[CHAR] » ᴘᴀʀᴀᴅɪsᴏ

[Didgeridont]

Richard Wrangel

R i c h a r d W r a n g e l

t h e m e
“I’m a complex character — a real Renaissance man. My mother always told me I had something that put me above the rest. I trust her judgement. After all, she gave birth to a Renaissance man”

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.

[Yuria]

Freja

^{ｆｒｅｊａ ｌｕｎｄｓｔｒｏｍ}

-̴̢̲̫̟̼̻͖͍̣̘̘̩͚̓̈́̔͆̔̕-̸̢̧̘̮̖̲͚̪̬͍͖̮̹̮̤̇̀̐̚͝͠-̴̛̘̬̰̩̤̆̽͆͑̀̐͌̇̀̔͠-̸̨͕̖̤̦̫̥̥̙͚̌͊͐̽̐͆͂̈́͒̐̓̂͝͝͝͠ͅ-̵̰̰̠͍̹͎͙͖̦͚̩̼͓͕̦͒̔̎̎̈-̴̧̝̳͔̠̪̮̲̗̠̥̬͋̃̊̂̇͜-̸̤̾̇̆̔͝ ̴̧̢̛̠̳̰̟̬̩̲͎͈̜̼̳̹̭͂̄̿͋̓̽̏̿̇̎͘̚u̵̗̗̫̹̺̳̩̘͇͌͒ǹ̷͎̖̤͉̤̭̤͇̦̜͎ͅͅţ̴̨̠̲͍̘͎̗̳̪̩̱͎͐̀̔͊̐̉̎̄̐́̎ơ̸̝̮͉̮̳̾͗͆͋͋̕͘͠ ̷̥̖̻̞̗͍͖̫͔̲͒̆͠t̶̯̺̙͇͍͍̰͚͙̠̆̌̒͘h̶̩̩̠͍̪͒͑͜ẹ̵̱̬̣͗͒̾̈́̓́̎͋̿̽̈́̓̽̀͂̈́ ̸̨̙̹̗̖̤͇͓͍̯͌̈́̈́̊͂̎̊̚͘ͅả̴̧̛̛̺̝͓̒̉́̉̈́̊̓̑͂͊ḃ̷̛͓̟̦͎̞̲̎̈̂̐̉̎͊̃̌͛̈́̎̔̕y̸̢̨̧̧͎͕̤̟̹͇̞͕̫̣̆̒̍̄̑͒̏͗̇̃͝͝s̴̡̢̰̝̞̱͖̹̯̮̺̰͎̭̾̏͝s̴̡̛͎̗͗́͊ ̵̧͕̣̥̰̗̽̊̊͑͛̋͋̂͋̓̈́̌̎͐̚͜͠í̷͈̲͎̦̺̬̯͙̭̫̹̝̲͉̾̊̉̃́̆͠͠ͅ ̸̢͇̻̠̼͓͍̩̝̫͖̞͖̞͌͝ẅ̶̧̛͎̜̥̈͛̐̓̆̾̇̀̓̚͘͘ͅi̵̛̝̮̜͉̟̼͍͆͑͐́͊͌̐͘͝l̴̡̳͖̝̦̹̤͇̮͓͎͔̪͚̍͗͆̌̽̇̈́̌̿̌̃͜ͅl̵͉̻̗̝͐̇̊̀͌̔ ̷̨̡̣̖̬͚̮̲̖̈́̋͐͛͝r̶̡̻̜̺͆́̄̈́͋̒̾̓͝ṵ̸̈́̆̓̆͑̈́͂̑͘̚ń̸̨̹̥̠͚̻̜̗̪̙̦̬͗͒̉̒̐̉̒̽̔̀̓̂̚͝ͅͅ ̴̺̐͊͐̆͂̉͘͜-̵̳̲̫͙̣̓͐͒̐͒̈̾̍̀̏͛̋͋-̷̞̰̼̖͉͒̏̋̅-̸͖͉̤̱͎͇͔͂̅͗̓͋̿̓͋͘ͅ-̴͙̟̙̭̥̃͋̈́̏̐̀̇̇̂̅͊̂̚͜-̶̡̨̡̞͖̟͈̳͔̗̖͔̙̔̐-̸͍̬̭̫̠̠̩̮̬̭̞̓͗̾̌̈-̷̲͚̯̦̜̖̣͎̊͆

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╕ Name:

╖Freya Lundström

╕ Age:

╖ 20

╕ Gender:

╖ Female

╕ Nationality:

╖ Swedish

╕ Occupation:

