Post by Opie Damocles on Sept 22, 2008 14:20:18 GMT -5
Name: Opie Rea Damocles
Alias: Pandemonium
Age: 26
Age (looks): 24
Gender: Male
Alliance: Neutral {The Sword of Damocles}
Mutant Personality: Opie, like any smart business man, can act how he is needed depending on the situation. He is a very gregarious and fun person, and can be playfully sarcastic, but is quite vigilant. While he is very intellectual and does what is best for business, once a personal injustice has been brought down upon him, there is no limit to what he will do. In spite of his tattoos (read below), Opie is a mutant supremacist who holds no aggression towards humans who support the mutant struggle.
Mutant Appearance: In his own opinion, Opie isn't a bad looking man. He stands at around six feet tall, the average height for a man his age in his family. He stays in shape with his daily workouts, though is not anywhere near a body builder. Most consider him to have a rough sense of charm with his scruffy goatee, dark green eyes, and his hair cut into a short mohawk. However, with a charming gaze and a nicely kept smile, the Greco-Irish man makes for a very charming indivual.
Tattoos: On the left side of his neck a simple X dignified that he was a mutant. On his right forearm, over a visible a double helix and made of barbed wire, were the letters M.C.T.D. The letters stood for Mutants Collect Their Dues. On the other forearm, with the same background, was an unbalanced scale. On the heavy side (that closest to the bottom) was the skull of a cyclops. On the lifted side was a pyramid of ordinary skulls. The message was simple: to Opie, one mutant death would be avenged tenfold. While his arms boasted revenge, his neck merely association, his chest held the one true message of supremacy: a pair of hands shackled together by a double helix. On the left hand a message was burnt, HUMAN 5012-B3. A symbol of humans enslaved by the superior gene pool and a mockery of the Registration Act.
Mutant Powers: Technopathy, or the ability to control technology/electronic devices.
Mutant History/Background:
Born in the iconic and infamous Manhattan neighborhood known as Hell's Kitchen, Opie's environment was not conducive to the formation of any bright and optimistic future. However, like most of the other children in the metropolitan vice of warehouses and steel mills, the Greco-Irish boy grew up tough. Even in the rundown and mostly impoverished neighborhood, Opie’s home life was not near as bad as some of his friends’. While money was tight, as it was all over the city, his father had the benefit of holding a government job, a postal worker. His mother worked in the school system as a cafeteria lady, and due to their long working hours they made enough money to get along month by month. Regardless of the fact Opie’s Irish mother and Greek father were both devout Catholics, (as were he and his four brothers), the boys still managed to get into trouble. Rather than falling in with the wrong crowd, they banded together and became a gang of hooligans participating in petty crimes from illegal gambling (more often than not simple games like pinochle in alleyways between warehouses) to pick pocketing and selling stolen goods. This life, this life of petty crime in the boys’ younger years, was to grow in magnitude with the years and become a permanent existence.
For years, there had been signs of his mutant activity that he had ignored and waved off as spook coincidences. In the early years of puberty, from approximately eleven to thirteen years of age, his mood would make electronic devices react. When he would get angry with his parents and storm out of the house, lights would often flicker or even cut off until he was yards away. Temper tantrums or frustration would often cause appliance to shut off or turn on. When he was fourteen, he and his brothers waved off more odd occurrences: the television in their room would turn on before Opie would click the power button, or change channel when Opie asked what else was on. They all realized what was going on, and honestly would not have loved their brother and companion any less for being a mutant, but they knew if they accidentally let it slip around their parents Opie might be kicked out of the house. The parents, one having been in Greece and the other in Ireland during the Summer of Love, were void of the understanding hippy mentality that some American parents still slightly held. One rose to be a wife, the other a laborer, they viewed mutants as a threat to their jobs and home. An incident that year proved to the boys Opie had special gifts made him truly unique in the family.
It was on a cold winter night, near Christmas, and a torrential blizzard trapped the boys indoors. Fate, in her cruel sense of humor, decided to further the boys’ boredom by knocking out the power lines. Angry and depressed, the boys sat around in a state of monotony. After only thirty minutes or so, Opie stood up and stared at the television set in the seemingly vain hope it would magically start working. Out of pure frustration, he threw his shoe at the box and shouted in anger, “Just fucking turn on already!” Before the shoe even hit the screen, the television turned on and the boys had their football game to watch. All the lights were still out and nowhere else on his street had power, but a sole light came from their room as they watched the New York Giants and Indianapolis Colts game on CBS.
