Age ::
— 28

Gender ::
— Male

Nationality ::
— American

Occupation ::
— Vice President at Carlyle & DuPont (a subsidiary of Geiger Corporation), a firm that specializes in financial consultation and analysis. The title is little more than the corporate equivalent of a golden sticker, as it is clear that there are quite a number of vice presidents within the company. At work, Richard manages a small group of individuals, although this management role entails little more than sitting in his office waiting for a meeting. Other responsibilities include occasionally chastising his subservience and sneaking peeks at his secretary’s ass.

Place of Residence ::
— Diamond Heights Building 3C, 44th floor, Room E

Cybernetics ::
— High grade neural augmentation to assist in cognition, decision making, and problem solving by increasing the rate at which the brain can process information
— Cybernetic retinal implants to assist with vision problems and enhance ocular abilities

Bio ::
— Richard’s life began on a comfortable Summer afternoon within a clean yet cozy hospital room. His father was an accomplished lawyer, while his mother often found money by dabbling in literature. Their home was a large penthouse in the luxurious part of the city, decorated with elaborate post-modern paintings and the most expensive furniture and upholstery they could afford. In his childhood years, Richard was inundated with various toys, games, and electronics; it is no exaggeration to say that he was a pampered child. With no brothers or sisters, and few friends, Richard amused himself with the various distractions his parents gave him for quite some time. But, gradually, he began to grow tired and searched for more exciting things to placate him. At the age of 11, he received a pet tarantula spider: he was enthralled by it. He loved feeding it various bugs, watching the spider overpower whatever tiny insects he let loose within its enclosure. He seemed to have a great fascination with the predatory instincts of his pet, and would always be giddy with excitement whenever he saw a live bug he could feed to his spider.

As he grew into a young man, he partook in many of the same activities befitting his stature. He played on his high school's football team, he participated in student government, and he managed the school’s French club. To the outside world, he seemed like a perfectly well-adjusted kid, with a loving family and good grades in school. However, he was known by many of his peers as a caustic, manipulative, and mean individual, who always had a group of his friends around to strong-arm anyone that gave him lip.

As he got into college, Richard began to expand his network, while indulging in the same amount of hedonism and depravity as was expected of him. He drank, he smoked, he rode fast cars and he preyed upon women. None of these had any repercussions on his social status or school life, however. When he did go to classes, he was ostensibly studying business, but he often found himself skipping classes that seemed “too easy”, beneath him, or otherwise a waste of time. Nevertheless, he graduated within four years, and the connections his father had within the upper echelons of society guaranteed he landed a cushy job as soon as he left school.

His lust for fast cars and loose women has only grown as Richard aged. On a weekly basis he goes to whatever nightclub he can find to snort coke and copulate with whores. He rarely meets with any of the few friends he does have. And when he does, it’s mostly in a business environment, within a boardroom or discussing office management and sharing business cards. He spends most of his time during the week sitting in his office or doing something in his condominium. However, on rare occasions, to clear his mind, he likes to take a long ride in his flying car.

