Milton Goodman
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You are reading the wiki for a completely useless character that exists solely to occupy channels where other people are actually interacting with storylines and doing shit.
Nose to ground so this Bloodhound will sniff and follow it
I hope you choke on your pride when I make you swallow it
-Bloodhound Gang, "Boom"
| VITALS
Name: Milton "Milt" Goodman |
Appearance and Demeanor
"You remember when you were a kid and you'd hold your breath and run past the graveyard? ...Leave that man alone."
-Max Payne trailer
Milton Goodman is a tall, pale white male with blond hair. He has an athletic, muscular build that he likes to hide with modest suits. He most commonly wears unobtrusive colors; his favored outfit is a gray suit with a light blue dress shirt. He is also usually seen wearing a gray fedora with a blue band. He usually sports a day's worth of stubble, and his fingernails are trimmed short. His teeth are white, but not perfectly so.
Socially, Milt can be hard to get along with these nights. His face bears a constant frown, which is frequently interpreted (sometimes rightly) as disrespectful. He expects every Kindred he meets to have an irrational hatred for him, and deals with most in a brusque manner. As a result, when meeting strangers he is most easily unsettled by kindness. If someone meets his expectations (i.e. talks down to him) he reflexively responds in an antagonistic, sarcastic manner, which seldom helps the situation. He has little patience for people who get hung up on aesthetics, strongly preferring to get down to what really matters. If he wants to, he can be polite. He just usually doesn't want to.
This has improved recently, however, and it's even been rumored that he can, in fact, smile.
Milton is loyal to the Camarilla only out of necessity, as he is persona non grata with the California Anarchs (and believes this to be the case with all Anarchs*), and has learned to avoid the Sabbat like the plague. Indeed, Milton has little respect for the Camarilla, who he believes is largely a system put in place to protect the lazy and self-entitled. It would be more accurate to say that his loyalty is to Chance Blackwell rather than the Camarilla as a whole, or even as a concept.
- For whatever reason, Milton thinks the Anarchs are a lot more united than they necessarily are, and may have only angered a small faction.
Life and Death
Milton Goodman was born in 1983 to a middle-class family in San Diego. As they never moved, that was also where he grew up. His childhood was as mundane as it was uneventful, with about the same amount of trials, triumphs, and tribulations as any other average upbringing. Milt was a quiet child, an analytical thinker with a photographic memory. After graduating high school he pursued an associate's degree in law enforcement. In his spare time, he trained at the gym and jogged. After graduation he attended the police academy. The time spent on fitness paid off as he quickly learned the techniques necessary to subdue suspects.
Despite his capability in the "muscle" side of law enforcement, it became clear that for someone as observant as Milton, it would be a waste to employ his talents ticketing speeders on the freeway and arresting drunks. He went back to college to learn to be a detective. Milton had all but completed his training when he met a woman he would come to know as Sarah Valentini. She drew his interest by staring at an untouched Bloody Mary for fifteen minutes.
Curiosity killed the cat, as they say.
Sarah was from San Jose. The cocktail, she explained, was for an old friend she was in town to see, but apparently they had stood her up. Milton didn't quite buy it but figured the answer would do for the time being. The conversation wound up lasting until closing time. Sarah gave him her number and left.
Over the following weeks they started dating, and Milton prepared to go back to work as a detective. Things seemed to be getting serious between the two of them. Neither of them really knew just how serious that would be.
Embrace
"No, there is not a thin line between love and hate. There is, in fact, a Great Wall of China with armed sentries posted every twenty feet between love and hate."
-Dr. Gregory House, House M.D.
Of his Embrace, the only thing Milton really remembers is thinking, "That's a little hard for a love bite." The next thing he knew, he woke up with Sarah watching him from the corner, sitting with her knees hugged to her chest, next to some stolen blood bags. It was then that he learned the real story.
Sarah had been Embraced only a few weeks before she met Milton. She panicked when she learned what she was and fled from her Sire, and was hiding out in San Diego while trying to feel "human again." Disgusted by (and ashamed of) the need to drink human blood, she tended to procrastinate when it came to feeding. Unfortunately, her hunger had overcome her when she was with Milton, and she completely drained him. Realizing what she had done, she hastily Embraced him.
