Have you see the OVA or read the manga series of Hellsing? If so how far have you gotten? If not please direct your attention to youtube, and watch OVA 1-4 at least. Warning: If you have watched the anime we require you watch the OVA, or read the manga. The anime is not canon. This is not our opinion. This is the law set down by the creator of Hellsing, Kouta Hirano.
Blah blah blah, anime series... OVA/Ultimate I - VII.
Name: Jan Valentine
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Physical appearance: Tan skinned, 5'9 with fanged canines. Yellow eyed and features straight VERY dark brown hair falling just short of his shoulders. Has more or less eleven visible piervings, four consisting of gold rings on his face. Two on oppsing sides of his lip, one below his right eye, one on the left of his nose and the rest smaller black rings down his right ear. The eleventh is a small flesh tunnel in his left ear. As for the non-visible ones ... Take a guess.
Clothing of choice: Still essentially keeping his old outfit, Jan has retailored his dark blue jacket and pants with white zips, a slightly tighter fit and gold rimmed cuffs with small 'v' cuts into them at the wrist measuring roughly 1cm. The zipper on his jacket is also an overturned cross. The hem of the jacket and pants are also gold lined with his trademark beanie hat of matching blue and golden cult eye design still featured.
As a finishing touch he wears black shoes and white gloves with writing on the back as mockery of his targets. The left reads, "Happy Valentine" In referance to his lifestyle and name whilst the right reads, "The Virgin Mary Sucked My Dick", A full blown insult to Christianity in all forms. On his belt he has his knife in a leather sheathe the syrettes in a small leather pouch to avoid accidents. Along the back of his belt are enough grenade shells for a full reload of his launcher.
Weaponry of choice: FN P90, M32 MGL, Knife, Three syrettes of Flunitrazepam(Rohypnol).
Note: When in combat he has a tendancy to pack his weapons and ammunition in a crate andonly carries either both P90's or the Launcher with him. Often he just has a ghoul lug around the crate for him. The things on his belt however, stay there all the time.
Race: Superior FREAK
Abilities: Jan was re-imbued with the superior strength and pain tolerance of the past in contrast to the highly accelerated speed and superior accuracy of his brother. To deal with his declining accuracy and waste of ammunition Jan was altered to have his eyesight improved beyond normal but not to the extent of his brother.
Organization: Millenium
Personality: Jan Valentine is a mentally unstable individual with a tendancy to do what he wants to who he wants or even die trying. Though he does have a hint of a cowardly nature, as the instinct to live strives on. He also has quite a mouth on him when time sees fit, crafting crude phrases gleefully or reciting odd things. Ever since his demise at Hellsing he has also taken to smoking cigars as opposed to normal cigs.
Rank: Lackey
Biography: Jan, the younger of the Valentine brothers was not simply born into the family. His parents left him in an English orphanage where he learnt his rough tone and way of life up until the age of 16. Legally, he was permitted to stay one more year without finding work. During that year Jan fucked everything that he could and dranks any drink he could find within a four hour radius. He effectively became addicted to every sin there was and got the most of each before he'd have to leave. Eventually, a rich family came along and took him in.
His brother, Luke, kept him in line doing jobs and making hits in exchange for money and sex to feed his addiction. Before long Jan settled into that life and found himself comfortably doing whatever his brother desired. Before too long elapsed his older brother Luke murdered their father whilst Jan slit the throat of his mother whilst he raped her. All of this was in exchange for a promised power a strange man had promised.
Before long the two were implanted and Jan set about more hits whilst Luke was 'fine-tuned' to take out some big shot. Jan didn't care, more money for him. During this time he set up various strip bars across the U.K, even kept one normal bar for himself in the suburbs of London with a 'custom job', as in thick layers of titanium and escape route job. His superiors only let him do in exchange for fitting in it's very own radio network to monitor events.
Soon Jan was recalled to HQ and given some adjustments of his own with two beautiful guns to suit his needs. A trip back across the channel later and their first mission lay in abstract chaos. His brother had planned it out perfectly but even that - and an army of undead - wasn't enough. The two ended up dead whilst the battle raged on.
