Emergency Services Unit - is a near-mirrored copy of the NYPD's ESU; a combination of rescue work and tactical applications, although PAPD ESU focused more upon rescue work. Given that the WTC was controlled by Port Authority, it was only natural that we responded to the first impacts. Somewhere around fifty officers have died in the entire existence of the PAPD - thirty-seven over those officers were slain on 9/11. Ever wondered what the inside of Hell looks like? Try near-total darkness, backed up by clouds of toxic shit. You can't see your hand in front of your face, can barely see the beam of your light as you're moving up and down the stairs and through the office hallways, trying to find people and lead them down to safety. I saw the floors open up and swallow people whole, and whole floors collapse down. It was the best and worst day of my life, simultaneously. On one hand, I survived and validated my personal skill, perseverance, luck, and determination to do my job despite the horrific forces stacked against me. On the other, I lost friends. The woman I was dating at the time, Cynthia, jumped from her office space in the South Tower. I didn't go home until five that next morning; first thing I did, was open a six-pack."

"Didn't get through three beers before I called Mom and Dad. They cried when they heard my voice, and I cried too. Both of them were worried that I had been killed. I told them everything that was on my mind: the towers, what I saw, Cynthia - and they listened. Dad didn't admonish me or anything, but he and Mom gave me enough love and understanding to process what unfolded. I have dreams about the North Tower from time to time, and everyone knows that my signature cough is a by-product of inhalation - but I can genuinely declare that I have made peace with what happened. I did my job and saved lives, and with that I sleep well."

"ESU took on more counter-terror duties in light of the terror attacks and the GWoT. There was a fear in the PAPD and the greater Port Authority, particularly with PATH, that there would be more plane hijacking and even bombings of the trains and subways. They sent us to train with different agencies: LAPD Metro Division's D-Platoon, Coast Guard's TACLETs, and SRT courses at Fort Leonard Wood. We trained at the airport with plane and train and bus mock-ups, running hostage scenarios. The calls for ESU increased, especially with suspicious vehicles, and I responded to my first shots-fired call. Traffic stop-turned deadly; man with a 9mm handgun killed a State Trooper and was racing across the GW. Eight of us stopped him, got out of our vehicles, and unloaded over a hundred rounds into him as he was climbing out, gun in hand. Wasn't scary, or exciting really; more procedural and practiced, and I don't think too much of it."

"In '04, I had the pleasure of being loaned out to the US government in order to serve as a police trainer in Baghdad. This was just after the CPA passed authority off to the new Iraqi government, and I was sent in along with a cadre of other law enforcement professionals to train units of the newly-formed Iraqi Federal Police. Tasks included daily PT, instruction on proper police procedure, behavioral sciences, firearms, etc.
I'd say that the reception was mixed. Some trainees understood what we showed them and others simply didn't, for one reason or another. From time to time, the other advisers and I would accompany the Iraqis on their patrols and such. Mind you, the war is going on; despite the fact that we weren't military, we were permitted to carry an M9 and an M16A2, and we were always required to wear protective gear. That didn't stop us from taking fire, or having to return it. I'm not going to sit here and claim that I was kicking down doors with the Army and killing insurgents, but there were several occasions in which we took fire, and I picked my targets and took my shots like I was trained. I was shot for the first time over there; round from an AK flew through my shoulder, where the Kevlar didn't reach."

"In '05 my grandfather, former Sheriff Ed Riker, took a tumble down the stairs in his Eaton City home. Took me close to five or six goddamn hours to drive from the City to Daramont Regional Medical Center; went because I was the closest family member. He broke his right leg in three different places. Called Mom and Dad, and they wanted me to watch after him because they were too busy living it up in their beachfront house in Wrightsville. I did not want to, but I had to. It's family, after all, and thus I had to say goodbye to the PAPD. Bittersweet, all of it. There was a clear path of advancement within that agency, such that if I had stayed, I'd probably have made Captain by now. But sacrifices have to be made, so moved up to Eaton City and into the same house as my grandfather."

"It's not like I could just stay home with him and not work a sustaining job. I got a lateral transfer over to the Daramont County Sheriffs; out of the four people that were hired along with me, I was the only lateral hire. Six months of patrol to learn the town, and eighteen months working Criminal Investigations. After working eight-hour days, I'd come home and eat dinner with my grandfather, after which we'd drink a few beers and watch a John Wayne movie before he passed out. Following that, I made a routine of getting to know one neighbor in particular, Doctor Valerie Bergeron. Of all the things, my granddad's primary care physician was also his next door neighbor, and had been the first person to find him after his accident. She's beautiful, funny, chirpy if that's a thing. Conversations while taking out the garbage turned into nightly glasses of wine shared on her back porch, and further turned into actual dates. By December of '07, Valerie and I got married."

"So, to surmise, I'm still with the DCSD and serve as a Lieutenant over Patrol. My advancement through the ranks was fairly quick. I started with Narcotics and the Tactical Service Unit. Most of my time was spent setting up busts and stings and such, but in regards to the War on Drugs, I will be the first cop to say that all of our efforts are a waste. There will always be weed coming in, and another method cook, so when I applied for LEAP membership, I was surprised that Dupont didn't fire me. Instead, I filled in a vacancy for Investigations Supervisor over our Domestic Violence Task Force. Now that was real, good work, where we had to rely more upon the community than in other investigative mediums. Got to cast shit-eating grins at the wife-beaters I sent off to prison. 2010, I put in for promotion to Lieutenant for Patrol, after one of the old-timers retired."

"So, the Lake Malton business. Even though Valerie and I go sledding up there, I don't really know the town like she does. Sheriff Dupont asked me to head up the impromptu task force that's heading up there. Lemme be straight-up, my take is that we're just checking the proverbial breaker box, and probably some real ones."

[Kentucky Fried Land]

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Clive Wyatt Meadows
NICKNAME(S), PREFERRED: Wyatt; Meadows
DOB - AGE: 01/14/1984 - 28
GENDER: Male
BIRTHPLACE: Elmhurst, Queens, New York City, New York
ETHNICITY: Syrian-American
RELIGION: Atheist
APPEARANCE:
Height: 5’11 (180 cm)
Weight: 155 lbs. (70 kg)

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MEDICAL/PSYCHIATRIC INFORMATION

BLOOD TYPE: O-
PRIOR SERVICE INJURIES: Scarring of the left leg above the knee from previous incident regarding third-degree burns. Scarring extends to the right leg, from quadriceps to groin musculature. Shrapnel from an oven is embedded inside the abdomen. Gallbladder ruptured and removed from the body, shrapnel too close to the spine’s skelature to justify removal. NYPD paid all costs, including skin grafts. The operation was followed by three months of physical therapy.
PHYSICAL CONDITION: Fit
PSYCHOLOGICAL PICTURE:
Clive Meadows, as described by his peers, is a reserved, calm, and intelligent individual in most situations. Meadows has reported a good relationship with his parents but cannot correctly recall their current address, and repeated DSS records have been found regarding his family. These mostly detail reports of psychological, verbal, and very rarely physical abuse amongst Meadows and his brother from their parents. A clinical psychiatric checkup has diagnosed him with PTSD, low self-esteem, anxiety, and depression. Meadows, outward, is a friendly, optimistic, but reserved individual, if looking a bit tired. Inward, his mind consists of self-hatred, regret, and an imposter complex along with a plethora of mental issues typical in adults over the age of twenty-five.

A good officer, not without problems. Formerly, he suffered from a dangerous heroism that ended with him hospitalized after rushing into a burning building to save a citizen. This, along with the accidental hospitalization of a domestic abuser,, has led to a deep-rooted form of PTSD. He has no trouble with authority and listens to everything his superiors tell him to do, almost to a fault. He is deeply loyal to his friend and if betrayed by any, will possibly crack. His reserved nature lends him to returning home after a shift, unless pushed by his co-workers to join them out on the town. He is amicable and otherwise neutral, if not without some anger issues.

AGENCY INFORMATION

EMPLOYER: Daramont County Sheriff’s Department
RANK: Deputy; Patrol Drug Interdiction Task Force
QUALIFIED SERVICE WEAPON: Glock 17
BACKUP WEAPON(S): Mossberg 590, S&W 642 Airweight
ADDITIONAL EQUIPMENT: Police duty belt with handcuffs, pepper spray, and taser. Maglite and shoulder flashlight in glove box of cruiser. Snow shovel, snow shoes, and a 100 ft length of rope with stakes. Emergency rations, water, and thermal blankets are included in case of finding someone who has been lost in the snow.

Radio, police computer, Level IIIA Ballistic Vest + Stab Level I, police bomber jacket, toboggan in glove box, sunglasses in sun visor, disposable gloves, phone, IFAK, flexible winter leather gloves. Gray face bandana in case of extreme weather. Multitool knife, administration supplies, first responder kit, drug testing kit, tool set, spare clothes, and road flares.
SERVICE VEHICLE: 2008 Ford Crown Victoria Police Interceptor

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ADDITIONAL BIOGRAPHICAL INFORMATION

KNOWN WORKPLACE RELATIONSHIPS:
Miriam Langenberg - Best friend in the department. Her extraversion connects with his introversion in a way that brings him out of his shell. He doesn’t see her as “Langerberg’s girl” as he is an “outsider” of the town, having been there for two and a half years. Despite their conflicting personalities, they are good buds within the department and enjoy each other’s company.

MARITAL STATUS: Single
BASIC BIOGRAPHY:
Clive Wyatt Meadows was born on January 14th, 1984, to a Syrian descended father and a Caucasian mother. He was the youngest of two, both boys. Growing up in Elmhurst was not particularly tough, in comparison to other neighborhoods in NYC. Distant from their parents, Wyatt and his brother, Emmett, stuck together on the streets of Elmhurst. Their parents would often be considered “cruel” as many could be considered, constantly under stress from money, poor relationships, and life’s dissatisfaction. The boys were considered one and the same when it came to punishment, mostly doled out by their father.

Their father had a hard voice and a harder palm. He would slap both if one got into particular trouble, the troubles amounting to a long list. These included, but weren’t limited to; missing curfew, listening to music too loud, not finishing their food, talking back, hanging out with black friends, Hispanic friends, smelling like drugs, and getting a C or less in school. Emmett was the more delinquent of the two and would often employ Wyatt in his rambunctious adventures. Wyatt had to give his father credit; he didn’t start slapping until Emmett started talking about insulting their mother.

The two boys would hang around with Emmett’s high school friends primarily, Wyatt being more reserved and studious. This often resulted in Wyatt watching his brother and his friends at parties until Wyatt was peer pressured into doing his own brand of drugs and drinking his own brand of alcohol. An addictive personality didn’t exist with Wyatt and he never found himself getting attached to drugs, while Emmett became particularly fond of booze. Bicycles turned to cars and Elmshurst, Queens, turned into the neighborhoods of Brooklyn. Wyatt still got home from school on time every day via the subway; Emmett did not often.

As the boys slowly became Brooklynites, they drew into seedier crowds. Other boys, girls, men, women, down on their luck with shitty parents just like them. Emmett was sucked into it and Wyatt, by extension, was too. Cops were called but none laid a finger on Wyatt; Emmett always took the slack. A year of juvy for Emmett led to a lonely life for Wyatt, who had a few friends from school but no one to really hang out with. He was led astray from the more criminal parts of town and eventually was drawn into another beast; his parents. They tortured him with their complaints, their accusations, their blatant lack of care for his livelihood. Good grades would warrant no praise, neither would afterschool activities. Wyatt found it upon himself to return to the Brooklynites with his newfound high school friends, roping them into the troubles of the world.