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---

Name
Kite Adams

Age
25

Gender
Female

Nationality
Unknown African ethnicity and Scots-Irish

Occupation
By day, Kite owns and operates Sky Tattoos. She became an innovator in her line of work by developing a new type of tinted ink called Lumal™ that takes better to darker skin. The brightest hues of red and blue and every other color on the spectrum can now adhere to even the tannest of complexions thanks to Lumal™. Before her great discovery, Sky Tattoos was a typical tattoo shop in the Foundry, but has since catapulted to popularity, garnering a small pool of clients from Diamond Heights. But that doesn't mean Kite exclusively works with those who hold prestige or honor. In her humble beginnings, she worked with multiple gangs to design and tattoo their varying symbols and sigils. While she is very proud of her recent work and its success, she greatfully remembers her early days and still takes on gangmember clients.
One thing to note about her invention is the process of its creation. Kite experimented with multiple drugs and pigments until finding that certain doses of distilled neon can produce vivid and vibrant colors on brown and black skin when mixed with ink. While she believes that such small amounts of neon cannot harm her clients, she is still very unsure of the possible future consequences that come with these special tattoos. Lately, she finds her own Lumal™ tattoos itch and tingle, but for now, she'll shovel out as many of the tattoos as much as possible. Her current supplier of distilled neon is the Shang Kal gang. They provide good prices, and from time to time, she gives out a couple free tattoos to Shang Kal gangmembers.
On the flip side of things, Kite pushes organs on the blackmarket to high-maintence celeberties. She had a prosperous and prominent beau a few years ago who first introduced her to the organ market, but she no longer associates with him. Recently, the culture of wealth has been rejecting certain aspects of cybernetic enhancement. Natural pregnancies and births have become popular again, but many of her clients are in need of fertile reproductive organs. Between the middle and lower classes, Kite occassionally stumbles across a woman or man with clean blood and useful parts and bits. She offers them a sum of money in return for whatever organ she finds most profitable, and in these rough times, who can say no? While she mostly caters to the 'all-naturale' crowd of famous women in search for undamaged uteruses or detoxed kidneys, she sometimes takes special requests of eyes, skin, and other various biological products. Being illegal and all, she often has to pay off law enforcement, or supply to them at reduced prices. Things are going well in her one-woman operation, as many of the Diamond Height bigwigs don't want to be involved in sticky syndicates, but Kite is unknowingly beginning to encroach upon gang property. If she doesn't drop out of her side-job soon, she may find herself a target of a varying number of infamous mobs.

Place of Residence
Technically, Kite stays in the Foundry, in the small backroom connected to Sky Tattoos. It's not too shabby, with a clean bed, a desk and chair, and unstained white walls that Kite painted herself. Under her bed, she hides a minisafe with a good sum of cash and pictures of her family. She knows better than to hang up photos of her mother and siblings. If her room was ever broken into, they might be targeted for blackmail. Sometimes the lack of windows drives her crazy, but she deals with it. Kite owns a separate location in the Lower District, Studio Garage B19, where she stores and manufactors her ink, along with her neon. She only visits the garage on Sundays when her tattoo parlor is closed, and she buries herself in tireless hours of concocting new dyes for her work. Kite also uses the garage as a pit stop for her organs, temporarily storing new goods there until they can be sold to clients.

Cybernetics
While Kite would like to boast that her steady-handediness is all natural, she owes it to metal rods in both her wrists. The enhancements extend into her hands and fingers and are controlled by electronic impulses from her brain. They help keep her from slipping up on tattoos and aid in the precision of frabricating her special ink.

Bio
Born to a struggling single-mother family in the Complex, Kite has known poverty, but not like in the Lower District. She always had a warm bed to sleep in and (most of the time) had food in her stomach. As the middle sibling to two sisters, she wasn't given too much special attention or pressure. Her mom had one simple rule: Don't get caught up in that riff-raff. Kite stayed true to her mother's wishes for the majority of her life, but once her old beau entered her social sphere, things changed. For the longest time, her mama didn't know a thing about her daugther's illegal activities. Kite was only 22 and a mediocre tattooist; it didn't seem like she had much to hide. Her sisters soon became aware of her side job, and being loyal to their matriarch, snitched. Kite was cast out of the Adams' family and forbidden to see her sisters. "Come back when you're done or you'll come back when you're dead," she remembers her mother sneered at her before expelling her out of their apartment. Kite hasn't seen them since, not even after the sudden success of Lumal™.

<!Open_Rush.pers//Decrypting::
<<--Name//RUSH_SO_FINE
<--ERROR{Name cannot be opened. Unknown Error.
<<--Age//666-420-6969
<--ERROR{Age cannot be opened. Unknown Error.
<<--Gender//MAN_OF_MYSTERY
<--ERROR{Gender cannot be opened. Unknown Error.
<<--Nationality//PLS_STAND_4_ANGOLAN__NATIONAL_ANTHEM.mp3
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<<--Occupation//SUPERSONIC_GANGSTER_NUMBA1
Rush lacks an official occupation, or an official identity for that matter, though his most recently stolen identity chip is that of a 52 year old banker. As a result, a quick scan would reveal Rush to be an employee of GeluCo Investments, though nothing could be further from the truth. In reality, Rush is the leader of the Headhunters MC, a motorcycle gang in the Lower District comprised of roughly four dozen teenagers and young adults. While this position lacks any extra duties or responsibility, the power that comes with it gives Rush control of the actions of approximately thirty hoodlums. He uses this power primarily to steal stereos.

