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Zad O'Connor

"You didn't startle me...I let out a battle cry. Sure, I can see how you might have mistaken it for a sudden yelp of unmanly fear, but trust me. It was a battle cry."

0 · 1,519 views · located in Supernatural America

a character in “Team Free Will; The 2nd Generation”, originally authored by Caged Bird, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description

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Name:
Zadkiel O'Connor
Nicknames:
Zad, Connor, pouty mouth, Paddy(Common nickname for those Native to Ireland along with Mick.)
Age:
23
Sexuality:
Bisexual
Hunter or Creature:
Hunter/Unknown ex-angel

Abilities:
  • Zad is a skilled mechanic. He knows the inner workings of most any given machine so well that he can often detect when something is wrong merely by listening closely.
  • He possesses great proficiency at reading and manipulating people and assessing a given situation through observation, is a competent con artist, and is knowledgeable in how police, the fire department and various other agencies-such as the FBI, Home Land Security and Center for Disease Control operate and respond to emergencies.
  • He is superbly proficient in hand-to-hand/close quarters combat and in knife fighting as well, preferring a blade to a gun any day.
  • Zad is also highly adept at escape and evasion, and can effectively remain unseen and move silently when the situation requires stealth. He is highly resourceful as well, can quickly bypass (pick) most standard locks.






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Likes:
Science fiction movies, baseball, greasy fast food, machinery of all kinds, & chewing on something/anything(He has an oral fixation.)
Dislikes:
Long boring books, cats, boats, being stuck indoors, and the British.
Fears:
Never figuring out what 'it' all means, being forgotten soon after he's dead, failing those he has taken charge of, people realizing he isn't worth much, never being missed.

Skills:
  • Zad has the ability to remain optimistic despite eternally getting the shit end of the stick.
  • He also eats more saturated fat than any person still alive and with a waist to shoulder ratio like his ever has a right to.
  • He can fight, his body just naturally seeming to know what to do but most of his resiliency comes from his indomitable heart and stubborn streak a mile wide rather than any actual physical advantage.
  • He is also wicked quick with a knife, possessing an unnatural speed and grace with anything that has a sharp point.

Deficits:
  • His notable and memorable thick Irish accent makes it harder for him to blend in or pose as various forms of authority of law enforcement and his best American impression...well put frankly, sucks.
  • He is not the sharpest shooter preferring to bring knives to gun fights. He can hit his targets but never quite exactly where he means to.
  • He never knows just when to shut his mouth, when it's time to fold and wait for the advantage. He can't help but come back with a quip that usually makes things only that much worse for him.
  • He is easily led astray by a pretty face(male or female) and tends to buy into just about anything they say. A certain gullibility comes with swooning.


Distinguishing Marks:
Zad has two long white scars along his shoulder blades that while not prominent, are noticeable enough. the indent inward instead of protruding outward like most scars and he has no idea how he came to get them.






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Personality:

Zad is afflicted by being what has been affectionately dubbed "permanently rough around the edges." He can be obnoxious, pushy, close-minded, and bullheaded. See's himself not as a hero but as a degenerate sinner. He can also be brave, fiercely protective, compassionate and steadfast. He can be both incredibly selfless and incredibly selfish, sometimes in the same breath. He conceals his issues behind a smartass, gungho attitude. He takes pleasure in the simple things; if he focuses on these things and not on the larger picture, he can fool himself into thinking that this life is perfect for him. He takes the world's troubles and puts them on his shoulders, and it tears him apart. Zad is very much an Alpha Male character, asserting his own will time and again, even when he'd do better not too. He possesses the compulsive need to take care of the people, and loves fiercely albeit unwittingly. He can be sensitive, but mostly he stuffs his feelings down and never, ever, talks about them, so mostly he's just repressed. That's all underneath the surface - like good nougat, on the outside Zad is brash, crude, and as tough as they come, and has developed humor as a means to cope with most everything around him. He is like an Irish Mal Reynolds with his Steve McQueen swagger, Paul Newman charm, and John Wayne no-nonsense.


History:

Zad has no memories going back before he was nine years of age. He washed up on the shores of Staten Island in a small dingy, completely unconscious. There one of the Baymen by the name of Robert Webley found him. Webley discerned Zed's immigrant parents must have set him adrift in a lifeboat from their voyaging ship after they were refused entry into the country in the hopes Zad would make it into America covertly. He was dehydrated and exhausted with nothing more on him but the clothes on his back and a name on his lips, Zadkiel. Figuring a kid saddled with a name as unfortunate as Zadkiel didn't need to tack something awful like Webley onto the end of it least he get teased relentlessly for the rest of his days, Ol' Bert helped Zad pick out a suitable last name that represented where he was from, O'Connor, which was the Irish Surname for the patron of warriors. They lived close to the docks surrounding the city and thrived in that simple life until Bert up and decided to send Zad away one day when he turned 14 to make a future for himself in New York City. The Life of a Bayman was a poor and forever exhausting one and he thought the kid deserved better than he could give him.

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Unfortunately, poor Zad didn't fair too well in New York because not two weeks after staying with Bert's cousin's, he started having nightmares of horrific and gruesome battles and apocalyptic visions. Fed up with Zed and having not signed on to take care of 'a crazy' they shipped him to a home for wayward boys shortly thereafter run by Reverend Thomas. Thomas, despite being a man of the cloth, rented out the boys as unskilled laborers and kept their wages, thus allowing him to live in luxury, while the boys, if they survived adolescence, left the home as adults with nothing. However, knowing he stood to profit more if at least a handful of his boys learnt a trade, he always picked a dozen or so and had them taught about engines, gears, electricity and mechanics. His boys became sought-after experts in most any kind of machinery with Zad being his best apprentice, spending many years under his tutelage though he couldn't stand the old priest.

Things waged on like that for a few years until one of the boys had the presence of mind to slit the Reverend's throat in the night while he slept and all the boys, fearful they'd be pinned, flew the coup. More than thirty mentally unbalanced teens filled the streets, unsure where to go from there and were unfortunate enough to encounter a crook by the name of Bower before Zad could convince them all to hide out at Bert's. The boys, not knowing Bert themselves and afraid for what lay ahead for them decided to adopt the lifestyle and stuck with Bower, and Zad, not wishing to leave them at the mercy of a criminal entered the ring with them and leant to lead a life of crime. For several years, it wasn't too bad, petty crimes and theft kept bread on the table and there was a sense of kinship and camaraderie amongst them all.

It wasn't until Bower hatched a plan to steal gold off one of the barges that things went sour. To do so, they would have to assume the identities of the Baymen for a day undetected. He planned on leading his little crime ring in a surprise attack and killing all the Baymen while they slept. Zad thought of poor old Robert Webley and stole off into the night to warn all of the dock workers of the impending attack. But he never made it that far. He was caught by Bower and some associates of his that he had never had the displeasure of meeting before and brought to an abandoned warehouse. This was where he discovered he had a nasty surprise in store for him, possession. Bower was in fact a low level black eyed demon, but he took orders from on higher up. He was to taint as many young and nubile souls as was possible by leading them to be crooks and murders before killing them off. For every soul he damned to hell, he gained a demon for his bosses army. Knowing Zad had some sway with the boys, that they trusted him, he intended to have him possessed...only every demon that attempted using him for a vessel was unsuccessful, like Zad had a wall up inside. He was unpossessable and in what had to be Zad's biggest stroke of luck yet by far, the demons who had him had been tracked back to the warehouse by a team of hunters who descended upon them just in the nick of time. You can guess the rest, Zad learnt about the things that go bump in the night and the people who valiantly fought and slayed them. He clued in the boys from the wayward shelter and they all became hunters.

Zad still has no clue as to where he comes from and no connections beyond those he forged on Staten and in New York but if his track record is any indication, he won't be able to stop himself from stumbling upon the dangerous truth one of these days...


Face Claim: Chris Pine






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Theme Song:

Hozier || Take me to Church

    My lover's got humour
    She's the giggle at a funeral
    Knows everybody's disapproval
    I should've worshipped her sooner
    If the Heavens ever did speak
    She is the last true mouth piece
    Every Sunday's getting more bleak
    A fresh poison each week
    We were born sick, you heard them say it
    My church offers no absolutes
    She tells me 'worship in the bedroom'
    The only heaven I'll be sent to
    Is when I'm alone with you
    I was born sick, but I love it
    Command me to be well

    Amen! Amen. Amen...