He had fun and he met some good people. Unfortunately for the teenagers, there was bad as well. The 90s were an especially rough time for high school freshmen on the streets; in the year Y2K, he was threatened, made fun of, pressured into drugs, and his brother came back from jail. Now firmly an “honorary Brooklynite”, Wyatt and Emmett stayed away from Elmshurst most of their days. It was slowly becoming gentrified and their parents were never too far away. This wouldn’t last long; while Emmett showed a considerate amount of willpower when fighting his parents, Wyatt was weak to their whims. He fell to their wants and got a job at a prissy flower shop in Elmhurst, working as a flower delivery boy.

Life began to go smoothly, as smooth as could be considered. In the end, his parents were still looming over his shoulder and nothing Wyatt did was ever good enough. His mother flanked him from one end with constant chastisement including character assassination and belittlement of the few hobbies he had. The flower job was considered a “pussy’s work” by his father which led to him making fun of the boy any chance he could get. His parents controlled his every whim; told him what to wear, they lectured him, they accused him for his brother’s delinquency, his arrest, they ignored him most of the times he needed advice or wanted to talk.

Getting into school was hard; he had to apply for student loans himself, as not even a grade A student found it easy to get a scholarship in early 2000s NYC, especially a brown kid after 9/11. The times after 9/11 were often terrible for him; while he mostly was able to hide behind the Latinos, some saw through. Kids at school beat on him and the criminals in Brooklyn spit on him. Emmett was protected via his status after he moved away with a gang of friends to back him up. Wyatt didn’t want that life; he wanted education. Thinking he could make a real difference in the world, he went to Brooklyn College for four years, ending with a Bachelor’s in Criminal Justice.

College life was easier but not easy. Sativa, opiates, and hennessy turned into indica, adderall, and Budweiser. Grades were good and Wyatt mostly stayed away from the drugs, now without his brother’s influence. Dorm room costs were high, but he was getting raises at the flower shop throughout. He rarely talked to his parents anymore and brother called him every now and again, but above all, Wyatt was on his own. Friends and girls became topics of discussion formerly banished by his parents and now that he was free, he nearly went all in. Wyatt restrained himself and kept as a straight-edge guy, something he thought was “right” in his head. His sophomore year, he was able to afford an apartment with a couple of other guys in a bad part of town. NYC cost of living wouldn’t be going down any time soon.

Graduating college, Wyatt joined up with the NYPD just as his brother chased a girl upstate into Daramont County. Former friends that Wyatt knew called him a “traitor” when he joined the police force, especially a force known for their outright corruption and brutality on those deemed “deserving.” Wyatt still believed he could make a difference; he just wasn’t sure how he would do it. He got along well enough with his fellow officers and attempted to demonstrate community policing in his assigned patrol areas, but a domestic violence call turned awry made him reconsider police work as a whole. Rushing in with another officer, the two grabbed the suspect who was beating his wife and kids and attempted to arrest him. When the suspect fought back, Wyatt pushed him off of the other officer which led to the suspect falling and striking his head against the corner of the kitchen counter, paralyzing him.

After a lengthy internal investigation, Wyatt and his partner were declared “heroes” by the NYPD and placed on the back page of obscure newspapers. Once police duty was restored to him, he felt like an imposter. He had done nothing but help hospitalize a man; he was of no help. Heroism was a mask that he begrudgingly accepted with a muttered “thanks” and a short smile, a head nod. Anything of substance was thrown out the window during this time, with Wyatt’s small and short lived “fame” making him more reserved. In the end, he was forgotten like every other anecdote in New York City, and he appreciated it.

The notion of “heroism” gnawed at him. Life became a nuisance, as did work. There was a hole in his stomach that had been dug a little deeper by his sudden status within the NYPD. He supposed at times they needed an Arabic looking cop to look good; a little apology for those times after 9/11. Politics weren’t his strong suit so he didn’t go looking for the fame, but he did look for the redemption. Paralyzing a man wasn’t “heroism.” On one call he was driven to investigate a burning building. He was the first person on the scene and he heard screaming from inside. Neglecting to wait for a firefighter’s arrival, he rushed in before the fire reached the bottom floor where it would blow him to pieces.

Breaking in, he had no idea where the screaming was coming from inside the house. Unfortunately, the gas stove in the bottom of the house exploded, blowing through the kitchen door and sending a piece of shrapnel into his lower abdomen. His legs were burned and he was forced to stumble out of the house and onto the street, where he passed out from the pain. When he woke up in the hospital, he had third degree burns on his legs, a removed gallbladder, and a breathing apparatus over his mouth. His brother came to see him, as did his friends from the NYPD, as did his sergeant and lieutenant, as did a few lower ranking political figures within the department. The patrol major, a city councilwoman, reporters taking pictures. Nobody had died in the fire. They had climbed out on their own. The EMTs saved him from bleeding out on the street; it was a miracle he hadn’t died.

Once again, his picture was placed in newspapers, then he was forgotten in another week. He was lucky; the NYPD paid for his hospital bills and his physical therapy as a good show of faith. After finishing his three months of physical therapy, he repaid them by moving to Eaton City, where he joined the Daramont County Sheriff’s Department. He was 25 when he joined the department and stayed on for the next two and a half years. He liked most of the people there, but he needed peace and quiet. Reflections. His brother’s wife had divorced Emmett after a series of drug induced breakdowns and fled back to NYC, and as such, Wyatt took on part of the care for his nephew, taking him to arcades and amusement parks and everywhere he thought might be fun. He held a good relationship with his brother and his nephew and had even found a few friends. Sometimes he might go to the bar, or even help Miriam with her DARE programs. From patrol, Wyatt was assigned to the Drug Interdiction Task Force. He’s since been bouncing between that and the normal patrol officer duties.

[Recon]

Tag.

[Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States]

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Sebastian Charles Bernard O'Connell
NICKNAME(S), PREFERRED: Charlie, Whisky
DOB - AGE: 05/12/1979 - 33
GENDER: "Alright, alright! The beard is not much, I get the point. I left my razor at home because you guys said it was urgent, so you'll have to get used to it"
BIRTHPLACE: "Roscoe, New York. You know, '41 Miles from Roscooeeeee'... Midnight Callers? No? Okay, just... Roscoe, then.
ETHNICITY: "Irish-American, through and through"
RELIGION: "Okay, so I'm Roman Catholic. Administered by the Church and all that, I received all the necessary sacraments. I go a few times a year too; Easter, Christmas... And whenever my parents stay over for the weekend. Then I pretend I am a good Catholic boy. Still, I have my personal faith, and I like to keep the company of Saint Bernard whenever I go up the mountains. Look, this is his picture in my fop watch. He makes me feel safe when the roads are darkest, and the wolves start howling"
APPEARANCE:

"So, nothing much to see here. All tattoos are up to code. Everything can be covered up with a short-sleeved shirt and a low collar. Besides, it's just the cross on my left shoulder blade, and a memory from Paris. Got matching tattoos with my wife on our vacation there, before we got married. It represents... Okay, pertinent information, no need for the yawning. I'm 5'9", 160 pounds. No visible scarring."

---

MEDICAL/PSYCHIATRIC INFORMATION

BLOOD TYPE: "AB+, the universal recipient"
PRIOR SERVICE INJURIES: "Apart from more frostbite than I care to remember, I broke my wrist in 2011 at the tail of a three day search. I kept going, but because of that it still isn't entirely healed. I broke my leg during a skiing trip, but that healed pretty well and didn't happen during service hours"
PHYSICAL CONDITION: "Fit. Up to force standards, perhaps even a bit more. I don't like the bench pressing stuff, I don't need to look strong. I just need the cardio to stay in shape. I can always run a marathon at the end of summer, but by now, I probably need a bit of training to get back into top condition. But I can still keep up, don't worry"
PSYCHOLOGICAL PICTURE: "Is this a reference to anything? I hope you're not still trying to terminate me over the whole bear situation. Yes, I overreact sometimes, and I know those black bastards are more afraid of me than I am of them. But I stay with my story. It was rabid, or something, and starving, but incredibly strong. I swear on the Holy Virgin, I saw this monster rip through a shed and its occupants in seconds. I don't care that the doctor calls it a phobia, I don't think a fear of bears is irrational. You guys keep wanting me to go on indefinite leave. I'm leaving the service with a discharge or on a stretcher, I can tell you that! I ain't leaving"

AGENCY INFORMATION

EMPLOYER: "I'm a New York State Park Police officer, Mid-State District"
RANK: "Lieutenant, and quite proud. Even though my father... But we'll get to that"
QUALIFIED SERVICE WEAPON: "Glock Model 37 .45 GAP"
BACKUP WEAPON(S): "Remington 870, which has dislocated my shoulder twice, bastard piece"
ADDITIONAL EQUIPMENT: "Mountain/ice wall scaling equipment (including required shoes, roping, ice picks, and the like) and winter rescue equipment (emergency blankets, fire starters), and my buddy Felix, the K-9 (of the bloodhound variety). Isn't that right, you slobbering excuse for a rescue dog. Yes, you are the best boy"
SERVICE VEHICLE: New York State Park Police marked pick-up truck, towing a bed with a snowmobile behind it

---

ADDITIONAL BIOGRAPHICAL INFORMATION

KNOWN WORKPLACE RELATIONSHIPS: Anyone up for something?
MARITAL STATUS: "Married happily since 2008 with Sharon O'Connell-Dewell"
BASIC BIOGRAPHY: "At the Park Police, everyone knows my story, so I am somewhat glad to hear that it is unknown here. Finally allows me to step outside of my dad's shadow a bit, you know? Charlie, Charles O'Connell. A succes story of an American immigrant family, they called him. At least, he called himself that. His grandparents moved to the US before either he or his dad were even born, but there is a deep pride in there still. Dad joint the Force at a young age, and having been raised in Roscoe, he knew the New York forests better than anyone. He was a study figure also, who never showed much emotion. Some people have asked me whether he took all that baggage home with him, but here he never showed emotions either. He told stories alright, but they were more like reports. He never talked about how he felt, which might have been for the better sometimes. Yet, it did mean that I lacked something as a child... Some support, I guess.

I joined the force at an even younger age than my dad. Right as I turned twenty. Now, this wasn't easy to achieve. You need 60 college creds, after all, and that was hard enough to achieve given that I was planning to get into college on my 19th. Besides, with all the physical training I would need to do, I could never study full-time. There just wasn't room. Dad always said I could join the force on my 21st, but I could always sense disagreement in his voice, as if I failed him. We had this conversation a few times when I was 15 and 16, and even though he and mum kept insisting that it was fine to wait a year, I knew it wasn't, really. A few phonecalls here and there later, and after a conversation with my local recruiter, I calculated that if I joined the army national guard at 17, I could perform two years of active service. That would give me some of the required training, meaning I could cut my training time, and I could halve the amount of college cred I needed. This would also fund my bachelor's, or at least the 30 points I would need to join the force. A perfect plan, on paper.

The plan required perfect execution, though. I could not lag behind, I could not quit, and I had to get enough cred within the year. This was hardest part, because it only took me a month to find out that the Army National Guard was absolutely horrific, and nothing for me. I like to be alone, you know. I love the outdoors, to just be alone with your thoughts. In the Guard, you are never alone. There are your comrades, your officers... Even when alone on guard detail, you feel the sergeant peering over your shoulder. What was more, the way they deal with people there... Let's just say it amplified my already existing fears of being inadequate. They tear you down and build you back up again, but deep inside, I remained torn down. Every month for two years, I was on the verge of quitting. What the hell, if I just studied hard, I could do it before my 20th... Or wait a year, like my dad had said... But that would have made me an abject failure. I still hate the military, and I hate people who look back fondly on their years of service. I knew those people in the Guard, and I tried to avoid them with all my might. I still do.

