Name - Jonathan Kharer
Age - 29
Nationality - Luxembourgian
Race - Human
Virgin - The management complains, but yes.
Side - Freelance.
Appearance - He has light brown hair, but it's been streaked through with blonde. It's cut in something like a spikey bowl cut, if that's even possible. His eye color shifts between hazel, green and a murky blue, he also needs to wear glasses. They're thin framed and not that noticable, though. He stands about 5'11'', with skin that's not pale, but not fully tanned. He has a scar in the shape of a cross on the back of his neck, that hasn't seemed to heal fully. He usually wears slightly baggy black trousers, thick black boots and some dark-colored t-shirt with a coat over that. He also has a thin silver chain with three small crosses on it that his step-mother makes him wear. Two are silver and one is gold. He has a light 'French' accent. His parents tease him, saying he lost most of it spending too much time with the Brits.
Personality - He's got a tendancy to get himself into suicidal situations, as well as being stubborn to the point where it gets annoying. He sometimes doesn't think before he acts, but otherwise quiet and observant, almost a bit avoidant. Friendly enough if you get to know him, but don't expect for him to jump at the chance to go have some fun. He's quite smart, but too curious for his own good, he can't stand a hazy answer. He's an eavesdropper by bad habit, and usually seems calm.
History - Born in Luxembourg, his step-mother (who had been with him for basically all of his life) was a decent Catholic, meaning she went to Church on Sunday, said grace at the table, etc. His father, an attorney, while not religious at all, went along with it because he respected her. Nothing much happened until he moved out for college, headed for Oxford University after being accepted, and then graduated, after focusing mostly on European History, Psychology and Literature. He saw his real mother from time to time, but she took up smoking, and became rather distant, before disappearing completely. She's presumed dead.
He returned to Luxembourg and had been living there until recently. While spending time near one of the chateaux (castles), he stumbled a fatally wounded Vampire. His killer was gone, and the Vampire, delirious, gave Jonathan a gun and muttered something in what he (Jonathan) thinks was English. He died soon afterwards.
However, the now dead Vampire confused and intrigued him, especially since they weren't supposed to be real.
By means of some rather dodgy information from the internet, he eventually pieced together that something was going on in London, and decided to head back to England, having a few friends there who could help him out. He doesn't exactly have the best idea of what's going on, but he's doing what he can at night, with a part-time job working at a bookstore.
Weapons - He carries two semi-automatic Beretta 92Fs that shoot silver and normal rounds (hey, I like flashy guns). He also has a shoulder-mounted grenade launcher that he only uses when things get really messy, as it's rather heavy. He has normal grenades and silver shelled ones.
Other - Ahah, bad anagrams.


Jonathan Kharer - Human
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"Aw, sh*t." I murmered, rummaging through my pockets. The passport inspector looked at me with one raised eyebrow. "Ce n'est pas bien..."

My passport. Where the hell was it? Come on, not now. My plane leaves in fifteen minutes.

I found it in my inner coat pocket, and handed to my 'friend'. He flipped it open, looked at me, and then looked down again.

"Okay." He handed back my passport and waved me through, a line of impatient people behind me.

I found my seat on the plane quickly, luckily a window seat. Once I had gotten stuck in the middle of a loud snorer and a screaming baby. Not fun.

The man sitting next to me was obviously British, I had heard him talking on his cellphone in the airport. He was writing something, but I wasn't sure what.

"Hello, this is your captain speaking. Welcome aboard British Airways. Our flight will be from the Luxembourg International Airport to Heathrow." The captain continued, but I tuned out. It didn't take that long anyways - usually only a few hours.

As my mind has been doing for a few days now, it wandered back to my 'discovery' at the castle.

Note to self; never go to castles after visiting hours. Ever again.

I had been there for a bit of nostalgia, really. We used to visit this castle all of the time. I had been allowed to stay after the tourists and visitors had come. Not that this was Paris or Berlin, but the ocassional English speaker could be heard.

I stepped outside for some fresh air, and found myself wandering in the small forest. I could see the limits of the woods from both sides, and figured it was safe. I wouldn't get lost or anything.

Somewhere around the middle of the forest, I found a man propped up against a tree. His eyes were shut tight in obvious pain, not to mention he was bleeding rather heavily. However, when they opened, they were a shocking red.

He caught sight of me, and laughed.
"The b*stard shot me with silver interior, the rest'll melt away...a nice, drawn out, painful death for me."

I was suprised he spoke English, besides the fact that he was still alive at all - the shot was around where his heart should be. That, and I was staring at his insanely sharp eye-teeth.

He coughed, motioning for me to come over. I was transfixed, I moved like a puppet. He handed me the gun that had been next to him, and I couldn't find anything to say. What do you say? 'Gee, thanks for the gun?'

He choked out something else, practically incoherent, before his eyes froze, and his hand fell from the gun. I looked behind me, to see if anyone else was around.

When I looked back, he was gone. Just...like, poof, disappeared. Just a few blood stains and ashes.

Disturbed, I tried to reason this out, but logic escaped me.

Silver...those teeth.

My mind whispered about Vampires. But those weren't real.

I managed to get internet access when I got back home, searching for any of that underground stuff that only conspiracy freaks believe.

What was most suprising of all? These certain webpages, each and every one practically screaming 'all roads lead to London'.

Here I am, currently damning my never-ending curiousity and hoping that a few freak pages weren't wrong. Because I could be at home, having dinner and not caring. But no, I have to fly back to London and figure out what the hell is up with these 'Vampires'.

I stare down at the retreating ground, and sigh.

I hate flying.
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...Yes. A nice backstory post. Jonny will get into London eventually.