Claudia Two-of-Spades

Claudia Two-of-Spades
Claudia "Two-of-Spades" Flynn

Irraka Iron Master

Lodge of Spires

Primal Urge 3

In Her Own Words
“Look, guy. You know the line between cop and criminal is real thin. Some people love to drive fast and pack heat. They like to make others say ‘how high’ when they say ‘jump.’ Some of them end up robbing banks. Some of them end up making detective. I never really wanted to be a cop. I had light fingers when I was a kid. Started with candy and worked my way up. You can get a lot of pot for a Gucci clutch purse. I tried to clean all that up when I had Eileen. I mean, I was 17 and my mom kicked me out and the asshole who knocked me up suddenly forgot he knew me. Getting arrested would have killed me. It would have killed her, which is what I cared about. I gave up shoplifting because I got scared of what might happen if I didn’t.

“That didn’t stop my bitch of a sister from stealing my daughter. I had more arrests than misdemeanors. Worst I ever got was probation. But I was still smoking sometimes, between shifts at Target, because I got so fucking tense treating the customers like corporate said we had to. Monica came over and took pictures of my place. She knew exactly what she was doing and exactly who to give them to and suddenly I’m listening to a judge telling me that I need to, and I quote, ‘earn back the right to be part of your daughter’s life.’ Fuck him. Only I knew that I wasn’t going to yell and scream my way out of it. I had to figure out the stupid laws that let Monica and her asshole husband do what they did. First it was the library. Then it was night classes. Right about the time I was getting all my paperwork in order, I started losing my mind.

“What? Well, yeah, now I know what was going on. All I knew at the time was that my emotions were even more out of control then they were when I was pregnant, that I kept hearing my daughter’s voice even though she was in North Dakota, and that a weird-looking dog followed me around until it got a chance to bite me.

“I don’t want to talk about my Change. It was rough. I didn’t kill anybody, and I only set a couple things on fire. Once I wrapped my mind around what had happened, around what I am…after that, I did a better job of getting myself together. I was close enough to an associate’s in criminal justice that I finished it in a semester. I put in the hours at the range and got hit on by more gun-nuts than I can count. I think it’s the red hair. Anyway. I took the tests and got my private investigator’s license.

“Why? Because I’m not a cop, and I’m not a criminal, but I’m kind of like them. Sometimes I have to enforce the law, and sometimes I have to break it. I also needed work I could do while still making time for my responsibilities as one of the People. Plus, people bring me weird cases. More often than I would have thought, those cases are part of my responsibility to the People. I find out what’s going on in my territory. Always. That's why I figured we'd better have this little chat. Comprendes?”

Appearance


Claudia Two-of-Spades is a lean, good-looking redhead. She’s constantly tempted to cut her hair, but has never brought herself to take it shorter than shoulder-length. There’s a sardonic curve to her lips and a hint of challenge in the set of her jaw. She favors long sleeves and full-length trousers even in the summer. They hide most of the scars and tattoos she’s accumulated as one of the People. Her favorite jackets fit close but have enough bulk to conceal the pistol she usually carries. On the rare occasions she dresses down, half a dozen scars are revealed: ugly slashes and a trio of bullet holes. The latter are surrounded by tattoos. Incongruously, the letter “E” is tattooed inside a simple heart on her left forearm.

The bounce in the irraka’s steps suggests a literal readiness to spring into action rather than any particular levity. Claudia is always on the edge of her seat, though she makes it look comfortable. When she laughs, there is a persistent hint of self-mockery, as though she is part of the butt of every joke.