From that point on Opie began practicing. It was the only way he could think of to control his ability in public places, but that wasn’t even his agenda for training. He and his brothers were old enough now to where they would make life changing decisions. Due to the movies and their own experiences, they automatically glorified a life of crime. More importantly, they were good at it and knew it. However, with age, ambition, and the tools necessary it only made sense to delve into heavier crimes. After that football game, the brothers went off into a fit of excitement with ideas for their youngest and now most talented brother. Macimo, five years Opie’s senior and the oldest sibling, was the first to realize that this ability would allow them to commit crimes of a higher magnitude. It was an instant stroke of genius, and all five boys were on board, but Opie’s reasoning made him realize something: If he were caught with these powers, due to trying to use them and failing, that would be the end of their little gang life. Instead he decided that they should lay low and focus on school to fool their parents. This provided Opie with all the practice he needed for he and his brothers to launch their plans.
After a school year and a summer later, Opie was ready for high school. Opie had spent every waking moment honing his incredible skill. If it was electric, the fifteen year old was trying his damnedest to control it. The constant practice led him to a state where he could manipulate things as complex as computer programs and ATM machines by the time he was sixteen. At this point, the group began progressing at an alarming rate. Limitless income from ATM machines provided them the financial support to launch operations larger than anyone that age was used to. Stolen items were just as easy to acquire, due to the fact that no alarms would ever go off regardless of the form of entry. On top of it all, the boys and their friends maintained a perfect 4.0 grade point average without every having to do one ounce of homework, a testament to the benefits of manipulating the school’s computer systems.
From that point on they kept going. The Black Market became their life, and Opie even started the sale of credit card numbers he could acquire online. High school was a paradise for the boys, due to the money and popularity they gained. The infamy made things a tad harder with the authorities, but was a cause for respect amongst their peers. However, it was after high school that this life became permanent. Once all the boys were out, they merely widened their scope of potential income. Within a year after Opie’s 18th birthday, Hell’s Kitchen was under illicit control of the Damocles brothers. Two years after that, when Opie was turning 21, Hell’s Kitchen was the capital of an underworld empire in New York City. Areas from Hell’s to Brooklyn, Staten to the Bronx, and nearly the entire melting pot known as Manhattan was under their control. Their territory wasn’t huge, but was immensely large for the short time it took to acquire it. However, with power comes enemies, and with enemies comes the need for protection. Opie, now the official leader of this organization, had many loyal men working for him. His brothers and close friends formed the hierarchy of what would quickly become the newest and one of the most powerful organized crime groups in the nation: The Sword of Damocles.
The Sword of Damocles was born in a bloody war on two fronts. Opie, a well known mutant in the underworld, was one of the few in illicit power at the time. His political stand brought a powerful enemy against him: the government. While the Registration Act hadn’t been passed yet, the animosity for mutants was still high. Police and the courts were more willing to throw a mutant in prison, and Opie’s muintir was comprised solely of mutants and humans who supported mutants. While the idealistic view of equality was ubiquitous among all members of the Sword, it was not one of their goals. The only goal they had was profit. Profit brought progression, progression brought power, and power brought peace. So naturally when government interference threatened this profit, Opie moved quickly to sabotage the ATF’s and DEA’s involvement with bribes, threats, and other abstract means of coercion. However, when the Rochetti and Vezzoni families wanted back the territory that was taken from them, it was war. Opie was the undisputed leader of the organization and therefore a prime target for assassination. This did not stop him from displaying a wave of brutality not seen sense Al Capone’s infamous retaliation against the North Siders in 1929 nearly seventy years prior. The war was bloody and drew political heat that would send anyone short of Pablo Escabar running. With uncanny and ruthless military strategy, and a weapons supply from a Russian arms dealer, Opie battled the Italian families to a devastating effect while keeping himself and his men from years on Riker’s Island.
Opie did not waste any time or expense to prove the Sword’s power and unforgiving nature. Macabre executions, large night raids, and detrimental explosions were giving the well established families a body count they never thought was possible from the newborn gang. The Rochettis attempted to make a peace treaty to end the costly war, but in the light of revenge and survival, profit was no longer the main priority on Opie’s mind. The enemies of the Sword were enemies of Opie, and they needed to be made an example of. He exacted his revenge in full after only eight months of carnage. The two families, who had reigned above all the other regimes on the East Coast, were now forced back into the last place they could find refuge: Little Italy. Opie had spent the war in his office, with his captains, meticulously every move that had been taken. Every brutal death had been orchestrated by his hand and carried out eagerly by his men, but now the time had come for the technopath to establish that he was just as willing to die for the Sword as his men were. October 4th, 2004 went down in criminology as the Bright Night Massacre, and was the last stand of the Rochetti’s and Vezzoni’s against the Sword. Opie split the men into two groups, one went with Opie to the Vezzoni compound and the other followed his cara, Macimo, to the Rochettis. In the streets of Little Italy, a guerilla battle was fought. The amount of people involved and the means used for victory fit more in a place like Somalia or Chad more than the streets of New York. Opie and Macimo fought with their men through the streets and into the compounds, which fell in a display of blood and bullets. The survivors from the families, as well as both Dons, were executed by Opie personally. The Bright Night Massacre gained its name from how the streets lit up with gunshots and moltov cocktails preceding the giant explosion that issued when both compounds were destroyed with countless bricks of C4. There was no power in Little Italy that night, cutting any ability to make contact outside. While Opie was seen visiting a powerplant shortly before the battle began, the ostensible cause of the power failure was a faulty generator.
