Jeffrey Miller

The Syndicate
Assistant Manager of Portfolio Druthers
Lieutenant Chairman at Symposium #WV3200
Chief Executive of White Wasp Professional Services, Inc.

Description


~The kind of man one expects to see any and everywhere, Jeffrey Miller scarcely stands out. This mature, middle-aged Caucasian gentleman adopts a swept-back fashion for mousy-brown hair. He dons crisp black suits, sporty and stylish, and including such namebrands as Armani. But it's just the appearance of a wealthy banker or realtor. Brown eyes are dull as a cow's and his expression remains flat and boring. His physique is unimpressive and his skin is pocked with age and the first wrinkles seeping in. An air of self-confidence surrounds Jeff, but it seems to be the self-assurance of a man who knows how to play his game, and is ignorant to the real games going on behind the scenes. In short, Jeff appears to be a nobody.~

OOC: Appearance 2; Style 1; Cloaking 4; Confidence

"Hi there. You were just served."

History


Almost Normal Life

Some people had trouble believing this, but some folk were just born to kill. Jeffrey Miller may have been a natural born killer, but he didn't always live that way. For starters, his name wasn't Jeff Miller. It was Victor Erwin. His basic profile included a birth date of 6/3/48 and his birthplace was Hartford, Connecticut. His parents never had a clue that he would become such a nefarious murderer -- did parents ever suspect that of their baby?

And how could he spurn such a well-off and upper class upbringing? While his father, Thomas Erwin, worked as a brave fireman, his mother Susan Nimscott Erwin was the source of wealth. She was the daughter of a successful textiles magnate in Connecticut. Victor's two siblings included a pair of younger sisters, Linda and Angelica. They lived relatively normal lives, one as a nurse and the other an actress on Broadway. Together through Victor's childhood, they dwelled on the outskirts of Hartford in a spacious house. Victor enjoyed the yard and nearby woods and creek. Once in awhile, his father took him hunting in those woods. Though rich, Victor still attended public school, too. All the blueblood money in the area contributed to an above-average curriculum.

Yet Victor only absorbed the basics of his education. In school, he was more interested in the social games that children played. He had friends, but bullied those who tried to control him. Other bullies who picked on this skinny kid found themselves unexpectedly intimidated of the bristling barbs of Victor's wit and "playground" advice his Uncle Sly gave: kicks to the groin, rakes to the eyes, and that sort of treatment. Victor terrified his would-be terrorists through the threats of consequences if he tattled, combined with he (and his own pals) sometimes beating them up.

Victor's father seemed too weary to really impress anything on the boy. His mother commanded more influence, always encouraging an "A-type" personality and go-getter aggressiveness. The Erwins weren't particularly religious. But Victor didn't seem to need God to keep himself healthy. Never once did Victor miss school or any other obligations because of illness. He got what he generally wanted from people, too. He was shrewd beyond his measured IQ. Victor even constructed elaborate templates for his ploys and extortion, enabling him to intimidate almost anyone through words if not actions. Only his Uncle Sly was never subjected to that attitude, because he gave Victor exactly what the youth wanted: more hunting. An enthusiast and member of the NRA, Uncle Sly taught Victor all about firearms.

The 'Nam

That tutelage served Victor well when the Army drafted him in '66 during the Vietnam War. During the harsh basic training, Victor quickly established his role as cadet squad leader. The officers noted his leadership qualities. Victor was a bit disheartened though. For the first time, he met someone he couldn't intimidate no matter how he tried: Master Sergeant Arnold Binds, his drill instructor. Though Victor got himself into trouble at times with Binds, the man left a deeply ingrained sense of toughness and fortitude on young Victor. As they sometimes said, the worst cadets could become the best by graduation. So it was with Victor, who ended up with an unexpected MOS (Military Occupation Specialty): military intelligence! In that role, Victor was stationed in Ho Chi Minh, bugging telephones, photographing suspicious nationals, and generally spying on people.