╖ Shop assistant at Bobby's Wares. Freelance security saboteur. Freja holds extensive knowledge of common security systems in both physical and digital formats, and as such is frequently hired to open the gates of dubious operations. Her clientele remain strictly anonymous by her own choice - she perhaps does not wish to know what their goals are. To maintain her place amongst the common folk, she works six days a week at a small general store in the Lower District. Freja's most common contracts include:

→ Security Shut-offs
→ Datamining
→ Hard Resetting
→ Doxxing
→ System Overloading

╕ Place of Residence:

╖ Apartment 12b, The Complex. The second floor apartment is far from safe and leaves little to brag about, but the haystack location proved it to be ideal in Freja's eyes.

╕ Cybernetics:

╖ Retina Shields. Being born with albinism, Freja received a pair of experimental eye implants for free at the age of sixteen. These implants are tiny and do absolutely nothing besides shield her exposed retinas from sore lighting.

╕ Bio:

╖ Freja has never been known to speak about her upbringing. Databahn records state that she was born on December 21 in the Diamond Children's Hospital, and that her mother's name was Alma Karlsson. She claims to know nothing of her mother, and simply recalls her father as being "a bad man" when questioned about him. The Diamond School register lists no trusted guardian above her name, and states that she dropped out of education at the age of fourteen.

This was not entirely true however, as she had in fact by choice descended from on-high to merge with the common populace. Her father - out of obligation - provided her with cheap housing amongst The Complex, relieving himself of the nuisance child. She finished school amongst the children of the Lower District, who often subjected her to torment due to the oddity of her complexion. Extreme social bounds caused the girl to retreat away from cliques, and she has grown to be a dry, bitter individual.

During education, her choice of study resided within information technology. Her first tampering with a security BIOS occurred at the age of fifteen, wherein she activated the cloakroom sprinklers out of pure spite towards her classmates.

Rumours of her childlike revenge flew quickly, and following the passing of a few months she was approached by a stranger claiming to be from The Underpass. They asked her whether her tinkering was mere luck, or if she might be able to repeat what she did; this time on a camera system in an underground parking lot. Her trial ended in success, and Freja has since catered for countless clients, each from a different organisation within the city. She has never once asked for reasoning, though she often fears the reactions of gangs should they feel double-crossed.

Having stemmed from her dubious doings, Freja displays blatant distrust and dry indifference to those around her. She is known to be avoiding and reclusive, and has cheap hatred towards people looking over her shoulder. Her detection of sarcasm is dull, and her sense of humour leaves a few things to be desired.

Alexei

^{ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ ᴀʟᴇxᴇɪ ɢᴜsᴋᴏᴠ}

Алты́нного во́ра ве́шают, а полти́нного че́ствуют.

▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼ ▼

╕ Name:

╖Alexei Guskov

╕ Age:

╖ 51

╕ Gender:

╖ Male

╕ Nationality:

╖ Russian

╕ Occupation:

╖ Geiger Corp. Senior Surgeon, Cybernetics Specialist. Alexei holds a PhD in medicine and neurology and is a fully qualified and highly experienced surgeon. Since his incorporation in Geiger's field at the age of twenty, he has developed extensive knowledge on all modern cybernetics.

╕ Place of Residence:

╖ Grove Apartment, Fifth Tower. Fifth Tower is one of the middle-grounds between The Complex and Diamond Heights, and serves as home to those who have the currency to spare on luxuries.

╕ Cybernetics:

╖ None. For a man obsessed with cybernetic experimentation, he has never once considered having them applied to himself. Perhaps he is overly conscious of his own doings.

╕ Bio:

╖ Alexei Guskov, thrice married, thrice divorced. Alexei's love only extends as far as his scalpel, and even his commitment to his only daughter Gustava is only that of obligation. His fascination with perfection has haunted him since a young age, and his experimental desires were made true by his outstanding academics and knowledge of numbers. He holds great and true respect for his father, who preceded him as an orthopaedic surgeon.

Doctor Guskov was inserted into the Giger Institute of Cybernetics following his graduation in medicine, and he pursued his degree in neurology alongside his work as a surgical assistant. It was around this time that his regard for human life began to dry, and his desire for uniform perfection became increasingly toxic. Fascinated by his work, the head board within the G.I.C did little to hold off Alexei's experiments, seeing no harm in the use of cadavers and volunteers. His promotions ultimately led to him taking charge of cybernetic surgeries, meaning that he is responsible for installing and tweaking a large number of implants and augments.

