InsaneJournal

Richard Mathews (_richard_) wrote, @ 2017-10-24 17:55:00

DISCLAIMER
I'm not Richard. Think of him as my asshole pet dog that's escaped the yard. If he's out doing stuff that's bothering you, contact me! I'll be happy to work towards a resolution and keep the game fun.

BASICS

Full Name Richard Mathews
Nickname Asylum
Codename Asylum
Age August 22, 1986
Height 6'1"
Build Lean, fairly in shape. It's part vanity-driven gym workouts and part needing to keep his cardio in decent shape for work reasons.
Hair Black
Eyes Blue
Tattoos
Scars

Date of Birth
Residence TBD in Savannah, Georgia
Occupation Private investigator and occasional contract killer.
Orientation Sadist. Doesn't like labels beyond that. Some might class him as bi or pan or somesuch, but the characteristics that draw him outrank sex or gender.
Dating Status Dating _jersey_

LINES
Sister gia_vz
Lover _jersey_
Want a line? Suggestions--
* Need a private investigator? Here's your guy.

PERSONALITY
Richard is upbeat and often pointing out the funny parts of life. Or at least, that's how he appears to be in public. That's not to say he's a clown-- when it comes to his appearance, he can definitely be vain, perfectionist, and precise. Black is very much the default color. Button-up shirts with a casual feel, despite being tailored to fit snugly-verging-on-too-tight, are a common choice. T-shirts can be had too, but only certain t-shirts that fit right. He's not going to be mistaken for somebody's dad heading to Little League practice, after all.

On the surface, he seems to be all charm, albeit rusty from seldom being used lately. Underneath? Is just this boiling cesspool of bile and inky blackness. If a psychiatrist diagnosed everything in him, if they could get him to crack open and expose everything they'd need to know in the first place to do so? They'd probably need a whole wall full of crazy and strings and thumbtacks to chart it all out comprehensively. A soft spot for mothers, after being torn from his own. A raging distrust of authority figures in caregiver positions.

TALENTS
* Uh... murder?
* Finding people?
* Not a bad cook.
* Great at getting blood out of the apholstry.
* He's good with his hands. Shhhh, don't even start.
* Making all of Jersey tremble.

HISTORY
Richard's mother Regina was convicted to live in a secure mental health facility at age 23. She had long been a familiar face at charity resources for mental healthcare, a quiet and nervous girl that was the last to be suspected of the crimes that landed her in confinement.

The police and the DA had gathered enough evidence to take her to court for various charges regarding the night that many of her neighbors were murdered-- all stabbed to death with the same knife, which had broken in the chest of the final victim. The problem was, her mental state was nowhere near being suitable for entering any kind of legal agreements or contracts or consent forms. As rare as insanity might be as a justifiable legal defense, in this case it was about the only route that could be taken. The only answers the woman would give were that THEY were coming and the neighbors had been too loud, too terribly loud, and THEY would find her if she didn't make these people hush.

In the hospital, she was a model patient. When she turned up pregnant, despite being in a female-only ward with no conjugal visits, a wide scale internal investigation had taken place. How had it happened? You do that cringy math. Richard entered the world in the mental health wing of Bellevue Hospital in New York City. He was immediately swept up by the system, as his sister Gia would be years later.

Richard's path to adulthood was... well... it's a common question, nature or nurture, on aspects of the personality including disorders of such. The best answer that could be given in his case? Both. He was shifted between foster parents, a lovely child that no one was willing to commit to for the rest of their lives due to the giant questionmark on whether the genetics of his mother would spark in him. He finally landed in the care of foster mother Jackie Danielson as a toddler. He had plenty of foster siblings to play with-- Jackie was all about maximizing the money these kids brought over all else, to fund her own drug habit. When times would get tougher, she was known to do unseemly things to retain her supply. When cops came around knowing more than they ought to, well, she didn't discriminate in her bribes. And when attention turned from her to something else in the residence they'd prefer...

At 12 years old, it came to a head. When paramedics arrived, they found Jackie with a pair of scissors embedded in her abdomen and the pretty blue-eyed child practically catatonic. Under the surface of all that calm, the thrill of striking back to someone who'd caused him so much hurt, who'd denied him hospital trips of his own to cover her own ass... it metastasized.

He spent the rest of his time up to his 18th birthday in an upstate facility named Brightwell. It wasn't a magical fantasy land of delight by any stretch, but it was a facility that usually only accepted clients with wealthy parents that could pay for top treatment. Richard was the lucky gutter rat snatched up in the name of charity.

When he aged out of the system, life got hard all over again. He'd gotten pretty good at pickpocketing and other sleight of hand tricks in Brightwell, making a game of such things with a friend he'd managed to make there. One day he'd tried to pick the pocket of the wrong man, a man who it just so happened was the personal security of a very wealthy entrepreneur, and he'd gotten close enough to success to catch the boss lady's eye. It was his first proper job, and it didn't even have a job description to go off of. Initially he'd accompany her to social events and point out the body language of those she had dealings with. As he settled in, other desires for things in life began to grow stronger. His... tastes... were accommodated, explored, all taken care of with the buffer of money.

Of course, someone capable of doing that probably has a lot of skeletons in the closet. His mentor was arrested and carted off to prison, and he was left in charge of her dynasty. As the first few years stretched on, many decades left to go before even the hint of parole, he grew restless. He needed to make his own money, live his own life, satisfy his own needs.

The private investigator idea wasn't exactly something that'd leave him rolling in dough right out of the gate, but it did play to his strengths. Thanks to his jailed benefactor's large estate and her approval of the endeavor, he didn't have to worry about making rent or bills while he gained the experience and reputation needed to get the ball rolling.

He's been established in Savannah for a few years now career-wise. He recently realized that the job has eroded his life outside of it. His friendships have wilted on the vine,
and he's looking to fix that, along with having some fun.

The job's often less exciting and dramatic than books or TV depicted it as, but it's got its bright spots too. And if somebody might just need him to do more than find a person... well... wouldn't that be fantastic? Oh, horrible, I mean horrible, of course. Wink.

OOC

Name: Corey
Discord: mendingwall#6370
GDocs/GChat: nivisionproductions@gmail.com

34 years old. Neuro-atypical, though I tend to keep the details a bit more private. I do transcription and write closed captions from home, so my schedule is flexible. I consider myself a multi-format storyteller. I have roleplayed on and off in various formats (tabletop, email, messageboard play-by-post, twitter) since I was 15.

I have the most experience in a messageboard-primary form called efedding, which is related to the wrestling fandom. If you're curious what that looks like, ask me and I'll shoot you a link.

I used to be a professional wrestler in real life. Believe it or not, since the advent of MMA and UFC, pro wrestling is more full of nerds who are in love with the nostalgia and weirdness of it as a storytelling form than it is its former demographic of redneck dudes/jerk meatheads-- that includes the kind of people who decide to become professional wrestlers.

I was often the villain, and if you need a bad guy for a line you should consider hitting me up, because I've got the emotional equivalent of Captain America's shield when it comes to not taking IC heat personally. (No, really, an 11 year old once leaned over the guardrail and punched me in the stomach... and it was my first pro match.)

I have a twitter, tumblr, and deviantart available upon request, though they tend to collect dust for spaces at a time. I also have a tumblr for this character and several others, if you'd like to see more of who they are.