The Rochetti and Vezzoni families were eliminated. All charges were dropped after Opie spent one hour with the district attorney.
After the war, everything remained peaceful and lucrative. No attempt against the Sword was made and the lack of war coupled with complete control over the New York underworld opened doors for great business. Here Opie made a business partnership with a personal friend. Opie’s closest friend, Mikhail Embi, was a man a decade older than himself from Moscow, Russia. Ruthless leader of the Red Mafia’s operations stateside, Mikhail was a force to be reckoned with, especially with Opie behind him. The main source of Mikhail’s income was gunrunning, and Opie was quick to see the potential in it. Investing enough of his own resources Opie became a partner with Mikhail, and thus an allegiance between the Red Mafia and the Sword of Damocles was formed. It proved to be a great decision instantly, and it allowed Opie to expand his power in the states. The Sword spread up and down the East Coast and West, and Opie made his headquarters in Nevada. Running all the chapters of the Sword through the intricate hierarchy he created, Opie’s authority was supreme and his word final. Out of good faith and hobby rather than necessity, Opie attends all international business transactions personally. While the responsibility and power accompanying it is immense, Opie’s position leaves him with virtually limitless free time due to the fact that he operates through his intricate chain of command.
Opie is famous through the criminal underworld as the leader of the Sword of Damocles, but is also famous in the legitimate community. Through various fronts all over the nation, Opie’s money is accounted for through ostensibly legal means. Coupled with political bribes, this keeps both himself and his organization fairly safe. His affluence and controversial political views are reasons for his fame in the crème de la crème of society. However, his reputation and that of the Sword of Damocles (to those who are familiar with the international criminal underworld) is the reason for his infamy and and a testament to his power.
RP Sample:
Opie walked along the cold fog strewn docks with his trenchcoat tightly fitted to his body. It was early morning, before the sun had fully risin, and either the local fisherman weren’t awake or were vigilant enough to leave at the peak hour. The amount of vessels in the harbor was a sign that the latter was probably the case, and that was no harm to Opie or his company. No, in fact it was the exact opposite. Less people to witness and questionable exchange of goods made everyone feel more comfortable, and when everyone felt comfortable no one was wounded in a needless firefight. The chances of violence were slim to none, but to Opie there was no such thing as paranoid, only extra vigilant. Such a bleak morning for such a lucrative transaction made somewhat of a comical contrast in his mind. In the movies, it rained when the hero died, and the clouds parted when the kingdom was saved. There was no sun beating down with its shining rays of approval, no birds chirping to sing for celebration. Perhaps, Opie thought to himself with a smirk, perhaps what is our celebration will end up another man’s peril. Another innocent’s loss. Maybe that is why its so damned cold and wet out here.
Opie and Mikhail, along with the guards that followed with them carrying live examples of the merchandise to be sold, silently walked up the loading ramp that led to the cargo hold of the gargantuan vessel. The inside of the cargo hold wasn’t suspicious at all, and had already been cleared by customs agents: crates filled with sugar packets from Singapore was little threat, and drew little suspicion. However, it was the new cargo that would end up drawing an unwanted eye if all the players in this card game were not careful.
Upon entry, an elderly stern faced man stood and bowed to the two men entering the room. They both curtiously returned the favor before sitting oppostie him at a cheap round patio table. Opie beckoned his guards over with two fingers, a small nod of his hand before taking off his sunglasses. Pocketing them, he looked the Yakuza lord directly in the eyes as he spoke, though the words would be filtered through the translator.
“It is a pleasure to do business with you Mr. Kai. Yakuza needs strength agains the Triads in this war, and they have come to us seeking aid.” He paused for the translator to finish. Kai’s face jumped ever so slightly in response to this news but he nodded in understanding. “The trafficking of heroin was your trade, your monopoly, and now the Cantonese have their greasy duck fat covered fingers around a mulit-million dollar enterprise. And now, word reaches us that due to various territory disputes with your fine organization and the Triads, the shipping of slaves in and out of the west coast is now under their control.” Once again the old Yakuza lord merely nodded in understanding, clearly a patient man. Opie liked these types, you didn’t have to jump right into the business deal, you could feed them whatever you wanted to pretty the deal. “Yakuza and the Red Mafia have been in good standings since the Wall was torn down. We have decided that to strengthen old ties which were never severed but forgotton, to fund your side of the campaign, as well as create new ties which were never hindered. The Sword of Damocles, in alliance with the Red Mafia, is represented here today, not one or the other, but the two united.”
