Sleuth Home - Detective George Miller

Title:		Sleuth
Experience:		580
Archetype:		Very Tough
Age:		4254 days
Gender:		male
Sleuth Theme:		Shady Character
Last Login:		Sep-15-2012
Account Status:		Inactive
Subscription Status:		Unsubscribed
Community:		Post History

Equipment

Completed Missions

• Packages Delivered: 0
• Overdue Books Returned: 0
• Nemeses Captured: 0
• Secret Plans Revealed: 0
• Artifacts Unearthed: 0
• Journal Pages Found: 0
• Brass Rings Won: 0

Detective Biography

My father was a detective. When I was a little kid, I remember always wanting to be him. When he wasn't home, I would wear his clothes. I told my mother that I was gonna catch all the bad guys in New York and that they would put my face in the papers. She said that I should be a lawyer instead. Now I understand why she was so put off the job.

My father was as distant from us as one human can be from another. To make matters worse, he was deep into the whiskey bottle. When he drank, he didn't get mean, only further away. Living with him was like living with a ghost who can't see or hear you, only keep doing what it does forever.

That is exactly how life was until he was shot in killed outside of a tavern. A drunken man was shooting at another man who was trying to go back on a bet he had lost. My father was killed by a stray bullet over a five dollar bet.

After my fathers death, everything was changed. I no longer desired to be a detective. I joined the army at seventeen but had missed out on the great war. Among other things I did during my time in the service, I learned to box. A staff sergeant and former pro was my mentor. I trained in my free time because I didn't know what else to do. I had no direction but the act of fighting felt curative. It was ironic that while my physical body was being struck by blows, I felt the most healed.

When I came back, I still needed to support myself, so I boxed professionally. I fought a lot of fights a year for a good number of years. I stayed in shape all year round so I could fight all the time so long as the current injury I was nursing wasn't too debilitating. I fought everyone and won a lot more than I lost. I even fought Gene Tunney, but he was the better man that day.

I had made a good amount of money and lived a pretty high life up to that point. The problem was, I was still a decently young man and I had absorbed too many punches to keep boxing. At least, that's what the athletic commission said. They refused to renew my license after I lost sight in one of my eyes.

How was I going to keep food on the table and clothes on my back now that I was a boxer who couldn't box? I didn't even enjoy doing anything else except maybe playing the harmonica, which I wasn't great at.

It came to me when I walked by the tavern my father was shot at. I lived four blocks away from where my mother still lived. We were close still, me and ma. I walked by this tavern all the time and it never meant anything. That day was different though. I thought I saw my father. A man in a coat asked me if I had a match to light a cigarette. He looked familiar and as I reached into my pocket I realized why. I looked up quickly to see if I was going crazy and he was gone.

I took this meeting as a sign. I would try to follow in my fathers footsteps as a detective, for better or worse. I would see what made the ghost of a man that was my father tick.

Politics

Contacts

None

Arch Villains

None Caught

Books Collected

None