Difference between revisions of "Spookmatter"

HERE I COME, CONSTANTINOPLE
Most people, they'll say.. They'll say, you know, that we should all follow our Will,
our destiny, whatever you call it. But that's fucking bullshit sometimes. I mean, you don't always have to be super rebellious or anything,
being a great chef, or an auctioneer or a seal-trainer or whatever is absolutely, completely, without a doubt,
quite alright. Very decent.
But when Mama tries to force your destiny, when she makes you for the one purpose of being some kind of supernatural cult enforcer, well, to HELL with you, mom!
Yeah, bitch, I'm a fucking descendant of the DRAGON! So are you, you're my mom, but I'm a fucking man and you're a woman!

So who am I? Spookmatter? What does that even mean? Shit, last I checked,
Spookmatter was something you got on your perineum! Well..
I'm a special circumstances occult consultant. That means I'm like all the other magic people,
Witchcraft, whomever, whatever, except I'm completely out of a job, except for when a few special
SOMEONES
screw something up major, and need some really obscure and esoteric magic to save the day. Wicked, right?

Yeah, but like I said, mostly out of a job. People prefer Witchcraft. Suspect it's cause of larger breasts.
That, and she's not a registered sex offender, but you know, the point remains..
I got other ways of supporting myself. I've been legally advised to not discuss exactly what, but it's way cooler

So I was a kid once. Surprising. I know. Little kid. Name was Ianco Mithras. Grew up in Romania. To add to the dark magic cliché, it happened to
be Transylvania (not to be confused with Transexual Transylvania). This was, uh, almost 100 years ago. Was born July 6th, 1919.
"That makes you very old, you old, bald, cunt", absolutely, shitlord, but I can still kick your ass. Anyways, lived a pretty
isolated childhood. My father isn't really worth wasting time on, but my mother was a very interesting woman. A woman of faith.
She wasn't religious, however. Not in any traditional way, anyways, she had her toes in something much more sinister. As of writing
this, I am still not fully sure what she was worshiping, but I am quite certain it wasn't little Baby Jesus. I'll get into all of this later,
when it begins becoming important to the story, but for now, let's just keep the narrative focused on Lil' Spooks. I didn't have any formal education.
We were quite poor, we lived in a small village out in the country. I'm not exactly certain how we afforded what little we had, I never saw my father
do much, except sit in his chair and then sometimes, when he had the courage, go out for long walks. My mother was usually in her kinky cult-room.
Never really saw the inside of the place, only a lamp-sized statuette, that I could see for the brief moments the door would be open. It was like a
trinity of some sort, had the face of a toad, a guy and a little kitten. It wasn't until I hit the age of 10, that my adventure would be set into gear ........

Right, my origin story. When I was 10, my parents suddenly decided that we were moving to some small country in the west called 'America'. That's right,
U.S. of A., greatest country on Earth. Unfortunately, both of my parents passed during a storm on our shitty boat-trip. To my surprise and, if it is not
too much, my relief, Mother went first. She lost her mind a few days prior. Hysterical. Like a, like a, uh, like a dog with rabies, that just wants to
break shit and cause havoc. She died of a sickness. Father died the morning after. Nobody's really sure why. I have my theories. Not gonna write them here.
I came to America, the boat arrived in New York, I managed to get through, with papers that I'd gotten from my parents. At the time I didn't know how they'd
gotten their hands on all this shit. I found out later. I'll get to it when it's appropriate. I had gotten a new, American, name. 'John'. 'John Matters'. Cute.
Didn't use it very much. Was just a formality. I don't think of myself as 'John'. or Ianco. Ended up getting taken in by an old lady up in Harlem. Her name
was Simona. I liked her.