A bow of the head was all the old man gave to signify his approval. In silence the trio sat for several minutes before he spoke. His voice was slow but firm, and Opie rued that its elegance and authority was dumbed down by the nervous fast speakings of the translator,
“And…these HK’s that the Yoyimbos are getting, such German weaponry is hard to find. Very expensive. Very powerful. Not enough they have Israeli machine pistol, you must back them further by providing those of German make. You intend to sell me knock off to fight with state of art weaponry?”
Opie quickly shook his head no and bowed in respect, speaking with a slight grin that was more insulting than comforting. “Triad muscles are not strong enough to hold an assault rifle. The best they can lift is an SMG. No, the Yakuza has the exclusive option to buy Ak’s and M4’s, as well as any machine pistol or double action pistol that has been availiable to the Triads.” With a wave of his hand, the old man beckoned forth a man who appeared to be a lawyer who handed them slips of paper, “Swiss Bank Account. After weapons are shipped we will provide the necessary information to ship the money to your pockets.”
“No,” Opie said, “half now half later. That way the Sword has some collateral in case the unlikely event that you do not pay us occurs. If that is a problem, then I will take my merchandise elsewhere.”
When Opie spoke that time, giving his demand, his voice became cold. It was not insulting or threatening, but held an icy firmness that showed his authority. Even with a room full of Yakuza henchmen that could easily slaughter both arms dealers, they were untouchable. To attack either of them was an act of war against both the Red Mafia and the Sword of Damocles. The Japanese men conversed in whispers for a few minutes, and then nodded. Bank accounts and passwords were given, and the deal was done. Upon departure, Opie’s men left behind four large dufflebags filled with Ak’s and Street Sweepers, and enough armor piercing rounds to break through the Korean border.
Ten minutes later, Opie had a cigarette in his mouth and his attitude had changed greatly. He and Mikhail were walking briskly now up the Florida shores, their guards having gone to secure the private estate they were staying at.
“What I don’t get about those damned japs,” Opie said, twitching and jerking some as he walked, “is that they always try to screw you for keeping a war going! They don’t try killing you for it, they try to screw
you! Try making you feel bad for supporting the other side even if you‘re giving them a better deal! Mikhail, if you catch wind that any of my negiators give in to shit like that, let me know.”
“Shut up Opie,” Mikhail said, his russian accent thick and heavy, “You americans don’t know when to shut up. We are in public, people hear the words we say and can say them back. They can say them to D.E.A, Interpol, F.S.B. Besides,” He took a draft from his cigar and smiled some, “Masumi is japanese. Don’t talk bad about them. She’ll get offended.”
Opie shrugged and waved the remark off. None of it meant a thing to him, not the D.E.A not Interpol and especially not Mikhail’s Japanese girlfriend. “Did I get our stuff sold? Huh? I acted like a professional, and we got professional results. So quit bitching every time I get worked up cause some guy tries to stitch me. I don’t like it. It’s offensive. Anyhow, I’m headin out for a few days. Not back to Nevada, but up to Hell‘s. I heard Macimo needs a little help running things, says theres something brewing in Harlem we gotta put out before it gets started.”
“What the hell for?” Mikhail turned and grabbed Opie by the shoulder, “I have to close the deal with those crazy Triads, and they’ll hear about today’s meeting by then. I need some backup, and I need you to close the deal. What am I supposed to do?”
Opie smiled broadly at his friend and patted him on the cheek lightly, “I love you buddy, but you’re gonna have to take care of this one on your own. You sold the hell out of those guns before I came along, and you can do it now. I‘ll probably stay up in New York for a few months. Anyhow, I‘ll send Faust to help you. He‘s the only backup you‘re ever gonna need. Hell, just send one of your negotiators. You don‘t have to do it yourself.”
Mikhail shrugged and checked his watch, “Eh, I don’t know. I like going to the transactions that are war related. That way I know we don’t accidently piss off someone and get a war on our hands. Stateside we’re safe, but I have assets outside of the U.S, and if you play your cards right you’ll be getting some. Hey,” He shouted and waved down a cab, “I don’t have to worry about our calls being traced right?”
Opie merely chuckled and got into the cab with his friend. The men were taking the cars back to safety should there be a tip off that they were carrying hot items. If that was the case, Opie wasn’t about to get caught for something so small. No other word was said given the fact they were in the presence of a stranger. Minutes later they were at a small airport with several G5’s. The luxuries private jets cost hundreds of thousands of dollars to maintain every year. Making their way over to Mikhail’s jet, the Russian turned to his friend with a grin,
“I’ll fly you into Odessa. You go on and do whatever, but I gotta check on the East Coast a bit myself.”
Opie chuckled and nodded, “Been a while, eh? Well, New York here we come.”
===========================================================================
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
===========================================================================
Cool Trivia Notes
There are some cool little notes about Opie, like OOC stuff, that I throw in for fun hehe. Check em out. Any questions concerning the relation can be pmed to me.
