To quantify the evils of one Mercutio would be to travail at the identity of the number known as infinity; peruse the scores of victims tortured by his beautiful hand, and you shall find only a common denominator, a mathematical certainty, a tag of his identity. His common prey: beautiful, independent women. Their fate: certain death. The paranormal investigator aught to be weary wherever elegant Mercutio courses the streets, feeding on the pulse of urban lifestyles, basking in the radiant glow of flashing neon signs and the blinding streaks of passing headlights.
What we know is this: Mercutio was born as the son of the Spanish Inquisitor. He fell in love with an unnamed woman suspected of witchcraft and freed her. She, a Malkavian, rewarded Mercutio with the embrace. The two traveled through Spain, France, Switzerland and Greece before settling on the Trojan shores of Turkey until World War I. Mercutio's unnamed sire was killed when her place of repose was exposed to sunlight by an artillery shell. Mercutio fled to the United States, and since, he has victimized women in an attempt to recreate the bizarre relationship he once possessed with his dead sire.
Do not approach without considerate back-up: while Mercutio is not a competent fighter, he is an experienced mentalist and can dominate at a whim.
"O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you.
She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
On the fore-finger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomies
Over men’s noses as they lie asleep;
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut
Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,
Time out o’ mind the fairies’ coachmakers.
Her wagon-spokes made of long spinners’ legs,
The cover of the wings of grasshoppers,
The traces of the smallest spider’s web,
The collars of the moonshine’s watery beams,
Her whip of cricket’s bone, the lash of film,
Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat,
Not so big as a round little worm
Prick’d from the lazy finger of a maid;
And in this state she gallops night by night
Through lovers’ brains, and then they dream of love;
O’er courtiers’ knees, that dream on court’sies straight,
O’er lawyers’ fingers, who straight dream on fees,
O’er ladies ‘ lips, who straight on kisses dream,
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are:
Sometime she gallops o’er a courtier’s nose,
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit;
And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig’s tail
Tickling a parson’s nose as a’ lies asleep,
Then dreams, he of another benefice:
Sometime she driveth o’er a soldier’s neck,
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon
Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes,
And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two
And sleeps again. This is that very Mab
That plaits the manes of horses in the night,
And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs,
Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes:
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
That presses them and learns them first to bear,
Making them women of good carriage:
This is she—"
— Mercutio in Romeo and Juliet, Act I, scene iv