Unfortunately, the NVA (North Vietnamese Army) suspected surveillance of one of their negotiators and set up a trap. Victor was captured by the insurgents and hauled off to a jungle prison village. There he suffered torturous interrogation. Many of the horror story techniques some veterans would later report Victor endured. The pain was excruciating. Though he didn't realize it yet, this agonizing and fateful experience actually Empowered Victor. The more they tortured him, the more he lashed out with mockery so sharp, threats so vicious, and they became scared of him. However, that just inspired his captors to beat him harder. Just before they decided to execute the recalcitrant soldier, Victor's rescuers arrived. Apparently, it was the CIA.

Leading this contingent of "black operatives" was no ordinary man. Victor knew him only by his alias, Gerard Rivven. Gerard was a Manager of the Enforcement Methodology of the Syndicate: the corporate moguls of the Technocratic Union. Gerard noticed how Victor handled himself, so he offered the young spy a job instead of just sending him back to the Army. He was listed as MIA still as far as the US Government was concerned. Thus began a new role for Victor, who adopted many an alias thereafter, ultimately to be known commonly as Jeffrey Miller.

Hands-On Experience

And one of the first things Jeff learned was that Gerard's outfit wasn't CIA at all. They were the Far Eastern branch of the GRA (Global Realization of Assets), a euphemism for a secret agency that performed military (and usually illegal) activities to bring in the money that the Syndicate wanted or was due. Jeff learned everything he needed to know "on the job", training directly under Gerard. He learned the economic science behind the Syndicate's goals and methods, such as their overall goal of controlling the world's wealth in order to bring prosperity, peace, and security to all. His natural shrewdness was further honed and his combat skills improved. Gerard proved very helpful. Jeff was more like an admired protégé than a mere trainee. He was also the only other Enlightened agent on the team, after all.

For the GRA and Gerard, Jeff remained in Southeast Asia, seeding the way for the Syndicate to invest more later. Even as the Vietnam War drew to an end, the GRA kept at work in the region. While it was often brutal, cruel, and bloody, Jeff lacked compunction when it came to this sort of work. He recognized by 1971 that everything he felt or made other people feel was in his head. Things were only as good or bad as he believed or wanted others to believe. And his ability to insinuate that belief overcame other people's feelings who rarely even gave that sort of thing a thought in the first place. Jeff knew how to maintain control.

Even Jeff's role in the GRA, which put him in contact with numerous criminals of notoriety, didn't change this sociological fact. The nature of their crimes didn't bother Jeff much. For him, it was all business. More and more, Jeff witnessed the power of fear over the weak and apathetic. He cowed a whole village run by drug dealers in Thailand in 1977 without firing a single shot, just using he and Gerard's tried and true coercion techniques. By '78, Jeff felt ready to go on alone. Gerard gave his thumbs up and his protégé was promoted. Gerard was promoted, too, leaving the GRA entirely to join the Financiers Guild of the Syndicate. They parted ways on good terms and Jeff expanded his territory from regional to global.

GRA

So Jeff was assigned a team of his own. He was able to keep a couple agents from the Far Eastern GRA team, men he buddied up with while serving under Gerard for a decade. Jeff became quite intercontinental with this new arrangement. Yes, he made lots of money, visited beautiful foreign lands, met lots of interesting people, and killed them. Ultimately, Jeff spearheaded the GRA and helped the Syndicate consolidate political and financial influence through coercion and murder all over the world. It was for the money, of course. For Jeff, it was his job and what he was particularly good at.

However, the Cold War and the growing apathy it generated fascinated Jeff. Also interested in sociology, Jeff studied the science for clues on how to better exploit people. He acquired a Bachelor's in the field from Berkeley University while dancing over the world for GRA. His duties changed little over the next ten years or so. He killed dozens of people in the course of his work. Naturally, Jeff became more calloused over time: calloused but more self-assured. He didn't maintain much of a social life consequently. Jeff's only friends were his teammates, with whom he shared a militant camaraderie and nothing more. As for love? Pff. Jeff bought his women.