His last name/name of the gang: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sword_of_Damocles
His alias: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pand%C3%A6monium_(Paradise_Lost)
Alias: Pandemonium
Age: 26
Age (looks): 24
Gender: Male
Alliance: Neutral {The Sword of Damocles}
Mutant Personality: Opie, like any smart business man, can act how he is needed depending on the situation. He is a very gregarious and fun person, and can be playfully sarcastic, but is quite vigilant. While he is very intellectual and does what is best for business, once a personal injustice has been brought down upon him, there is no limit to what he will do. In spite of his tattoos (read below), Opie is a mutant supremacist who holds no aggression towards humans who support the mutant struggle.
Mutant Appearance: In his own opinion, Opie isn't a bad looking man. He stands at around six feet tall, the average height for a man his age in his family. He stays in shape with his daily workouts, though is not anywhere near a body builder. Most consider him to have a rough sense of charm with his scruffy goatee, dark green eyes, and his hair cut into a short mohawk. However, with a charming gaze and a nicely kept smile, the Greco-Irish man makes for a very charming indivual.
Tattoos: On the left side of his neck a simple X dignified that he was a mutant. On his right forearm, over a visible a double helix and made of barbed wire, were the letters M.C.T.D. The letters stood for Mutants Collect Their Dues. On the other forearm, with the same background, was an unbalanced scale. On the heavy side (that closest to the bottom) was the skull of a cyclops. On the lifted side was a pyramid of ordinary skulls. The message was simple: to Opie, one mutant death would be avenged tenfold. While his arms boasted revenge, his neck merely association, his chest held the one true message of supremacy: a pair of hands shackled together by a double helix. On the left hand a message was burnt, HUMAN 5012-B3. A symbol of humans enslaved by the superior gene pool and a mockery of the Registration Act.
Mutant Powers: Technopathy, or the ability to control technology/electronic devices.
Mutant History/Background:
Born in the iconic and infamous Manhattan neighborhood known as Hell's Kitchen, Opie's environment was not conducive to the formation of any bright and optimistic future. However, like most of the other children in the metropolitan vice of warehouses and steel mills, the Greco-Irish boy grew up tough. Even in the rundown and mostly impoverished neighborhood, Opie’s home life was not near as bad as some of his friends’. While money was tight, as it was all over the city, his father had the benefit of holding a government job, a postal worker. His mother worked in the school system as a cafeteria lady, and due to their long working hours they made enough money to get along month by month. Regardless of the fact Opie’s Irish mother and Greek father were both devout Catholics, (as were he and his four brothers), the boys still managed to get into trouble. Rather than falling in with the wrong crowd, they banded together and became a gang of hooligans participating in petty crimes from illegal gambling (more often than not simple games like pinochle in alleyways between warehouses) to pick pocketing and selling stolen goods. This life, this life of petty crime in the boys’ younger years, was to grow in magnitude with the years and become a permanent existence.
For years, there had been signs of his mutant activity that he had ignored and waved off as spook coincidences. In the early years of puberty, from approximately eleven to thirteen years of age, his mood would make electronic devices react. When he would get angry with his parents and storm out of the house, lights would often flicker or even cut off until he was yards away. Temper tantrums or frustration would often cause appliance to shut off or turn on. When he was fourteen, he and his brothers waved off more odd occurrences: the television in their room would turn on before Opie would click the power button, or change channel when Opie asked what else was on. They all realized what was going on, and honestly would not have loved their brother and companion any less for being a mutant, but they knew if they accidentally let it slip around their parents Opie might be kicked out of the house. The parents, one having been in Greece and the other in Ireland during the Summer of Love, were void of the understanding hippy mentality that some American parents still slightly held. One rose to be a wife, the other a laborer, they viewed mutants as a threat to their jobs and home. An incident that year proved to the boys Opie had special gifts made him truly unique in the family.
It was on a cold winter night, near Christmas, and a torrential blizzard trapped the boys indoors. Fate, in her cruel sense of humor, decided to further the boys’ boredom by knocking out the power lines. Angry and depressed, the boys sat around in a state of monotony. After only thirty minutes or so, Opie stood up and stared at the television set in the seemingly vain hope it would magically start working. Out of pure frustration, he threw his shoe at the box and shouted in anger, “Just fucking turn on already!” Before the shoe even hit the screen, the television turned on and the boys had their football game to watch. All the lights were still out and nowhere else on his street had power, but a sole light came from their room as they watched the New York Giants and Indianapolis Colts game on CBS.
From that point on Opie began practicing. It was the only way he could think of to control his ability in public places, but that wasn’t even his agenda for training. He and his brothers were old enough now to where they would make life changing decisions. Due to the movies and their own experiences, they automatically glorified a life of crime. More importantly, they were good at it and knew it. However, with age, ambition, and the tools necessary it only made sense to delve into heavier crimes. After that football game, the brothers went off into a fit of excitement with ideas for their youngest and now most talented brother. Macimo, five years Opie’s senior and the oldest sibling, was the first to realize that this ability would allow them to commit crimes of a higher magnitude. It was an instant stroke of genius, and all five boys were on board, but Opie’s reasoning made him realize something: If he were caught with these powers, due to trying to use them and failing, that would be the end of their little gang life. Instead he decided that they should lay low and focus on school to fool their parents. This provided Opie with all the practice he needed for he and his brothers to launch their plans.