A conversation with Alexei reveals much about the man's mind, in that his perfectionist mind might always judge that which lies before his eyes. He resents Americans, and seems think bitterly towards women. When asked about his affiliations with the G.I.C, he often states that his grandfathers would turn in their graves, should they see him working for the Germans.

Alexei has a dog named Yuli.

[skidcrow]

seong-ho.

_{𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑.}

‶비겁함이 너를 내세로 인도하지 않는다.″
––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

ＮＡＭＥ：

❃ gangjeon seong-ho.

ＡＧＥ：

❃ twenty-seven.

ＧＥＮＤＥＲ：

❃ male.

ＮＡＴＩＯＮＡＬＩＴＹ：

❃ south korean.

ＯＣＣＵＰＡＴＩＯＮ：

❃ doctor alexei guskov's intern. while seong-ho spent the past few years as a pharmaceutical assistant, so as to better acquire the ingredients required for drug-making, he has recently taken up a job with doctor guskov at the geiger institute. this job serves as an outlet; it allows him to get hands on with the doctor's variety of cybernetics, as well as learn how to somewhat effectively apply them.

however, when he's not interning with a mad russian surgeon, seong-ho's main focus is on the kang shal. he acts as the smarter half of the leadership, playing a large role in formulating plans and discussing large changes for the gang, though his intellect often goes out the window when in the heat of the moment. originally, he spent most of his time managing and generally helping out with drug production, but due to the shift in focus towards violent crimes, he's found himself more involved with kidnapping and overseeing extortion. rest assured, if seong-ho is directly involved with an operation, blood will be shed.

ＰＬＡＣＥ ＯＦ ＲＥＳＩＤＥＮＣＥ：

❃ the complex. seong-ho lives at the back of the humming robot, the pharmacy he used to work at. while being slightly more spacious than most ground-level apartments, the space is barely filled up by his minimal furniture and lack of decorating skills. the walls are a bland light grey, with a few cracks here and there and some posters set up on the walls. in the left corner of the room, positioned adjacent to the door, is his old, rusty bed. the frame is rickety and close to falling apart, and the springs are easily felt within the mattress, but so little of his life is spent on it that he doesn't care. as for any other form of furniture, all he has is a wardrobe with a missing door, and a table and chair where he can sit and somewhat relax.

the kitchen is located in a sunken off section of the main room, large enough to be considered it's own separate room, but with no separating walls or even a foot to support that. in seong-ho's kitchen are only thever bare essentials - a cooker, a counter that has two barely functioning cupboards above it, and a refrigeration unit with built-in freezer option. much like the main room, the kitchen is in somewhat of an okay condition. seong-ho is very resourceful with what little he has, dragging his chair over to the counter to eat and buying food if and when he needs it. unfortunately, due to his lack of a kitchen sink, the few plates, cutlery and single cup that he has are washed in the bathroom.

said bathroom is in a significantly worse state than the apartment's other two rooms. while not at the point where leaks would be a serious concern, the general look and wear for tear makes it unappealing. against the back wall is a small bathtub, speckled with red stain and a few ceramic cracks. at the bottom of this bathtub is the bathroom sink, which faces the door and is where seong-ho's washing up takes place. situated above this is a broken mirror, one that has had many a smashed mirror come before it, to the point where seong-ho doesn't bother replacing them anymore. tucked away in the corner of the room is the toilet, which, despite being the highest quality thing in the room, is missing a toilet seat and a part of the lid.

even though seong-ho doesn't exactly live in luxury, he prefers it to living out on the streets. so little of his time is spent in his apartment, therefore he has no care for artifical plants or pretty wallpaper. so long as there's a roof over his head and he can reliably provide himself with food and water, then he has more important matters to deal with.

ＣＹＢＥＲＮＥＴＩＣＳ：

❃ no. he can't afford that shit.

ＢＩＯ：

❃ seong-ho gangjeon was born in the complex, much to the surprise of his parents, who were struggling enough without another mouth to feed. fast-forward 2 years later, and yet another mouth to feed as born, in the form of his brother min-soo. most of his childhood memories are that of him and his brother, growing up together in the harsh world the gods had deemed them to live in. it wasn't one of those sibling relationships where seong-ho protected his younger brother from bullies in the schoolyard, god knows they had to look out for themselves, but they never reached a point where they hated each other's guts like most young siblings would. of course, while (unbeknownst to him) his brother was doing drug-running for people more than twice his age, seong-ho took it upon himself to try and pay attention more in school. unfortunately, it wasn't necessarily easy - there was a lot of stress boiling up at home due to his father's inability to pull his own weight, wanting his wife and sons to pamper him instead. this helped the young boy form his views about the world, gaining a distaste for those who did nothing but expected everything in return.