I cried when I received my honourable discharge, when I was on the cusp of my 19th birthday. I served two years and a day, just to play it safe. I had a long weekend of rest before enrolling New York State College. A program on 'Ecotourism and Adventure Travel'. I picked it because I thought it would be useful, but apart from a few safety courses, it was a giant waste of time. It mostly dealt with the business side of things. Ten creds of the 30 I earned with a course on New York accountability and endangerment law, something I have never used since. In the end, to my dismay, I ended up with the 60 creds easily, mostly because of the ease of the course. I would have complained about the cost if the Guard hadn't given me their scholarship. Now it was their money, not mine. Over the next six years, I eventually finished the program, though it was never more than a nuisance. The only thing it gave me was a network of people who would later go into the tourism business, so I could check in with them every once in a while.

The second thing I did on my 20th birthday, was eat the cake my parents had bought me. That was as soon as I got downstairs. The first thing was call the New York State Park Police in order to sign up. They knew I was coming; apparently my dad had informed me. They congratulated me with my birthday and signed me right up, and invited me to take the physical aptitude tests. They were about 70% of what the Guard had demanded, and I had kept in shape, so it was a breeze to get through. I made the mistake of admitting this to my fellow testees. That earned me nothing but a suspicion that my dad was pulling the strings for me. Despite my dad never doing more training with me than some ball-play, they thought he had rigorously prepared me for the trials. And this feeling never really stopped, until my dad retired from the force in 2007. Well, even after that, people kept the rumours up. That the spirit of my father was still keeping an eye out for me, even though he was (and is) still alive and kicking. No matter how hard I worked, they kept whispering. And the harder I worked, the harder the whispers. This might have demotivated anyone, but not me. I worked too hard to get there, and I knew that eventually, I would get credit for it. If not from them, at least from my dad, who had still not congratulated me on getting in by this time.

2011. Based on the rest of the description, you probably want to find out what happened then. Well, first of all, it was the dark of december. Boxing Day, as the Brits call it. We got word that some couple had gone walking on Christmas Eve, and hadn't returned. No-one had noticed, because they were not going to meet family on Christmas Day anyway, but the day after, people noticed. We moved immediately; in the summer, people could survive in the New York wilds for days, even weeks. But in winter, people can perish in hours. Still, it's possible to survive for longer, so we went in. Dogs, ATVs, and I was on the snowmobile. We fanned out, I roared through the valleys and the forests for any sign of life. On the second day, I found some tracks, and on the third, I noticed I was gaining on them; the tracks were getting ever-clearer. I called them in over the radio, calling everyone to converge, and I went ahead. In my enthousiasm, I crashed my snowmobile in a creek, rendering it useless, and I broke my wrist in the process. But there were people to be saved, so I pressed on. I was getting close anyway. I ploughed on. I took my remmington and forced myself through the snow, with the sky ever-darkening in the late afternoon. I spotted the tracks heading into an abandoned shed, where I thought they had taken shelter. And it appeared they had. But the door had been shattered by some force, and very recently. The hinges had exploded from the doors, tearing large parts of the front wall with it. Inside was a massacre. The smell of blood made me want to vomit, and I could vague discern two bodies inside, torn to absolute shreds. I foolishly went inside to check if there was anything I could do.

Then, I heard something huff behind me. In what was left of the door opening stood a large black bear. It looked both extremely malnourished but extremely strong. Its muscles were enormous, but I could see the outline of its ribs against its side. Some poor bugger hadn't eaten enough before hibernation. His eyes, however, seemed to shine bright red in the dark. I, of course, wasn't taking chances with this one. I fired one... twice... thrice... In the end, I unloaded my entire magazine into it, but it kept advancing with this growling scream, I can't really describe it. I must have passed out, because when I woke up, my colleagues were standing over me. They were relieved as I opened my eyes. The rest was a bit of a haze... Bodies were moved out, I was questioned about what happened, but there was little I could say. The next month was spent trying to locate the bear in question, but no trace of it could be found. I stayed away from bears since then. But I did move out of my dad's shadow that day, and for the first time, he told me he loved me.

So, here we are. I took what the boss called a 'well-earned holiday' of a month or so, but when the call came out of a mysterious incident in the mountains, I couldn't resist. The time with my family left me with too much time to think, and I needed something to do to really get over what happened. So, I gladly took Felix and my snowmobile and drove up to the border, seeing if I could help. And that was about 15 minutes ago, I gather. So, how are you doing?"

[Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States]

Still working out the details, but here we go.

[Endem]

Welp, I've completed it, though it sucks, anyway, here's the app



BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Alexander Shaw
NICKNAME(S), PREFERRED: Alex
DOB - AGE: 03/23/1974 - 37
GENDER: M
BIRTHPLACE: Watertown, Jefferson County, New York
ETHNICITY: Caucasian
RELIGION: Catholic
APPEARANCE: Short-cut brown hair, light trimmed beard, 1.80 meters height, 68 kg, small port wine stain type birthmark on rightt shoulder. Straight convex and raised base of the nose, medium size. Close set, almond shape, medium sized eyes, brown coloration. Medium sized head, oval type face. Straight type, bushy eyebrows. Normal mouth size and shape. Normal, medium sized, non-protruding ears.

---

MEDICAL/PSYCHIATRIC INFORMATION

BLOOD TYPE: 0 rh+
PRIOR SERVICE INJURIES: Gunshot wounds to left hand and left shoulder.
PHYSICAL CONDITION: Fit
PSYCHOLOGICAL PICTURE: Alexander Shaw has on various occasions demonstrated both his loyalty and determination to succeed in the line of duty, rather unfortunately this lead to development of a highly risk-taking behaviour. Alexander Shaw has demonstrated higher irritability however it appears he has put great effort into countering the results of this.

AGENCY INFORMATION

EMPLOYER: Daramount County Sherriff Office
RANK: Deputy Sheriff, Patrol Department
QUALIFIED SERVICE WEAPON: 9mm. Kahr K9
BACKUP WEAPON(S): a 9mm. SIG Sauer P226, X26 Taser
ADDITIONAL EQUIPMENT: Flashlight, Handcuffs, a couple backup cartridges for both the guns and taser, Two-way Handheld Radio
SERVICE VEHICLE: a 2007 marked Dodge Grand Caravan Police Pursuit Vehicle

---

ADDITIONAL BIOGRAPHICAL INFORMATION

KNOWN WORKPLACE RELATIONSHIPS: a very distant relative of the current Undersheriff
MARITAL STATUS: Unmarried
BASIC BIOGRAPHY:

The Shaw family has for 7 generations now been mostly working in the U.S Armed Forces or the Police Service, with the first of the family entering military during the Civil War, from there the tradition had been carried by the next generations of Shaws. Alexander Shaw was born on March 23rd, year 1974 in Watertown, Jefferson County, he lived with his family until the age of 20, when, after completing the Police Academy he moved to New York City and subsequently enrolled in NYPD.

He served in the New York Police department for 7 years between the years of 1994 and 2001, having made several arrests, as well demonstrating loyalty to the duties of a Policemen, however, some accidents of Alexander needlessly injuring a suspect due to irritation have been reported, though, regrettably, had never been investigated properly. He had been injured during a arrest gone awry in Early 2001, Alexander was shot two times, in the left hand and in the left shoulder by a handgun while being at the tip of the police force.

Alexander Shaw had been admitted to a hospital, however before even fully recovering, and before the Risk Management Bureau could determine wherever Shaw had displayed comendable bravery, or unnecessary risk-taking, he filed a resignation from his position and subsequently left the Police Force. Alexander would move to Daramount County and got a job as Deputy Sheriff in January 2002.

During that time he had converted to Catholicism and taken up a hobby of mountaineering roughly in March and then April of 2002 respectively, he had been to the area of operations previously several times thus leading to his selection for the task force.

[Hastur]

BASIC INFORMATION
FULL NAME:Miriam Julia Langenberg
NICKNAME(S), PREFERRED:
DOB - AGE: 09/08/1985 - 27
GENDER: Female
BIRTHPLACE: Eaton City, New York State.
ETHNICITY: West European, German American Ancestry.
RELIGION: Catholic, non practising.
APPEARANCE:

Miriam Langenberg stands at 5’10 (177.8 cm) and weighs 148 pounds (67.13 kilogram). She has a lean and healthy build with fair skin, bearing brown eyes and dark brunette hair at around neck length, which is often kept in a short bob.

---

MEDICAL/PSYCHIATRIC INFORMATION

BLOOD TYPE: A+
PRIOR SERVICE INJURIES:

fractured metacarpal bones on her right hand; Received after a house door was slammed into her hand during a call out to a domestic. Cast applied in january 5th, 2008, worked desk duty for two week before returning to normal duties.

Claw like piercing injuries around the enterity of left shin along with a fractured tiba and fibula following a work related accident when she stepped on a bear trap. Stitches and cast applied at Eaton Hospital on november 12th, 2010, worked desk duty for eight weeks before returning to normal duties.

PHYSICAL CONDITION (FIT/UNFIT;):Fit
PSYCHOLOGICAL PICTURE:

Psychologically fit for service. Has a proactive temperament and is an attentive person who is notably analytical. Displays an acute awareness of her surroundings and possesses excellent investigative skills. Miriam addresses obstacles with a pragmatic attitude, usually choosing the most direct solution to problem solving.

Appears highly professional and collected, being polite to those senior to her while more informal and congenial attitude with her associates and those around her age range. Likes to frequently engage in banter between others and remembers minor details about people that make them feel appreciated.

While viewed as pleasant, the record shows that Schurz has issues with temper and periodically has had issues controlling said anger. This has led to volatile, brief outbursts of rage, often results her snapping, with her shouting and becoming abusive. She usually immediately regrets and reels it back in depending on the situation, but sometimes this has turned into a shouting match. This has culminated in a complaint made against her while dealing with an intoxicated member of the public during a 4th of July celebration during 2010 after repeated derogatory remarks were made against her.

These issues appeared to be tied to issues in her home life. Miriam has tackled with depression over the events in 2006 and her tackling with esteem and self-actualization issues. The prime motivator being her sisters OD to fentanyl laced heroin and her fathers with the accusations of being dirty and alleged infidelity during his marriage, which led up to his stress related stroke. She sees this event largely locking her in place and causing her to be “stuck” in Eaton.

She harbours some negative feelings about him because of this and his behaviour before his stroke (I.E Alleged corruption, infidelity) but still cares for him. Her opinions about her dad are more public than her views about being stuck in Eaton, which she keeps secret. This has more to do with her eagerness to be her own person, rather than just as John Langenbergs daughter, as Miriam never planned on joining the county sheriff’s department and originally had the desire of moving into law. She still shows commitment to the job, volunteering for youth outreach programs and different task forces, proving herself regardless as a respected member of the team.

AGENCY INFORMATION

EMPLOYER: Daramont County Sheriff's Department
RANK:Deputy
QUALIFIED SERVICE WEAPON: Glock 19 fitted with a Surefire X300 flashlight
BACKUP WEAPON(S):

Ruger AR-556 fitted with a weapon light, Mossberg 590A1 mariner with a Surefire 618 shotgun fore-end flashlight, both of which are kept within their locking racks in the crown vic.

ADDITIONAL EQUIPMENT:

A department issue duty belt holding her pistol holster, two extra fifteen round 9mm magazines, pepper spray, department issue X26 taser, handcuffs, ASP tri-fold restraints, SureFire G2, a radio, disposable gloves, a multitool knife, first aid kit and administration supplies (pen, pencil, pad).