    Take me to church
    I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
    I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife
    Offer me that deathless death
    Good God, let me give you my life

    If I'm a pagan of the good times
    My lover's the sunlight
    To keep the Goddess on my side
    She demands a sacrifice
    To drain the whole sea
    Get something shiny
    Something meaty for the main course
    That's a fine looking high horse
    What you got in the stable?
    We've a lot of starving faithful
    That looks tasty
    That looks plenty
    This is hungry work

    Take me to church
    I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
    I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife
    Offer me my deathless death
    Good God, let me give you my life

    No masters or kings when the ritual begins
    There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin
    In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene
    Only then I am human
    Only then I am clean

    Amen. Amen. Amen

    Take me to church
    I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
    I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife
    Offer me that deathless death
    Good God, let me give you my life

So begins...

Zad O'Connor's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Heka Character Portrait: Claire Novak Character Portrait: Michael Bryant Character Portrait: Booker Thompson Character Portrait: Zad O'Connor Character Portrait: Hecate
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This was the moment that defined Supernatural as a story. Because this parable was just supposed to be a simple narrative about two little boys who had grown up in the backseat of an old muscle car being steered down an open freeway by a soldier in the front. Two boys who had learnt how to kill monsters and demons, day by day, working to avenge their mother. The tough, brawny big brother and the smart, more introverted little brother who had run away to make a life for his own. It was supposed to be a heroic tale about winning and beating what was in the dark. But if Sam and Dean Winchester knew anything, it was that everything it was supposed to be remained only as “supposed to be”.

It became story about love, loss, and desperation. A story filled with dust and grime, shrieking guitar solos and revving engines, the cocking back of pistols and the twinkling of black eyes, blood and banter and brothers whose bond ran deeper than anything. It was about how they both drew from a deep well of pain that was constant and agonizing, that it was something that felt as natural as breathing. It was about how the light in Dean’s eyes died as he grew older. It was about every time Sam had suffered needlessly, every time he had failed and every time he had gotten back up. It was about how two brothers turned the world, heaven and hell, against them and about how they loved each other enough to sacrifice humanity five times over and still managed to save it's sorry ass. It was about the way they sang in their ‘67 impala at the top of their lungs. It was about the times they cried and opened up to one another. It was about driving down that tired road at 2am, a classic rock obsession, and the feel of one another’s shoulder blades against their own, pistols out, surrounded by monsters. It was hope and family and how that could include a 'winged tax collector' in a trenchcoat, and a bearded old drunk who had put his own spin on “idiots”.

In that moment it was family that had left, and family that had been brought together again. Two brothers crashing to the ground, one defiant against the darkness in and around him and one loyal to a fault with the faith of two.


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"Dad’s on a hunting
trip, and he hasn’t been
home in a few days."



Now their time is over and done, page turned, and a new generation is supposed to lead the next chapter...but remember this, things never quite turn out quite how they are "supposed to be."

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Characters Present

Character Portrait: Zad O'Connor
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ImageZad O'Connor continued his lonely march through a dried up riverbed, singing to himself whilst silently wishing for the fifth time in a thirty minute span that he had had presence of mind to check a map before beginning his inexorable trek into the wilderness or at the very least, have packed some water. Luckily, the woods were thinning considerably, and he would come to a road soon enough where he might be able to locate a vehicle to 'commandeer.'

Local authorities had claimed one Dahlia Mae, reported missing after disappearing into the same spans of forest during a family camping trip a week prior to now, had been attacked by a mountain lion or a grizzly based upon the short work made of her tent. But Zad knew better, it was no animal...well, at least not the mortal kind anyway. It had been a Wendigo. Armed with little more than a road flare gun and the implicit fear he'd end up burning the entire forest down around him with how dry the Georgian weather had been as of late, he set about on what he believed would be a three hour hike and a short hunt thereafter. But what was supposed to be three hours bled into three days, as the Wendigo undoubtedly laughed at him from the treetops. Thankfully for his ego, his hunt--extended as it may have been--ended successfully with another monster kill under his belt.

The waist high grass and dense foliage slowly filtered away until there were no more trees to be seen before a long stretch of back road came into view, yellow lines long since strawed by the sun, asphalt cracked and crumbling from age. It was a mile or so from there, that he would spot his salvation. A roadhouse. His face flooded with relief when the unlit neon sign came into view, a couple of pick ups parked outside even at the early hour.

Zad yanked open the front door and was greeted by a rush of cool air. All right, he thought, basking in the sudden chill that where the scorching sun had drawn lines of perspiration down his back like lashes from a whip was now causing his body shiver imperceptibly. Just what the doctor ordered. The interior of the bar was rustic in the extreme. The patrons sat on wooden benches in front of crude log tables. Doused Kerosene lanterns sat atop the tables where they'd likely be lit when night fell, while a single lamp hung from one of the thick oak beams supporting the ceiling. Sawdust covered the floor, old-fashioned cracker barrels were stacked in the corners; a horizontal mirror, mounted behind the rough-hewn bar, reflected Zad's raggled and weary features, revealing he was covered in a sheen layer of dirt and sweat from head to boot. A silent jukebox occupied the back wall, next to a flashing pinball machine, and a TV set, propped up in one corner, was tuned to a local news station. A spray tanned weatherman predicted temperatures in the eighties.

No shite, Zadkiel thought.

Finding an empty table, he dropped down onto a bench. After his long hike through the muggy heat, it felt good to be out of the sun. A weary-looking waitress took his order and he waited impatiently for his food. Thankfully it wasn't long before she returned and slid a large plate of eggs and bacon in front of him, along with an ice cold beer. He couldn't complain about the size of the portions; the food was practically overflowing the plate. It was rich, heavy fare, and exactly what he was in the mood for. Throwing caution to the wind, he start shoveling the food into his mouth, wolfing it down ravenously. He couldn't eat the stuff fast enough. Within moments, he had finished half the plate and was thinking about ordering a second helping.

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Characters Present

Character Portrait: Claire Novak Character Portrait: Michael Bryant Character Portrait: Zad O'Connor Character Portrait: Aislin Winchester Character Portrait: Arlen Elrik Character Portrait: Ben Braeden
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Today, a normal day as any other day would be, only to him the day had only just begun. He couldn’t sleep. He had tossed and turned all night with images of his past haunting him, begging him to awake, begging him not to fall back asleep. There was nothing more horrible than not getting enough sleep. Sitting on the edge of his bed, shirtless and in nothing more than some rather revealing pajama pants, Heka could only wonder what the mortal world had in store for him this day. To be completely honest, he hadn’t a dull moment in his life since he joined the Hunters so many years ago, and now, as he sat on the edge of his beloved bed, he wondered what the other Hunters were up to. Time passes and before you know it your mortal loved ones are dying, leaving this world in hopes that the next generation will take over where they left off. It was a sad thing, a sad thing indeed, but his case was sadder in his eyes. He had to live through all of his mortal friend’s deaths. While he continued to live, old age took away those he became comfortable with over the years. Anthony Romero was the name he had taken, the name he used in this mortal realm. It was a name he had become comfortable with, a name that fit his personality and his physical appearance, yet still every once in a while, every battle he took part in, Heka was the name he heard whispered ever so slightly into his ears. Some of the higher demons he had hunted knew of him, some of the other creatures that he killed on those past missions knew of him, and how he kept his secret from the Hunters he so rightfully served was beyond him.

There were many Hunters, like him, but not like him. He was a deity, a being that was immortal, a being with great power, power so great mortals couldn’t fathom the things he was capable of. However, if the Hunters knew what he was, he was sure they’d kill him, or at least attempt to do so, and it would end badly, very badly. The life of a deity was one of mystery, yet he was sure the other deities looked down upon him for living the life he lived, of hunting those things that went bump in the night. Deservedly so, he was one of the high ranked Hunters, known by all the other Hunters. He has been a hunter long enough to rise in rank, but he never considered himself better than others, he simply considered himself a hunter and a hunter he’d be, that choice was made for him the night his mate was taken from him so violently. The thought made him yawn and look over at the clock that rested on the amber colored wooden nightstand. His bedroom adorned with fine silks from various parts of the world. His bedding made of Persian cotton, the thread count up there in number. For the price he paid for it, it served its purpose. Standing to his feet, he stretched, sleep deprived, but alive and thankful for another day, of course he had himself to thank really considering he was the only deity he prayed to. He smiled and headed into the shower, a good warm shower always washed away his aches, pains and stress.