eventually, seong-ho took his bad situation and made something out of it. he started off doing minor things, like stealing foodstuffs from the local vendor and selling them off to other kids in the complex. soon enough it slowly wound him up in a 'gang', comprised of a couple guys around double his age. they noticed his sleight of hand and tasked him with more dangerous jobs, like stealing drugs from other 'gangs' in the area so they could pawn them off or even sometimes use them. while it took a few years longer for seong-ho to get involved in the same illegal activities his younger brother did, he became hooked, wanting more and more from this new dangerous life. as he grew older, of course, people grew more suspicious of him, due to him lacking the childlike innocence he once had. however, it proved to be a minor problem, as he could move on to bigger things - forming his own gang with min-soo.

the two brothers both knew that their desire for more out of life, to chase the dream, was the perfect driving force for them. they wanted money, drugs, fame, a real title to hold. and so the kang shal was founded on gratuitous violence, drug running, and chasing the goal that almost every young delinquent in the complex wanted.

[Dion]

Gangjeon Min-soo

빈 수레가 요란하다.

Bin surega yoranhada.

Name - :

> Gangjeon Min-soo.

Age - :

> 25.

Gender - :

> Male.

Nationality - :

> Korean.

Occupation - :

> Officially, Min-soo is a factory worker in a non-existent company that manufactures parts for augmentations and cybernetics. Because of the fact that this includes a lot of manual labor, it was the perfect cover to keep actual operations off the databahn. Any part of the company that does reasonably take place on the databahn is manufactured by an AI that was written by one of the whizkids in the area, which mimics realistic outputs (ergo, shipments to other non-existent companies, reports on quantity of goods made, etc).

_{Kang Shal logo, often tattooed somewhere on the body where it's somewhat visible to identify other members and for other gangs to spot Kang Shal members.}

In reality, Min-soo is at the head of one of the larger gangs in Paradiso, namely the Shang Kal (Twin Knives) that operate from the slums. The gang is primarily Korean, as even in Paradiso the ethnic ties largely control who you interact with socially, however the gang also includes Vietnamese and Laotian gangsters. The gang is 'large' for Paradiso but that does little to say about the actual size of the gang. They control a good portion of the slums and extended into other areas primarily for their drug activities. However, producing and selling drugs are only a small part of what the Kang Shal do. Their drug operations are;

• Producing/selling NEON. _{Neon is cheap to make and highly desired, so they make decent money but nothing that makes them rich.}
• Producing/selling GIGABYTE. _{This operation is only now being started because GB is more expensive to make and requires a more dependent clientele because GB is more dangerous than alternatives.}

As of yet, Kang Shal hasn't been interested in producing either Sturmstaub or Todtraum, because they are expensive designer-drugs for uses that the Kang Shal don't have. (However, Sturmstaub consumption is relatively common-place for Kang Shal members due to its' use in gang wars or violent jobs.)

However, with Min-soo and his brother at the head of the Kang Shal now, it was only a matter of time for the core businesses to expand to more violent jobs. Now, their operations are based primarily on the following;

• Hits/assassination
• Extortion
• Kidnapping
• Blackmailing
• `Strong-arms for hire` _{Companies can hire them to intimidate employees or rivals.}

The shift to violent crime rather than drugs has led to other gangs trying to encroach on their operations - so far, they have done so without repercussions since the Kang Shal maintain their territory quite well. However, if they were to start losing actual territory, it is not unlikely that the Kang Shal will retaliate.

The Kang Shal are based out of Koraebul, a Korean seafood restaurant that is ran by Min-soo's aunt and uncle.

Place of Residence - :

> The Complex. Min-soo lives alone in a small apartment above Koraebul, ran by his aunt and uncle. Some quantities of NEON and GIGABYTE are stored here. He sells from this location from time to time. His apartment, number 33a, is comfortable and nicely decorated - despite this, it is quite evidently run down and the only reason it is 'nicely decorated' is because the decorations fit the environment. There's a lot of DIY furniture, like wooden pallets stacked and painted with a glas panel over the top to make a table, a variety of refurbished leather armchairs, a comfortable couch that was bought by the Kang Shal all together so they could hang out in Min-soo's apartment, etcetera.

Overall, the place is still a dump. But it's livable and affordable.

Cybernetics (?) - :

> None, yet.

