Ambrose Masterson - The Nocturnal Trapper

Clan: Gangrel
Covenant: Unaligned

Ambrose Masterson grew up in Chicago, played stickball, did well enough in school, had a great summer job working at
Wrigley Field and, when his country called, he signed up to fight in World War II. He was pretty good, too. He made flight school, became a fighter pilot and shot down two Jerries before he took a stream of shells to his fuel tank and fell, burning, to earth.

Ambrose was a loyal ghoul for six years, and then he saw his master ripped to shreds, quite casually, by another
vampire. Like Ambrose’s domitor, the beast was interested in airplanes, and she made it very clear to Ambrose what
would happen if he didn’t give her the ride she needed. (That was 1954 and a collusion of factors in St. Louis had
made the town too hot even for her.) Once they were aloft, Ambrose told her that unless she gave him the Embrace,
he’d crash the goddamn plane.

Not a terribly wise plan, but Ambrose had unrealistic ideas about vampirism, and he was distressed from losing
his domitor, so he issued an ultimatum to the monster. He realizes, now, that it could have twisted his head
right off. But, instead, it gave him what he asked for, and gave it to him good and hard.

Like his infamous sire, Ambrose is deformed. In his case, his mouth is no longer human in configuration. Instead,
it’s a giant-sized model of a carnivorous bat’s fanged maw, right down to the splotchy pink and gray flesh of his
gums. He’s learned that what he bargained for so brazenly was not freedom, but a different slavery.