Several moments passed as the pitter patter of water droplets hitting a hard surface filled the house with sound. Steam rolled through the top and bottom of the door leading into the bathroom. Music played on the stereo so melodically, it would probably entrance any who came near, but it was all a trick. The music that played was a voice that spoke wards that protected the house. Every morning these wards were put in place and every night they were strengthened. Much to his liking, he stepped out of the shower after turning the alabaster knobs to the off position. The water ceased its flow and he grabbed a towel, drying his naked form before finding some clothes to wear. Fashion was a must apparently for those who partook of the mortal realm. He often found himself adorned in the color black. He found it was color that went with every other color in the pantheon of colors. Today he wore a black shirt, black pants that fit just right, a black belt with a blue buckled studded with black diamonds. A black pair of sneakers finished off the outfit, and even the shoe strings laced in the sneaker were black. He looked as if he were a part of the “goth” nation the youth of this realm talked about so much, then again he did look to be only twenty four years old.

As he sprayed some “Yves Saint Laurent” on his neck, wrist and chest, he couldn’t help but think of the other Hunters. By name he remembered them individual. There was Zad, an interesting young man, one who was saved by the hunters if memory serves, and one who is unpossessable. An interesting trait for someone who claimed to be human. His whereabouts weren’t known at the very moment, but Heka had his ways of finding his “teammates”. He smiled as his mind went to another of the hunters, a young girl named Arlen Eirik. She was born into this world of Hunters, her parents succumbing to lycans. It’s a sad thing, but his memory always served him right with these sorts of things, after all he’s been around for a great many years. He often laughed at his true age, which he told no one, for even if he did, they’d never believe him, and it would only give away his true identity. Alas his mind settled on another hunter, one with an interesting story to tell he was quite sure of it. She, much like Arlen, was born into the life of a Hunter. If memory served her family was Hunters, though he could be wrong. Her name was Aislin Winchester. She was young, around eighteen years and age. Yes, he had met all of the Hunters, ALL of them in some form or another. There were other Hunters as well that he wondered about. There was Ben Braeden, Claire Novak, and of course Michael Bryant. Michael Bryant, a real man’s man if you asked him, but a hunter none the less. Ben was an odd human and Claire wasn’t much different from the other girls. So how was it that he remained in the Hunters without being caught as a deity? He made up a lie that he was “cursed” with immortality by a powerful witch he killed. He exclaimed to them that the witch loved him and when he found another she cursed him to live forever as he was, and to watch as those he loved died. A lie, all of it was lies, but it was his story, it was Anthony’s story. He exclaimed to them that the spell could never be broken, and after many tries and unsuccessful attempts, the league finally gave up.

Sighing, he stood in front of a crystal orb that floated over the oak wood kitchen table. He opened his mouth and muttered something in Arabic. Suddenly, the orb flashed with life and displayed each Hunter and their whereabouts.

“Magic,” he said with a smile, “ya gotta love it!”

He sighed as he watched what was occurring. Which of them would he visit? Which of them would he “grace” with his presence? He chuckled at the thought and watched as the orb stopped flashing and set on Zad.

“Him?” he questioned the orb, “why him?” There was no response, and he wasn’t expecting one. He often spoke to himself and to inanimate objects only to justify his reason for doing whatever it was he was going to do. “Very well, let’s hope he’s used to me popping out of nowhere by now.” Fixing his shirt and making sure he looked presentable to mortals, he vanished. Not a second later, he appeared in the vicinity of Zad. Of course most of the Hunters knew he had learned some tricks from the “witch” that “cursed” him, but he had to keep his story secure and he was sure Zad would ask him question to which he’s use the “witch” excuse once again. After all, he had to maintain his visage of Anthony Romero for as long as he could.

“Someone is hungry,” Heka’s voice filled the silence in the roadhouse that Zad occupied along with other mortals. “So tell me sir, how goes it?”



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Characters Present

Character Portrait: Heka Character Portrait: Claire Novak Character Portrait: Zad O'Connor
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Zad's cyan eyes were crawling the room in search of his missing waitress to order his second round long before the first was even finished when they fell on a bubbly blonde postioned at the bar, challenging the tender to a children's card game. It seemed awfully early for anyone to be seated there he mused, or for cards for that matter, but he could hardly blame her. He himself had contemplated occupying a stool for a celebratory shot of rotgut when he first came in, but forgoed it in favor of a waited table to ensure he got served some food promptly. Her laughter was infectious and she was decently attractive for a probable bar fly he noted as she leaned over the bar top with a sly grin. Attractive...and vaguely familiar.

Claire. Claire Novak. That's who she was, he recalled, the grey matter of his brain finally snapping awake at last. He was worried at first the recognition might have stemmed from a one night fling and a forgotten name in the morning which lead to a mad dash out of town later that afternoon, but thankfully the familiarity laid solely with the fact he had seen he around at other hunter friendly roadhouse's before, chatting up whoever would lend an ear. Rumor was that she had been possessed by an angel once as a child....Weird, Zad thought. Bunch of winged freaks, those Holy Air Patrollers. Imagine cramming yourself in a body with another soul...It reminded him too much of a more polite version of demons. He had almost gotten up to join her before he was interrupted.

“Someone is hungry. So tell me sir, how goes it?"

Zad jolted with a start as a voice alerted him to the fact someone was hovering percariously close behind his chair, a voice that had snuck up almost too quietly for any mere human. It wasn't easy to catch a hunter by surprize, let alone one that was also(unknowingly) of the angelic variety.

His head swiveled around violently, nearly giving him whiplash; his chipmunk packed cheeks and startled expression hilariously unintimidating. "Tony!" He exclaimed affectionately upon recognition, his irish accent thick and absurd sounding with his mouth still full of eggs as he relaxed back into his chair. "You arse, you scared the piss outta me!" he laughed bawdily. "I didn't even see ya come in, when did you get here?" Zad slapped the empty seat next to him on the bench, beckoning his fellow hunter to sit.

Heka--or as Zad knew him--Anthony, was a peculiar bird. He supposedly was immortal, which was curious to Zad because if becoming so were really as simple as Anthony claimed it had been, a spell having virtually no negative side effects, why wasn't everyone searching for that sort of hoodoo? A blessing disguised as a curse...perpetually youthful and strong...but lonely Zad imagined. Damned witches. Burn em' all.

"So," The hunter started, shoveling another forkful of food down his gullet, heedless of manners. Hunters weren't the mannerly type, anyhow. "What brings you to this side of this one horse town? You on a hunt? How'd you find me, because I assume that was intentional or just a really bizarre fortuitous coincidence?"

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Characters Present

Character Portrait: Heka Character Portrait: Claire Novak Character Portrait: Zad O'Connor
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Claire Novak
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It happened again. AGAIN.

Claire stood in front of the pinball machine, arms crossed over her chest, a permanent scowl on her face. Stupid machine! she thought, glancing around to make sure no one was looking before giving the leg of said machine a swift kick. It was a mistake, because even though she wore boots the impact hurt, causing her to hop up and down on her right leg quickly, holding her left one up a brief moment. “Ow, ow, ow.” Claire hissed before leaning against the machine, wiggling the small, silver handle that you twisted once you placed your money in the tiny slots. All she wanted to do was play a nice game of pinball. Was that too much to ask?

”Hey, Claire!” the graveled voiced of the bartender called from the expansion of space they were a part. Claire glanced over her shoulder to where the tender stood, for a moment in fear that he saw her assault the pinball machine. He didn’t, however, and was back to leaning against the bar, yet unlike last time, a stack of waffles were on the bar in front of him instead of cards. Waffles covered it melted chocolate. Her piercing blue eyes lit up, hunger registering quickly. Tim motioned her over, chuckling as he shook his head. She took no time to walk over there, a dimpled grin plastering itself onto her face. “You rang?” Claire joked, hoisting herself onto the stool that wobbled as she sat down; it wasn’t too trustworthy of a seat, to say the least.

