#information.

time didn't feel real until his mother's cancer diagnosis — before then, it wasn't measured, not in meters, nor minutes. mortality wasn't real until he overheard the diagnosis after sneaking onto the other side of their landline, curious, hoping that her life had gone into overtime instead of its final call. she was given a year with its descent into stage four, two if they prayed hard enough even if religion was never carved out in their home. at the end, she made it eight months, sudden and devastating in the way tragedy usually hits people in their most raw state.

pa became just arnold and ma became a memory, a title specially reserved for the grief he split his own lips by biting down upon to hold back the cries. arnold went back to the streets, falling in line with the purple dragons in hopes of finding community and distraction, all the while casey was left to his own devices. arnold would come home late smelling of corner store whiskey, casey would prod, and prod, and prod, but never fight with anything but his voice. casey would earn himself a bruised cheek in return, something he'd chalk up to a game-induced injury when folks asked.

his introduction to the turtles came at a moment of weakness, with a sixteen year old casey bloodied up and choking in the darkness of an alleyway raphael serendipitously passed by during his patrols. since then, he couldn't imagine a life without the turtles, splinter, and april, whom he'd soon meet.

aside from living with splinter and his nightly patrols, normalcy came in the form of his eventual athletic scholarship at new york tech, playing for the university's hockey team. it was the only thing that kept him afloat before a life of vigilantism, something he could channel everything into — rage, love, many times both. home wasn't a place he wanted to be, neither as the shell of a home with memories that felt like nothing but pipe dreams, nor as a slaughterhouse for him to wait for arnold's return like an idle creature.

casey wields justice like a pair of brass knuckles — in his hands, and with force. the mask goes on and suddenly he feels immortal and just. pent up anger conflated with a sense of morality means that he goes overboard, but never toes the line of stealing someone's life (in his main verse). meta to be written about casey's journey as a vigilante.

verses,

main storyline: casey has been a vigilante for years now, nameless, donning his hockey goalie mask and any stick-shaped vaguely sports-related weaponry he could get his hands on. he went from starting his patrols alongside raphael, one of the turtles, and eventually a team effort with the rest of the hamato clan that includes april o'neil, under master splinter's guidance. casey is still largely affiliated with them, but also feels comfortable enough to do solo patrols. day-to-day, he is still a student and active hockey player at ny tech, living off a full ride athletic scholarship, without the grades to maintain it. it puts him between two worlds, one of full-time vigilantism that doesn't pay the rent, versus a life that is sensible but devoid of what his heart calls him to do.

arnold, casey's father, is still alive and known as hun, the leader of the purple dragon as well as an affiliate of the foot clan in exchange for a mutagen that enhanced his strength and speed to a super-human level. casey does his best to avoid him, but the presence of the purple dragons throughout the new york city streets is one that is nothing less than significant.

alternate verse (mirage): to be written.

fantasy / high fantasy: to be written.

general sci-fi: to be written.

modern / all for the game: to be written.

riordanverse: to be written.

⬩ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 .ᐟ ⋆˚࿔ (pt. 1)

death is sharp-witted and often persuasive, as charismatic and charming as she can be distant and calculating, easy to interact with heroes, villains and those in-between. there is astuteness in the way she express herself and a wise, composed, disciplined and often approachable aura about her despite how aloof she might seem in some dialogues. to some, she could be almost maternal. there is a profound respect for certain traditions or rather, to the balance of the universe which is translated into her task, which she fulfills with the efficiency of a well-regulated machine. her instinct is to preserve the balance of the universe, even as it balances itself naturally, but she still remains as a nexus or a fulcrum. the universe would collapse without death (in a way, she is that who essentially regulates it).

as a neutral entity, she looks upon the alignments of good and evil as facets of a multifaceted system where each aspect exists as a part of the whole, one to balance the other, such as life is necessary for death. she mostly prefers a highly philosophical outlook towards existence, neither positive nor nihilistic. she often ponders about the matter of different perspectives and likes to discuss it with other people, having a certain fondness for abstract debates. death seems to be socially extroverted, and even pleasant in most interactions, but she never loses an aura of isolation and otherness that intimidates most mortals.

UPBRINGING: heywood, born and raised. a place where loyalty runs thicker than blood and chrome. the valentinos have always controlled the streets, as the colors of gold and red fly proud with unwavering devotion to santa muerte. what better name to befit their only son than valentine? the castillos were respected figures within the street gang, regular fuckin' pillars of the community. manuel was a man of native south american and mestizo roots, was known for a mean and steady trigger finger. margarite was a feared and revered netrunner with a reputation for cracking corps' ICE like it was child's play. she had some distant relation to campo orta, a cousin or something like that.

valentine doesn't remember much about his parents, outside a story told over late-night street parties and whispers from some of the older members. they died in a botched arms deal, orchestrated by a 6th street double-cross. it wasn't just business, it was betrayal, fueling fire for a bloody gang war. but family is more than just blood, right? the padre stepped in when valentine was set to sink into the system. instead of finding some foster home to rot in, the gang raised him, establishing a strong since of family and loyalty to the valentinos.

into adulthood, it was clear that valentine was not just a product of heywood, but a direct reflection of everything it represented. a street saavy mercenary with gold in his hear and lead in his veins. he had come to carry his parents' legacy, and the values instilled into him by the gang. but life had to be bigger than night city, right?