While lacking any true territory or businesses, the Headhunters are nonetheless feared for their savagery by citizens of the Lower District trying to get by, and cataloged as a legitimate thorn in the side of larger criminal organizations and their business dealings. They are frequently likened to hyenas, buzzards, and other scavengers for their proclivity to interrupt and take over the robberies and heists of other criminals, which they accomplish through their turbocharged motorcycles, use of hacked Lower District security cameras, and guns.

<<--Place of Residence//DA_CAVE
Rush lives in the Headhunters HQ, which is an abandoned water treatment facility in the Lower District. The blocks surrounding it, while unguarded by scouts of any sort, is easily considered to be one of the worst neighborhoods in the Lower District -- Flaming oil drums light the street alongside the black skeletons of exploded cars, bodies of the dead lean against the same walls and fences as the strung-out and unconscious homeless, and mothers pushing carriages tightly grip cans of mace to fend off packs of wild dogs and roving gangs. If the police were looking for the Headhunters in their neighborhood, they would have a legal obligation to attend to the dozen visible felonies happening on any given block first.

<<--Cybernetics//GOGO_GAJETCOK
Rush is covered in cybernetic enhancements of various quality and legality, though his refusal to ever remove his helmet conceals this considerably. His eyes are augmented with a cybernetic HUD, which is in turn connected to his wrists -- this allows Rush to perform subconscious microadjustments to his steering and level of acceleration, which gives him the reflexes necessary to make breakneck turns that would not be possible if his eyes sent information to his brain at a human's regular speed. To Rush, riding a motorcycle does not seem very fast, the rest of the world simply seems very slow.

Additionally, Rush has outfitted himself with augmentations ranging from frivolous, such as a speech-to-text commlink on his helmet to communicate over the rev of engines, to downright lethal, such as his "Wrist Rocket" model single-shot self-defense device, a considerably illegal type of concealed offensive augmentation. Rush claims to have a bionic penis capable of storing 2 Terabytes of information, though his absence of any close relationships and apparent lack of a sex drive leaves this claim uncorroborated.

<<--Bio//ALL_BY_MYSELF_:(
Rush's identity is completely unknown at this time, with his alibi and the rumors surrounding it being a better lead to his history than searching the Databahn for documentation of his existence. He has worn masks -- particularly motorcycle helmets -- longer than anyone has known him, and steals, alters, trades, and creates identities on a weekly basis. As all information gathered about him amounts to the corroborations and rumors of criminals and informants, the police department's file on him is still in the earliest stages of development.

Earliest stories within the Lower District's back alleys state that Rush fled the Van Herschold Orphanage at the age of twelve, at which point he b

<<--Past//Open_PRec.Rush//Decrypting:ERROR{Exec_3y3Prov2.5.1//Decrypting:ERROR{Receiving::

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<--A problem has been detected and your interface has been shut down to prevent damage to your terminal.
The problem seems to be have been caused by the following file: RUSHDIK_SOBIG.Sys
If this is the first time you have experienced this problem, please restart your terminal.
If the problem continues, follow these steps:
ERROR{GAAN_NAAI_JOU_MAMA
ERROR{GAAN_NAAI_JOU_MAMA
ERROR{GAAN_NAAI_JOU_MAMA

Bio>>>Tariq 'came from the mud' as they'd say. He grew up parentless with two older brothers, Andre and Joel. They lived in The Complex Coils Projects, one of the most rundown housing sections in Paradiso. Rife in poverty and gang violence, The Coils are nicknamed Homicide Hill because of its staggeringly high death tolls. The oldest brother Andre was a Lieutenant in the 88s, a local turf gang that fronted as the neighborhood watch. While it's true that they looked out for other tenants in Coils territory, the 88s were notorious for extortion, drug trafficking, and extreme violence. Joel is a former 88 member. He served time for a murder he didn't commit. He renounced his affiliation from the group as soon as he got out on parole. Because Joel did the time, didn't snitch to try to reduce his sentence, and was related to Andre, the 88s accepted his request without retaliation. Joel keeps himself out of trouble by doing contract work at The Foundry.

