H.K. "47" Davenport

=• Papa Was a Rolling Stone •= Henry Kenneth Davenport hated his name. Kenneth had been his father's name and Henry his grandfather's. While he didn't hate his grandfather, he did hate the idea of being called Hank all of the time. What really grated on Davenport's nerves, however, was the Kenneth. Ken Davenport was not a good man, no...Papa had been a rolling stone and his mobility crushed his son every opportunity it was given. When daddy left, it was Henry's assumption that he'd gone off somewhere to fuck up some other kid's life.

Mom tried her best to support H.K., newly self-titled, but it was via the world's oldest profession. Rather than sit around and wait for his mother to succumb to the end result of a lifetime of drugs, strange sex, and alcoholism, the boy opted for the streets. It was here that Davenport would learn his first lesson: Being young and homeless in Detroit was a rough road to walk. The boy figured out quickly how to keep his head down and his eyes on the prize. He got involved with the local mob; acquainted himself with the work...And then proceeded to make every mistake his dad had.

He had his father's attitude by the time he took the plunge into gambling and set new standards for pissing off the wrong people. H.K. was a sore winner and he made a killing playing craps with the big boys and heavy hitters. Unfortunately, everything caught up to him the day that the Russians came. Expecting to cut in and begin dominating Detroit's burgeoning illegal gambling scene, they were met with surprise and shock over Davenport's winning ways. Now, I'd like to tell you that Davenport was humbled and cut a deal with the men.

I want to, but instead, I'll tell you the truth: Henry taunted them any chance that he could. The biggest insult, by far, being the big "go fuck yourselves" he fired off in their general direction. The straw had broken the proverbial camel's back. After that, the gloves were off. His enemies took him out to a quiet place, plugged him several times in the back and then threw him into one of Michigan's coldest and filthiest rivers. Against all odds, Davenport survived the encounter and lived on...All so that he could return to the gambling circuit and continue to piss off the men who had assumed him dead.

It wasn't long before they came after him again, forcing Davenport to finally show some modicum of self-preservation instinct. He was relocated to Brooklyn, but at the cost of nearly all of his former winnings. It wasn't long before he was at it again, recouping his costs through participation in the same song and dance he was familiar with. And for awhile there? Things were good.

But fate has a funny way of fucking with you.

=• The Devil and Mr. Davenport •= An apartment that no one owns. A bottle of Wild Turkey. A crumpled up pile of ones and fives. A pair of ratty old jeans with a shitty patch job. Five old, worn down tanktops. Three or four comforters. A laptop; stolen.

All of that shit had one thing in common: It was all Henry owned when everything went pear-shaped. The custom he'd developed was to get extremely intoxicated and then surf the internet. Sitting up in the bathtub, bathed in a LCD glow from the screen of his stolen laptop as well as the strong and over-powering smell of bourbon, he would stumble upon The Watchful Eye. Davenport had heard of sites like it, the kind where a bunch of pimply-faced teenagers stay up until all hours of the evening...Spewing off bullshit about how they were once kidnapped by aliens.

He was determined to call them all nerds.

In his drunken stumbling, something had caught his eye. Cue the part of the website that wasn't meant to be seen; the part of the website where all of those pimply-faced teenagers can't be found. What he'd found was a door and the locks were solved by sheer force of will. His accidental break-in became an effort to see what was behind the curtain and he was fairly sure that all he'd receive for his trouble was a survey about the puzzles and a trial for Enzyte if he saw fit to put in his email address. Much to his surprise, he found Oculi Omniscentia instead. And, in finding the O.O., he also found Phantom.

Since his first days on the street, H.K. had been taught one very important piece of advice: You cannot wait around for some mysterious benefactor to drop the answers to all of your problems into your lap. While his brain was still reeling; still fucked up from liquor he would ignore that advice and put all of his chips in. And when Phantom promised freedom, Henry promised his loyalty. It didn't take long for Davenport to see the ramifications of his recruitment into the shadowy organization; the images of terrifying nightmare creatures and the talk of how best to combat their threat was more than enough.

He grew obsessed with what he was being shown, finding friends in the other newcomers and going so far as to shirk his growing debt to the people running the games in Brooklyn.

It was luck, then, that the bee found him when it did. It was not luck that when the bee attempted to give him its boon that he promptly threw it up. Davenport immediately turned to the only people who would understand; the only people who he could trust at the time. What he received, was an ultimatum from Phantom: Toilet bee now or another living bee later.

He chased it with a shot of the bourbon.

And then he cut his sink in half.

=• H.K. Davenport: Chaos Magus •= Everything that happens, does so suddenly.