Department issued soft body armour worn under the uniform. Gives Level IIIA protection.

Cold weather gear including heavy duty woolen gloves, under thermals, snow boots, black fleece cap, black neck gaiter and county sheriff bomber jacket. Mobile phone, chewing gum and keyring is kept in her coat pocket.

First responder kit, a tool kit, snow shovel, rope, drug testing kits, spare batteries, additional ammo (a box of buckshot shotgun cartridges, two thirty 5x56x45 round magazines, two additional pistol magazines), spare clothes, road flares and general snacks are kept within the cruiser.


SERVICE VEHICLE:Ford Crown Victoria Police Interceptor

---

ADDITIONAL BIOGRAPHICAL INFORMATION

KNOWN WORKPLACE RELATIONSHIPS:
Clive Wyatt Meadows: Close friend within the department. Frequently worked with him during her three years within the Drug Interdiction Task Force. Enjoys spending time with him off duty but often leaves him alone due to his intorverted nature, knows about his issues but keeps her mouth shut due to him clearly not wanting to talk about it.

James Eugene Riker:

Michael Liam Walsh: A good relationship within the department. Miriam has worked with him during community outreach program and briefly while on patrol duties. Miriam knows his family well, with her even coaching his daughter Morgan as part of her after hours volenteering for Eaton High School. She generally considers him to be a good person and a friend, but doesn't see eye to eye with his opinions about John, which can sometimes frustrate her.

MARITAL STATUS: Single

BASIC BIOGRAPHY:

Born on September 9th, 1985 within Daramount county in the city of Eaton alongside an older sister and a younger brother. Her family had a deep history within the region, with her grandfather, Andrew, having been a high-ranking member of the department for much of the late sixties and early seventies, before serving a brief tenure as the sheriff in 1974 to 1978 before his retirement the following year. Her father, John, got his start under Andrew and climbed to lieutenant by the time Miriam was born, whilst her mother, Annette, was formerly a typist for the department before she left to better take care of her three children.

She had a decent upbringing during adolescence, her father was not around much because of work, which meant she often left in the care of her mother. She frequently spent most of her time around her family, being described as an outgoing child as she developed a bond with her siblings. Despite her father not being around much, she had fond memories with him before it all came tumbling down, particularly fishing up near lake Malton once.

In 1991, however, Annette was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in which she became locked in a five-year battle before passing in 1996. Much of Miriam’s younger years were affected by this event as she grew up, but her older brother and sister, Alice, and Edgar, had it the worse as the pair began the transition to high school. Something that was made much worse when her father remarried a co-worker, Claudia Matthews, in late 1997, which causes rumours of infidelity to circulate around the community. Her other two siblings largely became much more hostile to John, but Miriam did not, mainly due to a lack of understanding and disbelief.

Her home life was less than ideal as she began going into high school. Her father was still rarely around as work became his focus, and stepmother was not much better, she never really saw them as her own, and treated them as such, Alice getting the brunt of it due to acting out the most. Throughout this time Miriam developed discipline issues as she became more rebellious alongside her sister and brother, who would often get her into trouble as the group took out their collective frustrations but often getting away with things purely because of the position of their father as they all struggled to get over their mother’s passing.

Miriam and her brother could get back on track, however, while Alice continued to fall through the cracks. Miriam ended up becoming more involved in sports, landing a spot on the Eaton’s Panthers, the high school girls’ basketball team and joined judo classes at fifteen alongside a friend which helped with self-esteem and gave her an outlet for her competitive nature and pent-up frustrations. She began doing much better within academics and eventually achieved a scholarship through the athlete’s program at SUNY at Old Westbury upon graduation from high school, in which elected to study criminology and pre-law, hoping to move into the field of law.

Her time in university started as a great time for her, the first few months furthering her interest within the field of criminal law and she found new friends in which she was able to socially grow from. She kept up with Basketball as an extra curriculum and continued with judo throughout her time; her self-esteem and self-actualization reaching new heights as her aspirations became clearer, with her hoping to land an internship from one of the partnered towards the end of her education, but things continued to get worse at home, which later affected her performance.

Further into freshman year, her stepmother left her father in what was an extremely messy and hostile divorce, hurting him emotionally and financially, with her father’s behaviour becoming more reclusive and money becoming tighter. Besides this, towards the end of the year, her brother had enlisted the marines and was very quickly being deployed to Iraq during the invasion. These two events were major stressors which she had on her mind, which caused her academic performance to suffer as her grades faltered from good to average. Really harming her chances of her landing that position.

This was made worse towards junior year when her sister dropped out of university after becoming addicted to ketamine. Miriam became reclusive during this time, and her grades continued to falter as her family continued to have problems. The chance of her getting an internship now completely gone, she turned her mind to just passing the exams. Her self-worth taking a steep plummet.

The relationship between Miriam and her father hitting an all-time low as he elected to run for sheriff during her senior year, something brought on because of his alleged infidelity while her mother was dying, and Miriam blaming him for her sister Alice’s state. The two briefly stopped talking, leaving her only in correspondence with her brother in Iraq, while her sister Alice, also stopped talking to her.

Her family life all came to a head shortly after she completed her criminology degree in 2007 with somewhat above average grades, her sister’s overdosing on a solution of ketamine and heroin, and within the month her father suffering from a “stress related stroke” brought on by the event and what was various allegations of corruption and infidelity during his campaign for sheriff.

She disposed of the opportunity of attending law school soon after that and returned home to pick up the pieces and take care of both her father and sister. Promising herself that she would continue back when ready, but it had taken its toll of both. Alice overdose had resulted in brain damage effecting the temporal lobe, resulting in memory loss and Prosopagnosia, difficulty recognising faces, calling for her to go through cognitive rehabilitation exercises and rehabilitation programs. Whilst her father lost his chance at becoming sheriff and became committed to desk duty after the event, being deemed no longer fit for service, with him shortly resigning from his position shorter afterwards and being diagnosed with depression.

Miriam quickly sought to get work in town but struggled to find anything that paid adequately enough. but through a recommendation of one of her parents’ friends, and gritted teeth, she elected to apply for the county sheriff. Undergoing the states police academy before getting a position as a deputy. What turned into a short-term thing became long term. Her brother arrived back for a short time and helped after his four years of active service ran up, but within a few months he went active again, being deployed back to Iraq. Something that made Miriam angry and more upset. With her largely feeling abandoned to deal with the issue outside of family friends, while harboring resentment towards them all, unhappy that she was able to follow her own goals in life due to the burden that they had left on her.

Despite the last thing that she wanted to do was be a deputy, her service within the Daramount county was a solid one. She worked hard regardless more or less to prove herself, a mixture of both living up to the reputation that her name had, minus that of the supposed corruption, and that she was her own person, and not as “Langenburg” daughter. Her first year of probation was marked with success and eventually resulting in her getting properly into the department. Being regarded as a good deputy by her peers. While suffering from minor depression and a lack of self-actualisation, she still often volunteered for community outreach programs and task forces.

She has been a valued member of the Drug Interdiction Task Force for three years and a participant in DARE outreach for two. A large motivator of that being that she had seen first-hand what they could do, and had a desire to help as many people avoid that as possible. Being a believer in community police, along with her official work on duty, she volunteers after-hours as assistant coach for both Eaton city high school girls’ basketball and judo classes for four hours a week, being sponsored by the department. Wih her doing this to try and help people by doing what helped her.

Her off time is often spent checking in on her sister, and her father, repairing the largely soured relationship between the two, with her still holding resentment towards him for what she thinks he did to her mother, and blaming him for her sister overdose, while her father is much more repentant. With what free time she has left being spent around the other deputies, not having much of a social circle outside of her work, something which she finds less than ideal. With her often-taking trips during the holidays to NYC and Albany just to feel ‘different’

Her dreams of going into criminal law still linger in the background, but they are faded. She hopes to decide by the end of the year, either leave town once the situation calms between the family and let someone else deal with it and attempt to get back into law school. Or continue a career path that she never really wanted to be on, and try her best to climb the work ladder, going for a detective.

[Reverend Norv]

James' app genuinely made me chuckle.

"Describe your psychological state."

"Fuck you, and fuck bears."

[Cylarn]

Added some stuff on Lake Malton. As for Eaton City (our starting point), feel free to make up things within the parameters. This is a small city - 50,000 people spread out. Although there are no towering skyscrapers or international airports, it's a big town for the mountains.

Kentucky, Endem, and Gald, accepted.

[Illegal Planets]

Tag

[Rudaslavia]

Okay, alright. I'm down.

[Cylarn]

I am looking forward to the works of progress!

[Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States]

I will finish it tomorrow, when I have a day off! Looking forward to the RP.

[Bolslania]

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME:"My name is Edward Jameson Mattock"
NICKNAME(S), PREFERRED: "You can call me Mattock or Agent Mattock."
DOB - AGE: "I am 26 years old, I was born on January 13th, 1986"
GENDER: "Male."
BIRTHPLACE: "Ah yes, my accent does give it away, I am from Maine."
ETHNICITY: "Mostly German and Norwegian, a little bit of Irish in here though."
RELIGION: "I personally am agnostic."
APPEARANCE:

MATTOCK, EDWARD J. PHYISICAL ANALYSIS:
Edward Mattock stands at 5 feet 11 inches tall, weighs 200 pounds. His physical feature is athletic, clearly exercises regularly. [/list]

---

MEDICAL/PSYCHIATRIC INFORMATION

BLOOD TYPE: "My blood type is B."
PRIOR SERVICE INJURIES:

MATTOCK, EDWARD J.

Senior Special Agent Mattock has endured an array of injuries from his service in the Army and his service in the Bureau, those injuries are documented below:
List of injuries sustained by Senior Special Agent Mattock:

Bullet scar in the left upper thigh from a .45 ACP round
Bullet scar from a 7.62x39mm round in his gut region where it punctured his protective gear. He was medically discharged from service due to this injury, but was surprisingly able to recover, and a year after the injury went into FBI training.
3 broken ribs (healed) on the left side of his body, where a 7.62×39mm rifle bullet was stopped by his body armor.
Left ankle (healed) was fractured after Mattock dropped from a fire escape staircase onto a dumpster in a pursuit of a suspected terrorist. This case was fruitless.
Repeatedly broken nose, rough estimate is 4 times.
Fractured hand from blocking a baseball bat swing in the hands of an armed perpetrator. The perpetrator was apprehended by Mattock and his partner, Senior Special Agent (Ret.) David Escott(Mattock was only a Special Agent at the time)

PHYSICAL CONDITION:"I'd say I'm in fit condition."
PSYCHOLOGICAL PICTURE:

MATTOCK, EDWARD J.

Senior Special Agent Mattock has been reported by his colleagues to be gruff and direct. He has also been reported as "Something of a dick." by fellow Agents. Mattock has been observed to be professional, but not exactly friendly with other members in the workplace. Mattock has been noted to be very direct when dealing with Agents and civilians alike, this most likely stems from his military service. However Mattock has been shown to have a negative reaction to being attacked in any fashion, displaying an adherence to more militant protocols of "neutralize the threat" rather than attempt to apprehend. While he has not been diagnosed it is suspected that Mattock suffers from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

He has proven himself a capable Agent, making 4 arrests personally, and being involved in another 3. Mattock is intelligent and a competent investigator, but not charismatic, so do not apply him to Human Resources or witness questioning roles if it can be avoided. However he is capable of interrogating a suspect. He is very driven and endurant, and has shown himself to be willing and capable of continuing a mission even if injuries are sustained.

