Soren Valentine's Questionnaire

Why is this relevant? Lights Cigarette. I live in west Berlin, the very heart of a city that seemingly never sleeps, where shadows are long and secrets cling to just about every corner. It's a melting pot of history, grit, and opportunity, a reason I chose this very place for my home. You can really feel the weight of the past here, remnants of old battles mixed with the pulse of the modern world. It serves as the perfect backdrop for what I do: when the supernatural festers just beneath the surface of everyday life.

My apartment is no mansion, a modest space tucked away and hidden on the upper floor of an unremarkable building. It creaks and groans just like any other house in this concrete jungle. Probably smells of whiskey and cigarette smoke, heh. Scattered around are a few framed photos from my past on the walls, those grim reminders of what I have lost, the walls are bare. At the window, I had put a small table, at which I smoke my cigarettes, while the haze of smoke dances and swirles around me as I watched the streets below.

For the time being, my money comes from working with the EU-SAD. It is not precisely a nine-to-five thing, but it pays bills and keeps the lights on, plus funds my never-ending quest to track down the supernatural scum lurking in the dark. The agency has its perks, but don't get that twisted, it's no fortune. Still, every cent is worth it these days.

Most of my money gets blown on the essentials: rent, food, and the occasional case of cigarettes. You can catch me around the corner store, just grabbing whatever I can so the inside of my refrigerator doesn't look like a crime scene. The rest of the time, it usually goes back into keeping my gear in top shape. Weapons, ammo, and a decent car aren't cheap for someone in my line of work.

When I have a bit of extra cash, sometimes I go to a local diner and just hang out in the atmosphere for a while, play normal for a minute. Otherwise, I don't really have many luxuries. I just don't have time for it, really, and besides, I just have no urge for it. Money's merely a means to an end. I came to understand that the only meaningful currency was in the knowledge accrued, lives saved, and monsters brought to book. That's my drive-one day at a time in this hard-boiled city.

Ambition is a fickle thing, isn't it? Some might be chasing the dream of money, celebrity, or even love. As for me, it's far more simple and infinitely more complex: I work toward a world whereby the shadows are not concealing monsters ready to pounce on the next innocent victim, where evil sorcerers and their cults, the ones who tore my life into shreds and who decide they can play God without consequence are eradicated. Every morning when I wake up, I say to myself: it is all for Mom and Dad's sake, for every soul which has been taken by the dark.

How far would I go for this? You can bet I'd walk through hell for an opportunity to put a bullet in the head of the next supernatural bastard who got in my way. Not killing, just an option, it's a tool necessary in this war against evil. I have done it before, and I will again, without so much as a second thought. The weight of a life lost does not haunt me, it fuels me.

How close to death I'd come? Well, I'd danced with the Reaper more often than I want to recall. I have stared into the barrel of a gun and faced the stuff of nightmares. Each time I'd walked away, but there was a thin line between life and nothingness. I know that I am never too afraid to cross it if it means taking away a bigger threat.

After all, it is not revenge but an attempt to make this world slightly safer for those people who are unable to defend themselves. That's the kind of legacy that I would like to leave behind, a fire that has burnt through the darkness to light the way for those coming after me. And if I have to pay the ultimate price to achieve it, then so be it. I'll take that risk every time.

The most defining moment in my life happened when I was but a kid, barely at an age when I could grasp the gravity of the world around me. It was like being dropped into some kind of nightmarish reality that I couldn't wake up from, to watch my parents get murdered right in front of me by super-terrorists. It wasn't just death; it was shattering of reality.

It changed me in ways I am still not able to put into words. What innocence that was left was gone, replaced instead by a cold, hard resolve. It was not just family that I had lost, it was the security that a person has about the world being a decent place; in an instant, I had fallen into a cruel world, and I would be on my own in life, where mercy did not exist.

From that day on, I knew what my purpose was, to rid the world of the evil that had taken my parents from me. There burned inside a fierce desire for justice, and that one thought buried itself into every conscious decision I made. I learned to fight, to survive, and to notice all the supernatural elements hanging in the background.

