Name: Miquel Borges Mão de Ferro Santos, though everybody knows him as "Croaks"

Appearance: Croaks is a large man, despite him lacking any easily visible cybernetics and having not gone through any biografting. His small victory in the genetics lottery did make him taller and more muscular than your average Combat Zone kid though, and when times are rough one has got to count all the blessings they can get. While on the ground, he most often dresses in paramilitary style cargo pants of jungle camouflage style, coupled with heavy black boots, all the while he covers his upper body with a manila string vest. If he is expecting gunfights, he might exchange the stuff for kevlar his gang had bought from good Lieutenant, but he prefers not to.

His hair is kept short, and the river keeps it dyed in its dirty colour. For his skin, the man is tan as his Portuguese heritage would suggest, but with how little sun keeps coming down here it is not anything too impressive.

When doing stuff underwater, he tosses on a black wetsuit with a few yellow stripes on the side, or stripes that once were yellow anyway. The polluted river has made its toll on those. Like any self respecting diver, he will also be seen wearing flippers and an oxygen mask, using a small waist mounted air tank for what he needs. The gigs don't usually take that long. It's better that way.

Cyberware:

• Neuralware
  • Neuralware Processor (Allows any other neuralware to function)
  • Low-end Kerenzikov Reflex booster (Enhances reaction time barely noticeably, but it is there)
• Implants
  • Adrenal Booster (Used to pump more adrenaline in the works for enhanced combat capability. Good for three uses/day.)

Weapons:
On dry land:

• A "surplus" NCPD favoured bullpup submachinegun of questionable origin. Quite similar to its predecessor FN P90, it fires at 900 shots per minute but thanks to the ammunition used being caseless as is the way of the age, the magazine can fit double the bullets, that being 100. Croaks's gun has been painted over with a paint that gives it an oily appearance, as if recently fished out from the river.
• A serrated knife, serration added by himself onto some nice knife he picked up on one of his river lorry raids. Nothing too special about it.

Underwater:

• Marinetech 1765 Harpoon Gun, usually reserved to licensed combat divers. Croaks calls his "Boltcaster".
  Quite a bit more lethal than the usual gun underwater, but much too heavy and clunky to really be of any use outside of water.

Armour: While Croaks prefers to not bother, when the time comes he does toss on a cop grade kevlar vest, and sometimes even changes his pants for the lightly armoured sort. Of course, neither of these are an option when he goes diving. Then it is just the wetsuit and what little protection a rebreather and goggles offer.

Background: Croaks belongs to one of the many gangs in the Night City Combat Zones, and is actually a rather high ranking member of the "Colonel's Corner Amphibians" as they call themselves, based on the fact that around the spot they do most of their work in, at the curve of the river, one can see the neon sign of a bar called Colonel's Corner far above. Croaks is one of the two leader figures of the gang, the other one being Ribby, the nickname belonging to someone Croaks can only call a brother from another mother.

Their gang is small, but as a result quite tightly wound, but small numbers are a big drawback when one takes into account that they need a large headcount or big guns to protect one's turf down here in the slums. Thankfully enough, the saving angel in the for of the crooked Lt. Davison appeared and supplied them for the longest time. Only to vanish in their time of need.

Now that guns and ammo are both running a bit low, there is no other option than to either look for another salesman or find the old one anew. Hopefully without the rest of the gang losing the turf in the meantime. It would get plenty awkward if he needed to try and get the things he was holding for people out of the river until the watchful eye of his rivals.

Name: Mark Theron
Appearance: For all intents and purposes Theron is outwardly as human as one might come, at least at a cursory glance of physique and build, although as much is suspect in the age of internalized cybernetics and cosmetic alteration. However, rather than being trimmed in chrome and lined with hardware, Theron is a rehash, a chimera, a "splicer", an exotic, all thanks to the handiwork of microscopic machines and a bit of genetic tinkering and biological trickery to biosculpt. As it goes, it isn't that his athleticism or ability is innate to him, rather it was put there like any other mod, just much more even and throughout. Part of that makes him deceptively human, but there are some clues on the surface he isn't untouched; Theron is too anatomically improved without hardware bolted on to be legitimate. People are not just normally faster, stronger, or more resilient without a good throw of the dice from their parents and probably more than a little training added in. Theron on the other hand is what happens when you decide to throw some of the wilder things into the mix.

The end result is that Theron is lean, as tall as any other man, perhaps a bit taller, and has an abnormally defined build throughout that is uncannily limber, and pocked with too few scars for his own good despite his occupation. Though of course he has a few distinct novelties built in, the kind people do notice; night eyes of the amber variety, retractile rippers, skin grafts and the like, all the thing one does when they want to make an identity for themselves while having too much credit and faith in an employer offering upgrades. Fortunately, he's a bit older now, a bit wiser. Unfortunately, Theron is not all that much better off, but at least he's kept his penchant for having his near-black crew cut and avoiding balding while not being too pale. There's some perks to being an exotic after all, even if not all of you is human throughout anymore.

