Christopher is a tall, thin lynx with well groomed black hair and blond fur that is almost fully covered by a black button-down with matching trousers, scarlet vest and tie, shiny black dress shoes, and snow-white gloves. His attire and straight posture give him the look of a sophisticated servant. He always seems to have a silver tray in one hand and a fancy napkin resting on his forearm, which is placed across his stomach. His brown eyes are more inviting than one may think, making him a beloved waiter and servant to all.
Cohen is never seen with his head lowered or his back bent. He relishes in his confidence and debonair appearance. No living being has ever been able to read his facial expressions as he hardly shows any, with the exception of a warm smile to the less polite guests at his master's restaurant, all out of spite. He loathes the poor and those who will never dawn a suit and tie. He only cares and serves those able to afford his services or the food he carries around on his tray.
Cohen, ever since he was a child, was taught that only those with good manners and clean clothes will ever prosper. His parents, especially his father, taught him this lesson by yelling at him whenever he spoke out of turn and by beating him with a leather belt when he didn't dress up in his best suits and chose to wear comfortable clothes like jeans and a t-shirt. These lessons were well drilled into his head. When he reached twelve, no one who saw him could ever recall seeing Christopher without a suit and tie.
His father was a businessman, a brilliant one. He was one of those men who sat at his desk all day in a large, fancy office. You would wonder how can such a man stay skinny and not become the embodiment of the "fat cat" analogy. All the man needed was pen and paper and he can manipulate the economy like a sock-puppet. When Christopher turned 18, his father hired him as a financial supervisor. His job was to stare at green paper ad gold rings all day, making sure the pile never faltered. And one night, while carrying a stack of papers from the car to his father's building, in that ten feet of space between doors, a gust of wind blew numerous intelligent expenses into the air. He searched all day and until dawn for those papers. Every back alley and crevice. He found a few, but when he saw one slip into the sewer, he gave up and skulked to his father's office. He told his father the whole story, he had to. It was his job and duty to keep his boss and father informed. Unfortunately, this was a time where running would've been smarter. His father pinned Christopher to the ground and started beating him with the belt. Christopher lay helpless on the ground until one of those blows to his head did something to his thought process. His tears dried almost instantly, his red face now back to its normal color. He got up and caught his father's beating arm, he grabbed his father's coat with his other hand, and ran towards the glass wall separating the office and a 100 foot drop onto solid concrete. The glass shattered and his father plummeted to the streets below. He was killed the instant he it the ground. All Christopher did was straighten his own tie while looking down gloatingly at his father's mangled body.
No charges were filed against him, as it was deemed that Christopher acted out of self defense. Christopher's next act of revenge was forging his father's will so he received any and all money his father had to his name. He used the money to sail off to a place where he could start anew. He had the means to make it anywhere. His travels took him to Saari, an island biased against his kind. He had to keep a tight grip on his money as people of all kinds tried to pry it from him. He knew then he had to learn to defend himself. He met and befriended an old war veteran who took him under his wing, training him in many fighting forms, most of which were lethal. After a couple of years of training, his teacher decided to give him a weapon. Christopher proved to be useless when trying to wield blades, guns, and most other conventional weapons. The last one he tried was a handful of ninja stars. He proved to be a savant with any sort of throwable circular weapon. After using the shuriken, he deemed them too small, so he found another one, a silver food tray left behind by a waiter who went on break at a fancy restaurant He sharpened the edges and turned it into a killing tool.
He stayed with his master until he vanished after a fire was set at his master's village. He drifted for a while afterwards, using a sum of his wealth to stay clean, comfortable, and nourished. It was like this for a few years until the Second War of Saari began. Feeling the need for a purpose, he signed up for the mobian resistance. After a few days at the camp, he went AWOL after he deemed war to be too filthy and the uniforms atrocious. When he was away, his wealth was lost because of the stocks he invested in crashed. He hoped to come back from war with double his father's earning waiting for him. Instead, he got nothing but dirt. While moping (while standing straight up) in an alley next to the fanciest restaurant in town, The Ruby in the Rough, the manager, a mobian hawk, went out for a smoke. He noticed the well-dressed Lynx and took him under his wing. He started as a busser and made his way up to a waiter, where he put his father's teachings about being polite and clean into practice. He became the Ruby's best waiter in weeks, and the hawk took notice.
Whenever he was on break, Cohen went to the roof of the building to practice combat with his tray. The hawk noticed this when, once again, he went outside to enjoy a cigar. The hawk, he was not just the mysterious owner of an unbelievably successful establishment, but he also ruled the criminal underground, and someone like him needed a bodyguard. Cohen filled this role perfectly, serving his master with both fancy drinks and a cold, calculating fighting style.
- Super agility
- Can jump thirty feet into the air
- night vision
- Excellent waiter
- Adept fighter with his silver razor tray and unarmed combat
- Can mix any alcoholic beverage into a masterpiece.
Cohen learned over the years to only move when you need to move. Because of this, he stays almost stationary in combat, pivoting gracefully to avoid attacks. He uses his slight of hand to send his tray speeding toward his target with dead on accuracy. His job as a perceptive waiter and observing fighter have proven useful when fighting stronger opponents in close quarters. He knows just where to shove his elbow, fist, feet, or claws into his enemy to end him.