Milton was furious at first, but in the following nights he came to forgive her, and they even rebuilt their relationship.
Unlife
"Feelin's? Look, mate. You know who has a lotta feelin's? Blokes what bludgeon their wife to death with a golf trophy. Professionals have standards. Be polite. Be efficient. Have a plan to kill everyone you meet."
-Team Fortress 2: Meet the Sniper
Becoming a vampire added a set of new, immediate challenges for Milton. First, of course, was finding blood. This turned out to be surprisingly easy: Illegal immigrants, a continual frustration for law enforcement, were a handy source; in an unfamiliar environment and usually gone the next night, they could be fed upon without arousing suspicion. The second challenge was finding a source of funds to keep his home, which was now his and Sarah's haven. He couldn't go back to the police now, but he could at least find a job working the night shift somewhere, and his training could be put to use in private investigations.
The last challenge was finding out more about Sarah and himself. Sarah had told him everything she knew, which wasn't much. Unlike Sarah, however, Milton couldn't bury his vampirism under a heap of denial; it was in his nature to demand answers. Unfortunately, it seemed that answers would be few and far between. What he did learn was hardly encouraging: He and Sarah were Caitiff. Outcasts. The lowest of the low.
Still, they thought they would be safe as long as they kept to themselves, off the radar. They made enough to pay the bills. They were careful. Even so, everything began to take on an undercurrent of wild desperation to it, whether tracking another coyote's pack of unfortunates, trying to make love like the humans they used to be, sharing each other's blood (quickly developing a mutual Blood Bond), or just taking care of the haven.
Then it all went to hell.
One thing that Milton and Sarah were dimly aware of was that California was sometimes referred to as an "Anarch free state." What they didn't know was that some of the local Kindred had been watching them, and somehow got it into their heads that the two of them were Camarilla agents encroaching on their territory. They set fire to a portion of the haven, and when Milt and Sarah predictably fled the building, ambushed them outside.
Milton had a gun. It was a very nice gun. He'd bought it during his short time as a police officer, and this was the first time he fired it in anger. The results were disappointing. He hit the enemy easily enough; they weren't even trying to avoid getting hit. The fact that his powerful .45ACP loads seemed to do nothing to stop the attackers despite hitting them in the chest and head was highly unnerving. Realizing that they were in a fight they could not win, he shouted at Sarah to run just in time to see a powerfully-swung axe decapitate her.
What followed is another unnerving gap in Milton's otherwise excellent memory. All he remembers is waking up the following night covered in dust, ash, blood stains and the odd wound. Crawling out from under his temporary shelter from the sun, he made his way back to his haven to salvage what he could, and then struck out north to San Jose, with a single purpose in mind: To try and re-trace Sarah's steps. He wasn't sure if it would do any good, but under the circumstances, it was the best he could do.
Milton never met Sarah's Sire, although given the number of Ventrue in San Jose, he suspected it was one of them. However, without any proof, he didn't dare bring up the subject. He managed to pass himself off as Ventrue, and entered their world as a Rook. It was there he met Chance Blackwell. Milton soon discovered a knack for blades, and began carrying a well-made naval cutlass. He also began quietly investigating Sarah's origins as thoroughly as he could. It didn't last long, though. The local Ventrue were quickly being bought out and killed off by Anarchs, and his friend and ally Chance left in November of 2006. Milton was unable to obtain the identities of Sarah's Sire or the Anarchs that killed her. As the shrinking community of San Jose Ventrue began to collapse, Milton bitterly abandoned his investigation and decided to get while the getting was still good.
Without much direction, Milton made a slow, meandering trek to the east. Along the way he learned just what it means to be Caitiff. Turned away from some towns, being thrown out of others, and having to fight for his life more often than he'd like, he also began to take a perverse pride in his lack of a clan. After hearing a particular epithet, "Caine Bringer," he decided he liked the sound of it and named his cutlass Caine, and even went so far as to have the name engraved on it.
New Corsica
"But not to worry, because for most of you, this job could be done by a monkey with a bottle of Motrin."
-Dr. House, House M.D.
By late May of 2008 he had reached Baton Rouge, and there heard that Chance Blackwell was in New Corsica. Upon arrival in New Corsica in June, however, he was surprised to learn that Chance had risen to the rank of Prince, even if on a temporary basis. When Milton had known him, he was pretty low on the totem pole.