After a school year and a summer later, Opie was ready for high school. Opie had spent every waking moment honing his incredible skill. If it was electric, the fifteen year old was trying his damnedest to control it. The constant practice led him to a state where he could manipulate things as complex as computer programs and ATM machines by the time he was sixteen. At this point, the group began progressing at an alarming rate. Limitless income from ATM machines provided them the financial support to launch operations larger than anyone that age was used to. Stolen items were just as easy to acquire, due to the fact that no alarms would ever go off regardless of the form of entry. On top of it all, the boys and their friends maintained a perfect 4.0 grade point average without every having to do one ounce of homework, a testament to the benefits of manipulating the school’s computer systems.
From that point on they kept going. The Black Market became their life, and Opie even started the sale of credit card numbers he could acquire online. High school was a paradise for the boys, due to the money and popularity they gained. The infamy made things a tad harder with the authorities, but was a cause for respect amongst their peers. However, it was after high school that this life became permanent. Once all the boys were out, they merely widened their scope of potential income. Within a year after Opie’s 18th birthday, Hell’s Kitchen was under illicit control of the Damocles brothers. Two years after that, when Opie was turning 21, Hell’s Kitchen was the capital of an underworld empire in New York City. Areas from Hell’s to Brooklyn, Staten to the Bronx, and nearly the entire melting pot known as Manhattan was under their control. Their territory wasn’t huge, but was immensely large for the short time it took to acquire it. However, with power comes enemies, and with enemies comes the need for protection. Opie, now the official leader of this organization, had many loyal men working for him. His brothers and close friends formed the hierarchy of what would quickly become the newest and one of the most powerful organized crime groups in the nation: The Sword of Damocles.
The Sword of Damocles was born in a bloody war on two fronts. Opie, a well known mutant in the underworld, was one of the few in illicit power at the time. His political stand brought a powerful enemy against him: the government. While the Registration Act hadn’t been passed yet, the animosity for mutants was still high. Police and the courts were more willing to throw a mutant in prison, and Opie’s muintir was comprised solely of mutants and humans who supported mutants. While the idealistic view of equality was ubiquitous among all members of the Sword, it was not one of their goals. The only goal they had was profit. Profit brought progression, progression brought power, and power brought peace. So naturally when government interference threatened this profit, Opie moved quickly to sabotage the ATF’s and DEA’s involvement with bribes, threats, and other abstract means of coercion. However, when the Rochetti and Vezzoni families wanted back the territory that was taken from them, it was war. Opie was the undisputed leader of the organization and therefore a prime target for assassination. This did not stop him from displaying a wave of brutality not seen sense Al Capone’s infamous retaliation against the North Siders in 1929 nearly seventy years prior. The war was bloody and drew political heat that would send anyone short of Pablo Escabar running. With uncanny and ruthless military strategy, and a weapons supply from a Russian arms dealer, Opie battled the Italian families to a devastating effect while keeping himself and his men from years on Riker’s Island.
Opie did not waste any time or expense to prove the Sword’s power and unforgiving nature. Macabre executions, large night raids, and detrimental explosions were giving the well established families a body count they never thought was possible from the newborn gang. The Rochettis attempted to make a peace treaty to end the costly war, but in the light of revenge and survival, profit was no longer the main priority on Opie’s mind. The enemies of the Sword were enemies of Opie, and they needed to be made an example of. He exacted his revenge in full after only eight months of carnage. The two families, who had reigned above all the other regimes on the East Coast, were now forced back into the last place they could find refuge: Little Italy. Opie had spent the war in his office, with his captains, meticulously every move that had been taken. Every brutal death had been orchestrated by his hand and carried out eagerly by his men, but now the time had come for the technopath to establish that he was just as willing to die for the Sword as his men were. October 4th, 2004 went down in criminology as the Bright Night Massacre, and was the last stand of the Rochetti’s and Vezzoni’s against the Sword. Opie split the men into two groups, one went with Opie to the Vezzoni compound and the other followed his cara, Macimo, to the Rochettis. In the streets of Little Italy, a guerilla battle was fought. The amount of people involved and the means used for victory fit more in a place like Somalia or Chad more than the streets of New York. Opie and Macimo fought with their men through the streets and into the compounds, which fell in a display of blood and bullets. The survivors from the families, as well as both Dons, were executed by Opie personally. The Bright Night Massacre gained its name from how the streets lit up with gunshots and moltov cocktails preceding the giant explosion that issued when both compounds were destroyed with countless bricks of C4. There was no power in Little Italy that night, cutting any ability to make contact outside. While Opie was seen visiting a powerplant shortly before the battle began, the ostensible cause of the power failure was a faulty generator.
