Don Rhodes

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'Rhadamanthus'
Played by: Rhadamanthus
Rhad.png
INFORMATION

Mortal, Male, See Documentation

Aliases: Louis Ardor; Mr. Ardor, Rhadamanthus, Shallow-6
Nationality: American
Residence: Transient
Employer: The Brotherhood of Phoenician Sailors
Function: Mercenary, Free Agent


𐤀𐤌𐤓 𐤅𐤂 𐤍‬𐤐𐤕

Though not a matter of public knowledge for a number of riveting reasons, Don was once a young and underpaid stooge in the employ of a notary, translating and processing his office's immigration papers in total monotony. Where else but in Washington state? You would think, given the choice, Don would give anything to break the stress and disappointment. The typical dead-end life regrets. He didn't have a choice, actually. Don's absorption into the secret world began some time in the fall of 2011.

With a ballsy bid in preparation for the Mayan End of Days incident, The Dragon established a kamikaze cell whose activities centered around the northwest-to-midwest edges of the United States.

Their goal was to triangulate and draw Illuminati attention to the location of Mayan artifacts that later turned out to be vital to defeating the Vestiges of the Wayeb', the Nameless Days - The Dragon used various methods to meet these ends. One of these methods was torn straight from the Illuminati hand-book: subliminal conditioning. The making of sleeper agents via television hijack. Couch potato soldiers of chaos.

Don's dissatisfaction with work and life rolled out into induced paranoia and distraction. He never noticed, nor later cared, how many lives he inconvenienced or endangered when he botched workload after workload. Nor did he notice his life slipping to ruin.

By the next year, The Dragon's agents had accomplished their aims in luring the Illuminati to strange, far-off burial grounds and snatching the 'prize' from in front of them. One day soon, those artifacts would land where they needed to. By then, Don had been without a job for at least two months.

The cell dissolved in goose chases and flights to South America. The Dragon decommissioned their incidental sleeper agents in ways only they could accommodate. Don was the only raised nail throughout that process. Did you know? Improper decommissioning can lead to severe psychological duress and lasting trauma. And so it did for Don, a man chosen for his total unimportance and mundanity.

Except The Dragon miscalculated how the models would play out. They knew that Don wasn't utterly unimportant, he tested positively - and negligibly - for empathic abilities. Relatively common. No, the math took a turn - as Don's thoughts perverted, they didn't just echo endlessly in his head, they echoed out, not through fleshy minds, but through the inanimate. Through electronics, through machinery. The occultech reverberations took out the infrastructure of a whole city block and replaced it with static approximations of Quentin Tarantino films.

It's said you could have heard generators sputter to the sound of "That IS a tasty burger!" ad nauseum for four days. Don, at the incident's center, had looped back and became much like an occult gadget with each day.

Perhaps that's why the Phoenicians were so quick to find him. Not the Illuminati - struck at their home turf - and certainly not The Dragon. The Brotherhood of Phoenician Sailors were expecting contraband, not a person. But they took that person in anyway. They could have left him in a malleable state, commoditized him. Instead, they reprogrammed as much of him to make him ... him, again.

Don never forgot that, even when he volunteered for what would become a suicide mission.

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