Psychosis Is a Point of View

Mon, 24 Dec 2007 05:29:54 GMT

basics

Full Name: Jack Damien Cavanagh
Nickname(s): Depending on how close you are to him, he may or may not let you call him Jacky. Better not to risk it unless you're absolutely certain, though, as if you're wrong and he really doesn't want you addressing him so familiarly, he may in fact rip out your tongue.
Age/Birthday:25 26 // January 12th, 1982
Occupation: There’s no real job title for what Jack does. He’s an arranger and a fixer-of-problems and cleaner-of-messes. He’s a broker of information and a courier and dealer in favors. As well as more tangible, certainly more illicit, substances. He’s an overseer of operations. The fact that some of these operations include drug and arms dealing, arson, murder, theft, blackmail and extortion are beside the point. Jack is an odd-job sort of guy. But above all, he’s is right hand man to his boss. Second in command. Whatever his superior can’t or won’t do, Jack gladly will.

personality

When one thinks about mob-type-tough-guys, probably someone like Jack does not immediately jump to mind. He’s not one of those neckless, thuggish bullet-fodder that he’s often seen in the company of, and if anything, presents the image of an amiable, friendly kind of guy. In fact, his normally charming and well-meaning countenance can make his frequent turns of mind even more disturbing. He treats killing casually and takes to his work with enthusiasm. He’s built up something of a reputation for a man who wouldn’t hesitate to end a life. He’ll murder people who he sees as a threat, who may cause problems in the future or even, on one or two cases, who look at him funny. Although it’s not killing per se that he’s so fond of. Any sort of destruction. As a kid, he was the sort of little boy who would just as soon throw a stone at a stray cat as set it on fire. He derives just as much pleasure from smashing something pretty and delicate as taking a life.

For the most part, aside from those times when necessity calls for him to pistol whip a lippy subordinate or empty a few rounds of ammunition into a problem for some silly reason or another, Jack comes off like a nice guy. Definitely more amiable than most mobsters you might run into. It's hard, really, to slap a label on what disorder he has exactly. He displays traits indicating sociopathy, narcissism, pyromania, homicidal mania, pathological lying, megalomania and psychopathy (of course). There's probably more, but it's doubtful whether one would have the chance to delve further into the matter. Jack doesn't appreciate people picking through his head much.

In many ways, Jack is a textbook psychopath. He’s extremely intelligent and well read, although he never did get around to going to college. He keeps himself updated on world affairs. He’s charming to a degree that many people underestimate him; Jack can easily come off as just the Dumb Irishman. The strength of his accent actually tends to vary ever so slightly depending on who he’s talking to. He has absolutely no remorse for anything he’s done. Well, perhaps he does, but he likes to think that he really is a good person, because he attends mass every week and goes to Confession regularly. Murdering, psychotic lunatic though he may be, he’s a damn good Catholic. Jack is a champion liar and knows how to twist words so sweetly he could tell you to go to hell looking forward to the trip.

Besides his blackjack, he keeps a .22 somewhere on his person at all times, and usually a blade of some sort. Getting into a fight with him his a bad idea; he has no concept of decency or rules and is as dirty a fighter as you’ll ever find. This means he may bite and probably has some sharp or blunt object hidden in his hand. The way he sees it, it’s survival of the fittest. This philosophy very much applies to how he sees his work – backstabbing superiors to climb higher himself or pitting people against each other them is not beneath him. He sees it just as business as usual. Then again, he's also been known to do it because it's just fun. He enjoys playing with and manipulating others. He's the sort who take a man out for a drink before he shot him. Jack thinks of himself as a people person, and actually takes a genuine interest in who they are and what's made them that way. You'd think that his talent for talking to others would make him see them as people. And he does. But this still doesn't stop him from shooting them on the spot.

He dislikes uptight people or people who can’t take a joke, although Jack’s own sense of humor is more than a mite twisted. He enjoys Stanley Kubrick and Terry Gilliam films. He’s addicted to Jack Daniels and cigarettes and the Four Seasons’ music. He laments that the Simpsons and SNL are not as good as they were when he was younger. He comes off like a regular, rather likable guy. There's nothing overtly out of the ordinary about his interests aside from a disturbingly thorough knowledge of human anatomy. Meeting him in bar, you’d never so much as suspect his homicidal tendencies. But no matter how normal he may come off, Jack’s demons are always lurking very close.

appearance

Jack’s appearance, if you discount the fancy suits, is pretty simple. He has no visible tattoos or scars, no piercing and he does little with his hair. It’s usually kept its natural dirty blond and cropped short. Although, speaking of tattoos, he does have one small one on his back of two words in Gaelic: 'Sainmhíniú Maithiúnas'. Jack's pretty sure it means 'seeking forgiveness'. He woke up with it one morning (incidentally, the morning after St. Patrick's day) when he was nineteen and still in New York. He got spectacularly drunk the night before, and he can only assume, that he'd decided to get it in a fit of passion and pride for his native land. Maybe it meant something profound at the time. He still can't give a full explanation for why it's there beyond 'I was really plastered and it seemed like a good idea at the time'. Jack's eyes are light, although it’s hard to give them a color. You could say they were grey, but an argument could also be put up for blue or green as well. As far as his complexion goes, Jack doesn’t tan well. He freckles. Depending on what time of the year it is, these freckles may either be sparse and just enough on his face to be deemed cute or so exponential in number that he looks like he might have a skin disease. That said, Jack doesn’t go out of the way to tan. He’s not very tall; in fact, some might even call him short. He’s not exactly muscled, but nevertheless, there’s something of a wiry strength about his frame. He tends to smile a lot, and this plus the fact that he stays clean-shaven most of the time, gives him a boyish quality. Most think he’s younger than he actually is.

