ESSENTIALSName: Eloise Hunter
Nickname: Elly, Hunter
Age and Birth Date: 36, born 4/25/73
Occupation: Police Officer
APPEARANCEHunter is a fairly average dame, with mid-length, smooth brown hair, skin with just a breath of tan, and brown eyes that lighten almost imperceptibly around the pupil. She's around 5'2" and well-built, physically fit enough to run after hooligans or kick down doors, but she's also got just enough excess weight to soften up a first impression.
That pleasant first impression is usually made form the back, because there is no question about her character when you see her face. Her nose was severe enough, long, upturned and flaring, before it got broken three times, adding their own bumps and bends. Her cheekbones are sharp, her lips are thin, and her jaw is squared and solid. Makeup would just make her look ridiculous, so she forgoes it.
Aside from her uniform, she favors comfortable, baggy clothing like sweat shirts/pants for lounging around her house, and tighter shirts and jeans when out and about (harder to grab that way). She wears mostly neutral, earthy colors.
PERSONALITYAt work, Her most common expressions include scowls, grimaces and snarls, with the occasional heavy frown when she's in a good mood. There's hardly anything classically feminine about her save for a mild care for her appearance, some maternal instinct (usually exercised on the job, as she is single and has no pets), and an easily-suppressed need for cleanliness.Hunter is, oddly enough, not completely devoid of niceness, making a decent enough friend or acquaintance. She's become hard after years on the force, certainly, but she didn't join up just to beat the snot outta criminals (though that WAS a major factor) - she first wanted to help people, and to keep Irnsquare safe.
She works out fairly frequently and enjoys fighting people in any way, shape or form. She
does have morals, though - so she only beats up on people when she has a good reason or excuse. Naturally, this is very therapeutic. When she can't get at people, she has to find some kind of substitute like a sandbag at the gym or a busted up refrigerator at the local dump, because she has no other way to express her negative feelings.
Hunter is most at home in her home, where she has a few books for the rare rainy days when she wants to read them, a decent collection of movies, her weapons cache (all properly licensed, thank you very much), and, almost the most important thing, her giant bed, which has been made more like a nest, covered as it is in blankets, pillows and stuffed animals, some of which she has had since childhood.
She has already got a pretty darn skippy life, so she doesn't really look forward to much other than a nice retirement sometime down the line. She worries about anyone discovering her nest-bed whenever she has company over, so she seldom does. She has a phobia of heights and of spiders and centipedes. She absolutely hate hate
hates her first name, but does not change it out of respect for her deceased maternal grandmother, whom she was named after - therefore, she prefers to be called by her last name.
Hunter is, among other things, an utterly terrible musician who loves to sing, a braggart, proud, a little racist, snappy, sardonic and leaves much to be desired as far as manners go.
ABILITIESBeing a police officer has its advantages, like making one fit and incredibly good at kicking a**. It also has its disadvantages, like instilling a need to be taken seriously, occasionally creating a temper, and sometimes leading to criminal behavior. Hunter has succumbed to all but the last of those, making her come of as hot-headed and obtuse.
She isn't dumb, but Hunter has little use for knowledge learned for knowings sake, so she keeps any kind of learning practical to her. She has a hard time grasping abstract concepts, and prefers physical and reliable things.
HOBBIESIf learning new ways to hurt people counts, that would probably go here. She also enjoys cooking, riding her motorbike, collecting records of obscure rock bands and hunting. When she's on-duty but off-call, she can usually be found doing some kind of housekeeping at the station.
HISTORYEloise was the only girl in a family of three boys (Joseph, Harrison and Daniel). She was an average enough, well-meaning tomboy, her sixth-grade class' allotment of lowlifes took issue with such an outspoken and boyish girl, and got her in her first fight. She came out on top by a long shot, and has since developed a love of fighting. She practiced with her brothers, who were more than willing to have someone new to rough-house with... until they suddenly couldn't best their little sister. There's a lot of stories Hunter's willing to tell from that time after a few drinks, mostly about her and her brothers coming into school scuffed and bruised, with teachers and faculty upset and thinking it was their parents, and that one time the DSS got involved.
Upon graduation, Hunter's parents steered her towards her current career as an officer of the peace in an effort to curtail her increasingly violent behavior. It worked - or, at least it did for her family and friends. In any event, getting onto the police force was probably the best thing that has ever happened to Hunter. She has a relatively healthy way to do what she likes and work for the greater good.
Recently, Hunter has been getting restless. It could be something to do with aging, it could be the stagnation of her career and routine, it could be the recent hospitalization of her brother Harrison with no convenient way to contact him or any of family because she's so busy at work, or maybe it's that that business at work doesn't involve any of "the fun stuff" - there's no (single) discernible cause, but she's having trouble getting to sleep nowadays, starting to get jumpy and nervous at night like she's got a guilty conscience.
Annibelle Louise Hunter: Mother
David Hunter: Father
Joseph Hunter: Oldest Brother
Harrison Hunter: Middle Brother
Daniel Hunter: Youngest Brother
SAMPLEIt was cold.
It was really ******** cold.
It was colder than a witch's ********
tit out on the street that Hunter was walking. Back and forth, back and forth, hands deep in her pockets and elbows rubbing against her sides, trying to generate a little extra warmth.
At least I'm not in uniform, she thought,
that's not exactly good insulation. The address she was trying to find was definitely well-hidden - as an underground nightclub should be. But, Hunter asked herself, what was the point of the damned
posters, then? "Why advertise your damned secret hideout, little robbers," hunter growled through her teeth, "when the cops are on the prowl?"
Hunter stopped her pacing and leaned against the cold, hard wall of the nearest building. All this pent-up frustration was tangling up her thoughts, and was
definitely not helping her find this, this Doors place. She took a deep, wintry breath and tried to collect her thoughts.
Her frustrations began when she was she was assigned to desk duty at the station. Hunter was a woman of action, meant to be out on the streets catching the criminals, and was damned good at it. Unfortunately, she was also a little...
overeager. Breaking someone's jaw during a routine traffic stop did not make a good impression on any of her superiors, or the press, and certainly not the kid she'd injured. Hunter was lucky to get desk duty instead of getting fired, but that thought didn't prevent her from getting antsy. Getting out on the street again, even if it was for a damned snipe hunt in the middle of a night like this, was just the kind of thing she needed, so she really needed to quit her mental bitching and get to finding this Doors place.
That was what finally got her out of the damned office, that silly poster she'd found stapled to the telephone pole just outside her front door. As the first person in the office that morning, she was the first to show it to the boss, and was allowed to do the primary investigations, as was customary at Irnsquare station. The most they could do was make her wait until damn near midnight to get out here - "It's called a nightclub for a reason, Hunter," they'd teased, "But if you leave now, who will do the paperwork, Hunter?" they'd griped her. Those boys worked well, but they had to joke all the way through it.
"Whatever," Hunter sighed into the cold air on the street. She wasn't exactly zen, but she was calmer. That was good enough. With a newly firmed resolve, she paced once more up the sidewalk...
Finally, a faint glimmer caught her eye - strange, luminous gold graffiti pointing down an otherwise average alleyway to a wooden door set in carved stone.
See, she thought,
just gotta calm the hell down, and it's right there. Feeling the bass pulsing through the paving, she sauntered up to the entrance, knocking confidently. That confidence waned a bit after five minutes without an answer. She knocked again and looked around, eager to be anywhere but outside. Looking up, she spotted the key above the door with a soft "A-ha!" and pulled it down, unlocking the door and returning it carefully to its hook. As she started down the rickety stairs, which practically shook with the music, she had no idea just what kind of mess she was getting herself into.