Tariq found himself in a tug-of-war between his brothers' influences. Andre wanted to recruit him into the 88s as a street soldier, but Joel didn't want that kind of life for his little brother, so he took him to work at The Foundry every chance he got. But Tariq was a master of his own destiny, and he'd soon carve out his own path in life. After becoming a repeat offender for petty theft and aggravated assault, he was approached by a rec leader at his detention center named Davey Frazier. Davey invited Tariq to come to the fight gym he owned and coached at, which, coincidentally, was one of the places he once burglarized in the Lower District.

Under the hard-nosed direction of Davey Frazier, Tariq channeled his aggression into a quantifiable skill set. The 13 year old had a natural fighting instinct, the stuff legendary champions were made of. Finally, the young man found his place in the world. Davey eventually became Tariq's full time trainer and father figure. Fast forward 10 years later and The Professor is now a fighting phenom in the World Fighting Association. Tariq was in the prime of his life, flying on an ultimate high. He moved out of the Coils Projects and into a lavish suite in Diamond Heights. He was a budding celebrity, rubbing elbows with the upper echelons of society. With a professional record of 24 wins, 20 by way of knockout, and 0 losses, he was one fight away from becoming a world champion superstar.

But life isn't always fair. The proverbial shit hit the proverbial fan during what could've been his most pivotal moment in sports history. Tariq fell ill during training camp. He was rushed to a nearby hospital where he was diagnosed with metastatic osteosarcoma. It grew from his thoracic vertebrae and was spreading to the rest of his body. Every fighter he faced in the ring paled in comparison; cancer would be his toughest opponent yet. An aggressive treatment regimen, followed by an extensive cybernetic operation, cost him the WFA title and left him bankrupt. If it weren't for Joel and Davey he'd be living on the streets, or running with the 88s alongside Andre. Tariq beat cancer in the end, but he was now literally and figuratively a shell of his former self. He sold off all of his assets, moved out of Diamond Heights, and settled into the second floor of Davey's gym. Now he works as a co-trainer, a youth counselor, and a Sky Bar bouncer, to chip away at the rest of his medical bills.

His WFA career might be over, but an underground organization called the Ultimate Combat Circuit is catching a lot of buzz. The UCC is unique in that it allows fighters with cybernetics and performance enhancing drugs to compete. The fights are unsanctioned and highly illegal, but UCC fighters are getting stupid rich off of them. A couple of matches under Tariq's belt would be enough to pay off the rest of his debt. But with high reward comes even higher risk. Should he choose to compete, Tariq will be fighting under a new set of rules (or lack thereof), rules closely monitored by The Complex crime lords, and Diamond Height two-timers of Paradiso.

Name: Francisco Gaff

Age: 41

Gender: Male

Nationality
Mexican

Occupation:
Officially Francisco has no job and no home. He’s a vagrant that roams the streets, surviving off of a meager pension from the police force that is typically spent on GB the moment he receives it every month. In another life he was a detective. He held the power of other’s lives in his hands. It was his judgement that decided the fates of many criminals of Paradiso. Unlike some enforcers he didn’t pass judgement uniformly. His punishments often fit the crime in his eyes, thieves would end up missing a limb, rapists were neutered, and murderers stopped breathing. He wasn’t above the law and was known to be the type of enforcer who could be bought and bribed if the price was right and as long as the crime wasn’t too heinous for him to look away on a personal level.

In order to facilitate his addiction between monthly checks he begs, scavenges, and steals. He roams Paradiso looking for anything he can squeeze into his next hit. He spends most of his time at the Sky Bar begging for whatever scraps he can. This also provides the best opportunities to gently lift valuables from those he is begging to. His history in the force gives him an edge as he knows typical patrol routes and times. His knowledge of protocol aids him in avoiding the enforcers that would normally cart him off or just outright kill him. He ventures to the Geiger institute where he can sometimes get lucky and find valuable scraps of machinery or electronics that fell through the cracks and ended up in the garbage. When he makes his way to the Foundry he is able to prey on the working class. Here he begs, a futile effort, merely for the appearance. Most steer clear of him but anyone not paying attention or simply naive ends up missing anything not attached .

He eventually makes his way to the monorail where he can typically make a few bucks from travelers who are just too focused on other vagabonds.

Occasionally a former CI or coworker will approach him for odd jobs, but you can never trust a junky with anything of real importance so these are few and far between.