Years later, Jan was revived from refined DNA samples taken by Dok. He was let loose, told to simply, "Create mayhem in the United Kingdom until further orders," and that was that. The revived 25 year old took the time to reclaim his bars, raise a ghoul army, raid a couple government weapons shipments and then steal an aeroplane. Essentially, his live had never been so good.
Now 27, Jan still sets about the world indulging in his bizzare fetishes with his famously theorised method of slaying Alucard and Anderson.
RP sample:
A simple evening of simple pleasures. Imagine the perfect little rural house, white picket fence in the midst of winter, blanketed in snow with the flakes of white softness still falling gently on the lawn out front, shadows of two people cast on the window from the traditional burning log fire in the living room lined with stockings to eagerly await gifts from Santa...
In realism, the two shadows cast are those of murderous brothers taking their hunt for the night. One sits in a comfrotable armchair, glass of what appears to wine in his hand with legs crosses so casually in his pristine white suit. Sipping the red liqiuid his face returns to the same twisted smile it usually has, the reflection of his twisted brother commiting his horrid actions reflected in the lenses of his glasses.
The man in question had one hand fisted in the hair of a woman on the floor, other pressing a blade to her neck whilst he savoured the look of raw terror as he raped her to the rhythm of a christmas jingle with deranged laugh rolling over her from his lips curled into a demented smile. Once he'd had all of his fanciful christmas use out of her he pushed the blade through her neck with a satifying spurt of blood and crack of her spine. Following this rape turned murder he erupted in hysterics, his borther leaping up and shouting about blood on his sleeve and how it was freshly washed or some crap. Like Jan gave two flying fucks about his god damn linen outfit.
Waving him off the less refined of the two fixed his pants and picked up the P90 he'd set down by the fire. The sirens blurring outside were coming close... The nighbours down the way must be awake and the brothers weren't about to be interrupted on their first hunt since being de-necrotised. Once the car pulled up outside and the heavy policeman's knock of three raps on the door and a demand that you come out, Jan took it as a signal for all un-fuckin'-holy hell to break loose in the form of a monstrous hail of bullets shredding apart the door and reducing the office to a mound of meat, his meager uniform providing little protection.
The first sight the first officer's partner saw was a deranged grin as smoke cleared, moonlight glinting from his piercings and cross with the empty click of two heavily customised submachine guns in his hands echoing over and over. As the deputy screamed and reached for his pistol, he barely managed a shot - which managed to miss in the panic - before Jan sent his gun spinning through the air into his face with the full effect of demolishing his nose into a bloodied mound and shattering his eye socket. From his position on the ground he heard shoes against stone, pacing closer. Then a swift dislocating kick to his jaw, gun clattering to the ground across the path and blood sickeningly pooling in his head from his ruined skull. Shaking hand guided the fallen lawman's pistol up toward Jan, his last image a shoe speeding down on him.
"CURB STOMP!" Cried out the tanned male as his would-be killer's head splattered on paving stones, blood gushing across the garden.
"What a foul mess..." Uttered his brother in his holier-than-thou posh tone. "You really are untidy." He added, dusting his sleeves as if he had just left some plague ridden community.
"Fuck you!" The younger replied with a playful sneer, picking up his gun and swapping out the mag. "You better have fuckin' finsihed that place off or I'll be gettin' a bit MORE blood on that pretty little party piece!"
"Don't worry." Replied the more elegant, perfectly timed as the window of the house shattered as flames leapt forth, smoke crawling skyward. "Everything will be nothing but ashes by morning." He had a haunting smile that portrayed both elegance and a subtle background of something he would have to slaughter you for finding out about.
"Good to see you got SOME fuckin' use." Jested the golden eyed one again. PAcing down the road to a car they'd parked around the way the two brothers listened and were content for a split second at the sound of fire and turmoil in a small detatched house based on order. But before even the second had elapsed, the overwhelming hunger to kill and hunt and rape and pillage and burn and slice and shoot and stab and violate... All of it overtook them again.
The two drove off into the night, it was young. And London was close.
Subject: Jan Valentine - FlyingStumpFuck Model [Fin~] 