At least Jeff managed to avoid RDs (Reality Deviants) -- supernatural creatures that threatened humanity and were partly why the Technocracy formed in the first place. Jeff knew about RDs, of course, from his training with Gerard. He suspected he encountered them regularly, especially when he negotiated with criminal underworlds. But when it came time for combat actions, Jeff was "in and out" too fast. Some of the people he killed were likely minions of vampires or mages and so forth. It seemed as though RDs were purposely avoiding the danger. Did they fear him? Jeff wasn't sure, and by 1986 he realized apathy trumped fear anyway. Along with this observed realization came a desire to get out of GRA while the getting was good. The Cold War was coming to its finale, and the GRA's duties would grow much more complicated and dangerous. Jeff desired a more secure role within the Syndicate.

SNR

A transfer is what Jeff received, moving over to the SPD (Special Projects Division) branch of the Syndicate. He was still technically an Enforcer, but now he ran security at a nuclear research facility: SNR (Syndicated Nuclear Research), located in the heartland of the United States. Here in Fairfield, Iowa, his role proved brief but exciting. It began when he and his team detected illegal surveillance: industrial espionage. First they just found cameras. Later they captured actual spies who tried to break into SNR's complex. The spies were interrogated as forcefully as needed. Jeff learned that they were agents of a rival nuclear energy corporation, Atlas International. The repeated attempts Atlas made to infiltrate SNR began to annoy the Syndicate.

Thus, in 1990 Jeff was given a green light to investigate Atlas before the Syndicate considered turning the matter over to the police. They first wanted to be sure this antagonist was not controlled by a RD. Jeff checked out the local offices that Atlas leased in town. He didn't get far in his probes, receiving an anticipated cold shoulder when he visited the office during work hours. Jeff didn't expect, however, that Atlas would dispatch its own security against him so soon into his probe...so soon and so violently.

A First Team, comprised of preternaturally stealthy gunmen and voracious Black Spiral Dancer werewolves, stormed Jeff's home. Their surveillance of his house was luckily inadequate; they failed to detect his cellar, which was converted into a bunker and arsenal. That was where he happened to be when they attacked, and he was able to easily repel their assault from that easily defended section. He tossed back their grenades and detonated his own explosives, planted around his own house for just such an emergency. Taking an autoloader shotgun, Jeff mercilessly slaughtered the wounded security team. Even werewolves die when their heads are blown off like watermelons. Jeff then fled the scene and let the Syndicate pull strings to get the police off his back.

Despite that incident, the conflict between Atlas and SNR wasn't settled by force or the law. The parent corporations, the Syndicate and Pentex, worked out some deal way over Jeff and his colleagues' heads. Now the companies would be doing business together. So Atlas no longer needed to spy on SNR. Jeff was disgusted. His superiors capitulated to deadly rivals, just for a little extra security and stabilized cash flow. Jeff began to doubt the correctness of the Syndicate's lofty goals. Was it just about the money despite their philosophizing? Was there no other purpose to their wealth but to self-replicate? When he dared to voice his objections to the Pentex deal, SNR fired the man! Jeff's friends at the company, such as researcher Larry Zim, were just as appalled. At least Larry sided with Jeff, he thought. The man was a decent friend and contact, and he suspected Jeff would prove useful in whatever his new employment might be.

Cleaner

Though disillusioned, Jeff was far from retirement. After some consideration, he decided to make the best of his well-practiced skills. He became a contract killer. He hired himself out as an independent "cleaner", mainly to the Syndicate. Sometimes, Jeff worked instead for organizations that were related or connected to the Syndicate's influence, such as the mob, shady corporations, and even the U.S. Government. Jeff took care of their numerous competitors, rivals, and obstacles, cleaning the way for those employers' security or gain.