CONNECTIONS & AFFILIATIONS

mother: margarite orta, father: manuel castillo, siblings: n/a, affiliations: the valentinos, johnny silverhand, career history: mercenary, gun for hire, religion: catholic.

ATLANTA, GEORGIA: valentine wanted one thing out of life. to get out of night city before it killed him. into his early twenties, home started to feel like a ticking time bomb, with the constant reminder that this city life killed his parents. it was probably going to kill him too. he had watched some friends get flatlined over gang beef and corpo crossfire. all of it built up a pressure in his chest, and finally, he left with nothing more than the clothes on his body.

georgia wasn't in the big, grand plan of valentine castillo's life. but it had pretty promises of something different, something comparable to an old sense of normalcy. new macon, a rebuilt corporate enclave, was designed to look like a slice of pre-collapse america. white picket fences, friendly neighbors, chrome hidden behind vintage aesthetic. all the works. it was everything night city wasn't and more.

for a while, valentine embraced the old world aesthetic and landed himself a pretty 9 to 5 logistics job, moving synthetic food across the states. no more shootouts, no more cyberpsychos. no more looking over your fuckin' shoulder every five minutes because some gonk asshole thought he'd try his hand at revenge. hell, he even rented a modest apartment in a prefab neighborhood where everything looked identical.

well, normalcy was just another pretty illusion in the nusa. a prettier cage. it didn't take long for valentine to notice the crack beneath the pristine, polished surface. maybe it was the night city in him, but he'd sit outside, sometimes on the rooftop, and observe the world around him. people were so used to not looking around them, that no one seemed to notice when neighbors would disappear overnight after asking the wrong questions. corporate 'wellness checks' felt more like interrogations. mandatory neuroscans were disguised as health benefits.

v was not hard wired to be controlled. he grew up free, doing whatever the fuck he wanted. in night city, you knew what you were signing up for, knew that there was a gun waiting for you around the corner. in new macon, the noose was invisible, tightening with every contract renewal or visit from corporate hr.

when he was up for promotion at his job, the company insisted that he receive a mandatory neural impant for efficiency and suggested he marry into another family who was under their employ. instead, he packed up what little he owned, torched his corporate credentials, and disappeared on a train headed back to night city, not as valentine castillo, but as a merc name v.

PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES

hair: black, eyes: brown, kiroshi optics upgrade turned gold, height: 6'2", weight: 167lbs, body type: athletic, ethnicity: mestizo, native south american, portuguese, japanese, markings: santa muerte / valentino themed tattoos mapping entire upper body, face claim: marlon teixeira.

RELATIONSHIPS:

JACKIE WELLES: valentine and jackie did not meet as strangers on a gig. the boys grew up shoulder to shoulder on the streets of heywood, baptized in honor, family and faith like good 'ol valentinos. they met as teenagers, running errands for the bigger boys, trying to earn their own stripes tagging walls and getting into shitty street fights. they forged a bond that was stronger than the gang. they were brothers. so when v was fresh out of georgia, and picking up any stray job, it was jackie and mama welles who brought him home and gave him a chance to get back on his feet. VIKTOR VEKTOR: the best ripperdoc in night city. valentine wouldn't be here without this man. literally. their relationship goes back, even when he was still running with the gang. if it weren't for the cheaper chrome and promises to pay him back later, it would be a miracle that he'd be breathing that fresh night city pollution in 2077. valentine genuinely looks up to vik, enjoys his company, and wouldn't put his life in anyone else's hands

IN-GAME CHOICES (with embellishments):

met with meredith stout, took the chip and fucked over royce. freed brick during the escape with the promise of a favor later. eventually has a one night stand with meredith.

sent jackie's body back to his mother.

kills woodman, kills fingers, kills the vdb, and everyone involved in evelyn parker's death.

kills the netwatch agent.

lets oda live, saves takemura.

helps johnny fix his past mistakes, inscribes his name on a piece of metal as a graveyard headstone, calling him the guy who saved his life.

helps the peralez family with the election and discovering the truth behind their break in. participates in a threesome with them. respects elizabeth's request to keep jefferson in the dark.

refuses to help joshua atone for his sins.

rescues president myers, doesn't swear in as a nusa agent, ultimately saves so mi / songbird and sends her to the moon.

have bennett rule dogtown after kurt hansen's death, however jago lives and helps support in bennett's rule.

gave paco and babs to panam palmer to smuggle out of night city.

helps panam and the aldecaldos.

incapacitates all cyberpsychos, helping regina make progress.

agrees to help alt with mikoshi, doesn't involve any friends in the storming of arasaka tower. it's just v and johnny on this one, boys.