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Any normal day of the year, Paxton James is just another face at the University of Chicago, a kid who goes unnoticed pouring over books in a library. Working on a Masters means he's out of the partying phase and in the internship phase. While his work persona is calm and collected, someone who can be trusted to get the job done, those who bother to call him a friend know that he is crude, unapologetic, and his sarcasm is far from joking - Pax's personality is a mixture of building blocks that likely would have turned into Grade A psychopathy if ADHD hadn't gotten in the way.

Paxton does what he wants, when he wants, and usually with very little explanation as to why. This rash, impulsive streak often ends badly for him but he never seems to care. He lies through his teeth, makes up the rules as he goes, and has a general fuck 'em attitude towards anyone who dares to tell him he's wrong. He pops Adderall like an addict and has no patience for people who can't keep up. HIs IQ is high enough that he would likely be able to make a big change in the world -- if he didn't love sex more than a pre-teen who just learned how to jerk it.

Purge Night is when Paxton really gets to shine. A member of a very elite group known as The Hedons, Pax is the type of person who gets his rocks off to a very specific kind of torture. Literally. The things he's into in the bedroom would make a sex worker blush. Whips, chains, and blood are only the beginnings of his kink list. Always the participant, Pax prefers to spend his 12 hours in rope and ducktape.

The people in his life who know exactly what he gets up to when those sirens wail worry that he won't make it home in the morning - that his pleasures will escalate in a way that will get him killed. Accidents happen, even for the 1% with all their protections and failsafes, how much can his fancy little group really do for him?. Each year, he seems to care less and less about their worries. After all, if Purge kills him, well.

At least he died doing what he loved.