[fieldbox="Vitus, white, solid"]
NAME: Vitus Wainwright
CLASSIFICATION: Innate witch
DESTINY: Flesh
APPEARANCE: Looks homeless. Normally wearing tattered blue jeans, a t-shirt promoting the local sports team, and worn boots. His backpack, largely held together by duct tape and amateur stitching and containing everything he owns, is rarely seen within arm's distance of him.
SKILLS/ABILITIES:
Police procedures (rusty), local knowledge, urban survival
SPECIAL:
Minor intangibility: every once in a while, he's just not there when something should connect with his body. No, he can't drive through walls or stand up to withering, automatic gunfire or anything -- it's more of a curiosity more than anything at this point.
DRAWBACKS:
Doomed: You don't get cool powers for free. Fate will not be kind to Vitus, and his death will occur sooner rather than later, and in all likelihood, violently, no matter what steps he takes to prevent it.
Destitute: Relies on charity to feed and clothe him. No permanent residence. Currently sleeping in a parking garage downtown.
FEARS: Falling out of God's favor, aversion to guns
DESIRES: Justice, law, spreading the word of the Lord
SYNOPSIS:
Lord, confuse the wicked, confound their words,
for I see violence and strife in the city.
Day and night they prowl about on its walls;
malice and abuse are within it.
Destructive forces are at work in the city;
threats and lies never leave its streets.
~Psalms 55:9-11
They call it "victim precipitated homicide" in the offical reports. The media and everyone else call it "suicide by cop." After all the interviews, inquiries, and internal investigations, what it came down to was this: Three years ago on December 28th, Patrolman Vitus Wainwright lawfully shot and killed Dylan Mesta, 17, during a traffic stop. The whole thing was caught on camera. It was his first day out of the academy.
The video leaked in record time. Within an hour of the story breaking, the raw bodycam footage had been downloaded from the department's servers and spread around the world. There was no indictment, no protests, no riots, no angry pleas for justice -- even the kid's own mother, somewhat coldly, told reporters that it was only a matter of time. Though it was considered a tragedy, the community overwhelmingly supported him. Those who didn't believe his story at first needed only to watch the video, see his partner drop to the ground after the kid pulled the gun out, hear his panicked pleas for backup while he took cover behind the cruiser. It was a textbook example, an open and shut case. No one blamed him.
Except Vitus himself. He'd had a strong sense of right and wrong ever since he could remember. It's why he took the police entrance exam at seventeen, why he found himself in church every Sunday, listening to sermons of injustice and evil in the world. More than anything, he wanted to be a force for good, but that just seemed naive now. Less than eight hours into his new job, and a kid was dead because of him, and for what reason? He could do better, and he didn't need a badge or gun to do it. The Lord was testing him.
That explained the weird things happening to him lately. Like how he'd been hit in the gunfight, felt the bullet miss his vest and pierce his side. When the ambulance arrived, however, he was unscathed. They attributed it to nerves, saying traumatic events can alter a person's perception of pain or some shit. He didn't buy it. Someone was watching over him. God had a plan for him, and he wasn't about to ignore the call.
He never showed up for his second day after the investigation was over and his mandatory suspension lifted. Everyone said he'd cracked from the pressure, poor guy. With his saved-up pay from his time in the academy, he abandoned his apartment and just drove, waiting for some sort of sign to tell him where to go and what to do. It never came. When Vitus ran out of money, he sold his car. When that money dried up, he found himself living on the street. He still hasn't found his purpose in the two years since, but surely the good Lord hasn't forgotten about him.
[/fieldbox]
