Bankston Battle's Questionnaire

Well honestly i get most of my money from my payouts from "The Firm", I work as a co-owner there along side Harld polk and together we provide extensive training on properly handling supernatural cases without getting you whole public persona mulched by public opinion. we also handle cases for unique cliental to assist in furthering their goals both in and out of the courtroom. i find my self quite impressed with my business partner and now I'm wealthier then i ever intended to be.

As for what i spend it on so far its been handling the 2 towns we've purchased post windfall. now as for my personal pleasures i like to keep a rather unique collection of suits and luxury accessories, if im to be honest like you want me to be its mostly just to chase the image of my father i think. he instilled an importance to ones looks and i think that stuck, looking nice on the outside helps me to forget about my...condition. 

Besides the suits and watches i have quite an expensive tastes when it comes to the art i place inside my home, it was always difficult to indulge this need of mine for overly expensive pompous political art pieces on my D.A.'s budget but now i get to enjoy myself. i also keep a rather extensive vinyl collection im very much an analog man so having a physical thing of something that i enjoy is calming to me. i keep my collection in the basement, i rather enjoy having music when i enjoy my darker pleasures. 

Its rather simple, i want to consolidate the worlds government into one global legal system. it feels quite childish but when i think about how much leeway some criminals have, all across the globe it upsets me. if we had one set of rules written by a rational individual it would do great in making sure our world is marching in the correct direction. Its not in my nature to hand over control so id have to be me drafting up these laws, and thus im stuck in this ever escalating death race it seems. I find killing distasteful, it taints any form of justice you would put forth how can one condemn killers while being one. But it seems like that's just a contradiction ill have to live with seeing that i already have blood on my hands. to answer your question yes i have and id do it again, if you wont trample over some of your boundaries for a goal you've put forth...is it a goal worth having? Ive had my spine ripped out by clowns, arms blown off by rabbit lasers, and ive been nearly shot to death by thugs. ive been beaten to near death plenty of times as a child, what makes this any different.

The night of my transformation. I was Six, stuck in my father's Weird manor in Ireland. A week of fever had weakened me, leaving my body wracked with pain as if steel wires were contorting beneath my skin. The stench of wet dog filled the air, causing me nausea, while my sweat turned putrid and bloody.

My mother, always so fucking disdainful of doctors, stood by, Like some black ghost and watched my grotesque metamorphosis. Bloody fur burst from my skin, bones in my face shifted and elongated, and my legs painfully contorted backwards. Day by day, I watched as that pompous façade of maternal love crumbled, revealing the true nature of that woman. When the full moon cast its haunting glow upon us, the realization finally dawned that I was no longer human.

My mother, in her thick Irish brogue, spat out the word that would forever haunt me: "Werewolf." With a fury, she let lose all that had been welling up inside her, blows raining down relentlessly. after some time i summoned every ounce of strength i could and pushed her away. running for my father's study.

His eyes, cold and resigned, met mine briefly before returning to his paperwork, as if this was some small inconvenience he hadn't accounted for.

I learned a harsh truth about the world and its treatment of the aberrant: indifference and apathy were the norm. It made me realize that inaction is the common state of man, if you wont stand up for yourself no one will. And so, I find myself instinctively reaching for my whip in moments of confrontation, that nice strong tool to help me even the odds. pain is the only thing that can dissuade folks from targeting people like me. 

Harold Polk:  The co-owner of Battlegrounds.  Another lawyer.  One of the finest legal minds of our world... at least, until his mental break.  Now... I do not know.  He rants about the world being a simulation, and how he is going to free us all.    The worst part of it is he has stopped doing any of his share of the paperwork.  Still.  The trials we have done together has made him one of the men I trust the most in this world. 

Bryan Botsch:  The great architect.  The Origami King.  The man who built the huge paper penis in the center of my town.  I joke, but only a little.  He is a very talented crafter, and an important part of my town.  He does great works of art... even if many of them are annoyingly phallic.

Secretary:  Kate.   She is my deputy.  While I am off saving the world, she ensures the appropriate forms are filed with the state, that the complaints are routed to the correct people, that our buses run on time.  I am not so prideful as I cannot acknowledge she is an important part of ensuring the town continues to tick.  

As I said.  I was six when the moon-fever first took me.  My mother beat me, and when I escaped, whimpering and snivelling and bloody to my father, he could not spare the time from his work to care about any of it.  She called me a werewolf, although I would posit that they were the monsters in that house.  My father never raised a hand to me, although at times I almost wish he had.  At least it would have meant I meant *something* to him.  My mother ensured I knew of the failure of my birth, however.

We were, however, a proper Irish family.  I was still expected to attend school.  I was expected to do well, even if I was chained like a dog the entire day of the full moon.

Perhaps that has contributed to my... tastes.  They are not normal.  But I am not normal.

I have.  When I was in lawschool.  It was a passing thing, a fling for both of us.  Could it have been more?  Maybe.  I showed her who I really was on that one night.  I expected her to run. She didn't.  

She told me it was hot.  

I didn't mean to hurt her.  Everything is just so... intense during the full moon.  It's so hard to think.  So hard to control myself.  She provoked me, in her way.  I bit her.  I scratched her.  She should have ran.  

Perhaps I should have taken it as a warning when she came back the next day.   Did she contribute to my tastes as well?  Probably, yes.    I haven't met someone like her since then.  Perhaps I should track her down one of these days.  It's only been a few years...