Unlike the stereotyped ronin or enforcer, Theron opts to avoid the duster and camouflage. Granted he isn't far off of course, preferring black, polished combat boots, grey battle pants, fingerless weighted gloves, smoked polarized adjusting sunglasses, and headed off by a false leather armored jacket. Woven with fiber-optic cable and integrated lighting, it makes for a nice addition anywhere where the air is hazy and simultaneously all too dark and garnished with garish vibrant pinks, yellows, blues, or violet. Of course one could always turn off the lighting, which is at least half of the appeal for when you need to look somewhat professional.

Cyberware:

• Bioware
  • Biosculpting
    • GENX Biomedical Apex Sculpt¹ (Genetic external cosmetic physique and condition improvement, includes pronounced features. Animal donor basis.)
    • GENX Biomedical "Chimera" Template (Viral Modification) (Genetic internal template, allows cross-species grafting, alters base genetic code.)
  • Audio
    • Graff-Stein Research Laboratory "Clairaudience" (Amplified hearing, supersonic, subsonic ranges.)
  • Grafts
    • Re-Human Stage I (Muscle Graft) (Enhanced muscular strength, endurance. Growth hormone, animal donor basis.)
    • Re-Human Stage I (Muscle and Bone Lace) (Viral Modification) (Enhanced muscular and bone strength, endurance, amplification. Organic variant, growth hormone, animal donor basis.)
    • Re-Human Stage I (Nervous Augmentation) (Viral Modification) (Enhanced passive reflexes, reaction. Compare to Kerenzikov Reflex Booster neuralware. Organic variant.)
    • Unlisted Retractile Claws¹ (Compare to generic ripper cyberweapons, animal donor basis. Organic variant.)
  • Immunity
    • Unlisted Metabolism Accelerator¹ (Viral Modification) (Improved healing rate, disease resistance, energy output, metabolic reserve. Shortened life expectancy, increased consumption demands, atypical circulatory and respiratory behavior, animal donor basis. Compare to Enhanced Antibodies.)
  • Olfactory
    • GENX Biomedical "Hunter" Boost (Enhanced perception, tracking by scent. Compare to Olfactory Boost. Organic variant.)
  • Optical
    • GENX Biomedical "Eyeshine" Night-Eyes (See in dim light, near-total darkness. Retinal retroreflector. Amber, predator variant, animal donor basis. Compare to Low Lite^TM cyberoptic.)

_{1 = Grey bioware, cross-species hack, unauthorized tampering with patent(s).}

Weapons:

• Brandish Fingerless Weighted Gloves (Kevlar reinforced, knuckle weighted and polymer capped, fingerless model. Finished in black pseudo-leather.)
• Cobalt M31 Heavy Pistol (Gas-operated, semiautomatic, twelve round, magazine fed, 11mm handgun. Designed to fire tungsten penetrator caseless ammunition. Highly effective against armor and cover, less effective on soft targets due to lacking hollow point ammunition and its over-penetration. Features integrated reflex sight and tritium optic, hand and trigger guard, black polymer finish.)

Armour:

• Cylife "Urban Jungle" False Jacket (Protective light Kevlar jacket, finished in black pseudo-leather, capable of stopping most handgun and submachine gun rounds. Passes for regular leather jacket, but features integrated Synthskin and Biomonitor, both of which are controlled on the sleeves.)

Background: Mark Theron did not so much chip in as he "spliced in", trading far more plentiful, available cyberware for the sort of thing that turns a man inside out and messes with all of the little details deep down inside them. Of course this was easy, everything is when you can pay for it, no matter how deviant the purchase is, and rest assured getting biosculpted at the genetic level into a chimera, a muddied mess of human and animal, is pretty deviant even if it is not obvious as with other exotics. The reward of course for the deviancy was being ahead of the averaged jacked up, glinting booster, yet Theron was far from finished.

What came next was a venture into the criminal underground, first as a hand for hire, rather another added gun for the fight in the Combat Zones of Night City. While this afforded Theron a few more tweaks and augments through the grey market, things that "just so happened" to end up for sale outside their clinics, it wasn't enough. What Theron was looking for cost handily, but at least now he had a base to work from and a reputation. GENX Biomedical, the same ones who provided a number of his earlier augments, were offering work and incentives in place of euros, and it helped to already be on file for their side of the Net. For an aspiring solo, this was an opportunity too good to ignore.