Milton has settled in well enough, despite a rocky start with the odd faux pas; Milt's no-nonsense demeanor and lack of patience for flowery speech did not mix easily with the Elysium scene. Then he found himself in coming out of a battle with the Sabbat that saw his chest cracked open. It was a sobering reminder that while he may be immortal, nobody's quite that immortal.
In recent nights Milt has been keeping a low profile, getting to know the local Kindred better, and blowing up the odd limo or two.
Absence
"I think you're so blinded by inconsolable rage that you don't care who you hurt."
-M, Quantum of Solace
In late November, Milton left New Corsica. If pressed for a reason in the days leading up to his departure, he usually responded in darkly cryptic answers, hinting at paying back a "favor" of some kind.
Milt returned by mid-February. He seems a little less dour.
Clan and Sect Attitude
"The same blood runs through both of us. The blood of a beast that wanders, hunting for the blood of others."
-Vicious, Cowboy Bebop
Assamite: "Never thought I'd run into one of these guys in Vegas. Must've been a newbie, because I'm still here."
Brujah: "None of them here have tried to kill me yet, so that's something. A step up from California Brujah, anyway. I wanna know how they move so fast."
Followers of Set: "Snake handlers or something like that, right?"
Gangrel: "I rarely meet a Gangrel I don't like. They don't bore you to death with idle chat, they say what they need to say, and they do what they need to do. Too bad 'doing what they need to do' often tends to mean running me out of town."
Giovanni: "Don't these guys make little motor scooters, or something?"
Lasombra: "I only know for sure that I had one encounter with these assholes, and it was a fight. Barely walked away from that one, too. That shadow stuff is dangerous. In the future I wouldn't want to deal with them without some seriously heavy ordnance. An AC-130 oughtta do the trick..."
Malkavian: "They can be useful, but don't rely too heavily on them."
Nosferatu: "It's always great when a vampire who looks like something in my trash compactor looks at me with disgust."
Ravnos: "Rav-what now?"
Toreador: "Absolutely useless. They're not even furniture, they're decoration. Yet they think they're owed status. If there's any proof that having a clan shouldn't equal respectability, it's these scumbags."
Tremere: "I don't know much about these guys yet, and that bothers me. I've heard somewhere that they might be able to figure out what clan a Caitiff should belong to, but maybe it was just rumor. Who really knows?"
Tzimisce: "Haven't heard anything good about these guys. Apparently one of them managed to infiltrate the local Camarilla. Don't they all have horns, or something? Smooth, guys. Real smooth. Just a reminder that having a clan doesn't equal competence."
Ventrue: "Ventrue can be serious operators if they really want to be. Too bad a lot of them just think they're serious. It doesn't take any effort or talent to stare down your nose, guys."
Caitiff: "A lot of these guys are even more in the dark then I am. I don't claim any solidarity with other Clanless whatsoever, but I'll cut them a bit of slack, too."
Camarilla: "Funny, for an organization that dismisses religious nonsense, I get more crap from these people about being a harbinger of the apocalypse than anyone else. They protect the Toreador, so that's two strikes. But they're not Anarchs and they do offer some protection, so I'll try to make the best of it."
Sabbat: "Play your monster freak show somewhere else, shovelhead. I'll rip your fucking head off."
Noted Individuals
Anyone who's appeared on Milt's radar, as it were. They might have just been met and observed... or there might be a manila envelope with their name on it, full of photos, in a drawer somewhere.
Amarandos Christofidis: Being stuck with him wasn't so bad. Χαίρομαι γιὰ τὴν γνωριμία
Zack Cross: "Not the fastest car in the garage but he's a decent guy."
Harrison Mitchell: Something about this guy makes him about as likable as a root canal. Besides, never trust someone with a last name for a first name.
Aaron Simpson: You're trying way too hard, doctor. But that's better than not trying at all.
Verity Madison: So you have a face now. Hmm.
Xavier de Dominici: Swish. Clunk. Heheheheh.
See you, space cowboy.
Chance Blackwell: See you later, buddy.
Victor Galford: Good riddance you damn dirty ape.
Samantha Diego: Too bad she's gone. I think we would've been friends.
