Maurice Colverston Fitt

Fitt has OAGS stats

Maurice Colverston-Fitt (1930- 2012) is a xenoform marksman, sorcerer and pimp. Born into one of the wealthiest xenoform families of the occult underworld, Maurice was privy to the greatest and most life affirming privileges money could provide: a Swedish teenage nanny with a hot rack and a passion for sword swallowing. His virginity was lured away from him at the tender age of 9, when his cherry was popped at a charity function held by the Celibacy Society. Having had his fill of irony and parental rebuttal, Maurice was sent away to a high class boarding school – ‘up top’ so to speak.

During his time at Eton, he excelled in only one subject: sex education, which is why it was such a deplorable pity that this was an un-assessed class. Though he has since been regarded as one of, if not the most powerful sorcerers ever to grace this green earth, he did not apply his attentions or abilities to academic pursuits. He did score very highly however on an informal and spontaneous examination in cunnilingus, performed upon two dinner ladies, Mable and Ethel.

Throughout his school career, Maurice was constantly on reprimand. It was only his infectious boyish charm, coupled with his willingness to bend and be bent into a series of erotically flexible positions all in the name of an orgasm, which stood between him and expulsion.

His time at Oxford was tragically brought to a premature end when he was found, in the dead of night, in a raunchy embrace with his Classics tutor, the girl from the campus Deli and an otter. A University of such prestigious standing could not allow such a bizarre student-lecturer-mammal love square to fornicate furiously beneath the gaze of the media, parents and board of Governors. Maurice was given a handsome sum to drop out to avoid a scandal, but this proved to be a pointless exercise however as he simply proceeded to sell his story to the Mirror, the Sun, the Daily Star and the Financial Times. For this he received a jaw-droppingly high figure, whilst also enjoying a night of indulgent, copulatory ecstasy with the head editors of each of the aforementioned newspapers.

The 60’s dawned –an era for which Maurice holds himself entirely, but not guiltily responsible. He claims to have inadvertently started the Sexual Revolution by asking his current bit of skirt if she’d like to go on top for a bit. It was during this time of heady, intoxicating carnal extravagance that Maurice opened his first nightclub cum brothel – the only 24 hour bar offering a good, prolonged view of a perfect pair of mammaries at a reasonable price. Once again it was his charm, his roguish good looks and his sexual appetite that created his success, eventually leading to his multi-national ‘Erotic Empire’ spanning numerous continents, with dirty promises being uttered in over 19 languages.

Years later, he somehow ‘appeared’ in the London headquarters of the Agency. He was found in a laundry cupboard, wearing nothing but a lace thong, clutching a half-spent bottle of Drambuie and a jar of Vaseline. Quite how he came to be so scantily clad and so inebriated in a maximum security secret compound is entirely unknown, but the more astute members of the Agency might have noticed Miriam, the head of Accounts, had developed a 'John Wayne' walk overnight.

After a quick debriefing, followed by a lengthy session of ‘how’s your father’, eventually resulting in a very short interview, it was deduced that Maurice was perhaps more of a benefit than he was a liability. Aside from his expertise as a sorcerer, he possessed a near unbelievable competence with guns. He was placed on the Agency’s payroll and did a fair bit of work for them back in the early 90s, whilst also dabbling in a bit of eye-poppingly graphic porn with two ex-circus clowns.

The introduction of the internet gradually led Maurice away from his life in the agency. What with hundreds upon thousands of gigabytes of easily accessible porn on the internet, drooling, lustful, easily aroused people were taking their erotic persuasions to their computers, shunning real boob in favour of a very pretty set of pixels. Clearly, if he was to keep his empire from going ‘tits down’, Maurice was going to have to up his game, naturally at the cost of his Day Job.

Many years later, there was a knock at the door to Maurice’s private boudoir – Nick Slater, team leader of Omega Team, requesting the services of the infamous Mr Fitt. Once it was deduced that the services Nick had in mind didn’t entirely match with those envisioned by Maurice, the demon signed on the dotted line and was once more thrust back into the world of the Agency. Colverston-Fitt is one of the few people the Agency entrusts with Hellfire bullets.

Recently Maurice has randomly acquired a troupe of scantily clad, incredibly attractive, willing but shameless whores. They goeth by the names of Brandy, Candy, Sandy and Eric. Their tight, skimpy leather outfits leave little to the imagination, but this ultimately proves to be a great benefit, as they often tend to distract the enemy. The quartet were personally trained by Maurice to be the most erotic assassination/back-up dancing group ever, or at least they would have been, had he actually finished their training. Their lack of tutelage has left them suffering from the competence of the average Playboy bunny girl, but what they lack in smarts they certainly make up for in smoldering good looks. Maurice clearly loves his band of loyal minions, but this endearment is closely tied with the fact they are beautiful, but expendable.

In his spare time, Maurice enjoys golfing, origami and masturbation.