For the next several days following the 'Toilet Bee' incident, Henry would find himself in various states of sickness and lucid dreaming. He saw the old letters, the runic alphabets and strange symbols that represented bygone eras of rampant esoteric wandering. He spent his time either blacked out and trapped in the hot and heady embrace of twisted black nightmares or awake and vomiting until his lips were cracked and his chest was sunken. The man heaved and in his sleep, there was physical movement. Some force had been awakened by whatever the bee had been carrying.

They whispered its name to him, but he didn't hear.

The fluttering of sickly green smoke became something he grew to expect during the more horrifying rounds of nightmares. Activity flared and the floor was poked and prodded with sharp things; shelves and the couch were torn to shreds by some unknown thing during his most vulnerable moments. It was a wholly uncontrollable thing and it terrified him utterly. The blackness, as it were, was universal among Davenport and his contemporaries. They called it the Tar.

The worst of the evenings came quickly enough. The people Davenport had fucked over during his absence from gambling had found him and just as they were about to deliver the killing blow, Henry blacked out. No one save the charred corpses could tell you what happened in that split second. The guns made noise, but the bullets were burned from existence by something that burst forth from the very man they'd been sent to murder. The sweet smell of cooked flesh drew him from slumber. And Phantom drew him to Aloft.

Aloft. The home away from home for agents of the O.O. Cleverly disguised as an upscale hotel in Brooklyn...Because it WAS an upscale hotel in Brooklyn. Davenport would be holed up in a place that he could finally call home and now? Now the smoke was more easily called upon. The harder he tried to call upon it, the less it would listen until it finally struck him that things were often over-complicated by thought. In his sleepless and unhealthy state, Gnosis came with ease.

Which was fortunate.

In another moment of classic Davenport wisdom, he had gone back to his destroyed apartment to retrieve his things. Money had been left for him in his room and he used it on petty things as expected...Although he kept that stolen laptop. The night that Henry felt sentimental, however, was the same night that he'd come face-to-face with the secret world that they hadn't fully warned him about. The secret world that bit and chewed and gnawed at the edge of sanity.

Cue the terror.

The thing was disguised; it wore the pizza delivery boy and it shut off the lights. While concerned about exposing himself to anyone else in the building, Davenport made his way to the basement anyways. He found the fuse box and he found the delivery boy. It was a display of dazzling green light, the first time Davenport unwittingly unleashed hell on an enemy. The skin jiggled violently, then slumped into a messy pile on the ground. Finished, the shaken man would wander back to his room and begin to ask questions about it. But it wasn't over...It was far from over. The thing had blades for arms and legs and it cut into Davenport recklessly. Its skin was harder than he had anticipated and it wasn't until the thing was gnashing at his face that it finally came close enough for a clean shot.

Seeress saw the sundered pieces of the not-so-pizza-delivery-boy. H.K. couldn't bring himself to look again.

=• Current Events •= Since the events of that night with the not-so-delivery boy, Henry's scope of understanding of the new world he's taking part in has increased dramatically. Some people would chalk it up to a hidden intellect that not even Davenport fully knows he has and others would argue that the Anima infusion from 'toilet bee' must have also increased his capacity for learning.

What is certain is that Henry's loyalty to the O.O. has been unwavering.

His prowess with the Chaotic energies roaming through his body has increased as well. The green smoke can act of its own accord, lashing out at those who assault Davenport each time they take a swing. His body has also been honed to be capable of glancing and shrugging off blows from foes he understands to be much larger and more powerful than he. He's now an incredibly capable defender and meatshield, typically being the one thing standing between his contemporaries and the things that want to eat them alive. His skin, in some instances, has even deflected blows from guns, swords, and other magical attacks while leaving him unscathed.

In terms of personal relationships, Davenport has blossomed into someone the recruits of the O.O. can look up to; someone powerful...But incredibly dangerous. His emotions are held in check by weak barriers and when left to run rampant are capable of sending his already unpredictable powers even further off the reservation. In an effort to remain in control as well as wanting to ensure Peiwen 'Wen' Ren, his girlfriend, that he wouldn't be totally reckless, Davenport has given up on alcohol, smoking, not-sleeping, and not-eating. Somehow or another, he's managed to struggle past these things...Even though they're waiting to rear their ugly heads again.

It's Wen that keeps his stability at a controllable level.

Henry, of course, has made other friends...But I just don't feel like name-dropping them, parading around all of the efforts he's made to ensure their safety at high cost to his own. It just seems silly.

Phantom, as it turns out, considers H.K. to be a high-value asset...Even if Davenport himself can't figure out entirely why that is. While Phantom's jeering and insults serve to create doubt, Henry continues to seek to impress the man every opportunity he gets. He appears to be lined up for leadership, but the question isn't how he's going to get promoted...It's closer to how he's going to stop himself from letting those self-defeatist moments of his get in his way.

