Timothy Swank

Timothy Swank, also known as "ponytail", is a high-ranking enforcer of the Rofal Syndicate.

## Appearance

Timothy was not described beyond having a long ponytail. After his encounters with Hector, he also picked up a number of serious bruises and lost several teeth.

## Personality

Swank was loyal to Joseph Rofal, and after his death was forced to work for Geoffrey on pain of death. He is fairly confident when dealing with other humans, but is easily spooked by supernatural creatures like servants and aberrations. Timothy seems to be a heavy drinker, with main preference being cheap price.

## History

Hector beat him up both of the two times that they met, first during the Officer Mallory assassination and the second during Hector’s theft of the drug money. After Geoffrey took control of the syndicate, Swank was unsuccessfully searching for Colt for some time. During his search, he was approached by an advisor of Nathaniel Lumenbel looking for his boss. Swank accepted his request for a meeting with the Geoffrey mainly because he disliked the man and wanted the aberration to torture him.

## References

1. ↑ 1.0 1.1 “I don’t know,” said Swank, rubbing his purple cheek. “That guy ain’t human. We must have shot him at least five times, stabbed him like six. He had knives sticking out of his fucking chest, man! Didn’t even slow him down. I have twenty men out of commission. Broken arms, legs, ribs. Fucker gave Rogers a concussion the other day.” - Excerpt from page 70
2. ↑ 2.0 2.1 He stomped the door down and found Mallory crouched behind the kitchen’s island, clutching his side with one arm, trying to reload his service weapon with the other, and staring right back at Hector. A ponytailed gunman was in the hall, and Hector walked straight toward him. A bullet ripped through the mask and pierced his neck. Hector yanked the man’s gun away and smashed him in the face with it. A few teeth flew from his mouth and hit the hardwood floor as he did. - Excerpt from page 35
3. ↑ 3.0 3.1 Hector leapt on his second victim and knocked him out cold. Now the guns were out, but the hail of bullets didn’t stop him from reaching the third and fourth men and clapping their skulls together. Only Ponytail and another thug remained, fumbling too much to reload their weapons, their spare magazines clattering to the floor.

Hector stood in front of them for a moment, considering what to do next. Bashing their faces in hardly seemed necessary at this point, and besides, Ponytail’s face was still swollen blue and purple.

He walked up and pulled their guns away from them. They both just stared at him, wide-eyed and cornered.

“What the hell are you?” said Ponytail. “I heard Colt killed you.”

Hector eyed the table full of duffel bags in the middle of the room. He slung all seven bags over his shoulder with one hand.

‘*You’re not going to stomp their heads in, too?*’ The reaper sounded disappointed. ‘*Well, at least threaten them before you leave.*’

“I-I... uh... d-don’t...”

‘*Hector, c’mon. Scare them. Just yell or something.*’

‘*Yell? I can’t... I don’t... that just isn’t--agh...*’

Ponytail ran for the door.

Hector was on him in a heartbeat and kneed him back into the corner. “Please don’t run...” - Excerpt from pages 63 and 64
4. ↑ ‘*I’m going to follow Ponytail back to Rofal. Once we know where his headquarters is, we’ll be able to launch an assault at our leisure. You know your way home, right?*’ - Excerpt from page 65
5. ↑ Geoffrey was decidedly *not* his uncle. Joseph Rofal understood that killing his employees for failure served no purpose. Geoffrey did not. Or perhaps he did and just didn’t care, because simply fleeing was also out of the question. Two men tried to leave the city the other day. Geoffrey had their heads in his office now.

The search for Colt had not been much better. Of the three men that Swank sent to retrieve Colt’s personnel file from the police station, only one returned, delivering a message to stop looking for the man. Geoffrey killed the poor bastard anyway.

He had no idea what to do at this point. The Rofal empire was a sinking ship, and its new captain didn’t give a shit, because he was a fucking shark. - Excerpt from page 129
6. ↑ 6.0 6.1 Timothy Swank ducked into an alley and held his breath. In a cold sweat, he listened for the footsteps to pass. They did not.

“Are you trying to hide from me?”

He saw the figure there and screamed. “Please...! D-don’t...!”

“Oh, stop your shrieking,” said Geoffrey. Only, it wasn’t Geoffrey. It was one of his expressionless puppets. This one was a girl, and she might have been cute before, but now her sickly pale skin and listless eyes just made Swank want to run away. “I am not going to kill you, Mr. Swank. You are much more useful to me alive.” The rest of her face didn’t match the words coming out of her mouth at all.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to shrink into the brick behind him. “You can make them talk,” he said, trying not to tremble too visibly. “You weren’t doing that yesterday...”