AGENCY INFORMATION

EMPLOYER: "Federal Bureau of Investigation Criminal, Cyber, Response, and Services Branch."
RANK: "Senior Special Agent."
QUALIFIED SERVICE WEAPON: "I am qualified to use the Glock 19m, although I prefer a Sig-Sauer P226"
BACKUP WEAPON(S): I am qualified to use the Assault Pattern Carbine, or an M-16, and a Remington 870. Although I only have the M-16 in my car."
ADDITIONAL EQUIPMENT:"I carrier around a plate carrier in the case of a hostile situation, my FBI jacket, although I don't usually wear that outside of a crime scene. I've got my badge, radio, winter gear, and my suit. besides the gear that the car comes with (ie. medical kit, flares, tire pump) that's it."
SERVICE VEHICLE: "Heh, I got assigned a stereotypical Chevy Suburban, black, modified to FBI standards, tinted windows, whole kit and caboodle. As I'm not an undercover agent I don't need subtlety."

---

ADDITIONAL BIOGRAPHICAL INFORMATION

KNOWN WORKPLACE RELATIONSHIPS: "Well I am short of a partner, he retired just last month, he was a good agent. Other than that nothing of note. I am professional with people I work with, not really friends. I will say I have a few buddies in National Security, but I haven't been in CCRSB long enough to make any friends. In the military I've still got some friends that I made in training and during my time in the Rangers."
MARITAL STATUS: "I am a single man, I don't get paid enough to support a family comfortably at this juncture, but I'm still young."
BASIC BIOGRAPHY:

"Well, I guess this has been deemed important. So here it is. I was born in Portland, Maine in 1986. My education wasn't horrible but nothing special. I ended up needing to work more that I could study because of my family's....tenuous financial position. My father was a lobsterman and my mother was a secretary for a small business, that come to think of it I can't even remember the name of. Anyway, I graduated from from Highschool successfully, and decided to join the Army, mostly to get out of Portland, which is a pretty boring place. After Basic training I decided to try out for the Rangers, seeing as how I found a lot of the regular infantry to be mouth breathers and I wanted to fight with the best. Anyway, Ranger training fucking sucked, but that was the point I guess. I did pass the training course however, and joined the 2nd Ranger Battalion. This was about 2004. I was only a few months into Active Duty when I went Afghanistan with the 2nd. There I got into the shit, and was shot in the chest, luckily the body armor stopped the bullet and it only broke a few ribs. 2 years later, I was in Iraq with some of those Delta Force guys. We were going after Abu Musab al-Zarqawi, the leader of Al-Qaeda in Iraq. This time they got me, and I got hit in the gut, that ended my military career and I was medically discharged. They figured I wouldn't fully recover from the injury, 'cause it had blown away a fair chunk of muscle and a bit of my intestine. However, I was one of those lucky people that make an unexpected recovery, yay me.

After about 11 months of recovery, I got bored of civvi life and decided to join the FBI. I passed the training decently, the gut injury causing a little trouble but nothing major. I was assigned to the National Security Branch because of my experience with Insurgents, and I even helped find a couple guys. After about 6 years there, my partner retired and I was transferred to CCRSB 1 month ago. As a Senior Special Agent I was sent out here, the boss found a relatively low-risk fugitive for me to get my feet wet in CCRSB. He's some investor with Old Money who's been working in an art scheme with the Russian Mob, a man by the name of Gabriel Jones. The long and short of it is that he's been purchasing stolen artwork and artifacts behind his cover as a philanthropist, about 3 days ago we got a tip that he is involved in the scheme and that he is in NYC and headed to his cabin in Lake Malton. I got dispatched out here to enlist the aid of the Daramont County Sheriff's department and bring this guy in. And that buddy is all you need to know."

[Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States]

James' app genuinely made me chuckle.

"Describe your psychological state."

"Fuck you, and fuck bears."

Haha, thank you. Bears will be an issue, especially since we will be in Black Bear country.

[Recon]

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: “Michael Liam Walsh”.

NICKNAME(S), PREFERRED: “Mike is fine”.

DOB - AGE: “Let me get it down, 06/13/1971, 40”.

GENDER: “Male”.

BIRTHPLACE: “I was born in Eaton City but I didn’t really live there, more on the outskirts as it spreads out all over the place. But this is home, all my grandparents were born in Daramont County, my parents too, there isn’t nowhere like it. Some people consider anything north of the Bronx or Long Island as “Upstate”, but talk to any real local and they’ll tell you, Upstate doesn’t really start until you reach the Finger Lakes. Albany? Westchester? Poughkeepsie? Not a chance. We’re nothing like the City”.

ETHNICITY: “I looked into the name Walsh. It was the name for the Welshmen brought to Ireland along with Strongbow about a thousand years ago. I’ve always been interested in history, a few years ago, after a few too many quiet nights for my liking; I got really into building my family tree, that’s how I knew about the grandparents, I got the birth, marriage, military records everything. I got stuck at 1861, couldn’t go any further, accurate record keeping just wasn’t that much of a priority back then. That was part of the thinking for my daughter’s name; Morgan is a good Welsh name”.

RELIGION: “Catholic, I’ve been an active member of our church for a long time. The job sometimes gets in the way, but the Church did a lot for me as a kid, it was basically the only place looking out for us, so I try to pass that on. If there’s a church program or any fundraising, you’ll find me there”.

APPEARANCE: “Last time I went for my physical I was just over 6`1 (187cm) and I weighed in at 179 pounds (86kg), I’ve noticed with all the hours the job requires and Sam being off at Lake Malton, I have been putting on a few pounds. Perhaps I overdid it at the holidays, it’s hard to cut down when you are celebrating, I`ll try to keep an eye on it.

I keep clean shaven and keep my hair cut short, I say this is just to be practical, but I have been noticing my hair has begun to thin at the front. The hair and the weight, ageing it happens to the best of us.”

---

MEDICAL/PSYCHIATRIC INFORMATION

BLOOD TYPE: “I`m not sure, O-Positive? That sounds right? You can check the records to confirm”.

PRIOR SERVICE INJURIES: “We all get a few in the line. I banged my head up pretty bad when I hit a deer. Got hit by a car as I was trying to close down part of the highway at night, broke a few ribs, oh I broke my wrist and injured my back when I slipped off an icy roof; I was off a few weeks. I received stabbed wounds to my left shoulder and arm; I had to have rehab to make sure it was all working correctly. That’s about it, I have been pretty fortunate. Being a deputy isn’t without its risks, but we aren’t in the city, that’s a real warzone”.

PHYSICAL CONDITION: “I`m pretty fit honestly. There’s the job and we are an active family, I’m always out doing something, I’m not the type to sit still. So aside from perhaps a little over indulging, I have always been pretty tall and trim. I have Asthma, had it since I was a little kid. But it is well managed with medication and lifestyle. I’ve got the inhaler with me at all times, just in case. I have done everything I can to keep it down, I went through allergy testing, and I keep healthy and obviously avoid stress. But that’s easier said than done”.

PSYCHOLOGICAL PICTURE:

“Mike Walsh is a longstanding member of the department. His near two decades in the Sheriff’s office has allowed for observation of his development. After graduating from the academy, he was initially a very subdued character, eager to learn, proactive in his policing and he volunteered for service in special assignments. Upon his return to Patrol, his personality seemed to change; he became more assured in his abilities and judgement. He has become more outspoken about there being a correct way to police the community, one not always reflected in the Department’s stated priorities.

Colleagues report Walsh is a hardworking and self-motivated officer who is extremely reluctant to leave any investigation unresolved. Looking at the staff rotas, he often works amongst the highest hours of overtime in the department and is happy to swap shifts with colleagues, especially over the winter months. He frequently references and follows department policies in his duties and has been open to guidance from fellow officers to improve his performance. Friendly and welcoming, Walsh has been noted on numerous occasions to cover for and provide advice to his colleagues. He is an excellent organiser, his paperwork contains few errors and he requires little supervision. In his position as Senior Deputy, he is able to distribute tasks and responsibilities fairly and objectively and has never spoken of any desire to move on, despite openings in other departments.

Neighbours and residents consider him a particularly dedicated officer who frequently involves himself in community organisations and voluntary projects. He puts great emphasis on keeping his word and has been known to go to great lengths to maintain a positive reputation in the community. Numerous reports of crime have been passed to him informally over the years by members of the public due to his position as a visible officer in the community. By all accounts, he has an active social life outside of work particularly outdoor sports and activities. Having lived in the County, he has numerous friends and relations in the community and the local church, who attested to his good character at the time of his entry into the academy.

Regarding the complaints, Walsh has been reprimanded for becoming vocal in his criticism of other officers who he alleges have a poor work ethic or has what he considers a superior attitude to living in a small town. He has been less than enthusiastic about embracing new methods or approaches as part of his regular in-service training, maintaining a stubborn reliance on tradition until the new method is proven superior. He is also outspoken in his beliefs about policing, having strong convictions on what is the right or wrong approach. There have been reported incidents where Walsh has attempted to persuade colleagues to drop charges against prominent figures, considering it counterproductive to the department’s overarching mission to protect and serve the wider community. The outcome of certain investigations have also required review, especially those involving visitors to the county, during these reviews Walsh has strongly defended his conduct and his judgement and referred investigators to his detailed written reports and records. No further action was taken. There have been unconfirmed accusations that Walsh and his family have received favourable treatment from members of the Eaton and Daramont County business communities; however to this date these allegations have not been substantiated and may be malicious in nature”.

AGENCY INFORMATION

EMPLOYER: “I`ve been with Daramont County Sheriff's Department for pretty much my entire working life. Who doesn’t want to work in a beautiful place and look after all your friends and neighbours? It’s the best job in the world.”

RANK: “After so many years with the department, you usually get the promotion to Senior Deputy or Corporal, different departments, different names. It’s a sign of seniority; I can keep an eye on the deputies, take charge on scene and offer a little guidance without all the hassle of supervision. I’ve never really chased rank, with a kid and Sam’s job; the hours are long enough as a Deputy. Perhaps now with Morgan getting older I should be looking to move up to Sergeant, a word of warning, if I do move up, I’ll be coming down hard on paperwork. Right now, the deputies don’t have to listen to me, but when they do? I`ve seen far too many brief or incomplete reports on the MDT, too many cops out here are all about chasing calls or pulling over cars on the highway, they spend all shift doing it and then? They are thinking about the bar or home or are too tired to complete their reports, details get missed and memories get hazy and cases fall through the cracks. I hate it; get the paperwork done, on scene and on time”.

QUALIFIED SERVICE WEAPON: “It’s a Glock 17, I’ve got a flashlight attachment somewhere in the glovebox for nightshifts”

BACKUP WEAPON(S): “I’ve got two, a Smith & Wesson Model 38 Bodyguard Airweight just in case and a Mossberg 590 racked in the car”.

ADDITIONAL EQUIPMENT: “I have a list of everything I keep on my person and in my car, let me find it:

Police belt, holster, handcuffs, pepper spray and Taser, Maglite, show shovel, snow snows, spike strip, small road signs and emergency barricade, reflective jacket. Emergency rations, water, coffee and thermal blankets.

Radio, MDT, Ballistic Vest, Police issue equipment, sunglasses, Winter coat, hat and gloves, snood, baseball cap. Disposable gloves and shoe covers. First responder kit, drug testing kit, tool set, spare clothes, road flares, long johns, Mobile Phone, Phone Charger, Headphones, Spare Batteries, Mints, Toiletries, Hand Sanitizer, Motor Oil and a Karahawk G-10 knife.