Johann was my old partner back when I first joined the EU-SAD. He had been a grizzled veteran who had seen it all and then some. He'd watched my back when I still found my footing in a world that didn't care whether I lived or died. Johann taught me the ropes, how to navigate the chaos and survive the supernatural threats we faced. His no-nonsense demeanor, interspersed with dry humor, always brought me into check. It was quite a blow to almost lose him in the field, but his teachings never did leave me and remain a guiding light for all that I have done.

Cera's my new partner, and she's a cool breeze in this grim reality that we exist in. Young, eager, and full of fire, guts to face down the darkness-even though she doesn't quite know what she's getting herself into. You know, I think I see a little of myself in her: driven, willing to learn, but still an innocence about some of the real terrors that are out there. I'm protective of her; I know how fast that idealism can get destroyed in our line of work. We make a good team, as I temper her idealism with my cold pragmatism.

Erwin's the bartender at my local-one of those dives where the beer's always cold, and the walls have heard a thousand stories. He is more than just a bartender; he is my confidant, the guy I drown my sorrows with after dealing with a long day of hunting down the supernatural. He knows my routine; when I need a drink and sometimes when I just need someone to listen to me. Erwin usually knows when I am in a dark place and can always crack a joke to break the tension. He keeps me human in a world most of the time that feels anything but.

My childhood was a dreary mess, all childhood innocence gone with exposure to a military training camp. I honestly don't remember much about my parents, other than how much I had loved them. Almost right after their lives had been stolen by super-terrorist bastards the German government placed me in a youth camp to mould the gifted soldiers it sought so desperately following the 9/11 attacks. It was a rather gruesome environment, where only the strongest and toughest thrived. Fitting in was a foreign concept, instead of learning how to be a kid, I learned to shoot, fight, and recognize the supernatural lurking in the shadows. My peers wore expressions that told stories of trauma and loss. No one had earned the right to be trusted. No guidance of parents, no friends to fall back upon, just a harsh reality and an unstoppable urge to be stronger. Those were the formative years which tempered me into the soldier I am today, but also those that took away my innocence, leaving in its place a cold resolve. Resolve is the only thing I have left, the only thing keeping me going.

Indeed, it is fear that has become my one constant companion, which I've learned to carry in silence. But the worst of these, the one that keeps me up during the dark, is this fear of losing control-not with any situation, no-but over myself, turning into some sort of monster. I was raised in a world that was supposed to break people, forged in fire and combat. And while it has made me into a very capable killer, it has also left me more often than not feeling like a weapon, rather than a person. My ultimate fear is that one of these days I won't be able to come back from it, that I'll just be the gun pointed at whatever target they choose.

The other fear, perhaps deeper still, is the fear of solitude, not physical but emotional, spiritual. Nina's loss ripped something from me.. She wasn't just company; she was my anchor to the part of me that still felt like a human being, my tether. Without her, I feel that familiar gnawing hollow in me. What if I lose those people that I do still care about? Or worse, what if I am just utterly incapable of caring?

There is then the darkness: not the simple absence of light, but rather the unknown, the creatures, the forces that lurk just beyond human understanding. I have witnessed enough to know that what is out there is a great deal worse than anyone could possibly imagine.

I don’t hold onto many things. After all, in this line of work, attachments to objects can be a weakness, something to weigh you down. But there are a few things I’ve kept close.

First, there’s my father’s old racing jacket. It’s worn and faded, probably not worth much anymore, but it’s one of the few pieces I have left of him. He was a mechanic and a racer, always under the hood of some car, teaching me everything he knew about engines and speed. I lost him when I was young, but that jacket reminds me of those rare moments of peace in an otherwise chaotic childhood. It’s a symbol of the man I could’ve been if life hadn’t taken the turns it did.

And then there’s my gun. It’s more than just a tool, it’s been with me through nearly every mission, every supernatural hunt. The grip feels like an extension of my hand at this point. It’s the one constant in a world that’s always shifting.