The Rochetti and Vezzoni families were eliminated. All charges were dropped after Opie spent one hour with the district attorney.
After the war, everything remained peaceful and lucrative. No attempt against the Sword was made and the lack of war coupled with complete control over the New York underworld opened doors for great business. Here Opie made a business partnership with a personal friend. Opie’s closest friend, Mikhail Embi, was a man a decade older than himself from Moscow, Russia. Ruthless leader of the Red Mafia’s operations stateside, Mikhail was a force to be reckoned with, especially with Opie behind him. The main source of Mikhail’s income was gunrunning, and Opie was quick to see the potential in it. Investing enough of his own resources Opie became a partner with Mikhail, and thus an allegiance between the Red Mafia and the Sword of Damocles was formed. It proved to be a great decision instantly, and it allowed Opie to expand his power in the states. The Sword spread up and down the East Coast and West, and Opie made his headquarters in Nevada. Running all the chapters of the Sword through the intricate hierarchy he created, Opie’s authority was supreme and his word final. Out of good faith and hobby rather than necessity, Opie attends all international business transactions personally. While the responsibility and power accompanying it is immense, Opie’s position leaves him with virtually limitless free time due to the fact that he operates through his intricate chain of command.
Opie is famous through the criminal underworld as the leader of the Sword of Damocles, but is also famous in the legitimate community. Through various fronts all over the nation, Opie’s money is accounted for through ostensibly legal means. Coupled with political bribes, this keeps both himself and his organization fairly safe. His affluence and controversial political views are reasons for his fame in the crème de la crème of society. However, his reputation and that of the Sword of Damocles (to those who are familiar with the international criminal underworld) is the reason for his infamy and and a testament to his power.
RP Sample:
Opie walked along the cold fog strewn docks with his trenchcoat tightly fitted to his body. It was early morning, before the sun had fully risin, and either the local fisherman weren’t awake or were vigilant enough to leave at the peak hour. The amount of vessels in the harbor was a sign that the latter was probably the case, and that was no harm to Opie or his company. No, in fact it was the exact opposite. Less people to witness and questionable exchange of goods made everyone feel more comfortable, and when everyone felt comfortable no one was wounded in a needless firefight. The chances of violence were slim to none, but to Opie there was no such thing as paranoid, only extra vigilant. Such a bleak morning for such a lucrative transaction made somewhat of a comical contrast in his mind. In the movies, it rained when the hero died, and the clouds parted when the kingdom was saved. There was no sun beating down with its shining rays of approval, no birds chirping to sing for celebration. Perhaps, Opie thought to himself with a smirk, perhaps what is our celebration will end up another man’s peril. Another innocent’s loss. Maybe that is why its so damned cold and wet out here.
Opie and Mikhail, along with the guards that followed with them carrying live examples of the merchandise to be sold, silently walked up the loading ramp that led to the cargo hold of the gargantuan vessel. The inside of the cargo hold wasn’t suspicious at all, and had already been cleared by customs agents: crates filled with sugar packets from Singapore was little threat, and drew little suspicion. However, it was the new cargo that would end up drawing an unwanted eye if all the players in this card game were not careful.
Upon entry, an elderly stern faced man stood and bowed to the two men entering the room. They both curtiously returned the favor before sitting oppostie him at a cheap round patio table. Opie beckoned his guards over with two fingers, a small nod of his hand before taking off his sunglasses. Pocketing them, he looked the Yakuza lord directly in the eyes as he spoke, though the words would be filtered through the translator.
“It is a pleasure to do business with you Mr. Kai. Yakuza needs strength agains the Triads in this war, and they have come to us seeking aid.” He paused for the translator to finish. Kai’s face jumped ever so slightly in response to this news but he nodded in understanding. “The trafficking of heroin was your trade, your monopoly, and now the Cantonese have their greasy duck fat covered fingers around a mulit-million dollar enterprise. And now, word reaches us that due to various territory disputes with your fine organization and the Triads, the shipping of slaves in and out of the west coast is now under their control.” Once again the old Yakuza lord merely nodded in understanding, clearly a patient man. Opie liked these types, you didn’t have to jump right into the business deal, you could feed them whatever you wanted to pretty the deal. “Yakuza and the Red Mafia have been in good standings since the Wall was torn down. We have decided that to strengthen old ties which were never severed but forgotton, to fund your side of the campaign, as well as create new ties which were never hindered. The Sword of Damocles, in alliance with the Red Mafia, is represented here today, not one or the other, but the two united.”
