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Drew is a large hulking guy. He was once an all-muscle football jock, but he's in his early 40's now. He is still imposing. He dresses like a plain clothes cop or military contractor, and wears rugged but comfortable jeans over laced up combat boots. He rarely smiles, but when he does it is usually not a good sign.
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Andrew Atlas Altman is a large middle aged man of mixed race, slowly losing his once-impressive physical stature. A footbal star and adrenaline junky in high school and playing for the local college, Drew joined the police force after college and quickly worked his way into SWAT. The same natural athleticism and serendipity that had allowed him to succeed in sports translated well towards SWAT work. Drew proved to be an excellent shot, a good hand to hand fighter, a cool hand under pressure, and blessed by uncommonly good luck.
The first six years of Drew's service were routine police procedure, as SWAT work goes, and Drew rose as a well decorated and regarded Sergeant. Then his unit was called in on a reported gun battle occurring in a run-down industrial district near downtown, which turned out to be a barely-contained firefight between a group of rough-looking hardcases and some dude who was literally glowing and shooting lightning bolts and less recognizeable blasts of energy from some kind of ornate staff. The para-military looking twips flashed some fancy government ids which the lieutenant seemed to recognize, claimed control over the crime scene, and ordered the lieutenant to have the SWAT squad scour the area to establish a perimeter to "contain the breach" and to quarantine any witnesses for debriefing. One of them, a grey-haired guy with wild eyes, looked at Drew quizically and said that he could stay as a liason.
Drew added his gun to the firefight and after an intense five or six minutes of near-continual barrage the perp seemed to finally tire, and the grey-haired guy cautiously stepped out of cover and...no kidding...started chanting some kind of nonsense and waving his hands around. The perp unleased a few more desperate salvos at the old guy, but they seemed to fizzle within a few inches before striking their target. The perp's glow diminished and guttered out and several of the para-military guys rushed in, knocked the staff away, forced an actual ball gag on the perp and threw a bag over his head, cuffed him hard both hands and feet, picked him up laterally and hussled him into the back of one of their vans in under a minute. Drew admired the precision of it; these guys seemed to know what they were doing.
Before Drew could really take charge or even stock of the situation most of the para-military types jumped into their vehicles and sped off lickety-split, no fuss or chatter, forming a moving wedge around the van holding the perp. The grey-haired one who shut the perp down with little more than mumbo jumbo stayed behind with a couple of younger guys and secured the staff, using tongs to put the thing into a metal box that they latched and locked in a hurry. The older guy beckoned Drew over and said "Ok, we've got the situation in hand now. The FBI will be along shortly; they'll manage the sanitizing. Make sure any witnesses are held until the feebs debrief them. You know how they get about this sort of thing.". But, judging by Drew's baffled look it was apparent that he did not in fact know; "Huh...ok so I guess not...this is all new to you? Heh. Well, ok. I don't have time to talk about it right now; but here's my card. Call me and we'll talk. There's some things you need to know about. Oh...and when they get here don't let the FBI agents see you if you can avoid it; they have tech that lets even the normal ones see auras and they'll spot yours just like I did."
Drew looked at the card as if it had simply materialized into his hand. It was a simple white busines card with a single name "Donnovan", and a phone number.
Drew was surprised the next day to see that the entire episode was officially written up as industrial sabotage, thwarted by the timely joint action of SWAT and federal law enforcement agencies. Drew's lieutenant told him to just keep whatever he'd seen to himself. Drew called the number. He had to know. Over the course of a prolonged acquaintence that turned into a friendship Donnovan kindly told Drew about the supernatural, the Accords, bounties, the whole enchilada. More interetingly, Donnovan informed Drew of his own psychic aura, and eventually they figured out that it has something to do with Drew's unusual luck. Drew stayed on the police force, but started doing some Hunting on the side, moonlighting on Donnovan's crew on some local jobs.
On the job Drew eventually replaced his lieutenant when he retired, and it became known that Drew's squad was the one to send out on any "odd jobs". Donnovan eventually got his ticket punched on a Hunt, and Drew had never gotten along well with the Hunter that became the leader of the remaining group, a guy named Garret, so Drew re-focused on his police work. But after twenty years Drew retired, and found he missed the excitement. Thus, Drew has started Hunting again, but full time and mostly on his own so far. He is careful about the jobs he takes on, and thus far his luck and training has been enough to keep him alive. But he knows that Hunting is a dangerous game, and he misses the security of having a squad at his back; he's eager to hook up with some other Hunters that he can work with.
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Drew might be getting on in years, but he's still as strong as a bull and tactically smart. He was good at being a cop, and he's good at being a Hunter, and he sees no compelling reason to not Hunt enough to build up his retirement fund a bit. But Drew is so used to things "working out" in his favor that he can be fairly reckless by normal people's standards, and has developed something of a reputation along those lines.
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"A perimeter would be nice; but I guess we'll have to make do..."
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Drew is an experienced former SWAT lieutenant with 20 years under his belt, and has also been involved on almost a dozen respectable Hunts, mostly as an extra gun. He is smart, determined, and no-nonsense. Drew is a physical guy. He is an effective hand to hand combatant, and a decent shot.
Additionally Drew is a Psionic with subtle subconscious probability manipulation abilities that manifest as "good luck". Drew can routinely pull off "lucky shots", and things fall his way more often than they should statistically. He can also sometimes make "lucky guesses", intuitively arriving at a correct answer or realizing he needs to be somewhere at just the right time. His abilities are very subtle and not entirely predictable or reliable, and only someone in close association with him who is paying attention would notice the statistical unlikeliness; but the cumulative benefit for Drew is measurable. However, sometimes Drew's luck seems to "dry up" for a day or so, and sometimes he "uses up" his luck which leaves him feeling fatigued and off his game.
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Drew is an effective journeyman Hunter, and can lend his considerable capabilities to taking down physically dangerous targets. *Original character by Killer Shrike
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