Dermitt was a special operative
for the Midnight Guild. He has, in his short 25 years of life,
already accrued an impressive resume of assassinations and heists, including
a daring midnight rescue of Lisa Marie Presley from her then-husband, Jacko.
Ironically, his bosses were considering staging a
and having Dermitt rescue her from the clutches of an even-more threatening
evil in the form of Nicholas Cage, when their funding abruptly dried up.
Unable to keep both their fleet of fancy armored European roadsters running
and foot the bill for Dermitt's impressive Guinness tab, they settled for
the finer things in life and laid Dermitt off. Already teetering on the
precarious edge of sanity, as are all tried and true Irishmen, Dermitt
jumped over the edge when faced with unemployment.
Dermitt, seeing the errors of his way, now acts as a vengeful protector of
the oppressed, fighting to preserve freedom from the Iron Grip of Fascists. Keep in
mind that this is a person who hears Michael Collins and Eamon DeValera in
his head, providing a play-by-play commentary of his actions. It is
therefore not surprising that he is often able to project "temporary
Irishman status" on any victim, making them worthy of his protection.
Likewise, many villains practically glow in his eyes, inciting his to
liberate the masses through the use of his trusty submachine guns, Connolley
Amazingly, Dermitt's reputation as an incredibly skilled marksman is not
without merit. Uncannily proficient with firearms, Dermitt has been known
to ricochet a shot off two surfaces, which then proceeded to sever a vital
support cable, dropping a chandelier on the head of his target. This
not-quite-mundane feat is all the more remarkable given the fact that
Dermitt, firmly ensconced behind cover as the enemy was closing on him, made
the shot by firing over his shoulder while looking into a mirror to aim.
Additionally, Dermitt loves to tote around his trusty chain. When given the
opportunity, he loves nothing more than to entangle and whip his oppressor
with links formed from cold hard steel, bruising their egos even as he welts
their bodies. Whether using his chain as a lasso or firing two automatic
pistols from the hip, Dermitt is constantly cracking sidelong jokes with his
biting Irish humor, looking for a redheaded lass to bestow his affections on
("Is there some Irish in you, ma'am? Would you like there to be, ma'am?"),
and craving a drop or two of Arthur Guinness's Ambrosia.
Character and story: Shaun
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