And Jeff was a highly desired and vaunted killer because of how good he was at making his targets' deaths appear tragic and accidental. Those slain by his incidental traps and clever ambushes weren't always criminals like himself. Oh, no. Jeff murdered a few innocents, too, including women and children (generally, he made exceptions if they were younger than about fourteen). "To make an omelet, you have to break a few eggs", Jeff adhered. As highly motivated as Jeff remained, his social life also stayed almost nonexistent.

Jeff's motivations: money was key, true. But that wasn't all that he was about. Jeff enjoyed the thrill of the chase (so to speak) as well. That wasn't it either. It was all in Jeff's nature. Nothing lofty. He just commanded the ability to prey on others' complacency, and he loved that. Jeff couldn't have cared less about the Pogrom of the Technocracy, their Ascension War against Reality Deviants. They had minds and feelings just like normal people, Jeff noted, if their feelings were sometimes more extreme. Humanity had its share of psychopaths, too, and Jeff could kill any of them. RDs didn't impress or worry Jeff Miller.

Merciless

And the handful of RDs Jeff encountered in his new line of work over the years supported his ideas. He prized more some of his other kills: some of the world's most wealthy and influential citizens fell to his skills. Jeff rarely failed any missions he accepted; his few failures weren't dismal enough to mar his record at all. With safe houses all over the world, maintained since his GRA years, Jeff became quite the globetrotting assassin.

One of Jeff's first notable slayings occurred in 1992. His target was Abhoy Nagendra, a very clever and successful stock marketer in Manhattan. Abhoy was also a mage of the Euthanatos Tradition: definitely a rival for the Syndicate. Disguised as a homeless junkie, Jeff cloaked Abhoy's murder as a brutal mugging in Central Park. A few years later in Las Vegas, Jeff got rid of the notorious mobster Billy "Sixtoe" Hodgers, who was also a vampire of the Brujah family. First Jeff snuck into local fire departments and sabotaged their vehicles to slow response time. Then, using a neutron-fusion nuclear plasma rifle (the Fusion Plasma Caster 4, or FPC-4) "borrowed" from SNR (thanks to Larry Zim), Jeff set fire to Sixtoe's casino. The casino was also the vampire's haven, and he was instantly deep-fried. Bad wiring was the only explanation the fire departments could produce.

Then in 1997, Jeff was also the cleaner who dangled and then dropped multi-millionaire Neil Winterson out of the twentieth-story window of a high-rise. The man was thought to have jumped; Los Angeles police found cocaine in his blood. Neil was no RD, but he was a wealthy realtor who once graced the cover of Forbes magazine. Two years later, Jeff voyaged to Saudi Arabia to pull off a job for the CIA. His target, Sheikh Qasim Hishamal, was a religious fruit who despised the West and supported terrorist organizations like Al-Qaida. The man was "only" another fabulously rich Sleeper (unEmpowered human) due to his control over certain oil fields. Jeff assaulted the sheikh's caravan with heavy weapons, including that FPC-4. It resulted in many collaborative deaths, including an eight-year-old kid named Salim. The boy's charred remains were forever seared into Jeff's memory, subconsciously haunting him more and more.

Bullseye Brutality

But that didn't slow Jeff's momentum. In 2001, he traveled to Columbia and showed off his marksman skills when he assassinated the son of a cartel leader. The young man, Remio Entago, was flying back to his father's jungle stronghold in a helicopter. From a tree perch and in a ghillie suit, Jeff sniped Remio perfectly. The pilot was unharmed and the helicopter sustained only minor damage and an ugly cleaning bill to get bits of Remio's brain off the glass.

The next year, Jeff was hired to dispatch another vampire, this time one of the Ventrue Clan. This fellow, Alexander Vandossa, was just another rival in the Syndicate's way. Jeff scoped out Kansas City and Alexander's haunts therein. Then when the vampire was crossing the street one evening from his car to his favorite club, Jeff ran him down with a pick-up truck. Jeff put her into reverse and ran the vampire over again. And over. And over. He didn't stop until he heard the crunch of every bone and essentially decapitated Alexander.

