My Name Is: Jeph Sangre

I Am This Old: 23

I Look Like This: Oh god, I am no good with these things; how do I even take a picture of myself? Wait, I'm just gonna describe myself! That's a good idea! Anyway, I am about five feet eleven inches with absurdly pale skin from a long time spent indoors, black hair I just leave in a mess that covers my eyes which are usually covered by a pair of cheap red sunglasses anyway, and a single cigarette tucked behind my left ear. As far as clothes go, I dress in a plain black shirt, a pair of tattered jeans, some old combat boots, and that's about it. I'm not that interesting looking, which helps out rather well with what I do.

My Power Is This: I can hide in plain sight. Well, as far as like actual "powers" goes, the only thing I can really do is summon a ghost or two to help me out with what I'm doing. They aren't that helpful and a lot of the time they just run off, but in the rare instance they actually do help it's pretty damn cool, if I do say so myself.

This Is My Personality: I'm pretty laid back, preferring usually to smoke a cigarette or two and maybe drink a bit (I'm not a big drinker, but I have been known to indulge on occasion), crack some jokes, play a bit of guitar, and just relax for the most part. But, that's not what they pay me for, so I do have to get up and do something occasionally (much to my chagrin). When I do have to go to work, my attitude isn't quite "serious", but it isn't exactly me running around using a corpse as a puppet. My humor is a bit dark at times, and that makes me a bit much to handle occasionally, but most people find I grow on them after a while. Like a fungus, but more of a fun guy rather than a fungi. In unrelated news I love puns.

Here's Some of My History: I came from a fairly standard household; mom, dad, two brothers, dog, the whole nine yards. Where it was different, though, was where it counted. My dad was a satanist, my mother was a voodoo priestess, and my brothers weren't so much brothers as they were ghosts in our house that took a more protective stance regarding my well being. They made sure I did my homework, got me ready for school in the morning, helped me cook dinner, and kept me safely away from any rituals either of my parents tried to involve me in. They were more of my parents than my parents were. When I entered high school, though, I came home one day to find the usual trio of spirits missing entirely, with my father and mother standing in their place with wicked grins on their faces. It wasn't so much that they made the ghosts leave as they completely banished them from the mortal plane. I didn't hear anything they said; hell, I didn't hear them scream for me to stop. All I heard was the wails of spirits trapped between planes for the first time ever, and the howls of excitement as a few of these trapped souls entered our reality completely under my will.

I woke up about an hour later, covered in blood and no less confused than I was when my ghosts, my actual family, failed to answer the door that fateful day. I searched the house for some of my meager belongings, stuffed them into a backpack, and headed for the road. I walked constantly from that day on, stopping only when I needed food so badly I couldn't walk any farther or when I dropped from exhaustion. I traversed most of the old Florida swamps, seeing things no man had seen before and might not see after, and eventually wandered my way across most of America. It was then I met up with the man that taught me how to disappear, and after two short years, the same man bought me my first pack of cigarettes, and after one more backed me up in my first bar fight. Unfortunately for him, he didn't make it out of the bar alive. Unfortunately for the men that killed him, I did.

The ensuing fight between myself and the unit from the gang that caused my most recent tragedy ended up sparking a riot that lasted for days and killed an unfortunate amount of people, and lead to my quote-unquote employment with The Rest of Us (who as it turns out had been on my trail from the time I summoned the ghosts, over the four years until I met the man, and only found me again after I caused the riot and they heard reports that there were ghosts trying their hardest to save innocent people) which ultimately lead me to this computer thing, filling out all this information which is way more than I want to reveal to just about anyone but I can't get rid of it because I don't know how.

Here's My Chosen Weapon and Equipment: Oh man, where do I even start with this.... In my pack, the same one I've had for about seven years now, I keep the com-set thing that I still don't have any idea how to operate, a fresh pack of cigarettes for every mission, a lighter, a book (usually a comedy, but I have been known to dabble in Lovecraftian horror from time to time), a long, nasty looking knife, and an extra pair of shoelaces for my boots.

Other: Not a lot of people know anything about the man that taught me everything I know, and I'm gonna try and keep it that way, but the boots I wear are his old ones from when he was in the service, and the cigarette behind my ear is the last one from the last pack he and I split before he passed away.