Place of Residence
While the streets have become his home he still owns a small flat in the complex. The flat is among one of the lower floors and has fallen into disrepair in his absence. He sometimes returns when he desperately needs a shower or if the streets get too cold. The interior is barren. The walls are bare and the air itself is dusty. The only furniture is a small stained mattress in a corner of the largest bedroom. By it, a small picture frame covered by a haze of dust. Every other item that resided in this place is gone and forgotten.

Cybernetics (?): Several injuries while on the job lead to a cybernetic liver, left kidney, Left eye, right hand, all Geiger upgrades. The liver and Kidney will function better than any human organ for at least twice the average human life expectancy. The eye and hand have tactical upgrades because at the time they were considered practical. The eye ‘s standard mode is equivalent to 20/10 vision in normal light and is 20/20 in darkness. He once had a HUD wireless attachment that enabled him to activate other modes of sight but this attachment hasn’t been in his possession for quite some time. The hand has advanced levels of strength and dexterity when properly maintained but at it’s current condition and without the necessary cleanings that should have followed his years on the force, it operates much like a normal human hand.

Bio
Francisco was born in Paradiso, not in a hospital but in the Complex. His father was a mid level criminal with no real claims to fame while his mother stayed at home with Fran’s seven other siblings. The flat they called home is the same one that he still owns to this day. Except for his older sister, Maria, all of his siblings have passed away, some taken by violence and some through sickness like the bio-plague.

It was spite that inspired him to become a patrolman as his relationship with his father was turbulent to say the lease. His hatred for his father motivated him to do his best throughout the academy. He used stories of his father and growing up with a criminal to give himself the appearance of a very law abiding man. After completion, his connections to the criminal underworld along with his outside the box approach lead him to get promoted relatively fast.

He found a woman and fell in love much like most adults. They conceived a child early on but he never hesitated. To him Elise was his soul mate. They married shortly after his son Mateo was born. A couple years later a girl, Sofia, joined the family. Life wasn’t grand by any means but they were happy.

Injuries happened as they normally do to patrolmen. Stabbed here, shot there, and broken bones in between. The force paid for all his medical bills of course but he didn’t sustain the worst of it until the very end. He was getting close to shutting down one of the major drug kingpins and greatest rival of the Kang Shal when his home was invaded by Russians. They entered and immediately shot Francisco in the gut, hitting his liver. They carried Elise into the other room with the children and as Francisco plead with them not to hurt his family 3 gunshots echoed through The Complex. He went numb. In that moment he died. He couldn’t feel them as they mutilated the fingers of his right hand. Frustrated at his lack of cooperation one of the Russians spoke to him in Russian. He didn’t speak the language but the words would have been a blur anyway. Another gunshot forced Fran to curl over, the bleeding from his midsection had doubled. He lifted his head toward the intruders and the sound of a final BANG turned his world to blackness.

Fran awoke eight weeks later in the hospital and was never the same after that. The final bullet had gone through his eye and out the back of his head. Doctors called it a miracle that it didnt strike anything vital. But what they considered fortune, Fran considered cruelty. His headaches would become something that even the best painkillers could barely manage. Friends from the force tried to get him back on his feet but he just let his life slip away.

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Usually one of two, or maybe three places, will Luce shake her bearings and lay down for the night, sometimes the morning. She owns the apartment 17A on the fourth floor of The Complex, but lacks the roots of heart and home. Luce can also be found within the living quarters conjoined with the dive bar called Dance With The Dead by the locale flavour, currently owned by a Kacey Holden; also a Rat, but of a different type. Where ever else she may lie, usually depends on the day, and the job.

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. s ᴇ ǫ ᴜ ɪ ɴ ᴇ ʏ ᴇ s . / / - They call them glittering pools of integrated software that spans the oculus and further in depth through the optical nerve and feeding onto the brain that promotes vision and the interpretation of such. The eyes are completely exchanged for a series of various colours and tones, the term Sequin being coined from the drifts of The Lower Districts and Diamond Heights, placing them for the unique presentation of their appearance like gems of circular cuts and lay. Within lights they interchange often, eerily so, without indication to pupils or iris with slight amplifications in place of a cornea to ensure protection from potential damage. The enhanced sight is capable of minute recordings of sixty second intervals and housed in a small chamber for later reflection or projecting if the proper software product is present within the photo-receptors.

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