Though like everything good, it never lasted forever. No matter how competitive one remains, everyone is replaceable, and Mark Theron was no exception. GENX Biomedical reorganized not long after and swept away anyone their corporation considered non-essential. While norm for Night City, it set the man back further than desired. Months were spent doing what he had done before in the shallow end of the pool until the Intellitron Corporation decided it needed something more subtle, more atypical, more unexpected and low-key. The type of contracted agent who didn't look like he had seen one too many ripperdocs or stuck too many 'dorphs into what few non-wired veins they still had. What they needed were hunter-killers in one, contracted out to those who could go just about anywhere and complete either role, and Mark Theron was one.

In short order, ending that stint of wandering the street and its Combat Zones again with nothing but animal cunning and some experience, the Intellitron Corporation had another Hunter, and only fitting it was a man who was at least some notable percent leopard. As expected the first few marks went smoothly enough, some hunting and observation, others with a dash of finishing the work. What came next however, was another sealed document, nothing digital, about a Night City Police Department lieutenant by the name of Davison, working for Murkywater Security. And while it was clear there was only two reasonable contractors for the Intellitron Corporation to be directed by in this matter, something else was at play...

Corporations working through proxies don't offer incentives in place of pay.

Name: Madeleine Caddik

Nickname/Given Name: Scarlett

Occupation: Reaper. They act as repossessors, cars, merchandise, body parts, cybernetics and sometimes whole people. Needing the ability to find people, or the merchandise they’re after, using both human and computer information. Good with general awareness and being streetwise. Using intimidation and persuasion tactics, tracking and shadowing others. Able to pick locks and deal with electronic security. Proficiency with martial arts and handguns.

Appearance: She stood 6' 0" tall, has narrow shoulders, an average torso and C-cup breasts, a thin waistline, bony hips, and lengthy legs. She once had dark brown hair that was long and curly, that was elaborately styled. She had a round face, a short chin, hollow cheeks, and pointed ears. Her eyebrows are smooth, and her almond-shaped, amber colored eyes. Her nose was small and she had full lips and had perfectly healthy teeth. Without having any tattoos, or piercings. But that was before being covered in 3rd degree burns and after enduring an intense and extensive surgery...

She now looked entirely inhuman and more like an anthropomorphic wolf in nearly every feature. A rare manifestation even in Night City, which causes her to appear larger and rather intimidating, with thick reddish fur and sporting some monstrous-looking sharp fangs. For her Reaper job, she adorns a particularly crafted helmet which is worn partially because nobody else should be privileged enough to see her face. Dressed in black and covert clothing that had to be specifically sewn to fit her animalistic body. Having holsters on her hips to carry her two pistols. Her indoor fashion is chosen solely by her owner, often wearing nothing at all disregarding her personal choice.

Fashionware/Cyberlimbs:

• LupaForm Major Package: Pointed ears, dog-nose & eyes, fangs, synthskin, muzzle, tail, digitigrade legs, fur.

Implants:

• Modified Life Scan Body Monitor Plus: Effectively a tracker that helps any attempts at first aid and measures the proper level of needed medication. Makes her vitals known and how hurt she may become and is programmed to send hired medical help in dangerous situations.
• Contraceptive Implant: Good for 5 years. 98% effective.
• Stutter Chipping: Working as an auto-aim, and stops her from shooting those programmed to be her allies.

Weapons (Carried):

• Two M970 Beretta’s (No additional modifications. 9mm barrel, 18 shots.) Her ability with firearms allows her to fire at a distance farther than your average marksman, and is fairly accurate even when using both guns simultaneously.

Occasionally given by her employer for tasks:

• Proximity Mine (These mines use ultrasonic or infrared motion detectors and detonates whenever they sense movement within a 3m radius, doing damage to everything within 7m.)

Armour:

• No body armor, but fireproof resistance material on her clothing that she wears on the job.
• Bullet Reflective Helmet (specially fitted for her body): Equipped with a video camera. (2 hours of footage, Good Quality. No audio. Concealed on top front of the helmet.)

Background: Madeleine was an orphan child. Abandoned as an infant, wrapped in a blanket inside a wooden basket, laid down by the door underneath the pale moonlight. Raised by several priests from the Roman Catholic Holy Angels Church within Sector A2 Northside of Night City. Her youth was wholesome as possible in such a dangerous and crime riddled area. Spending a majority of her time there and helping out with the soup kitchen and aiding the sheltered homeless. During that time she meet and sympathetically befriended another parentless boy, slightly older than her, that seemed to be purposely avoided for deeply disturbing the others.

She disregarded everyone else’s contemptuousness, though they shared very little in common aside from circumstances. He would talk to people as if they weren’t human, but primordial beings or an animal. He was kind toward her, but addressed her in a tone you’d imagine speaking to your pet. But she played along, taking his offensive and misanthropy charitably, as entirely harmless quirk due his loneliness. His developing affection and desire went beyond the platonic for her throughout their time together, promising to save her life too one day. But soon after that proclamation, the boy had disappeared the following morning and never returned.