Dress Style:

Jack’s personal belief has always been that clothes make the man. As such, he is usually seen wearing suits. Said suits look like they might’ve been inspired by an old gangster movie. This image is help along by the fact that he usually wears a hat that looks like it might’ve been nicked from Al Capone. He’s intensely vain, and his suits are always immaculately pressed and his shoes are shined to such a degree that you might be able to see your face in it. Getting dirt on his suit or messing it up may result in your instantaneous death. You never really can tell with Jack.

Manner of Speech:

Jack’s voice is loud and expressive, and will get louder and even more expressive as he gets excited. Its tone also suggests that he’s constantly telling a joke that only he gets. His accent is Irish, softened somewhat from being in the U.S. for so long (although it does pick up the strength it once had whenever he's around his family or especially drunk). And, of course, more specifically, it's a Belfast accent; the definite Irish lilt with a hint of British poshness. There is also a word or two you might be able to catch that smacks of Dublin. Blame his mother. But his manner of speech has a changed a lot since when he first arrived; he now mixes slang from both sides of the Atlantic, which can be off putting. Most people wouldn't expect to hear the words 'dude' and 'bloke' in the same sentence.

history

You’d think that someone with Jack’s… unique mentality would come from a broken home – that perhaps he suffered some sort of trauma as a boy or was beaten a lot or just wasn’t held enough by his mother. Strangely enough, such is not the case. Jack was born into a relatively happy home as the second of three boys in Belfast, Northern Ireland. They weren’t particularly rich, but neither could one call them poor. His parents were well-educated; his mother was a nurse and his father a teacher at a public school in the city. In his down time, Thomas Cavanagh was also a passionate Republican and member of the IRA. Well, the Official IRA. The old IRA; call it what you like, but, as Thomas would often go on long speeches about, he was most definitely not a provo. The Provisional IRA had always been something of a sore spot for Jack’s father. This meant that for the first few years of his life, Jack’s upbringing was strictly Catholic, and he was told that Protestants and Loyalists were most certainly, absolutely definitely the enemy, although when he was asked why, he was never quite given a clear explanation. Although he likes to think that he’s mostly gotten over that little bias, matters of conflicting religion and any mention of the Troubles will set him on edge.

At age seventeen, his father died; this dealt both him and his family a major blow. It was lung cancer that did his dear old dad in. You’d think that this would deter Jack from smoking, but the thought never seems to have crossed his mind. At any rate, his father’s death struck Jack’s mother most of all. Perhaps it was the fact that she was originally from Dublin, or that perhaps she’d always disliked the city anyway and only stayed there for her husband. It might’ve even been that she was just afraid for their safety or that the place held too many bad memories. Whatever the reason (none of her children ever asked), she packed up the whole family, and they moved to the States. More specifically, to New York, where Jack’s mother had relatives. Although Jack begged and pleaded to stay in Belfast, to perhaps be taken under the care of his grandparents or some other relation, his mother refused to comply. To New York they went, and in New York they stayed. Oddly enough, although it was only a year until Jack would no longer be a minor and so good do whatever he wanted as he pleased (which meant moving back to Ireland), he stayed in America. He actually found New York to his liking.

It was in the city that he found his calling. Some people are called to be artists or businessmen or, in the case of Jack’s elder brother, priests. Jack, for his part, ended up in a life of crime. He was always a violent boy; not the kind that bullied or started fights, but a quiet kid that even the bullies stayed away from, because if they dared touch him, he would fly off the handle and do something completely out of line. His has always been a very focused sort of violence – or at least, that’s how it started out. For his first job, a real and proper legal job, he was doing something menial and dull. What it was exactly isn’t important. Suffice to say that, bored to death, he quit, and found a considerably more lucrative career in running with a dealer. He was a sort of thug, although Jack’s always hated that word. He’d be the one in charge in making sure that debts were paid or the appropriate people taken care of, if the need ever arose. He never did the drugs much himself, but eventually, he found out that his dealer did. Said narcotics were making Jack’s first boss testy and, most importantly, a drain on the business. By the consensus of everyone who worked around him, Jack made short work of his superior. He was the next man down, and could have taken over the operation if he wanted. But instead he handed over power to someone who would be more interested.

After that, he left the crew he’d been running with and spent a few years doing a bit of… independent enterprise on his own. Most of it was the theft and selling of stolen valuables. But after a few months, he had a close brush with the law. He and the policemen in question had fought for a bit, although Jack finally managed to lift the cop’s own blackjack off of him and beat the bastard’s brains out. After that, Jack had left New York for his current position. He’d started out as a lower member of his boss’s gang but was quickly marked out as exceptional. Or at least someone worth keeping an eye on. The fact that many of his superiors had a habit of ‘vanishing’ without warning might have had something to do with it. But Jack is happy where he is now and loyal to a fault, make no mistake.

He became the one anyone in the gang went to if something bad had to be done that they weren’t willing to do themselves. Or if someone had to be killed or tortured or any other unpleasant act that might make the average person squeamish. As he likes to joke, Jack’s main occupation is troubleshooting.

Family:
Father – Thomas Cavanagh (deceased)
Mother – Catriona Cavanagh, nee Michaeil
Brothers – Daniel Cavanagh (32), Theodore Cavanagh (20)

ooc

Not Ben Foster, nor deriving any profit from this journal. For RP purposes only at City of Eden. Plz to not be suing, kthx. Layout from thefulcrum

All God does is watch us and kill us when we get boring.

Psychosis Is a Point of View