[b]Name/Nicknames: [/b]Inspector Patrick Braden O'Malley, "Pate" by friends.

[b]Race:[/b]Werewolf

[b]
Age: [/b] 28
[b]Appearance:[/b]Patrick is a shorter-than-average, deceptively-wimpy-looking man. He has a rather round, childish face which seems unable to grow anything that is more than a ginger peach fuzz. His head is crowned with mops of curly, fiery ginger hair. He has a slightly flat nose, and his light skin is full of freckles underneath the eyes, which are green and possess a keen gaze. Clothes do not flatter him in the slightlest, as they all look a size too big, specially when wearing his police uniform. Beneath the clothes, however, Patrick's body tells a story of fighting and survival, with wiry but insanely toned muscles, and a mishmash of bullet wounds and scars. 

Just like his human self, his werewolf appearance looks slightly smaller than the average, with auburn fur and green eyes.
  
[b]Personality:[/b]An usually meek and submissive person, Patrick more than often wanders around listening to people's requests, and apologizing a lot. He really puts the needs of his peers before his own, and sometimes he can be considered too optimistic and naïve for the city that is Santa Somabra. O'Malley also takes blows and insults in stride, and mockery just makes him shake his head and mutter if there's any kind of truth in it. He's also positively flustered and awkward in presence of comely women aswell.

It all changes when he dons the uniform or has a duty to fulfill. His gaze sharpens, and his demeanor becomes much more assertive. He follows a strict moral compass, and rarely deviates from it. Utterly fearless and uncaring of trudging into dens of vice, he strives to bring the law to the city even in their bleakest crevices, and even though their superiors and peers might be corrupt. He's only really willing to bend the rules only when innocent or peer lives are at stake. Despite his uncompromising attitude, he would rather intimidate opponents rather than fight.

O'Malley has feelings of doubt and regret, though. He find increasingly baffled by the state of the city and the world at large, and at times wonders if the time of dutiful, honorable people is long past. Two wars and cemeteries full of them can attest. But even so, he refuses to give up. Because if he does, crooks will win. He longs for a peaceful world where he can have a family.

[b]Bio:[/b] O'Malley was born in the Narrows, to a couple of down-their luck Irish migrants. Even though they were caring people, they could do little to shield the kid from the horrors of the underbelly of Santa Somabra. It was perhaps that due to this fact, O'Malley grew to appreciate gentleness and good behaviour like water on a desert, and dreamed that one day, he would make the place safe. His distinctive "take no crap" attitude earned him a few beatdowns, but also a few friends, specially at the ill-fitted school that was run by the poor in the districto. Two also became his best friends, Alma, an orphaned girl, and Donnie, or Donovan, son of a gambling addict. Life was harsh, but they weren't alone in this. They had eachother, and they could rely on eachother. Of course there was also this epic fight as teenagers, on who would eventually marry Alma. Donovan won that time.

However, things would change soon. The war had erupted around them, and both joined as recruits. Despite the risk of dying, they saw serving in the army as the golden chance to get out of the Narrows and the crime that permeated everything. 

The beaches of Normandy woke them up from their hubris, with the blood of friends staining the sands red. But it couldn't be helped. They gritted their teeth, and braved through the hell on earth that was war. Each night, they'd tell eachother to hold on. Alma was waiting back there at Santa Somabra. 

Until the day the germans struck at The Ardennes. With the ferocity of a wounded beast, they encircled everyone. They pulled all of their stops. Even the things that had been kept in the dark until now. Forbidden rituals, Black magic. Half his company became engulfed in a portal straight to Hell, or whatever it seemed to. An otherwordly place.

Donovan was one of them. Or rather, half of Donovan went through the portal.

O'Malley snapped. Grabbing all the ammunition and grenades he had at hand, he sprinted like a madman and jumped inside the portal, in act that defied all terror and sanity. Inside, he wasted no time in firing at everything that wasn't sporting his uniform colors and that moved. He was positively screaming like a madman all the time, until all his grenades were spent and his rifle clicked after reloading it several times. It was then when he grabbed the upper part of a moribund Donovan, and exited the portal dragging the remains of his bisected friend.

For leaping inside a portal and holding off the demonic forces for several minutes in order to rescue 22 people, O'Malley was hailed as a hero. But that would not bring his best friend back from the grave. Wracked by guilt upon his return, he avoided going into Santa Somabra. How could he face Alma after seeing their best friend die? He deluded himself in making a career in the army, in order to get enough rank and importance to yank the Narrows out of their poverty. It took the Korean War to see it all fruitless and pointless, seeing the boys who were entrusted under his care keep dying, only to be replaced. All for a tug-of-war between unrelated countries. He was sick of both the callousness of it all and his own self. 

And, thus, after the war ended, decided to stop being roundabout about it and joined the dilapidated force, returning to the Narrows as he always wished to. But Alma was nowhere to be found. He had paid his price for his hesitation, as he grimly reminded. His duty never faltered. He refused to be bribed, he refused to be cowed. And for a while, it seemed that crooks were losing ground against his one-man-effort. Until an ambush from a corrupt cop and hired muscle from the Hanged Men left him broken and battered in the outskirts, for the Hunters to devour him.

It was then when she found Alma. She was one of them, a werewolf. He couldn't take it anymore. He laughed until he coughed blood, as the wolves circled him. This was the punishment for his sin of inaction, he felt it. But that didn't mean he would stay still and take it. With the last of his strength, as his neck was ravaged by a wolf, he, in a last act of defiance... bit back, ripping a chunk of his ear.

The werewolf was positively STUNNED. And Alma, who was now a pack leader, found the little event amusing. She spared O'Malley, in order for him to become a werewolf. As she gauged right, a war hero would make a powerful beast. But she did not take in account one thing.

O'Malley takes no shit from crooks. Even as a werewolf, he refused to join the Hunters, and devoted himself to rein and control his new condition... and do what he always had done. Clean the trash and fight bad guys.

[b]Other:[/b] He has still mixed feelings for Alma.