”Yeah, yeah. Well, you’ve been here for almost three hours without a bite to eat. This one is on the house.” Tim said, keeping his face as expressionless as possible. Claire Novak smiled, reaching over and placing a hand on the old bartender’s shoulder. “You’re a saint, y’know that?” she teased and he only scoffed, turning and walking towards the back. Tim did honestly remind Claire of this old man she grew up across the street from. He acted real bitter, but was a secret softie and she knew it. Looking down at the waffles, Claire licked her lips, reaching over and grabbing up the bottle of syrup that had been placed besides the plate.

Drowning the waffles until they were screaming for mercy, the blonde finally dug in, taking a bite bigger than her mouth itself. The door the bartender disappeared into then swung back open and Tim walked back out. He paused briefly and snorted at the ridiculousness that was Claire; she had chocolate and syrup to either sides of her mouth. She tried giving him a closed mouth smile as she swallowed the gigantic bite of waffles, the tender only giving her a skeptical look in return. He then held out a wad of napkins, walking over to her. Claire Novak laughed, grabbing a napkin and wiping her mouth as she looked away. Truth be told, she was glad the barkeep was nice enough to toss her a couple free waffles. She didn’t have much cash on her, and could only pray she’d have enough scrapped together to get her car fixed.

“Thanks for the waffles, by the way.” Claire mused, Tim grunting a “you’re welcome” as she poked at her next bite, glancing around the roadhouse. Spotting two men sitting down, she noted that they were the only two actually carrying on conversation in the rinky dink place besides her and the bartender. She had to hand it to the two as well, they were both handsome, yet it was something she’d never admit to aloud; she was not one to boost a man’s ego. Turning back to face towards the bar, Claire took another bite of waffles, chewing quickly and swallowing. “Who are those two?” she asked in a low tone, mild curiosity lingering in her voice as she casually nodded back at the two guys at the table behind them. Tim glanced nonchalantly, giving the tiniest shrug of his shoulders as he went about wiping down the other end of bar.

”Your guess is as good as mine.” He said, followed by a hacking cough as Claire risked another peek over her shoulder.





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Character Portrait: Heka Character Portrait: Claire Novak Character Portrait: Zad O'Connor
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Laughing hysterically from Zad’s reaction, Heka couldn’t believe the male had been so easily startled, and with food in his mouth, his cheeks stuffed like a hamster’s. Heka had to take a moment to catch his breath as he held the back of Zad’s chair for support, but when he finally got straightened out, he sat in the chair Zad offered to him and simply smiled in the male’s face when he looked at him. This place seemed familiar. He was sure he had been to this place once or twice before. He looked around the room observing every single entity. There were a couple of mortals here, their scent filtering into his nose gently. He continued looking around, noticing that the roadhouse was pretty much empty aside from the Heka, Zad, Claire, and a few others. His eyes stopped on Claire as they were scanning the roadhouse.

“What is she doing here?” he thought as he turned and looked at the menu, a waitress striding over to see if he wanted anything. This was a Hunter’s pit stop, or so he thought as many times as he had been to this particular roadhouse, the name outside on the sign having faded away due to time. Life sure had a way of bringing one back to places that warranted flashbacks and emotional memories. Still, Heka wondered exactly what the future held for mortals as well as deities. Would there always be conflict of interest between the races of supernatural creatures? He took this moment to simply eye Claire from a distance as she attempted to punish a machine for not allowing her victory. He nearly laughed, but stifled it and watched some more. Humans were interesting creatures, that much was certain.

Heka’s attention turn back to Zad who had asked him a question, and had he not been so idly occupied with Claire, he would’ve answered as soon as the question was asked, but he looked at Zad with a questionable gaze and simply shrugged. “Just a few moments ago actually,” he said with a wink, “just passing through, making sure you’re doing your job right is all.” He chuckled lightly and looked off in Claire’s direction as she gulped down waffles with some sort of brown sauce on them humans called chocolate. While it was true that chocolate was an amazing product from a cacao tree, Heka always wondered what made a human want to grind up something so ugly and ingest it after pulverizing it to the point of liquid. Again, Heka’s attention was diverted from Claire to Zad who asked him how he’d found him.

“Dude, simple really,” Heka began, “you come here a lot after a hunt,” he said, “not to mention Hecate, the witch who cursed me, showed me a few tricks, and let’s be honest, you’re not that hard to track handsome,” Heka added and smirked before turning in Claire’s direction again, “isn’t that Claire?” he asked Zad under his breath so she couldn’t hear, “I’ve heard of her.”


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“Just a few moments ago actually, just passing through, making sure you’re doing your job right is all.” Anthony teased, taking a seat, leaving Zad to roll his eyes dramatically in response. “Dude, simple really, you come here a lot after a hunt, not to mention Hecate, the witch who cursed me, showed me a few tricks, and let’s be honest, you’re not that hard to track handsome.” Heka replied before turning his body in Novak's direction, eyeing her up and down. “Isn’t that Claire? I’ve heard of her.” He intoned, leaning over in the effort to keep his voice down but he was still openly staring which only made it all the more obvious, like a pair of middle school boys whispering about their crush who was no more than ten feet away. "Yeah, pretty sure it is, I recognized her too." He hushedly replied with a pang of guilt, it must not be fun to be notable in the way she was.

Zad also couldn't help but think it odd Anthony was so comfortable using 'tricks' and openly admitted that fact to him. Magic was sort of a big no no in the hunter community, one of the few taboos actually, and Zad and Romero weren't really all that close. Friendly acquaintances to be sure, work friends and partners on occasion even, but he was surprised the other hunter would let him be privy to that bit of information and trust him with it. Although, he supposed Anthony could be joshing with him and just happened to wind up at the same hunter friendly roadhouse because they were both, after all, hunters. Zad tended to frequent roadhouses after long hunts too, so perhaps he was pretty easy to track down.

"So that's it? You just thought you'd pop in to give me a hello? If bull-shite was music, you'd be a be a brass bleedin' band." He laughed. "I'm not that great of company." His eyes found Claire again.

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Character Portrait: Heka Character Portrait: Claire Novak Character Portrait: Jesse Turner Character Portrait: Zad O'Connor Character Portrait: Hecate
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He hadn’t realized what he had said until he had said it. He had named her. All this time, he hadn’t given the witch a name, leaving it a mystery, leaving it to be undiscovered, but now he named her, now he gave the amorphous presence a name, and it was Hecate. While it was true that Hecate and Heka had a steamy background, it was centuries ago, and their relationship ended in a very interesting way, depending on who you ask of course. He sat there realizing only too late that he had nearly divulged too much information and had to figure out a way to do damage control. He took notice of Zad’s whispering as he replied to his question on the identity of the one known as Claire Novak. She wasn’t famous as in celebrity, it was only the fact that most hunters knew one another and last he had heard she was indeed a hunter. He would find more of them here, as this was a hunter friendly “pit stop” so to speak. A place where hunters could come after a good hunt, eat, and hopefully relax until duty called once again. While it was true that Zad was an interesting character, Heka had never really had any “close” friends in the hunters. He tried here and there, but everyone he became “close” to end up dying, or worse turning into what they hunted.

Still, Heka couldn’t make it seem as if he were worried. In an attempt to cover himself, he simply smiled and listened to Zad as he began to discuss Heka’s reason for bothering him. Well, it wasn’t bothering, more like a friendly unauthorized visit from a fellow hunter. At least that’s how Heka looked at it. With a sigh, he shook his head as if he were contemplating on what to say next.

“It’s true, you aren’t much company, BUT,” he said near a yell as he held up a pointer finger, “I have just the thing to liven you up a bit pretty boy. It’s called fashion and swag.” Heka jumped to his feet like a happy school girl getting ready to perform a cheer and put one arm across his midsection and the other arm was held in place as his pointer finger tapped his chin.

“Let’s see, a definite change of wardrobe would do wonders for you Zad,” Heka stated with a smile, “aaaaand a good ol’ fashioned personality lift will make it an all-around complete look. By the way I could definitely do your hair and give you more appeal. What do you say?”

Heka tried hard not to laugh. He was holding his lips closed as he waited for Zad to answer. All the while he was wondering if Claire had noticed his little show. He was aware of others in the roadhouse, others would watch them. He was always privy to information, thanks to his status in the hierarchy or rather the pantheon of deities, but if they found out he was a deity, if they ever found out, what would they do to him? Or at least try to do to him because he’d be damned if he let anyone just walk up and kill him. Maybe times were changing and they’d welcome him among their ranks. After all, he had been a part of the hunters for some time now and had fully settled himself in, but there were always those who would remain trapped in the ages, unaware of how blissfully ignorant they were. One of the many reasons Heka turned his back on his so called brethren. A story for another time perhaps. His eyes drifted over to Jesse, but only for a quick second before settling back on Zad.


