Basic Info

Nickname(s): Whitey

DOB: Jan 14, 1902 (28, assuming the current date is 1930)

Ethnicity: Italian-Scottish

Living Family/Relatives: Orphan, raised by nun's.

Criminal Organization: Associate of the Seattle-based Villainy Incorporated Family.

Appearance

Facial Features: Burn scars on right cheek close to neck. Don't play with fireworks and rye.

Build: Stocky, 5'10"

Favoured Attire(s): Relaxed formal with suspenders and cigar.

Personality

Favoured Weapon(s): Anything that goes "bang" or "boom".

Likes: A stiff drink and a stogie, pretty church-going ladies, fast cars, history.

Dislikes: Rats, coward's and proty's.

Strengths: Sweet-talking, leaning on poor sucka's, walking-talking encyclopedia for the streets.

Weaknesses: Tiptoeing through the warehouse, knowing when to shut up.

Values: Respect, leaving work away from the home, like-minded cops and judges.

Hobbies: Reading, researching, baseball, cooking, camping.

Background

Current Affiliations: Tony Castelli's crew Villainy Inc.

Past Affiliations: Small no-name dime crew that would knock off newspaper stands. I-ndependent work.

Criminal History: Dime store dashes, racketeering, suspected murder.

Personal History:

Whitey mosey's on in the room with a cigar between his stubby, built fingers and the smell of whisky on his breath. His nerves die down as he comes to realize that he's not the only new trigger around, that and the butler pours him another drink before his wide-build takes a flop on a couch worth more then his house. He takes a sip and quickly refreshes his memory, remembering to make a decent first-impression.

"The name's Whitey. I'm not known around here, which does me a huge favour in not having any loose ends. I grew up in a orphanage like most wise-guys trying to make it in this life. The nuns took me in while I was still in the same basket I got on the boat in and I thank God every Sunday for those Sisters. Growing up, the teacher's always said I could be a lawyer or historian someday but I was always too busy chasing tail and moving money around the neighborhood for the local crews. Maybe someday I'll hit the books though, maybe someday..."

He takes another long sip and strolls to the window, giving the house cat a pet while reminiscing on his past.

"I did some time in the army before they gave me the boot. 'Joined up when I was 16 thinking I'd be a war hero. All I got was a cruddy tour and pneumonia in China. It turns out it doesn't matter how many cartons of smokes you bring into camp, there's always going to be a straight-laced wide-mouthed officer looking to clamp down on the working man. After that I ran with a crew pushing over newsstands and breaking windows around Brooklyn, NY for a little booze money and something for the collection plate on Sunday's.

I got got a call one cold spring afternoon from Consigliere DarGabrielson after finishing a few run-arounds and trigger pulls from the outside. Now I'm here, slowly working my way into the family to try and gain respect and God-willing build a new convent for the nun's that raised me. Who knows what else the future's got in-store for me."

Whitey then makes a light-hearted phone call and proceeds to leave, hinting that a priest-friend needs help with some funeral planning.