I tend to keep personal effects to a minimum, I have a wallet with my cards, $200 and some pictures of my family and I have a Lake Malton Post Card from my wife postmarked ten days ago, I’ll keep it with me until she gets back”.

SERVICE VEHICLE: “It’s a Ford Crown Victoria Police Interceptor, should we be concerned Ford stopped making them?”

---

ADDITIONAL BIOGRAPHICAL INFORMATION

KNOWN WORKPLACE RELATIONSHIPS:

Clive Wyatt Meadows - “This is on or off the record? Off? Ok, surprisingly not the worst. Clive’s only been on the job here for about two years? And he’s off in Drug Interdiction now so I don’t see him too often. The accent? I noticed it; how I could you miss it? We don’t need an academy here; we just recruit straight from the NYPD. I googled him, I do it with all the transfers; I find they are all running from something. Apparently he was a big deal in the city for like five minutes. He’s actually pretty quiet about it. I’ve only ever heard the story come out after a few drinks. He came up here to look after his nephew. His brother is a bit of a wastrel, he’s got a record, there’s one in every family… So yeah, good guy, very private, very respectful, seems to do his job well. That’s about it really”.

Miriam Langenberg - “This one’s on the record? You guys haven't had your fill of the Langenberg story yet? Ok. She’s a good cop, has been with the department for about five or six years. After high school she went off like a lot of young kids do, went off down South, came back to look after her father and got a job with the department. Miriam has local knowledge which is important, she’s grown up here. Ask around, she is involved in the community, she volunteers and she’s prepared to go the extra mile. My daughter loves her. The complaints? No I won’t talk about that here. We off? Ok, she lost her temper. We all do, it’s a stressful job. I`d prefer you keep that quiet, cut her a break on that. If people hear Langenberg? And complaints? In the same sentence? That will be that. Why? Gary won’t be here forever, he’s getting up there in age. When he’s gone? Perhaps Fielder or Riker get their shot. But I’ve got about ten to fifteen years left in this department, it’s not a job you want to be doing into your sixties. So in a decade? Miriam will be experienced, well known in the community…you see where I am going with this. Perhaps it will be time for another Sheriff Langenberg? Some people look down on John with everything that happened, but she’s been making up for it. It would be nice to retire, knowing I’ve left the department in good hands”.

- This section will be filled later. If anyone want's to plot a relationship please TG me.

MARITAL STATUS: “I`ve been married going on fifteen years now. Samantha Dunn, beautiful, smart and always loved it here. So she was perfect for me. She loves nature, a real outdoorsy type; we have so many good times, skiing, hiking, mountain biking, just enjoying nature. She wasn’t the type who wanted to run off to the City at the first chance, so we’re very happy, never had to consider leaving the town. I haven’t seen her in two months, no wait, don’t get the wrong idea. She’s a Ski Instructor up at Lake Malton. It’s just like being a deputy; you pretty much have to work every day, with long hours and not much chance to get away. The last time we were all together was New Year’s but we do our best now with the messaging and the Skype. I am looking forward for the season to be over, it’s not long, I’ll be happier when we are all back together. It’s a great job, she loves to be up there and it has everything, good pay, free accommodation, free meals and tips? She can earn up there in a few months, what I could in a year or even two”.

BASIC BIOGRAPHY:

“Pride grows in the human heart like lard on a pig.” ― Alexander Solzhenitsyn

“Did you know New York State has more Ski resorts than New Hampshire, Vermont or even Michigan or Colorado? Remember that when your booking your next trip. Four or five hours from the city, a little road trip through nature, an adventure with the family, make some memories. Or you can slog to the airport, and then you’ve got the lines, the security, and the delays. You can’t take your equipment on the plane and if you do? You must pay through the nose for it, all those fees. I haven’t even got to the emissions, if you want your kids or your grandkids to be able to ski in the future, better to keep your dollars in state. We supply all your power and clean water, the least you could do is give a little back.

There’s a downside to all this of course, we have so many resorts up here, the competition is cut throat. So the locals need a little help. Are you telling me at Gore Mountain or Whiteface, the sheriffs are not turning a blind eye? We’re just doing what everyone else does. Too many cops get on the job up here and they treat it like they are still patrolling the mean streets. Dragging people out of their cars, treating everyone as a suspect; thinking everyone you pull over is moving coke, all that BS. Too much focus on “Law Enforcement” for my liking, I prefer the term “Community Policing”, emphasis on the first word. We are here to serve and protect the community and the Community should be our first priority. As without them, without their tips and reports, what are we actually doing here?

You’ll notice we get a lot of New Yorkers here- well not real New Yorkers- people from the city, they took that term just as they take everything else. That’s pretty recent, when I grew up; the city was about as far away as Mars. But now there is just more and more of them, even in the department. If you didn’t notice, they only discovered the wilderness and beauty of Daramont County after the money came. Funny that. Once we built the resort, once we built the roads out in the snow and made it all comfortable for them, now they want to be posted up here. They all want an easier life, a cushy retirement; they couldn’t cut it in the city, so now they want to bring what they’ve learned up here. The people of this county deserve the best, not some NYPD castoffs. And worse, the city they left behind? It’s the yardstick for everything, back in the city we did this, in the NYPD we did it this way, they can’t shut up about it…Well in Daramont County we have our own way of doing things, a better way.

I`ll give you an example, Jimmy’s Oyster Bar and Grill. Its open pretty much all the time, all year round, so that works for me and it serves more than Oysters. It is on my patrol route, most days I will pop in and every time without fail Jimmy will come around the counter, we`ll catch up and he`ll get me a coffee. It’s a sign of gratitude; it is a sign of respect, I’ve tried to pay him, he won’t take it. Said I was insulting him by even offering. Apparently giving police free coffee and cut price meals helps keep his premiums down, so I always make sure to park my cruiser right out front, but these City guys? They think they are all Al Pacino in Serpico, on the edge of that slippery slope, imagining that if they take a free coffee from Jimmy today, in two weeks, they will be guarding coke shipments. They end up giving him a $10 or $20 tip for a coffee, just for appearances. They even see acts of kindness with suspicion; that’s what living in the city does to you; I don’t know how they stomach it.

I saw Jimmy in town one day, his number plate flashed up, traffic tickets. They wanted me to rip up his license, for a few overdue tickets? That’s where officer discretion comes in. Once I get started, I’m a real stickler for paperwork, but a good deputy knows who’s a keeper and who to throw back. Jimmy’s running a business, he needs his truck, if I rip up his license, he`ll probably just drive without one and get in more trouble. Better to remind him of the tickets and let him on his way, he paid off the tickets that same day, I checked. We ain’t got no taxpayer funded subway here, a car or truck isn’t a luxury, it’s a necessity. It takes a good while before city folk adapt to life here, some never do. They blow in and one day, hopefully, they will all blow away, move on somewhere else. Daramont will be just fine without them, it was before. They are all tourists really, some are just staying longer than others.

As I said, I’ve been here pretty much my entire life, born and raised. My mother was a waitress; my father worked in the Timber mill at least until he up and left when I was six. One day, just a normal day, a Tuesday, he goes out the door with his lunch pail, gets into his truck and goes off. Never saw him again. He got to work, after a few hours, he was sent to inspect some trees and that was that. They found his truck; it was abandoned on a side road a few miles away from the Mill. There’s always been a rumour, that he had another family in the city or he just wanted a new life in Canada, perhaps he was just sick of dealing with six kids, I don’t know. My mother filed a missing person’s report. I checked the file when I became a deputy, there wasn’t a lot to go on at the time and it looked like they didn’t try too hard. We talk about it, the family, perhaps we should get a private investigator to track him down, but it has been 34 years now. The fact he couldn’t even pick up the phone? This is what 30 years ago? Not even a letter? That just ripped the family apart. Six kids on a waitress salary? My mother focused on food, that’s where the money went. Heat, power and rent just were not as important. We had to learn to study by candlelight and wear each other’s castoffs. The only holiday we ever got was a trip to the Falls organised by the Church. Wherever he is? Better he stays there.

The town was different back then, everyone was poor, there wasn’t such a stigma, but I remember it very well. The embarrassment, god the day we were evicted from our home. The Daramont Sheriffs were there, they escorted us out, and the landlord changed the locks. We were back in a few hours. The Sheriff’s didn’t lift a finger; they knew we had nowhere else to go. It was either the house or the streets. It was only later did I realise, John Langenberg had been there. The Landlord arranged a few times to evict us again, but the Sheriff’s unit never showed up, they were too busy, eventually he just gave up. When we all found work, we were able to pay some of it back and smooth it all over. My mother now owns that house, no landlord, no debt.

I am the youngest of six, five boys, one girl, lucky her. The name Walsh is pretty common around here; we all have families, so I have lots of people willing to keep an eye on Morgan while Sam and I are at work. Chris, David, Robert, Brian, Patricia and me. Chris is the eldest, as soon as he turned 18, he went down to the City, and apparently he loves it, he does something in insurance. Lives happily there now with his family and comes back every year for homecoming. I get along well with my family aside from Chris, we needed him back then, he was the eldest and he just ran away. He looked out for himself, David, Robert, Brian, Patricia all took jobs, I was a dishwasher, we all gave our pay over to get things right at home. As the town has changed, so have we. David and Robert have a construction company together and a few city contracts. Brian owns a store in town selling winter sports and outdoor gear and Patricia is an attorney. She was the one who inspired me to go to college, to believe in myself. Chris came back last year with those “I love New York” T-Shirts the Tourists wear, you know the type? All of us grinning, one big family photo with mum sitting at the front, grandkids all around her, you get the picture? After we were done I threw mine, Sam’s and Morgan’s in the trash, I didn’t need the reminder.

I don’t like to talk about it, but those times stick with you. That’s why I am always busy, I have to resist now, taking too much overtime. I was making myself ill. It is the fear honestly, I feel like I am always one or two steps away from losing my home. I always carry at least $200 in cash just in case I need it. I also like to check my account online every day, just to make sure it’s all still there. Sam makes good money from her job, so we aren’t exactly hurting. But it took years, and I mean years of arguments before, I would agree to even look at buying a house. I didn’t want the pressure; I didn’t want to be in debt to anyone, especially not the bank. We got the house, Sam really dug her heels in, we went over the numbers, we budgeted and we decided we could pay it off. Each month we pay off the maximum amount allowed on the mortgage and I pay my bills on time without fail, without fail.

I joined the department basically right out of high school, I became a deputy, but not a police officer, that’s a big distinction. I had the title, I had the Uniform, I was a Process Server, travelling the county delivering jury summons, lien notices, and divorce papers and unfortunately eviction notices, no academy and not engaged in real police work. It was well payed, I had benefits, a pension and most importantly as Patricia told me over and over, I had my foot in the door. It wasn’t an easy job; I got attacked a few times, people tend to react poorly to receiving bad news and the bearer of it. But the worse part of the job was the evictions, you had to try and be professional. But if there were kids? I wouldn’t even get out of my car, I would just hand over the papers and if there was any problem, I would call in the deputies to deal with it, I couldn’t deal with turfing people out of their homes; it never felt right to me.

After two years in the civil unit, I started at the State University of New York in Albany (SUNY). I did my four years there, evening classes, weekends and over the summer. Patricia having gone to SUNY and onto law school gave me the belief; I could also go on and do it. When you grow up poor, you tend not to raise your sights too high, but Patricia wouldn’t let me fail. The department helped me with the expenses and after graduation I entered the Academy. Becoming a full deputy, just improved my life, instead of enforcing the decisions of the courts, I had discretion, I had the authority to act on my best judgement.