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Zad huffed, realizing Anthony was not likely to divulge his true motives in meeting him there today, and contented himself with finishing the last of his breakfast off and contemplating the weirdness that certain foods, like the eggs he had just consumed for example, were exclusive to the morning only. Why were breakfast foods breakfast foods, like why didn't they eat Curry for breakfast? How did eggs get stuck with breakfast exclusivity? He tried to derail that train of thought by thinking that the breakfastization gave eggs a certain sacrality, you couldn't get them at any hour in most eateries. They had a time and a place, like church but that was bull and he knew it. Poor eggs. Never free, unrestraint like the rest of the edibles. Zad had to have ADHD or something, who else concocted such off the wall ideas in the span of a few seconds and sympathized with insensate chicken's period. Which only led him to further contemplate the weirdness that was the widely accepted behavior of scrambling discarded chicken oospore and consuming it.

Before he spiraled too out of control in his thought process, he allowed himself to be distracted by the quiet entrance of a young, enigmatic looking man who immediately sought refuge at a nearby table and then proceeded not to order anything, but rather just opened an old looking tome and began reading. Odd...probably a rookie hotshot out on his first hunt and in way over his head. He was certainly young enough but then again, hunters never really made it to the golden years.

Anthony suddenly jumped to his feet, perky as a high school cheerleader. “It’s true, you aren’t much company, BUT I have just the thing to liven you up a bit pretty boy. It’s called fashion and swag. Let’s see, a definite change of wardrobe would do wonders for you Zad, aaaaand a good ol’ fashioned personality lift will make it an all-around complete look. By the way I could definitely do your hair and give you more appeal. What do you say?”

ImageZad was startled by Anthony's sudden jerk upward into a standing position, so much so that he immediately dropped his fork-the silverware landing on the hardwood floor with a loud unceremonious clatter. "Bollocks!" He exclaimed in denial, outright refusing the offer with little grace. "My personality is just fine, thanks! And you'll not be touching a hair on my head! I like me the way I am, dirt and all." He threw his arms protectively over his filthy blond mop like a fleshen shield as if to ward off an unwarranted/unwanted advances by Anthony. Was he completely off his rocker? They were hunters, it wasn't likely any invite to braid each others hair and gossip like girls at a sleep over was going to be accepted. They were gruff, hardened men with gory stories to swap over a few beers, and if they were fortunate, some well deserved and won over women...at least in his opinion. Zad was known for being more than biased where he himself was concerned. He thought most everyone was supposed to be like him, not that there was anything wrong with being different.

The damn gobshite.

Anthony was being really odd lately, he couldn't help but wonder if the man really had lost all his marbles and was playing the game shy of a few pieces. Perhaps he was just gay, like really really gay? Zad wasn't really completely heterosexual, he swung for the other teams at times, but the hell if he wasn't masculine at any rate. It was just a perk of being raised by tough as they come fishermen from New York. Makeovers were NOT his idea of a good time.

Had everyone just gotten super weird while Zad was off vacationing in the woods, almost being eaten alive by Wendigos?

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Character Portrait: Heka Character Portrait: Claire Novak Character Portrait: Jesse Turner Character Portrait: Zad O'Connor
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When Claire went to peek over her shoulder once again, she noticed the two men looking at her this time. Her eyes widened and she faced straight ahead faster than any speeding bullet. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Why were they looking at her? Did she have something on her back? Millions of questions flitted through Novak’s mind, though a chuckle from the bartender brought her from said thoughts. ”You look as pale as a ghost, Claire. Not used to being looked at?” Tim teased, leading her to believe he saw the two look at her as well. The hunter forced her own laugh, poking at the half-eaten waffles sitting in front of her. It wasn’t the point of being looked at. With her line of work, it immediately made her think the worse when someone gave a glimpse of recognition in her direction. What if they were a supernatural?

“Oh it’s not that,” Claire had mused, answering Tim’s joking as she nonchalantly reached back, feeling along the waist of her jeans, using the back of her hand as if she had an itch she couldn’t scratch. The tips of her fingers barely grazed the hard metal of her gun tucked neatly there, concealed by her flannel, and the slight touch made her breathe easy, a cheeky smile dancing across her lips. “I just never get a warm, fuzzy feeling when I see two men twice my size eyin’ me, y’know?” she added, acting as if she was that poor, defenseless girl fearing getting taken advantage of. Tim snorted in response.

”You got a ride coming for you, right?” the tender asked, yet before Claire could answer a commotion piqued her interest and drug her attention away from him. Risking another glance over her shoulder, an amused expression crossed her face at the sight she saw. The man with the longer bit of hair had jumped up; Claire couldn’t help but him having remind her of a giddy puppy.

“Let’s see, a definite change of wardrobe would do wonders for you Zad, aaaaand a good ol’ fashioned personality lift will make it an all-around complete look. By the way I could definitely do your hair and give you more appeal. What do you say?” It wasn’t difficult to overhear the twos’ conversation, and the topic of it had a laugh tumbling past Claire Novak’s lips. She placed a hand over her mouth to mumble the noise, but it was quite hard to do so. Her laugh was so loud. Fashion and hairdos was one of the very last things she expected the two guys to talk about. Really? she thought, looking back at the bartender, a wide, dimpled smile on her face, giving a look as if to say ”Can you believe this?”

”I don’t think you have to worry about those two pansies touching you. They might be too preoccupied with doing each other’s nails.” The statement from Tim had the hunter rolling. She buckled over on the stool, clutching at her sides as a giggle escaped her mouth; she didn’t even worry about quieting the laugh, it unabashed.

"My personality is just fine, thanks! And you'll not be touching a hair on my head! I like me the way I am, dirt and all." Claire listened to the other man rant, a grin on her face. She caught onto his accent and curiosity immediately burned in her gaze. ”They’re very strange, aren’t they?” she whispered to the tender, lips twitching as she fought another laugh. However, the previous mention of attire had the hunter glancing down at her own clothes. Her faded jeans were smudged with dried dirt here and there from her previous hunt, and the large flannel she had on was thrown on last minute due to it being the only unbloodied article of clothing she had at her disposal. Her hair was a tousled mess and she looked quite worn, the dark circles under her eyes an indicator. At the realization Claire Novak’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. She was in no position to laugh at another persons’ disheveled appearance.

”Why don’t you go over and talk to ‘em, huh? I bet they won’t bite.” Tim opted, a toothy grin making its way onto his gruff face. Claire crinkled her nose, Yeah, the thing is. . What if they do? she thought, smirking at the bartender as she hopped off the stool. It wobbled as she done so, causing the hunter to wonder how she didn’t manage to break the old thing beneath her weight. “You got my back if they try to get handsy, right?” she teased, turning to look at the two men, shaking her head. Though she’d rather find her way to a motel to catch up on much needed rest, the thought of messing with these two idgits sounded like good entertainment after a long week.

Taking a deep breath, Claire Novak sauntered over to the two, in no way trying to keep the amused look off her face. “I’m no expert, but a good shower can do a person wonders when it comes to appearance.” Novak joked, aiming it at the man who had his arms up, protecting his locks. Though she was no position to do so, or comment on a shower; she needed one herself. However, like other times, it didn’t stop the hunter from teasing someone at their own expense.




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Character Portrait: Heka Character Portrait: Claire Novak Character Portrait: Zad O'Connor
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Image“I’m no expert, but a good shower can do a person wonders when it comes to appearance.” He turned to meet the gaze of one Claire Novak. Her eyes were joyous pools of oceanic blue, but they didn't match his own though they could certainly be called the same color. What was it about her blue eyes? So light but still mysterious and deep. Like an underwater cave that reached into the depths of the ocean all the way to the core of the earth...Zad fought to focus.

