Oswald Cazador's Questionnaire

Sikari's worst fears stem from the shadows that haunt his past and the uncertainty of his future. Foremost among these fears is the specter of betrayal, a lingering echo of his parents' deceitful legacy. The thought of being used or manipulated, whether by trusted allies or newfound acquaintances, strikes a deep chord of dread within him. This fear is rooted in the vulnerability he experienced as a child, when his powers were exploited for nefarious ends.

Another fear that gnaws at Sikari's soul is the possibility of losing control over his own abilities. The shadows that he wields with such precision and purpose are also a potent force that threatens to consume him if he were to falter in his vigilance. The thought of succumbing to the darkness within, of becoming a mere puppet to its whims, fills him with a bone-chilling dread.

Beyond these personal fears, Sikari harbors a profound dread of failing in his quest for justice. The thought of being unable to protect the vulnerable, of allowing the shadows of deceit to continue their insidious spread unchecked, weighs heavily on his conscience. For Sikari, the fear of failing those who rely on him, of falling short in his pursuit of redemption, is a constant, haunting presence that drives him ever forward in his quest for truth and justice.

For Oz, the biggest problem in his life right now is trust. After years of manipulation at the hands of his parents and navigating a world shrouded in lies, deception, and half-truths, Oz finds it nearly impossible to truly trust anyone—even those who claim to stand at his side. Every alliance he makes, every deal he strikes, feels like walking a tightrope above a pit of shadowed betrayal.

The issue isn't just interpersonal—it’s internal. Oz fears that the very shadows he manipulates so skillfully might one day turn against him, reflecting the paranoia that festers in his mind. His fear of betrayal makes him guarded, cautious to a fault, and at times, distant even from his closest allies like Lena or Derrick.

This inability to fully let others in hinders his progress. His mission for justice demands cooperation, but trust is the currency he cannot freely spend. Whether it’s intel he holds back, an opportunity he walks away from, or a warning he doesn’t deliver until it’s too late—Oswald’s mistrust threatens to cost him not just his crusade, but the few connections he still clings to in a city built on illusions.

He’s caught in a paradox: to cleanse the city of deception, he must confront the one he harbors most—his own.

Oswald Cazador wakes before sunrise, comfortable in the quiet darkness of his small Atlanta apartment. He spends a few minutes centering himself, focusing his control over the shadowy power inside him. Without this calm, the shadows act on their own.

He brews a strong cup of black coffee and reviews the web of notes and photos pinned above his desk—clues from old cases and ongoing investigations. Every thread connects to someone hiding behind lies, and Oswald is determined to unravel them.

He feeds his cat, Light, offering her a rare, quiet moment of affection before layering up in dark clothes and strapping his smoky blades in place. He avoids mirrors—he knows the man he's become.

His mornings are simple, focused, and cold. While the rest of the world wakes to routine or hope, Oswald rises to hunt the truth in the shadows.
Every day feels like a war—and he never leaves without armor.

For Oswald (or Jimmy now), looking his best isn’t about flash, it’s about control, presence, and intention. If he were going somewhere special; maybe a high-society event tied to a case or a rare meeting with someone important, he’d start by getting into the right mindset. That means a quiet hour beforehand, spent alone in his apartment, focusing his energy and keeping the shadows calm and cooperative.

He’d take a long shower, letting the steam and heat ease the tension from his muscles. He shaves carefully, trims his hair if needed, and takes his time with the details. Appearance is armor, after all.

His outfit would be sharp and clean: a tailored dark suit, sleek but subtle, with a black button-down shirt, a matching tie. Polished black boots and a long dark overcoat complete the look. No weapons visible—but they’d be there, hidden. 

To the untrained eye, he’d blend in. To those who know better, Jimmy Oxwell walks in like a blade wrapped in silk.

For his next birthday, Jimmy Oxwell is choosing something new—something softer. He’s spent most of his life lurking in shadows, but lately, he’s been warming up to the world. Less dark and mysterious, more fun and quietly charming.

This year, he’s planning to host a small, low-key gathering at his new private investigation office in Baton Rouge. The space is still a bit rough—flickering light fixtures, old carpet—but it's his. A symbol of the man he's becoming. He’ll clear the case files off the table, hang a few lights, maybe even bring out a cheap stereo for music and mood.

A few trusted work friends will drop by. Light, his cat, will supervise from the windowsill, as always.

He’s not expecting gifts. Just a night of greasy takeout, quiet laughter, and the rare feeling of not having to look over his shoulder. For once, Jimmy Oxwell will celebrate being alive.

For years, he let his parents use him—twisting his powers, parading him like some haunted miracle to con the grieving and the desperate. He knew it was wrong, even as a kid. But part of him wanted their approval. Part of him believed that if he just kept playing along, maybe they'd see him as more than just a tool in their scam.

By the time he finally snapped—burning down the life they built, cutting all ties—too much damage had been done. Too many people had been hurt, and he’d helped do it. That guilt still clings to him, heavier than the shadows he commands.

He doesn’t regret walking away. He regrets how long it took. He regrets the silence. And he regrets every time he looked someone in the eye while pretending to be something he wasn’t.