=• Turn the Page •=

Henry Kenneth Davenport is a broken man. It was no secret, when the first disappearances struck Oculi Omniscentia. People vanished as though they were air; starting with the higher-ups. While H.K. himself stepped up to take the reins and prevent a structural collapse, there was only so much that could be done as the rate of disappearances escalated. No bodies were ever recovered, no clues...Nothing.

But so long as Wen was around, H.K. maintained a positive outlook.

Her apartment hadn't been touched; nothing was out of place...Nothing had been taken. There was no blood, there was no sign of a break-in, there was no Wen. Incapable of facing the facts of the situation; that she was gone and likely not coming back, Henry instead went on a rampage. He cut a swath across Solomon Island, beat down cultists in Egypt, and went so far as to hike around the mountains of Transylvania in search of any sign of Wen. He found wayward Dragon agents and tortured them until they confessed all but a kidnapping.

Cue the paranoia.

He had a realization that it might have been an inside job; that a previous event was repeating itself. H.K. had been told stories, many lacking significant detail, regarding a purge throughout a previous iteration of the group. Oculi Omniscentia itself had few official records on the books and anything relating to the Purge itself had been cleared from the record. Still, expecting Phantom to come for him any day, Henry holed himself up in his upscale New York apartment and waited. In one hand was a bottle of bourbon...In the other was that swirling, wispy green energy he'd become so accustomed to.

Waiting didn't help anything. No one came. He was alone.

Binge drinking numbed the nightmares brought on by Wen's absence. It did nothing to repair a shattered psyche and instead lead him to rely even more upon the things he'd given up for her. When he finally left the apartment, it was at Illuminati request and soon he was sent off to work; to earn the hefty paycheck they were gifting him with. Field work, however, brought on its own share of issues in the form of hallucinations and visions of past friends and lovers. At one point, the imaginings became so intense that H.K. assaulted another field agent and it was this that landed him in the tank.

While too useful to kill, H.K. could be taught to behave himself and it was through an intense and harrowing detoxification process that this was achieved.

He left the program a changed man; one that became more capable at disguising his vices and one who became solely focused on trying to get himself killed. For the past few weeks since managing to escape from the hell of the Illuminati's detox. protocol, Henry has been offering services as a monster-slaying bounty hunter as well as proffering additional funding from work on security detail for more dangerous locales. Every day, it's a attempt to die...And every evening, an attempt to drink so hard and so quickly that every thought about Wen or the others can't come back to hurt him.

As always, however, fate has a funny way of fucking with you.

In a chance encounter that he still doesn't fully believe happened, Henry came across a former member of the O.O.; Noel Green. While convinced that she was simply a figment of his imagination, she really was there and attempts to reconnect could, invariably, lead to new findings about the disappearances, about Wen, and about why the second purge happened at all. Either that, or it could be his last shot at living a better life. Regardless, the situation looks awfully grim for Mr. H.K. Davenport.

=• Strengths/Weaknesses •= Strengths:

- Davenport has led a life of drugs, booze, sleeplessness, and hunger. While it's certainly taken a toll on his physical appearance, he's stronger because of it. Due to near constant exposure to a number of vices, he is exceptionally difficult to make succumb to the introduction of a foreign element inside of him. While his poor eating and sleeping habits have sometimes lead to interesting moments in the field, they're more of a boon than a drawback. Oftentimes, the man can remain in the field for days on end without a need to find TOTALLY safe shelter.

- Henry has a sense of honor when it comes to certain things; he won't lie. This makes the whole idea of keeping secrets a constant issue, even though he's proven himself capable of doing so. Part of this is because he knew his father was a liar and the other part has become apparent more recently: His unstable emotional state can sometimes lead him to admitting to the truth of something as his fluctuating moods take control.

- Since learning how to control the power of Chaos, somewhat, Davenport has become adept at turning the smoke into new forms. Most recently, he's learned how to turn chains into a decent-enough shield for knocking away blows. All of his prowess involves Chaos in some way. The power will now act on its own to lash out in counter-attacks against his enemies and it has become potent enough to hide under his skin and reinforce him against assaults. While it's not guaranteed, it has proven useful; sometimes being tough enough to deflect extremely devastating blows.

- H.K.'s greatest skill is in the realm of luck. While he probably should have died a very long time ago, he has yet to face a challenge that he can't surmount. Luck lead him to the O.O. and luck lead him to every other good thing he currently has in his life. While he doesn't expect that luck to last indefinitely, it has become something he relies on to pull through bad situations. When shit hits the fan, Henry doesn't give up or hide, he charges in and keeps fighting. This resilience and tenacity has earned him friends...And enemies. Weaknesses:

- Henry's emotions are incredibly unstable and it doesn't take much to set him off. For the most part, his friends and even his superiors understand this. But when his nerves are worn down, it would not be difficult to push him into a confrontation...Even if he's well-aware that he'll lose.

