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Wayne Connor (AU) - FBI Agent. Vigilante of Questionable means by night.
Wayne took a look over the body. The blood and dis-configuration of the victim not even phasing him at this point in his career. The hardened cop wasn't only used to this by the job though...as he often inflicted these wounds on those he though he deserved a brutal death. Or sometimes, a well orchestrated one.
Wayne Connor had an interesting childhood. One he had to run from. He killed his father to protect his family, which is where his obsession with vigilante justice came from. He didn't want to see anyone suffer what he and he family did ever again.
He even took an adoptive daughter several years ago from her horror and punishment. She was the closest thing she had to any attachment anymore. He had to detach from his mother and sister...running from his past and not returning. He ran and ran until one day he found his way to returning justice and using the FBI as his cover to get even further access to all the crimes he watered at the mouth to stop.
Wayne returned to the world outside of his reflective thoughts and examined the victim further. Bruises...scratches...the face of the woman was badly beaten and her lips suggested a harsh bite. He went further down, seeing the redness still on her skin from where hands and gripped her firmly. Her nudity did not affect him much, as he checked and he didn't even have to look much to see she was badly damaged around her vagina. This is exactly the type of of thing that set him on edge.
Wayne, after more routine returned home. He always was home late and his adoptive daughter would be asleep...or something. He didn't really know he was rarely there. He was lucky he could afford a babysitter for her. Well now the woman was more of a maid, just watching over the now of age female. He spent much time with her when she was younger. He helped her cope with what had happened to her that night he found her. He was never exactly how much he helped her, but at least she seemed to function normally in society now and in school...which she was just about to graduate. He at least knew she made good marks. But as for how she was socially he was out of touch...
Wayne was an insomniac. That was one flaw. But it was what gave in wings in what he did a night. He was a calculated killer. A vigilante he saw justice his own way and protected his daughter with everything he could, and tried to make the streets safer for her.
Even if it meant cutting off all the limbs of anyone who did such awful things. Even if it meant torturing them the same way they committed their crimes. Suffering is the true punishment. Anyone can just die...
Wayne sat at his desk, looking over the suspect's file of the murder/rape. He mulled over it with his beer in hand. His suit jacket on the chair, his white shirt unbuttoned and his tie across the desk. His stubble scruffy as he scratched his chin and his hair short, but unkempt from the late nights.
Wayne took a look over the body. The blood and dis-configuration of the victim not even phasing him at this point in his career. The hardened cop wasn't only used to this by the job though...as he often inflicted these wounds on those he though he deserved a brutal death. Or sometimes, a well orchestrated one.
Wayne Connor had an interesting childhood. One he had to run from. He killed his father to protect his family, which is where his obsession with vigilante justice came from. He didn't want to see anyone suffer what he and he family did ever again.
He even took an adoptive daughter several years ago from her horror and punishment. She was the closest thing she had to any attachment anymore. He had to detach from his mother and sister...running from his past and not returning. He ran and ran until one day he found his way to returning justice and using the FBI as his cover to get even further access to all the crimes he watered at the mouth to stop.
Wayne returned to the world outside of his reflective thoughts and examined the victim further. Bruises...scratches...the face of the woman was badly beaten and her lips suggested a harsh bite. He went further down, seeing the redness still on her skin from where hands and gripped her firmly. Her nudity did not affect him much, as he checked and he didn't even have to look much to see she was badly damaged around her vagina. This is exactly the type of of thing that set him on edge.
Wayne, after more routine returned home. He always was home late and his adoptive daughter would be asleep...or something. He didn't really know he was rarely there. He was lucky he could afford a babysitter for her. Well now the woman was more of a maid, just watching over the now of age female. He spent much time with her when she was younger. He helped her cope with what had happened to her that night he found her. He was never exactly how much he helped her, but at least she seemed to function normally in society now and in school...which she was just about to graduate. He at least knew she made good marks. But as for how she was socially he was out of touch...
Wayne was an insomniac. That was one flaw. But it was what gave in wings in what he did a night. He was a calculated killer. A vigilante he saw justice his own way and protected his daughter with everything he could, and tried to make the streets safer for her.
Even if it meant cutting off all the limbs of anyone who did such awful things. Even if it meant torturing them the same way they committed their crimes. Suffering is the true punishment. Anyone can just die...
Wayne sat at his desk, looking over the suspect's file of the murder/rape. He mulled over it with his beer in hand. His suit jacket on the chair, his white shirt unbuttoned and his tie across the desk. His stubble scruffy as he scratched his chin and his hair short, but unkempt from the late nights.