FBI Fact File - Falenor Xante
Name: Falenor Xante
Alias: Falenor Toragnol
Height: 186cm
Weight: 126 lbs
Hair Colour: Dark Brown
Eye Colour: Hazel
Date of Birth: Unknown
Age: 23

Nationality: British
Ethnicity: 1/2 Scottish, 1/2 English
US Citizenship: Acquired

Current location: Unknown
Last known location: New York City

Additional Notes: Subject is known son of Thomas Xante, English Crime Lord.
Affiliated with drug dealing and ring leading.
Presumed armed and dangerous.
Noted for sadistic tendencies.
Do not approach

But enough of the cold hard figures I'm sure.
Would you care to see what lies behind?
What makes a monster?
Who am I?

Aged three I suffered the greatest trauma of my life to date which is a considerable statement when compared to what I have to say. My parents were apparently killed in a tragic car accident, what did I know though. They left plenty of money, how convenient. It did me little good in the hands of those greedy fucking bastards.

The orphanage was terrible, sent there only four years old I was bullied constantly. All the case reports I have stolen note me as having sadistic compulsions. Only I can trace them this far back. I broke a child's arm, just because I could, because it felt good to do it. They taught me to fight, I outgrew them rapidly.

I was separated from the other children, it put potential parents off the gifted ones. I was gifted in my own special way, that was what attracted the money bags. They didn't love me but they wanted to prove to the world they could correct what was apparently a mentally deformed child.

They couldn't, instead they threw money at me when they realised they could not simply trade me back for another child and I lived most of my early teens on my own. High School to High School I took these fucking tendencies they've labelled me with. In truth I just like feeling superior, who doesn't?

552, that fucking hell hole. Fifteen to nineteen I stayed in that wretched hive of scum and villainy and yet I do not remember these years. Some time after I joined, my foster parents were shot dead, the money vanished and I was left with a rather costly heroin addiction and nobody to pay for it.

From this addiction stemmed numerous side effects, one of which is that four years of my life are practically missing. I remember the key figures and the events but not the people in between them. Truly, my only clear memory is that of the man I must find. Mathew Amtrum, the boy who made me who I am.

Leaving that place, I came off the drugs. Seeing what the addiction had done to me, I was forced to confront my demons. I made a promise to myself that day. Other people would suffer what I had done to myself. How better could I achieve this goal by becoming a dealer? Old family connections surfaced, the brother I never knew introduced me to my real father.

Car accident, ha. He'd simply taken an extra long vacation to avoid the law. As it turns out, they were in the drug business and huge in Great Britain. It had been a long time since I'd even heard the term and I wasn't prepared to move there but they fronted me the resources required to get myself up and running.

I became a name in New York and eventually the name in New York. If you wanted drugs, I owned the rings, all of them. And then one day a letter came through my door, addressed to a faithful friend.

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Stats:

Strength: C
Dexterity: C
Constitution: D
Wisdom: B