- Because Henry's Chaos is powered via Excitatory Gnosis, it tends to pack a bit more of a punch than those who use a more controlled, Inhibatory Gnosis. The downside to this, however, is that while he can induce a full state of Gnosis easily and do some damage...It doesn't last terribly long. His powers still function, of course, but compared to Gnosis? His average level of output just DOESN'T compare.

- H.K. suffers from several serious mental illnesses. Some have argued that he may have PTSD developed over the course of his tumultuous and violent youth. He almost certainly suffers from clinical depression. He's paranoid, quick to anger, and sometimes totally disagreeable for seemingly no reason.

- While Wen has helped Davenport to recover from alcoholism and a handful of his other vices, his propensity for sleeping in a bathtub rather than using it to clean has remained intact. Davenport, unless prepping for an interview with a new potential recruit for the O.O. or unless on a date with Wen, will usually sleep in the field...Where he doesn't exactly get the opportunity to bathe. To meet the man on the field is to meet what basically appears to be an avatar of filth, covered head to toe in monster errata, dirt, and blood.

- Henry isn't much to look at. Barring the fact that he's spent most of his time taking the hits from monsters while others wear the creatures down, he's also lived a long, hard life and it shows. His body bears the brunt of the scarring and bruising, but his face isn't much better. His nose is slightly crooked, he wears heavy bags under his eyes from sleepless nights, his hair is typically a mess, and he just doesn't have an attractive look about him. He can clean up relatively well...But his charm doesn't extend far past "homeless rogue."

- Davenport isn't TERRIBLY bright. More recently, he's had moments of brilliance in which he's managed to make an intelligent observation...But for the most part they're accidental or because the other people facing the problem had been too smart to think on a simpler level. Henry is quick-witted; he can think on his feet and he understands the way principles work on the street. But as far as research and studying and other subjects involving WAY higher brain function? He's fucked.

- Lastly; the nightmares. When Henry isn't around Wen, he isn't sleeping. The nightmares come when she isn't around. Davenport argues that it isn't, but it's clear that he relies on her for some form of comfort...That he clings to her like a safety blanket when it comes to catching a good night's sleep. Beyond that, the nightmares truly are terrifying and should he be in the throes of one it is inadvisable to approach him. The nightmares consist of violence and black, creeping Filth infecting everything he holds dear. This much has been proven true thanks to Wen's disappearance. Nightmares have intensified and now prevent most attempts at sleep that don't involve substance abuse.

((DISCLAIMER: The above information should be assumed as OOC and should not be things readily known if your character and Davenport haven't already meant. Just throwing it out there. :P I'd expect that some people who had access to the files that the Illuminati keep on him would have a basic understanding of his past; they'd likely know his actual name; they may even know some of what his prowess with Chaos is. That, to me, is totally acceptable. Spouting off direct strengths and weaknesses without having met him, without having watched him carefully, or without having spoken to him would not be. Just taking precautions is all. xD))

=• Chaos •= H.K.'s Chaos is emotional in nature and he generally treats every other Chaos Magus he meets as a ticking time bomb; just like himself. He's well-aware of the OTHER form of Gnosis but, because he lacks the necessary amount of control to learn it, he disregards it. The Chaos he wields is tied directly to his emotions and because of this acts accordingly based on which emotion happens to be in control. Typically, the smoke will begin to appear as his emotional state deteriorates; from happy to angry or hopeful to doubtful. In the past, his emotions have manifested themselves as green spheres on chains that float about his body nebulously.

He mostly uses his powers defensively, but when forced he can assume a more offensive set of powers for the purposes of crushing the people who did him wrong.

Due to this instability, he's also adapted a fighting style similar to the art of Drunken Martial Arts...Just without the same awkward grace. Anyone who's seen H.K. fight can tell you that he's a wholly unpredictable combatant; as likely to smile at you as he is to throw a wild punch in your direction. In some cases, it's difficult to pin down exactly what he'll use next.

As mentioned before, his Chaos is fully capable of acting on its own and often will do so to ensure that his attempts to protect himself from taking too much damage are not met in failure. The energy will generally lash out at his nearest attacker. His body produces Chaos very quickly and in such large amounts that the stuff will generally hide within him until the time is right, providing protection from blows to the point where mundane weaponry merely glances from his body. The Chaos itself stores energy from these missed blows and then, after so many have struck, it will explode outward and assault whatever attempted to cause the damage in the first place.

It has also displayed some regenerative properties, condensing itself around wounds as best as it can to provide minimal self-healing capabilities. At some points it has also displayed the ability to absorb the innate life-force of other creatures to the same effect.

Ultimately, Davenport's reliance on Chaos comes from his inability to practice other Magic. It's not for lack of trying, however. Either there's a mental block or Henry really is limited in the sort of magic that he's capable of utilizing.

=• Photographs •=