Editing Character:Hunter

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Andrew College was born with not just a silver spoon, but a complete tea service in his mouth. His parents are the US representatives of a fabulously profitable shipping business run by a grand old British-Singaporean family, and he grew up with every possible advantage money could afford. While attending Columbia University (he didn't have the grades for Harvard), he spent time slumming around New York City, and began to realize just how large the gap was between himself and the average member of society, let alone the poor and homeless. He dropped out of school for a year to live without the benefit of his family's money, working a minimum-wage job at a 24-hour diner and living in a tiny apartment in a bad part of Brooklyn.
 
Andrew College was born with not just a silver spoon, but a complete tea service in his mouth. His parents are the US representatives of a fabulously profitable shipping business run by a grand old British-Singaporean family, and he grew up with every possible advantage money could afford. While attending Columbia University (he didn't have the grades for Harvard), he spent time slumming around New York City, and began to realize just how large the gap was between himself and the average member of society, let alone the poor and homeless. He dropped out of school for a year to live without the benefit of his family's money, working a minimum-wage job at a 24-hour diner and living in a tiny apartment in a bad part of Brooklyn.
  
One night, walking home just before dawn, exhausted and aching and feverish with the flu and thinking about throwing in the towel and going back to his family, Andrew turned the wrong way and stumbled into a neighborhood where Asians were not welcome. Pursued by gang members intent on defending their turf, he ducked down a series of alleys and found himself in a jungle, hyenas on his heels. He made it to a tower where a robed figure stood guard. Inside, an older version of him challenged him, asking what he would sacrifice for justice. Having pledged his life, fortune and sacred honor, he awoke in a park near the East Flatbush projects with a representative of the Pentacle waiting impatiently for him to get up.
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One night, walking home just before dawn, exhausted and aching and feverish with the flu and thinking about throwing in the towel and going back to his family, Andrew turned the wrong way and stumbled into a neighborhood where Asians were not welcome. Pursued by gang members intent on defending their turf, he ducked down a series of alleys and found himself in a weedy courtyard at the foot of a towering building he had never seen before. Without really thinking about what he was doing, he struggled through thorny bushes to a graffiti-covered wall, picked up an abandoned can of spray paint and signed his name, then collapsed to the ground and passed out. When he woke up, he was home in bed, cured of the flu, with a silver envelope sitting on his nightstand containing an invitation to "a meeting of like-minded souls."
  
*need to nail down how he transferred his money to an alternate identity
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Andrew's superiors in the Vox Draconis encouraged him to return to school, telling him that wasting his mundane resources when he could be using them to work toward the eventual Awakened Nation was a blasphemy against Fortune. He obeyed, and earned a degree in Communications. At his graduation party—the secret one, not the one with his Sleeper friends—the senior Acanthus of the Consilium told him of a prophetic dream she'd had. "Go back to your roots," she said. "Your family's roots. Go to Singapore. The Pentacle needs you there. Don't ask why."
  
 
So here he is, an aspiring underground journalist rolling in unearned luxury, ready to rip away the façade of Singapore's elite and expose the seething corruption beneath. The Silver Ladder found a local Sleepwalker he could hire as an amanuensis/driver/bodyguard. He's on a short-term visa, but has applied for permanent residency, and he has the money and family connections to make it work—if the Hierarch doesn't send him packing.
 
So here he is, an aspiring underground journalist rolling in unearned luxury, ready to rip away the façade of Singapore's elite and expose the seething corruption beneath. The Silver Ladder found a local Sleepwalker he could hire as an amanuensis/driver/bodyguard. He's on a short-term visa, but has applied for permanent residency, and he has the money and family connections to make it work—if the Hierarch doesn't send him packing.

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