That was when Jeff began to feel like he was missing out on life. It just hit him as he both reveled in and recoiled from the brutality of how he killed Alexander. Jeff wondered what it was he was missing. Was it just life, or maybe he wasn't fulfilling his ambitions enough? Jeff knew one thing for sure: he was tired of being nothing but a Syndicate thug. He yearned to at least hold some authority. Aha! That was his enlightenment: he recognized at last his need to be top of everything and everyone.

The Guild

Using his impressive financial assets and limited assistance from the Disbursements division of the Syndicate, as well as permission from his Enforcer seniors, Jeff created a new organization: White Wasp Professional Services. Essentially, it was an assassins' guild, while he disguised its operations as legitimate security consultants. He based it out of Kansas City, Missouri. Why not? He found the city to be a medium in many ways: geographically as well as economically. Some players liked to be at the center of the wheel, but those are the fools who don't realize the center of the axle is what matters, and that was where Kansas City lied. Besides, Jeff liked jazz.

He advertised White Wasp to a handful of fellow cleaners in the Syndicate in addition to the few he trusted outside that Convention. Most were Sleepers, but all were highly skilled and motivated individuals. Jeff only invited his fellow assassins. Nobody was forced to join or pay dues or any of that nonsense. Whoever became a White Wasp got all the benefits of the organization: assets and contacts beyond their own ken, back up, a legitimate face, and the perks of a steady commission-based paycheck.

Meanwhile, Jeff rose to a purely management position, much like his mentor Gerard Rivven did decades ago. He quickly gained authority within the local Technocratic Symposium: he was a powerful player and there to stay. Jeff personally carried out almost no contract assignments any longer. The thrill of action still attracted the man admittedly. So he initiated paint gun-styled "war games" to be played down south in Louisiana and Alabama's wilderness. His employees could join him and they enjoyed rivalries against other organizations (most of whom had no clue they were competing against professional assassins). Yes, Jeffrey Miller was starting to really enjoy life at last. Retirement was nowhere on the horizon, he was racking in plenty of dough, and he was on top of the world.

Significant Other


Hailey Collingsworth may be just a Sleeper, but she's got pluck and talent. Jeff hired her on an apprentice level in early 2006. Over the first part of the year, he observed her skill and began to lust for her vigor and sensuality. Jeff foresaw a beautiful partnership between them, perhaps akin to Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Whatever the case may have been, Jeff promoted Hailey. Then from a different angle, he began to woo the younger woman, and managed to seduce her after a few weeks of dating. Their fiery relationship could indeed be the start of a beautiful partnership.

Their relationship took an odd twist. Hailey vanished a while and returned deadlier than ever. He soon realized she was no longer...human. She wasn't the un-dead either. No, she'd become some other kind of RD, one of the shapeshifter-types. It served his interests (and lust) to pretend she was still plain ol' Hailey, just as she with her new and enhanced senses pretended he was just plain ol' Jeff. It's working out so far and Control's not the least bit wiser.

Hailey

Weakness
Antipathy


Jeff doesn't care about or even like most people, Sleepers or Enlightened, Technocrat or Reality Deviant. To him, most people are just wastes of space, neither producing anything of value or driving to obtain anything of value. What is value? It ain't love. It ain't some "American dream". Value equals money. It always has and it always will, and Jeffrey's all about the Benjamins.

Likelihood of Corruption


High.

Despite his cautious approach to all things, Jeff is easily used by darker or more calloused forces. He'd better check his brutality or he risks becoming the enemy of the Union. "To fight monsters, you sometimes have to become one" is an old utilitarian proverb. But monsters are monsters, regardless of motives.

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"They call me the White Wasp. Yes, it's a hilarious name, isn't it. Especially the part where I shoot you in one eye, implant insect larva in the socket, and watch them eat your brains and explode out of the other eye. Fuck you."