I quickly moved onto special operations, basically whatever priorities the Sheriff had. I spent years in Special Units, Warrants, Tactical Narcotics, Aggressive Driving, Juveniles, I tried them all out. But waking up day after day, dealing with criminals, victims and the consequences? It changed my perspective, you can’t help it, after months and years, you tend to start seeing the worst in people. Soon after that, I went back to Patrol. You see a little of everything in Patrol, it is not easy, but you have freedom, you can actually help people, instead of rushing around to put out fires, after a few months, I got back to normal.

I came back to patrol when it was under John Langenburg, a good guy, a good cop, he looked out for the community and he’d looked out for me and mine. It was all fine until he decided to run for Sheriff and boy did he get housed. Politics man, they came after him with everything. His private life, they opened an investigation into his conduct, they destroyed the man. He would have been a great sheriff, but he lost, took a medical pension and it all went downhill from there. I visit him once in a while and it’s tough, he isn’t like you remember him. He’s a cautionary tale, but he’s got kids of his own, so I try not to get too involved. Still I believe, he would have done a better job than Dupont, he would have kept the department’s high standards, kept it local.

I serve Sheriff Dupont just as loyally as I have served the previous Sheriff’s, everyone has a skill. For me, it is keeping Gary Dupont in office. It wasn’t a secret, I was supporting John, but I was kept on after the election. In return, I look out for the people of this county, if there is a dispute over a bill or a parking space? You get taught in academy to arrive on scene neutral, but you get to know people, you get to know who to trust. The tourists will be gone in a few weeks, but the locals? They are here to stay and more importantly they vote. They vote for city council, they vote for mayor and they vote for Sheriff, that’s always part of my calculation. Every day, every call, it’s at the back of my mind. A new sheriff? Perhaps they want a new Department and new deputies. So I`m looking out for Sheriff Dupont, for as long as he looks out for the town and me, and just as importantly, I’m not ending up like John.

What is life like for me today? Now Sam is at the Lake, I am taking as many hours as I can. We are saving up my time off for the summer when we are all together. We’ve got to make the most of these years before my daughter goes off to college. Morgan is 15, she’s old enough to look after herself or at least she thinks so, I still get the neighbours and my family to check in on her when I’m working. She’s happy at school; she keeps busy on the Basketball, Volleyball and Track teams. Go Panthers! She doesn’t really know what Eaton and Daramont were like in the past. She’s only known the good times, if she needs clothes for school she gets them, money for clubs or activities she gets it, she’s never missed a meal and she never will. She’s growing up without needing to worry about money, that helps me sleep at night. The only point of conflict is, I get her to work a few shifts a week in my Brother Brian’s store. We all worked but she resents it, she’s a teenager and some of her friends don’t have jobs, one day, hopefully she will pass that work ethic onto her own family.

Outside of my family, I always keep busy, I enjoy socialising out in the bars, there’s always money to be raised, I’m on the PTA at Eaton City High and I am available to help people out, picking something up in my truck, repairing a roof, helping dig out someone’s driveway or car whatever people need. Daramont is a good place, somewhere you know your neighbours, you actually know their faces and names and you know they will look out for you; I intend to keep it this way.

[Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States]

Finished my app!

[Herador]

Tagging for a Lake Malton City detective who was doing a prisoner transport when the event happened.

[Herador]

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Damon Harrison
NICKNAME(S), PREFERRED:
DOB - AGE: 07/18/1987 - 27
GENDER: Male
BIRTHPLACE: Eaton City, NY
ETHNICITY: White
RELIGION: Vaguely protestant

---

MEDICAL/PSYCHIATRIC INFORMATION

BLOOD TYPE: B-
PRIOR SERVICE INJURIES: None as of yet
PHYSICAL CONDITION: Fit for duty. 5'10 and 152 pounds. Goes to the gym several times a week and has a jog every morning, weather permitting.
PSYCHOLOGICAL PICTURE: Described as friendly though somewhat quiet by his colleagues, he is very much a Type B personality. Harrison has been with the County since he was 19, starting as a Patrol Deputy, and has acclimated well to most of the rigors of typical police work. Despite picking up smoking and a taste for light beers, he shows few other concerning vices to those around him. He is noted to maintain close contact with victims while working cases, even going so far as to call up those whose cases are taking overly long and try to give them what updates he can.

Occasionally described as lackadaisical by fellow detectives, his method can leave something to be desired but his results tend to speak for themselves. Despite his eclectic and apparently scattered approach to investigation, he does seem to turn over solid cases to the DA, putting in quite a bit of effort with the prosecutors to help them understand the case and the evidence.

Harrison has been involved in two shootings, one of which was deadly. After the deadly shooting Harrison had to be forced to use his vacation, the only time he has done so, and took the opportunity to go to Provincetown for a week. While on vacation he met his eventual fiancé, a waitress. They've been living together for some time now and the pair are quite happy, with people close to Harrison noting that he seems cheerier, as well as drinking and smoking less, than in recent years.

AGENCY INFORMATION

EMPLOYER: Daramount County Sherriff Department
RANK: Investigator
QUALIFIED SERVICE WEAPON:

BACKUP WEAPON(S):

Kept locked in trunk. Less Lethal stock and furniture, only beanbag rounds carried

Kept on belt.

ADDITIONAL EQUIPMENT:

-Carried-
Winter Coat

Hoodie worn under coat

Kevlar Vest (III-A)

Boots

Knife

Pack of American Spirits (blue box)

Lighter

Duty belt w/ holsters. Used to carry 2 pairs of cuffs, Radio, 2 spare mags, and several pockets for other items.

Radio

Notepad with leather holder

Gloves

Thermal Neck Gaiter

Black wool cap w/Daramount County Sheriff Department patch

-Kept in trunk/car-
Shovel

Road Flares

"Crime Scene Kit": Plastic gloves, bindle paper, Biohazard Bags, Evidence collection bags, Bodily fluid collection kid, Evidence seal tape, Print kit, Photo scales, chalk, tweezers, UV flashlight, pocket magnifier, medical masks, evidence collection vials.

Small Medical Bag

Camera

Voice recorder

Flashlight

Roll of police tape

8 x 10 Tarp

SERVICE VEHICLE:

---

ADDITIONAL BIOGRAPHICAL INFORMATION

KNOWN WORKPLACE RELATIONSHIPS:
MARITAL STATUS: Engaged
BASIC BIOGRAPHY:

When both your parents are in Law Enforcement, did you ever have a choice in career? As a boy, he looked up to both his mother and father, both Investigators in the Daramount County Sherriff's Department. Even from a young age, he was proud: never mad at the missed baseball game or dinner, he didn't hold it against them when they were too tired to play. When he was very young, both his parents had sat young Damon down and told him that when they were gone, they were doing very important things. He picked up Damon's picture books, filled with Knights and superhero's, and his mother gestured to the game of Super Mario running on the TV. Damon liked to help save the princess, right? He liked it when the Knight beat the dragon and the Superhero beat the villain? Of course. His mom and dad, they explained, were just like that. They were out helping people every day! When the kids played Cops and Robbers, he was always the cop. When a classmate would get bullied, he would come out from behind his book and defend them. His parents alternated career days throughout his years in school, taking turns to be lead around the classroom by a son who couldn't help but show them off. His parents never had excessively high standards, his father was always telling Damon "Do your best, whatever your best is, and I'll never be disappointed." At night when everyone was home, he would crawl between them on the couch and they would watch the Discovery channel or Dad would read Hardy Boys to him while he and mom at Cheerios before bed. Life was perfect.

High School though, that was hard. Damon had a strong moral compass and quiet disposition, not timid per se but certainly not an extrovert. It seemed to him like he just couldn't find a middle ground with most boys his age. Jocks? He knew not to try, he was outdoorsy sure, but for Damon, it was all hiking and working out with Dad to stay in shape. Sports hadn't been for him since he decided to quit Little League Baseball. The Geeks? Sure he liked computer games and comics, but they all seemed to be too smart for him, too focused on math and science. As time went on it seemed like all they wanted to talk about was SATs, college, and getting out of Daramount county. Theater kids? No thank you. Stoners? Mom and Dad would end him. Popular kids? He sure wasn't one, so that was out. In the end, he rolled with a small clique, loners who would ride around on the weekends and be happy to have someone to keep them company.

Honestly, though, Damon wasn't bad at school. His GPA never dropped below a 3 and he even took AP history in highschool. What really got him was the fights. He didn't pick them, at least he told himself he didn't. It started when the jocks found out Damon and his friends hung out behind the shop room at lunch playing quick games of Warhammer. The Shop teacher, Mr.Ogden also played and let them work on their mini's and keep them there during school hours. When a few of the guys on the basketball team found out, they came by to see what all the loners were doing. When they found them sitting cross-legged on the ground moving plastic army men in-between books used for buildings and soda cans for trees, all while passing dice and a tape measurer around? Christmas might as well have come early. It started simply enough, words exchanged, usually heated, but eventually, they would go. It was the kind of simple, hurtful fun teens loved to have at their peer's expense. It only changed when one of the jocks crossed the line. By Damon's sophomore year the little group had become a real club after it had managed to attract some attention from other students and a few of the staff. A couple of the arts kids started to hang out with Damon and his friends when they were painting, it was a fun challenge for them to paint something so small, Damon figured. The geeks were all in too, they started building their own armies. Even other kids got interested, if only because it was just a weird thing to watch, but not in a weird way. Then Andrew Agostini decided to talk to Britney Howard. Andy was a transfer Freshmen from NYC who fell in with Damon and his friends quickly, he had played Warhammer back in the city and had introduced them to Flames of War, a new wargame that had dropped earlier that year. Andy even had some of the mini's for it that he brought with him from NYC. Britney, on the other hand, was a well-known face around Eaton and ticked all the boxes for high school royalty: sophmore cheer team, perfect grades, well-to-do family, blonde. She was pretty far removed from Damon, Andy, and the rest. But she was sitting next to Andy in Study Hall one day and watching him paint one of his mini's and Andy caught her watching him. He was a nice kid, so he started chatting with her. He talked to her about Warhammer, New York City, the big move, how different Eaton City was. Eventually, Britney just had to ask, "What do you all do in the shop room?" She had heard but never been, she just knew her boyfriend and his friends would go around sometimes to hassle some losers or something. Andy broke it down for her, explained the games and told her how it worked, she even painted one of his Orks.

Word would eventually find it's way back to her boyfriend, Logan Faulkner. Logan was only a Junior but played on the Varsity Basketball team and had since sophomore year, and had quite the ego to him. Similar to his girlfriend, he was definitely school royalty, and he didn't take kindly to the little new freshman chatting up his girl. One of his friends had seen Andy and Britney and told Logan that the pair had been laughing (which, to be fair, true. Logan had quite the sense of humor) and she had been doing that nerd shit with him. That day, after school, Damon, Andy, and another member of the club Elliot Pickering were cutting through an alley walking to a shop to pick up their copies of Morrowind when Logan and his friend Kevin Garland and pulled up at one end and charged towards them. Immediately Damon felt something was off. People had a look and a walk, his Mom told him once, when they were planning on causing trouble. Damon had never really seen it before, but from how Mom described it the feeling he had in his gut looking at it, he knew something was coming. Logan pushed Damon and Elliot out of the way and stormed up to Andy. He was swearing at him, threatening to beat his ass if he talked to Britney again. Elliot tried to step away but Kevin put him in a loose chokehold, at the same time Logan pinned Andy to the side of the building they were next to, punching him in the gut. Andy and Elliot were small, neither an inch over 5'2, and both Kevin and Logan were close to 5'10 with much more muscle. The fight wasn't fair, and perfectly average Damon wasn't going to change the way this was going to go. Damon went through a few emotions very quickly, from shock, to confusion, and anxiety. Then he finally settled on one: anger. This was stupid, but what could he do, he was in arms reach of Kevin and Logan was feet away.