A bow of the head was all the old man gave to signify his approval. In silence the trio sat for several minutes before he spoke. His voice was slow but firm, and Opie rued that its elegance and authority was dumbed down by the nervous fast speakings of the translator,
“And…these HK’s that the Yoyimbos are getting, such German weaponry is hard to find. Very expensive. Very powerful. Not enough they have Israeli machine pistol, you must back them further by providing those of German make. You intend to sell me knock off to fight with state of art weaponry?”
Opie quickly shook his head no and bowed in respect, speaking with a slight grin that was more insulting than comforting. “Triad muscles are not strong enough to hold an assault rifle. The best they can lift is an SMG. No, the Yakuza has the exclusive option to buy Ak’s and M4’s, as well as any machine pistol or double action pistol that has been availiable to the Triads.” With a wave of his hand, the old man beckoned forth a man who appeared to be a lawyer who handed them slips of paper, “Swiss Bank Account. After weapons are shipped we will provide the necessary information to ship the money to your pockets.”
“No,” Opie said, “half now half later. That way the Sword has some collateral in case the unlikely event that you do not pay us occurs. If that is a problem, then I will take my merchandise elsewhere.”
When Opie spoke that time, giving his demand, his voice became cold. It was not insulting or threatening, but held an icy firmness that showed his authority. Even with a room full of Yakuza henchmen that could easily slaughter both arms dealers, they were untouchable. To attack either of them was an act of war against both the Red Mafia and the Sword of Damocles. The Japanese men conversed in whispers for a few minutes, and then nodded. Bank accounts and passwords were given, and the deal was done. Upon departure, Opie’s men left behind four large dufflebags filled with Ak’s and Street Sweepers, and enough armor piercing rounds to break through the Korean border.
Ten minutes later, Opie had a cigarette in his mouth and his attitude had changed greatly. He and Mikhail were walking briskly now up the Florida shores, their guards having gone to secure the private estate they were staying at.
“What I don’t get about those damned japs,” Opie said, twitching and jerking some as he walked, “is that they always try to screw you for keeping a war going! They don’t try killing you for it, they try to screw
you! Try making you feel bad for supporting the other side even if you‘re giving them a better deal! Mikhail, if you catch wind that any of my negiators give in to shit like that, let me know.”
“Shut up Opie,” Mikhail said, his russian accent thick and heavy, “You americans don’t know when to shut up. We are in public, people hear the words we say and can say them back. They can say them to D.E.A, Interpol, F.S.B. Besides,” He took a draft from his cigar and smiled some, “Masumi is japanese. Don’t talk bad about them. She’ll get offended.”
Opie shrugged and waved the remark off. None of it meant a thing to him, not the D.E.A not Interpol and especially not Mikhail’s Japanese girlfriend. “Did I get our stuff sold? Huh? I acted like a professional, and we got professional results. So quit bitching every time I get worked up cause some guy tries to stitch me. I don’t like it. It’s offensive. Anyhow, I’m headin out for a few days. Not back to Nevada, but up to Hell‘s. I heard Macimo needs a little help running things, says theres something brewing in Harlem we gotta put out before it gets started.”
“What the hell for?” Mikhail turned and grabbed Opie by the shoulder, “I have to close the deal with those crazy Triads, and they’ll hear about today’s meeting by then. I need some backup, and I need you to close the deal. What am I supposed to do?”
Opie smiled broadly at his friend and patted him on the cheek lightly, “I love you buddy, but you’re gonna have to take care of this one on your own. You sold the hell out of those guns before I came along, and you can do it now. I‘ll probably stay up in New York for a few months. Anyhow, I‘ll send Faust to help you. He‘s the only backup you‘re ever gonna need. Hell, just send one of your negotiators. You don‘t have to do it yourself.”
Mikhail shrugged and checked his watch, “Eh, I don’t know. I like going to the transactions that are war related. That way I know we don’t accidently piss off someone and get a war on our hands. Stateside we’re safe, but I have assets outside of the U.S, and if you play your cards right you’ll be getting some. Hey,” He shouted and waved down a cab, “I don’t have to worry about our calls being traced right?”
Opie merely chuckled and got into the cab with his friend. The men were taking the cars back to safety should there be a tip off that they were carrying hot items. If that was the case, Opie wasn’t about to get caught for something so small. No other word was said given the fact they were in the presence of a stranger. Minutes later they were at a small airport with several G5’s. The luxuries private jets cost hundreds of thousands of dollars to maintain every year. Making their way over to Mikhail’s jet, the Russian turned to his friend with a grin,
“I’ll fly you into Odessa. You go on and do whatever, but I gotta check on the East Coast a bit myself.”
Opie chuckled and nodded, “Been a while, eh? Well, New York here we come.”
===========================================================================
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
===========================================================================
Cool Trivia Notes
There are some cool little notes about Opie, like OOC stuff, that I throw in for fun hehe. Check em out. Any questions concerning the relation can be pmed to me.
His last name/name of the gang: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sword_of_Damocles
His alias: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pand%C3%A6monium_(Paradise_Lost)