“Yes, I know.” The puppet girl’s smile made Swank cringe.

“I s-still don’t know where Colt is... so, u-um... I mean, I’m looking. Of course I’m looking. But he’s just--no one’s seen him, so, ah, I d-don’t... please...”

“I see. How unfortunate. I just wanted to check in. I am about to go into a meeting, but please keep searching in the meantime.” A red vapor released from the girl’s skin like a kettle just gone off, and she collapsed to the ground, twitching.

Swank thought he might vomit.

The past few days had been hell. He’d barely managed to escape the Rofal mansion with his life. Between Geoffrey, Colt, and that freaky kid in the mask, that place had been an absolute minefield, but somehow, shitting his pants in the corner of the room had been enough to render him beneath notice. - Excerpt from page 128
7. ↑ Swank left the girl’s body where it was. He pulled his coat’s collar up around his neck and stuffed his hands in his pockets as he walked. He had been on his way to a bar, and now, the idea of getting hammered out of his mind seemed even more appealing. It wouldn’t do much to settle his stomach, but that wasn’t really the point, anyway. He turned into his usual place, the neon green sign reading *Bart’s Bar*. It was an armpit of an establishment, but he had yet to find a place with cheaper booze. He took the first seat he saw and petitioned the bartender for a bottle of vodka. - Excerpt from page 129
8. ↑ Not long into his drink, however, a man on the other side of the room got up and ventured over. “Are you Swank?”

Swank nearly told him to fuck off, but after reflecting for a moment on his recent string of luck, he decided he’d try not to piss off a total stranger. “Yeah. Who are you?”

“Oh, I’m no one important,” the man said. “But I’ve been waiting here because I’ve heard you’re the guy to ask about getting certain jobs done.”

Swank could not imagine a more annoying answer. Still, he restrained himself with another mouthful of vodka and said, “That so?”

“I hear your boss is a man with discreet interests.”

Swank rolled his eyes. “I guess you haven’t heard that he’s also dead now.”

For some reason, the man took that as an invitation to sit down. “I’m sorry to hear that. Does that mean you’re in charge now?”

“No.”

“So you have a new boss, then. Perhaps I can meet him, instead.”

He held back a laugh. “Trust me, guy. You don’t wanna meet my new boss.”

“Oh, but I do. The sooner the better, in fact.”

Swank eyed the man. Something about the guy’s face annoyed him, really clean-shaven with a chiseled jawline and a condescending look in his eyes. Swank took a longer swig. “On second thought, I’d like to see that, too.” - Excerpt from pages 129 and 130
9. ↑ “I h-have someone here who wants to meet you...” Swank squirmed under Geoffrey’s gaze.

“Oh? Show them in, then.”

Swank exited the room briefly and returned with the person in question.

“You are the man in charge?” said the stranger, smiling in a groomed, confident way. “You’re much younger than I anticipated.”

Geoffrey was not in the most amiable mood. Mr. Vincent Boulder had told him to go home and talk to his family, which in itself was no terrible thing, but even so. Geoffrey was being told what to do again. And perhaps worse, he couldn’t actually refuse.

So when he set his sharp eyes upon this strange man, the first thought through Geoffrey’s head was that he would very much like to torture this person. So he did.

There was no need for a chair. Geoffrey pinned him to the floor with a blanket of red and stood over him, smiling and trying to decide which body parts he wanted next. Swank, of course, had left the room shortly after the agonized screaming began.

“Why are you doing this?!” the man kept saying. His face looked much better now, Geoffrey thought. Replacing the eyebrows with bloody gashes made him seem much less condescending. “What *possible* reason could you have for doing this to me?!”

“Hmm.” Geoffrey stroked his own chin a moment. “How much do you like your nose, exactly?”

The man shrieked. “Please! Stop this! I’ll do anything you want! Just--! Please! I only wanted to talk!”

Geoffrey’s brow perked up. “Oh, right. What did you want to talk about, anyway? If it is something boring, you will not be leaving this room alive.”

The man whimpered. “I-I’m an advisor to Prince Nathaniel... and I was asked to find someone who w-would... u-um...”

Geoffrey placed a red blade under the man’s nose.

“Kill the Queen!” he said. “He asked me to find someone who would kill the Queen!” - Excerpt from pages 142 and 143