She had come over to join them and looked on the verge of outright laughter. "Fair enough, that much I could agree to if a certain blonde such as yer self wanted to join me to help me scrub all the spots I can't reach." He answered with an expelled breath and a wink, his usual deep, vociferous tone returning to him. "In me defense, I have just spent the last three days holed up in the woods far from anyone that'd care bout that sorta thing. Wendigos are notorious for not wanting to eat the people that stink." He proclaimed before, unbidden, a laugh escaped him like a sudden fall of rain; his sparkling droplets of cachinnation flinging itself against their windowpane ears.

He extended a somewhat dirty and well calloused hand to her, hoping she wasn't to prim to take it. He was just beginning to realize hunters came in all sorts of models these days...

"I'm Zad, Zad O'Connor. This is Tony." He introduced, gesturing behind him with a toss of his head. "You wouldn't be interested in joining a couple of low lives like us for breakfast would yah? We have an open seat with your name on it...?"

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Claire Novak
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"Fair enough, that much I could agree to if a certain blonde such as yer self wanted to join me to help me scrub all the spots I can't reach."
Claire should have been expecting such a retort, yet she wasn’t exactly ready for that. Both her eyebrows arched upwards, and she looked at the man as if he had sprouted another head. She then pressed her lips into a straight line, trying to keep an expression that said ”Hah, in your dreams,” on her face. Alas, she couldn’t keep it up much longer, lips quirking into an amused smile. “You could at least buy me dinner first.” Was her reply, followed by a light laugh that was short-lived as he went on about being out in the woods with Wendigos. It surprised Claire at how blatantly he admitted to being a hunter, or hinted at it, at least. It was like he knew she was of the same. . Profession? Though the hunter felt much more at ease knowing that he, himself, was no supernatural scum (left only to guess the other man was a hunter as well), suspicion quickly crept over her. None-the-less, the man’s laughter was much appreciated; Claire always felt that laughter kept a conversation light enough.

Her blue gaze flickered downward to the other hunter’s hand when he extended it in order for her to shake. Claire’s cheeks dimpled as she beamed, grasping his hand in a firm, for her muscle mass, grasp, shaking it lightly. She noticed how rough his hand felt against hers which wasn’t nearly as calloused. He must be a seasoned hunter. she guessed, nodding as he introduced himself and the other man, dropping her hand back down to her side.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both. I’m Claire Novak,” she mused, introducing herself and biting her tongue to keep from saying, ”But you already knew that.” It wasn’t as if she was widely popular in the hunting community. Heck, she was practically invisible, or say she thought. These two, however, seemed to know her somehow. She glanced at the other guy, introduced as Tony, giving him a smile. That’s what Claire was: smile and laughter. It was odd if she wasn’t joking around or, at the least, being sarcastic.

"You wouldn't be interested in joining a couple of low lives like us for breakfast would yah? We have an open seat with your name on it...?" At the invite Claire simply shrugged, casting a look over her shoulder at the rest of her waffles that lay waiting for her.
“I’d love to.” She admitted, it not being every day she came in contact with other hunters like herself. “Be right back,” Novak added, walking back over to the bar. The bartender stood behind it, where he previously was, leaning up against said bar. He looked at her, expecting to hear something good, salt-n-pepper brows furrowed. “False alarm, they’re fine. Gonna sit over there and chat with them.” She informed, smiling like someone who had just won a prize. The tender only chuckled.

When Claire made it back over to Zad and Tony she wasn’t shy about taking a seat. “So, are you two partners or what?” she asked curiously, picking up her fork, yet she didn’t take a bite. Instead, she glanced between the two, chewing at her bottom lip absentmindedly. If anyone overheard, they would most likely think she was asking if the two men were "romantically involved," yet the underlying question was not that at all. For a brief moment she wondered if she had guessed wrong about the two. Perhaps they weren't hunters. A tiny worry-line formed between her eyes. Hopefully, if they weren't, they would think her question that of the romantically involved partner variety.





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Character Portrait: Heka Character Portrait: Claire Novak Character Portrait: Michael Bryant Character Portrait: Jesse Turner Character Portrait: Booker Thompson Character Portrait: Zad O'Connor
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As soon as he heard the word 'Wendigo', Jesse took it as his cue to leave. While he could take on a hunter or two every so often, he definitely couldn't take on three, especially on what seemed like their own turf on how casually the man brought it up. He nervously grabbed his book and placed back in his bag, unknowingly leaving the papers he was examining behind as he tried to walk casually out the door, teleporting back to the outside of the diner. After a single step however, he heard a loud ringing coming from his carry on. He picked through the items to find a dusty looking cellphone much to his own surprise as he never remembered buying a cell phone. "Hello?" he answered not knowing who was on the other end.

"Yeah, Olly. It's Sam. Sam Winchester. We hunted the Djinn together a few years back. I need a favor..."

'Just my god damn luck.' Jesse thought to himself, now remembering where he'd gotten the phone. It was from the only hunter who ever showed him any kindness and the only hunter who had died protecting him; Oliver Gent. He remembered Oliver mentioning hunting with the Winchester's once. The two brothers were practically the Mannings of monster hunting at this point and meeting them was either an honor or a swift pain in the ass. Sometimes both.

"What's the hunt?" Jesse replied, trying to mimic his deceased friend's voice as to not raise suspicion. While he respected Oliver's memory, he was more interested in helping Sam as a long time ago, Sam saved Jesse's life and he wanted to return the favor.

"Funny you should say that. It's my daughter, Ash." the youngest Winchester said with a huff. Jesse was a little surprised Sam had settled down. He always figured from what he'd been told about him that he'd die on the job. He then decided to head back into the diner as he talked with Sam, but before he could, he heard a bit of a raucous coming from inside. He peaked into one of the windows.

'WINCHESTER!? AS IN THE WINCHESTERS, SAM AND DEAN!?' It was the unmistakable yell and movement coming from the sleazy guy from earlier who was still talking to the dark haired girl next to him.

"Jesus, really? You really gotta do this crap to me?" he said to himself in a hushed town as he watched a red head walk over and join them in conversation. "Hey, Sam. Does Ash have dark hair, brown eyes, and a cute face?"

"That's inappropriate, but I guess."

"She's literally ten feet away from me. I'll -" and with that, Oliver's phone powered down, finally out of juice after such a long time without a charge. Jesse smacked it a few times with his hand until he realized there was nothing he could do not without a charger at least. Now what was he supposed to do? He could try and grab the girl and teleport her back home, but the last time he blinked somewhere without knowing where it was, he ended up in the middle of Loch Ness. Needless to say, it wasn't a fun time. He didn't have too long to think however as Ash barreled through the front doors, seemingly intent on getting out of the area. It was then Jesse realized he had a golden opportunity right in front of him and he wasn't going to watch it walk away. Luckily for him, the man she was eating with stepped in front of her and began to ramble a bit about how the Winchesters had saved him when he was a kid. Jesse assumed this wasn't an uncommon tale as from what he'd learned, the Winchester's had been all over the country and maybe even beyond doing their work. Jesse could relate to his story, but probably not in the same way as he thought himself the monster in his situation. He however let the man finish his story before putting in his own two cents, which took some time, but he was eventually able to get his words in.

"Not to sound like an unsympathetic dick, because, trust me, I can relate, but I'm pretty sure she doesn't want to talk about the brothers right now." Jesse called out to the pair as the man wrapped up what he was saying. "Speaking of which, I think we can help each other out, Ash. Mind if we talk for a minute in private?"

(OOC: May need to edit some more as Mistress and I were so close with our post times. Apologies all around.)

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Anthony, or Heka depending on how you knew him, stood there for a moment with his arms crossed as he watched Zad cover his unruly hair with his free arm, as if his arms would protect his hair from Anthony. Still, Anthony could only laugh at Zad’s reaction. It was as if he had asked him out on a date, and while Anthony was bisexual in the views of many, he still had his reservations about dating mortals. The last mortal he dated died, resulting in him becoming a hunter, and the thought of not being able to see him ever again plagued his mind for quite a while before he was finally able to get on with life. He had since stayed away from any sort of relationship that would lead to more heartache. He realized that he was just standing there peering out in the distance when Claire Novak spoke breaking his trance as he looked at her.

“Oh, well hey there;” he said with a smile, “actually Zad really does need a shower, and a haircut. He won’t listen to me, so perhaps you can convince him.”