Logan let Andy fall to the ground and picked up his bag, ripping it open and letting the contents fall out. He found what he had in mind immediately, Andy's model case had spilled open, and lying on the ground was the thing he had been spending the last week on painting, his Ork Dreadnought. Logan kicked it against the wall and stomped on it again and again until the paint was ruined and the model was in pieces. Turning back to Andy he drew back his foot, aiming to kick the sobbing kid while he was down. Damon had had enough, he roared and charged Logan, knocking him flat on the ground, and started to punch him while screaming for Andy and Elliot to run. Logan wasn't stunned for long and in a second Kevin was dragging Damon off of him. It wasn't much of a fight after that.

Later that afternoon, leaning over the bathroom sink and trying to get his split lip and broken nose to stop bleeding, Damon decided he wasn't going to let his friends get picked on anymore. He followed Logan, recruiting Andy's older brother Cameron and his car, to help in his plan. It took a week until they caught him alone coming out of a gas station. They jumped him from behind and dragged him behind the dumpsters, kicking him until he was crying and begging them to stop. Damon gave him one last swift kick in the gut as they left, certain they were even. Logan, however, felt differently. The fights became constant, never on school grounds, but on weekends or walking home it felt like every week Damon got into a fight. For a year he tried to keep it hidden from Mom and Dad, and he didn't say anything to him. After all, most of the guys who would pester the club had stopped coming around after Damon made it clear he absolutely would fight them right there. To Damon's mind, this was working out, he was just a little sore in exchange.

The middle of Summer break going into his senior year had seen Damon's worst fight yet. Logan had graduated, never really living down what had happened, partly because he had been jumped so badly by Damon, who made sure Logan knew it was him, and partly because just a month later Britney had broken up with him and started hanging out part-time in the shop room with little Andy while little Andy seemed to be hanging out part-time with Britney and her friends. But Logan had friends younger than him, and they had all inherited his grudge for Damon, it seemed. Walking home one night from the movies he got into it when a group of five of Logan's old friends had jumped out of a truck and picked a fight. Damon tried, but like his first fight he wasn't going to win, and all he got for his trouble was a trip to the hospital.

His mother was furious, she was going to find out who those boys were and see them all prosecuted for assault, she was going to see them all in jail, she was going to sue them out of existence! Damon's father though, he had seen what was going on. The bruises, the limps, the bloody noses. "You can't tell me you went from playing video games and watching cartoons to roughing it and falling out trees this quick, son." He had sighed when Damon's mother had left the room after getting called into work. He asked Damon to lay it all out for him, Dad never seemed to demand anything but somehow always seemed to get what he wanted out of his son. So, Damon told him everything, the first fight, the beef, the feud with Logan's friends, all of it. Dad just kept looking out the window, sipping on his water and nodding along. Dad could think for a long time, getting lost in his head trying to figure details of something out. Not this time though, as soon as Damon finished his head swiveled and he looked Damon square in the eyes, "I'm damn proud of you son." Damon still swears to this day that was the only time he saw his old man start to shed a tear. But, in all fairness, Dad did think the whole situation was ridiculous. Damon would start getting dropped off and picked up from school every day, no more walking. He couldn't just roam anymore either, he needed to get a ride wherever he was going, and he was going to carry a cell phone from now on and call them if he ever needed help. Fair, Damon figured, he was winning fewer and fewer fights, and having the crap kicked out of him was starting to get old.

Junior year, Mom and Dad got desk jobs and were able to be home more often, and during what Damon referred to as his "house arrest" his parents made him face the realities of adulthood: what exactly was he going to do for the rest of his life? Did he want to go to college? Damon didn't really think so, no. Did he want to go to Trade School? Damon wasn't sure, he was never quite what you would call "handy". Did he want to work at Wegmans for the rest of his life? Good god no. So what? Damon didn't know, but it seemed like Mom and Dad secretly did. Dad worked out with Damon more, they got their mile time down to 10 minutes, and he even took him shooting at the range. Mom started studying with him, seemingly random things she had picked to "pass the time", and they were driving around more too, usually taking weird routes. On graduation day Damon learned what was really going on. He came home from his last day to find Dad sitting at the table where he was joined by Mom. Between them was an application for the Daramount County Sherriff Department. It wasn't going to be a fight,it had been a long time since Damon had fallen out of love with the idea of being a cop and he could tell they had been expecting a battle, but he wasn't interested in another brawl be it verbal or otherwise. He tried to tell them why he wasn't interested and wasn't a good fit but they weren't having it. In the end, they won out late that night when Mom pointed out that all this foolishness had been started because Damon just couldn't let someone like Logan Faulkner get away with hurting his friends. She knew Damon had it in him to be a great public servant, the kind of cop who actually cares about what he does and the people he does it for. She worked herself up so much that she was in tears and in the end, he agreed. That application was framed and hung, uncomplete, as a motivator during his two-year stint at the Eaton City Community College.

In late 2006, Damon Harrison was sworn into the Daramount County Sherriff Department as a Deputy. For his first year he was assigned a partner until he and his superiors were comfortable with him riding solo he was told. He rode with Corporal Adam Shultz for a year in Daramount County, and Shultz taught him a lot of things that only hands-on, field experience can provide. He told him to eat breakfast each day in the area you're supposed to patrol, be seen and be friendly. Never drop your guard when you walk into a situation and one person has a gun on the "bad guy", you never really know who the bad guy is. Things that seemed obvious, but in the moment Damon made those very mistakes and many more. But Shultz was always there, breaking down every interaction, every traffic stop, every domestic call, always talking to him about what he did right and wrong. Infuriating at first, but Damon began to realize Shultz understood him, in a lot of ways he was like Dad. Come to find out later Mom had gone to Shultz and asked him to take Damon under his wing.

Their last week together would prove to be exciting, spiced up by a bank robbery just south of Eaton City one of the tiny towns that orbit the already small suburbs. Two men, armed, shots fired. It was close by to them, Damon picked up radio without having to look at Shultz, "Dispatch, show D-12 responding to 211 in progress." It was a Chase that sat apart but on the same lot as a small strip of stores, Shultz and Damon could see the two men inside, one had a pistol and Damon couldn't be sure but the other had either a rifle or shotgun. They sat in to wait for more officers, but just as they settled in behind cover the two men came bursting out, firing at their patrol car. Damon had never been shot at before, and if he had time to think he would have decided he wasn't a fan, but his training came back to him. He peaked around the hood and lifted his M&P, firing two shots sending both of the robbers scurrying for cover. At the same time, Shultz shot and killed the suspect carrying a shotgun, the other robber surrendered immediately. Damon survived his first shootout and his first year.

Damon continued to serve on Patrol for two more years, his record was good and he was reliable. His mom being a Captain and his Dad being a Lieutenant certainly helped too. In 2009, with his career going well and promotions coming up, Damon took a chance and decided to apply for one of the Investigator openings. He was young, at only 22 he was sure to get passed over, but he had nothing to lose and even if he got passed over at least he was showing he was interested in promotion. Imagine Damon's surprise when he was called in for his first interview. The interview was quick, so fast Damon was sure that this was just a formality, everyone who applied must have to be interviewed, and the Lieutenant conducting his must just have wanted him out of the way so he could keep on with the real candidates. If he was surprised before, he was doubly so when the study guide and a letter of congratulations found their way to his locker.

It wasn't easy, but by the end of 2009 he had passed his Investigators exam and a second interview, with light coursework rounding out 2009, he started 2010 a member of the Criminal Investigation Unit. In the beginning, he primarily worked on property crimes and not big ones. Damon spent a lot of time preparing Shoplifting cases. He would occasionally catch a big case though, the stand out one being in the winter of 2010. A farmer had his old Bronco stolen and Damon caught the case. Luckily for Damon, the farmer had been dealing with thieves before and installed a small security camera, which just so happened to catch the offender in the act. Damon made it his focus, he had the guys face, uncovered and all, walking up to the truck and hopping in. He flashed the face around the office, kept it on his desk until one day a Deputy recognized him. His name was Albert Caldwell, small-time guy who used to work as a trucker before 2008 when he went bust and lost everything. The Deputy offered to take him out to Caldwell's place far out in the sticks, 20 miles shy of Malton.

The Deputy had filled him during a stop for late-lunch, Caldwell was a known addict and stole to keep the drugs flowing, but he had never committed auto-theft before. Chuckling the Deputy wondered if he was finally going Big Leagues. Caldwell's house wasn't much more than a shack in a patch of forest, fenced off with rotting posts. "Real UNAbomber shit, huh?" The Deputy asked jokingly, before starting to walk down the driveway. As he followed, Damon noticed the deep red of the Bronco, the plates matched, which was a relief, if Caldwell had ditched them it would have had to be a bit more involved. The Deputy turned back to Damon, "Come on man, quit standing around it's-" before he could finish a bullet tore through his left shoulder.

The shootout was intense, out in the middle of nowhere with his only support bleeding on the ground from a gunshot wound, Damon used every round on him and have to get the Deputy's Glock to finally shoot Caldwell. Two center mass, one to the head when he moved again and went for the gun. A helicopter came for the Deputy, who Damon later learned survived the whole thing in no small thanks to first aid he provided. The chewing out he received from his superiors for not bringing more back up was hard to match against the headlines. Caldwell had been doing much more than drugs in that shack, a body which had several positive kits run on it was found, along with dried blood that didn't match the first. Damon had apprehended someone heinous on accident, and he had even got the Bronco back. The whole ordeal left him with jitters though, he had a hard time sitting still for long, and eventually, his Captain forced him to use some of his considerable unused vacation time, and Mom and Dad threatened to come around every day to bother him if he didn't go on an actual vacation. He did some browsing online and a friend from Boston had recently gone to Provincetown, he had nothing but nice things to say about it and Damon could use the fresh sea air. It would be cold, sure, but that never bothered him anyway and he something about the sea always put him at ease. He packed up and shipped out for three weeks of relaxation by the sea.

He spent a lot of time reading, thinking, drinking quietly in the little bars the ran up P-Town's main street, but mostly he spent his days sipping coffee at a little beachfront cafe chatting with the waitress Alaina Vasquez, who had just graduated from Salem State with a degree in English Literature and come back home to find out what to do with herself. The cafe did most of its business during the tourist season and was more often than not empty, so the two had nothing but time to chat, read together, and share a smoke while watching the ocean.

When three weeks was up, Damon didn't want it to end. He genuinely thought about staying but knew he had a life in Eaton City, a career, and he couldn't just leave everything. On the night before he left, she surprised him by asking him to do almost just that.

"Maybe you can come visit again? Soon?" She asked, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and taking a puff.
"Can't. Used up all my vacation time for this." He said with a shrug and a sorry smile, pulling her under his coat to shield her from the rain.
"I could come visit you." She said after thinking for a moment.
"I think I'd like that Alaina."

They stayed close over Skype, talking every night, and once every few months Alaina would come out to Eaton to visit him. It was hard at first, she wasn't used to just about any aspect of Daramount, until one day in mid-2011 she stood on his apartment patio, sipping a cup of coffee, and turned to Damon, telling him she could imagine herself living in Eaton City. The next time she visited, he took a knee and she said yes.

When Damon returned from Provincetown at the start of 2011 he was reassigned to the Major Crimes Unit, but with his life mostly in order, he's handled it well and Alaina even got a job working as an editor for Eaton City's local paper. Things had certainly been going well for them until Damon got a call to report in for an emergency.