All while being secretly trained for firearm and hand to hand self-defense by a younger priest, finding it necessary to direct her through a specific course if she was expected to survive. His lessons left an impression and stuck to her like wet cement. Her rejection and dislike of cyberware modifications grew as she aged, getting into mischief and immoral behavior the more days she spent outside the church. Her teen years were spent fighting the priests wanting her to stay the innocent girl they raised, a misguided and failed hope. Finally becoming an adult and surrounding herself with many fair-weather friends, who'd waste their lives partying, smashing stuff, smoking and drinking in excess. Despite previously and repeatedly rejecting those drugs, consuming enough drinks convinced her that just a single pill wouldn't hurt, later she woke up in bed with a stranger. Her first and final experience with drug use...

Weeks passed before discovering that she was pregnant. This presumed tragedy, became a blessing in disguise. Getting in contact with the stranger, ending up becoming star-crossed lovers. Both moving into an apartment complex together. Ironically, her boyfriend was a mechanical genius, working on cyberware creations to benefit the downtrodden, getting the glory in the aftermath. He didn’t have a real job, but having his grandparents quite lucrative inheritance, they never needed to worry about funds. He even took out a life insurance policy for their future as a family.

Her contract job involved teaching mixed martial arts combat, target practice and self defense. Always complimented for her talents, believing she'd reached an expert status in firearms. But sharing the sin of vanity along with her significant other, using the money to afford the best natural makeup to look attractive to her boyfriend. Additional benefits of being the center of attention wherever they went. It was some of the greatest months of her life, but the miscarriage was beginning of taking a turn for the worse. She began to feel like someone was following her everywhere. Things also became a little strange between the two of them. He stopped wanting to have sex, despite her pleas to try again.

He was hiding a grim secret, he’d been a gambling addict and he hadn’t paid any debt. She learned after he was beaten senseless and threatened his loved ones were next, watching horrified from the window. He assured her that he had plenty off wealth and that he’d take care of it, winning her over by professing that he wanted a baby. Unbeknownst to her boyfriend hired people to kill these men and that was his fatal mistake. Spending a long stretch in safety, forgetting of the foreboding danger. During a passionate night, something crashed through their window and the molotov cocktails caused an inferno of fire and smoke blasted out. Fortunately occupying the bathroom at the time, the flames were still intense and growing out of control. She was quickly rescued by several strangers breaking the door and barraging in, she was the only thing inside the apartment not burned to a crisp...

Her memories of the following days were a hazy blur. Remembering lying on a cold steel operating table, her whole body had been charred and left her disfigured. She undertook a strenuous and pervasive surgery without her consent, that completely altered her appearance that required an extended recovery. She discovered that the odd boy she lost touch with a long time ago, had struck it rich and became a powerful and influential man, through nefarious means she still hasn’t learned. Somehow leading a loyal criminal gang, operating from a relatively unknown base that she'd be residing in, becoming her new home whether she liked it or not. He admitted that he was trying to relentlessly track her down for years, and has been subsequently stalking her movements from the shadows. On this fateful day, finally fulfilling his promise by saving her life and molding her into a self-described beautiful image that he felt reflected her true nature. He simply demanded for her indentured servitude in return, by teaching her to become a Reaper.

She didn’t have much of a choice, becoming what she loathed and spending time training and getting used to her new look and humiliating role. Experiencing things she’d rather forget for years until the horrendous changed into the mundane. Her life irreversibly changed with her kind-hearted action in past only giving her a twisted reminder of how the world works. Restrained by sometimes a literal chain around her neck, living a shell of the life she once enjoyed. Feeling like a phantom going through life no longer wanting to live, but fearing death kept her grounded. Only a futile purpose remained, getting revenge for her boyfriend's murder that destroyed her chance at happiness.

That was the short of it. Nowadays, she just spent ‘quality time’ with her owner and performed any desired task for meager reward in return, becoming rather good at her Reaper work over the years as her sole consolation prize. Her personal relationship with Lieutenant Davidson was tenuous at best, only hearing about him in passing between other members she’d been forced to cooperate with from time to time. But the gang she worked for underneath and her ‘owner’ had interminable interaction with them, primarily in an antagonist scope, with many things that Davidson sold was supposedly stolen property of theirs or allies that they were frequently required to repossess. His disappearance was apparently important enough to shift their focus on finding the man and repossessing him. Scarlett just happened to be the perfect one suited for that job...

Name: Tracy Guiomar
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Occupation: Busybody
Cyberware: Absolute nothing. Tracy is pure flesh and bone, so it would seem.
Equipment: Nothing but the clothes on his back and a duffle-bag filled with more clothes. He does not even carry a wallet. The nerve of this guy.

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