Anthony simply sighed as he sat back down in his chair admitting his defeat when it came to jazzing up Zad’s appearance. It was one battle he was sure he wouldn’t win anytime soon. Claire seemed like a very trustworthy person, but he didn’t know a lot about her, other than the fact about her parents and how she was a hunter. Most humans were like an open book to him. He was able to read them with little effort, and so far he had yet to meet someone he couldn’t read. As Zad spoke to Claire, inviting her to sit with them, he could only sit there with his hands crossed childishly, as if he were upset at being denied the right to help Zad with his look. Zad introduced him as Tony which is the name nearly everyone aside from other deities addressed him as.

“My name is Anthony, but everyone does call me Tony for reasons I’m not aware of,” Anthony stated with a smile as he took Claire’s extended hand and kissed it softly, “and Zad isn’t man enough for me, I prefer them a little more roughly around the edges,” Anthony added with a wink. While it was true that he was open about his sexuality and inspired many to come out of their shells, he did enjoy toying with those who didn’t know his sexuality to the point that it confused them. “Besides, Zad reminds me of my ex, and I think the last I saw him he was cleaning sewage so yea we’re more like teammates rather than playmates if you understand that. What about you? What’s your story?”

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Zad had opened his mouth to form a reply along the lines of, No we don't really hunt together as a rule, only on occasion. When Anthony had to jump right in and assume she meant the other kind of partner. He felt an embarrassed blush creeping up the back of his neck and had he not developed a wicked sunburn there over the past week, the others might've been able to call him on it.

ImageHe armed himself with a witty retort, aiming to save a little face in front of this hopeful conquest. "Aw, Toooony. Come now, I'm everyone's type. That really hurts, I'm wounded." He whined, his lower lip protruding into a pout. "And here I thought all this time we had something special. Remember that one cold night we had to share a tent on broke back mountain..." He laughed, his roguish grin positively wolfish as he waggled his bushy eyebrows at his friend.

He playfully jabbed Anthony in the ribs with his elbow and dropped the subject, clinging to the question last posed(What's your story?) so that some light might be shed on the blonde just across from him with a glittering smile. "Seriously though, Claire. What's a girl like you doing all by your lonesome in Bum fuck Egypt?"

It was true that he had just finished a solo hunt but that hardly meant he didn't favor having company. Choosing to be alone, that was a concept that Zad didn't really understand. It could be seen in his crystalline eyes, and tasted in his wry smile; heard in the sarcastic humor of his unfinished jokes. Yearning for solitude was an abstract for Zad. It was impossible. A grand notion that could not possibly leave impressions behind because its feet were imaginary.

Of course, he was like a puppy that left unattended for too long, would end up hanging itself in your blinds. You couldn't leave him alone least he become unconsciously suicidal.

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Character Portrait: Heka Character Portrait: Claire Novak Character Portrait: Zad O'Connor
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Claire Novak
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“My name is Anthony, but everyone does call me Tony for reasons I’m not aware of,”
As Tony spoke, Claire had held out her left hand, the one that wasn’t gripping her fork for dear life, in a friendly gesture, seeing it fit since she shook Zad’s hand, after all. However, brief surprise crossed her face when Tony took her hand, yet instead of shaking it like a normal person, brought it to his lips. She masked said surprise fairly fast, tugging her hand away once it hand been kissed, giving a forced smile. She then stuffed a bite of waffles into her mouth, doing this to hide the embarrassment that crept along her cheeks. She raised both her eyebrows, amused, as Tony spoke of Zad not being man enough for him. As she chewed, she peeked at Zad from the corner of her eye. Wasn’t men who didn’t bathe and had rough hands man enough? Novak wondered, laughing as Zad butted in.

"Aw, Toooony. Come now, I'm everyone's type. That really hurts, I'm wounded." Claire shook her head, looking down and jabbing at what was left of her waffles. These two were funny. She liked them. Another laugh bubbled to Claire’s lips at the mention of “Broke Back Mountain,” eyes travelling between the two curiously. Her mouth curved into a taunting half-smile. Claire wasn’t one to judge when it came to another person’s sexuality. Her own wasn’t really confirmed. However, it wasn’t like she really had experience to tell. Claire, as weird as it seemed, was more comfortable and knowledgeable about supernatural species than she was the opposite sex. She’d never been in a relationship to tell about, and the closest thing she had to a kiss was the one which was placed on her hand not five minutes ago- unless you count kindergarten when she planted one on a boy without truly understanding what she was doing. That ended up with her being given a “time out” and getting her butt busted by two appalled parents when she got home.

”What about you? What’s your story?” The question drug Claire Novak from her thoughts, leaving her at a loss for words. Her story? What was there to say? ”Oh, y’know, my dad was possessed by the oh-great-and-powerful Castiel when I was a kid, saw my mom possessed by a demon, saw my dad then shot by my demon-possessed mother, got vessel-ized myself by the same dang angel, my dad was taken once again, and here I am.” No. Not a good conversation starter, especially not the first conversation that is. Claire also guessed that wasn’t exactly what he was asking.

"Seriously though, Claire. What's a girl like you doing all by your lonesome in Bum fuck Egypt?" Ah. That was a better question. Claire shrugged her shoulders lightly, as if the answer was very simple. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried to drag another hunter along. Her last case, which involved a witch, she worked along-side this one hunter, a female, who was just getting her feet wet with the whole hunting thing. Claire ended up having to save her ass, which only left the other hunter sore. When Claire opted to bring her along on the next case, trying to help her out in all actuality, the girl quickly declined and headed out not too long after. Novak, truthfully, didn’t really like being alone. She was too much of a people person.

“All by my lonesome?” she echoed, a smile appearing on her face. “Well, for starters, I’m a big girl and can take care of myself. I don’t need anyone else doing that for me.” She always ended up on the defensive end. A lot of male hunters she met deemed her as weak due to her gender, and tended to feel the need to protect her like some breakable object; it irked Claire and most definitely rubbed her the wrong way. “And secondly,” She shrugged again, setting her fork on her plate. “I was on a vampire case. Wrapped it up early this morning. I couldn’t find another hunter to drag along, so here I am, poor, pitiful me, all by myself.” She explained in a teasing tone, grinning at the two. “Oh, and my car is broke down a few miles up the road.” Claire added with a light laugh, shaking her head. It was just her luck, really. If the bruises and bumps weren’t enough that she received from said previous hunt, why not add a broke down vehicle?




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Character Portrait: Heka Character Portrait: Claire Novak Character Portrait: Zad O'Connor
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He could’ve dealt with any type of comeback Zad could muster, at least he thought he could; however, the reaction he gave to Zad’s comment was utterly stifled by his quick reflexes to look away and cover his mouth with two of his fingers as if he were coughing or something more fitting. He didn’t want to let Zad know that he had gotten the better of him this day, still Anthony had his own way of retorting back at Zad, but he’d wait a moment to gather himself. It was odd for him to sit there with no food in front of him, but at last a waitress showed up with some coffee to which he gladly took a shot of milk and sugar with his cup. He listened to Zad as the male rephrased what he had asked Claire. He did want to know what she was doing way out here, but it wasn’t really any of his business. Still, hunters had to stick together and he was sure she wasn’t as helpless and weak as she looked to be.

The girl began to speak and Anthony simply sat there with his legs somewhat crossed and a cup of coffee in his hand held ever so pristinely in one hand while the other hand cupped the bottom of the cup. He sipped softly and gently as the aroma of the ground coffee. It smelled like the good stuff, at least he hoped it was the good stuff. The aroma opened his senses even more as he took another sip while Claire continued to divulge to them both what she was doing in these parts. She was a hunter after all so it wasn’t unlikely to see her here. Apparently from her own mouth she informed them that she had been on a vampire hunt. Such nasty little creature vampires are. Always sucking blood to fill their gullets. Always trying to force themselves on others like a tick on a dog. He had many run-ins with vampires, and they were so easy to defeat. A bit of holy water, a stake through the heart or some good old fashion beheading and sunlight always did the trick. Demons were his specialty. The chant needed to expel them from their hosts was his favorite part of hunting them. Of course they tried to stay away from him whenever they saw him coming. Pagan deities were not to be trifled with. Their abilities and power could shake the very foundation mortals stood upon.

Nonetheless, he found himself staring at her still, sipping his coffee ever so regally as if he were studying her for some sort of college project. When she had finished talking, Anthony simply continued to stare at her. Human automobiles always had a tendency to break down when needed most, especially if they were old. He supposed humans had designed them after their own bodies which as it go older it too broke down in more ways than one. That was one thing Anthony could admit. Though he loved his ex who had died greatly, he couldn’t help but love his own immortality. Perhaps there was indeed a way to give immortality to others, something he’d have to research at a later time. Being the god of magic had its perks. Much was in his control; there wasn’t much he couldn’t do.

“So your car broke down, you killed a blood sucker and now you’re here looking for a hunter to tag along with ya,” Anthony began with a smirk, “sounds like an awesome day to me. You got my attention little lady, so what’s your next move?”


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Character Portrait: Heka Character Portrait: Claire Novak Character Portrait: Zad O'Connor Character Portrait: Hecate
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The white slivers of the morning sun cut across the dim planes of the ceiling and the floor, peaking out from behind a thick drawn shade to leave long yellow prison bars over the tired patrons faces. There was a shaft of that dirty sunlight, eat up with dust motes, that fell across Zad's back; creating a halo of gold tucked safely within the wild curls of his blonde hair. All he was missing was a pair of wings...

The roadhouse had hardly any windows to speak of, and the few existing had those shades drawn over the glass to block out the light. Most bars did because they catered to drunks with hang overs who loved the midnight feel even if it was nine in the morning. They were nocturnal beasts that chased their nightmares away with shots of bourbon and strings of sleazy one night stands. Zad was one of few hunters and drunks though that did not appreciate this. The bourbon and hookers, sure, but not the dark. He was a child of the sun, and the feel of warmth on his skin always stole happiness into his heart. Perhaps it was an angel thing, or maybe it was just an inherently Zadkiel thing but either way, it wasn't like he'd of known. No less than a half hour ago, he was all too happy to have stepped in the dark cool respite that was this road side attraction for the supernaturally knowledgeable, but just as the tiny blue threads in his wrists twisted in him all the way to his chest and made his disobedient heart pound when he heard the possibility of joining yet another unspecified hunt with others, he also yearned to step back outside into the light.

Image"You pitiful? I would never dream of insinuating such a thing." He laughed. The sound hearty, low in his belly and clear in his throat like a large heavy bell being rung. "There's a fire in you, I can see it. You probably pack as much punch as a case of C-40." He winked at her with one of his startlingly blue eyes. "Let me also say, just like Tony, you've got my full attention. If you need a ride somewhere's...well we both came here on foot but I'm wicked fast with a hotwire. We could find something if you had it in mind to take on a partner or two for your next gig...not that you'd need to or anything." He shot the last splash of his beer like it were a race and then slammed the brown bottle down on the table. "I've heard of something...a club not too far from here if you can imagine that, that is a demon hotspot. Don't know much more than that but if you're both interested...we could check it out together...?" He let the rest of his sentence trail off into a question, a hopeful air hanging in his voice.

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Character Portrait: Heka Character Portrait: Claire Novak Character Portrait: Zad O'Connor Character Portrait: Hecate
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Claire Novak








As Claire spoke she glanced at the two men, noting the way Tony held his cup of coffee and seemed to stare a hole right through her; this in itself made rather self-conscious, having her hands in her lap once she discarded her fork, twisting at her fingers nervously out of habit. She also noticed the way one single strand of sunlight out of all the others managed to fight its way across the roadhouse, fall along Zad’s back, and nestle into his hair. For a moment Claire just stared, looking as if she was peering right over his head at something. The light and the way it danced along his head reminded her of something. But what? The first thing that snuck its way into Claire Novak’s mind was “angel,” the thought causing her nose to want to crinkle in distaste. Besides being a clichĂ© thing to think, angels were also not her favorite being in existence. Actually, she quite despised them with a burning passion. “Daddy issues” wasn’t even the half of it.

When Tony began talking Claire smiled, nodding as he spoke back to her pretty much what she said, only in a shortened summary form. As he mentioned her there looking for a hunter to “tag along with her” she arched an eyebrow, shrugging her shoulders at this. Company was always welcomed but she didn’t want to seem like someone desperately in need of help; she was never one to play the damsel in distress. At the question of “what’s your next move” Claire seemed to pause, pressing her lips into a straight line as she glanced towards the ceiling momentarily, as if she was thinking hard. She was supposed to have a next move? Jeez, it was lucky enough that she stumbled across this roadhouse. What move was there to make? She didn’t have another hunt whipped up just yet. “Well, I suppose I should find someone to tow my-“ Novak trailed off when Zad started talking, blue gaze flickering to him.


"You pitiful? I would never dream of insinuating such a thing." Claire flashed a dimpled grin at this comment, tilting her head to the left slightly when he laughed. What was it about laughter? Really. For as long as she could remember she just really enjoyed it, the sound and such. Especially those loud, deep-belly laughs that made your stomach ache from the force behind them. At Zad’s next words Claire giggled, which was a very non-Claire thing to do, causing her reign the laugh in quickly, covering it with clearing her throat. “Oh you know it, quite a punch.” She promised, winking back at him jokingly. She then listened as he went on talking, resting her right elbow on the table, her chin in her hand. The thought of having a couple partners on her next hunt piqued her interest, to say the least. She sat up a little straighter, eyes glinting with curiosity.


At the mention of a club Claire slapped both her hands down on the table gently. “How could I say no?” She teased, gaze travelling to Tony then back to Zad. She didn’t know why a bunch of demons would be hanging around a club in the morning, but hey, it was something to do, and she was always down for a good hunt. “I say we go check it out.” She added, going to stand up. She then realized all her stuff was back in her car. Claire fell back in her chair, huffing. “All my things are back at my car, though.” She grumbled, the thought knocking the wind from her sails.

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Character Portrait: Heka Character Portrait: Claire Novak Character Portrait: Zad O'Connor Character Portrait: Hecate
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If he could’ve guessed, he wouldn’t have guessed Claire to be the damsel in distress type. She struck him as more of a tom boy with beautiful eyes and flowing hair. She seemed to be someone he could hang with, get to know on a more personal level, and become friends with. Then again she would die of old age and the thought did sadden him. Hell the only way she wouldn’t die of old age is if she became a vampire. That ceremony in itself was very odd and gruesome so he’d heard. Interesting how movies portrayed such beings as bloodsucking maniacs driven by their thirst for human blood as if they themselves weren’t human before. The Supernatural was an odd thing, an odd thing indeed, and depending on whom you asked, things were always different. The best way to know what someone’s intentions were was to use what gifts one had, and if you were gifted then you were shit out of luck. Thankfully Heka was gifted with telepathy among other things, and his longevity had allowed him to master such gifts. What this meant was that Zad and Claire as well as everyone in the diner were like open books just begging to be read.

“The minds of mortals are simple, yet complex, and if I slip in unnoticed I cannot terry long,” he thought as he looked at Claire and then at Zad. ”What are you two thinking?”

Anthony took note of the light that seemed to find Zad and pinpoint him to bask in its warmth. For a moment Anthony thought he saw a halo, but could Zad be an angel? He was absolutely hitting on the handsome scale, and would make a rather charming angel, but Anthony dismissed the thought with a slight laugh after sipping more coffee and listening to the conversation at hand. Zad was talking, but how long had he been talking? Anthony really needed to stop zoning out when people were talking; it was a very bad habit and had gotten him into trouble several times. Still, he was pretty sure he knew what Zad was talking about. The last bit he heard was something about a club and that they could go there.

“Demons you say? Together you say? Well now’s the chance to prove your manliness Zad,” Anthony joked as he finished off his coffee rather elegantly and placed the cup on the table, “I am definitely in, it sounds like fun.”

He hadn’t been hunting in a while, instead watching the others hunt on his orb, now it was his chance to flex his muscles, but there was something off putting about this mission. Who ran this club and why was it an obvious demon hangout? These were questions Anthony would get answered one way or the other. “Oh and Claire it’s no problem, I got contacts everywhere, I can shoot one of them a call and have them drop off a car to get your gear if you want.”

Before she could object, his fingers were already dialing a number. It wasn’t a long conversation at all, a brief exchange of “hello” followed by the predictable follow up greeting of “how are you” or “how’ve you been,” and then the questions started coming and all Zad and Claire would hear would be a simple “Uh huh” or “uh uh” from Anthony, but after he finished his conversation, he ended the call and looked at Zad and Claire, “10 minutes sound cool to you?”

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