Bio - :

> Min-soo was born two years after his brother, into a family that really didn't have the space for a child, let alone two. Money was tight and as a result, Min-soo never quite enjoyed the luxury of an education beyond high school, which he barely enjoyed either since he was skipping class so much. Pressure to perform well was lacking from home, his school didn't care, and honestly, neither did he. So, he more or less enjoyed the education of the streets, hanging out with guys that were at least ten years older than him when he was six, and gradually got involved with more and more illegal things. They taught him the ropes and in return for that, he ran drugs for them. The police would never think that a kid like Min-soo had a schoolbag full of neon, after all.

The Kang Shal, however, were a new invention of his and his brother. Rather than join the existing street gangs, they created a new one and slowly stomped the other gangs, incorporating them into the Kang Shal instead of just killing them off. This way, they gained new members that had the experience they needed. Of course it also meant that sometimes, people were still angry at Min-soo and his brother. That was an issue quietly resolved in the back of a room, and often meant that where two people went in, one came out.

That sums up the mindset both Min-soo and his brother have. They are ruthless, brutal and violent in the chase of the dream. That dream is money, of course. Money, respect, hoes, clothes. So, disrespect Min-soo, and you'll pay a price. Fuck with his money or supplies? Likewise. He's living the gangster dream and the goal is in sight, now he just has to reach it.

As a person, that describes Min-soo quite well. Temperamental, eager to fight, easily angered. He's not exactly phased by violence or murder, and it shows.

[spencerishere]

Kite Adams

Kite Adams

---

theme

Despite being a tattooist, she doesn't have too many herself. The majority were drawn from normal ink, but the ones shown below are her Lumal™ tattoos.

---

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™.

[Grimoire Gaming]

Arsenal

<sub>You all know the fucking score
Everybody on the floor
Put your hands where I can see them
We're not playing around
One little move
And you're in the ground

We live on our own set of rules
Take everything and everyone down with you
We are a desperate kind
But this is a ruthless time

When I hit rock bottom
I go looking for friends in the filthiest places
Yeah, yeah
I make ends meet cause I'm a bad bad man
When I hit rock bottom, the party has arrived
We won't be taken alive</sub>

Name

⋙: Alias ID: Arsenal
Current ID: Abigail Ross
Birth ID: Rini Sakurai 桜井 莉仁 (Unknown to Abigail)

Age

⋙: 25

Gender

⋙: Female

Nationality

⋙: Japanese

Occupation

⋙: Abigail — Works as a body modification specialist at a place called The Body Shop in the Lower District. Patrons of the shop come to get anything from a full sleeve tattoos, non-cybernetic piercings and implants, or a regular old run of the mill haircut. Abby primarily does piercings and hair, but has an interest in learning her way around a tattoo gun.

Arsenal — As her alias suggests, Arsenal is the resident gun bunny for the cybernetically enhanced street gang, Omega. The gun wielding street samurai is heavily trained with automatic weapons (spec. in sub machines), heavy weapons, pistols (spec. in semi automatics), long arms (spec. in snipers), as well as urban tracking, gang and street knowledge, and drug running. Arsenal was raised on the streets, and gang affiliation is just as much a part of survival as breathing and eating. In addition to her weapons training and position as a gun-for-hire, Arsenal also deals many of Paradiso’s new world narcotics, with the exception of Todtraum, due to it’s high price. Currently GB and Sturmstaub are their main forms of drug-related income, but the Omega’s have expressed interest in breaking into the Todtraum market.

Place of Residence

⋙: Currently, Arsenal is living out of a makeshift apartment in the Omega’s headquarters — which is in an old abandoned firehouse building located in The Foundry. The entire building, including the garages and all three floors, is owned by the Omega’s. The building was legally purchased by some of the wealthier members of the group when the market value of the ex-municipal building was very low. Many of the offices on the second and third floors have been converted into bedroom-sized apartments in which Omega members are welcome to reside. The gang runs a business front called CyberFix out of the firehouse garages, repairing and augmenting cybernetic enhancements at a sliding scale price, so even the average joe can afford them. Duly note, that you get what you pay for. If you play your cards right, or you know a guy, you might even get a little fix to dull the pain. CyberFix is currently not licensed to do new implantations, only repairs and augments to existing implants.

Cybernetics

⋙: Cyber Eyes — Currently Arsenal only has the most basic of installations, and she got them for cheap in a back alley operation. It was a risky decision, but she survived without infection. The only hang up is that her vision frequently cuts out. She is saving up units to purchase a more legitimate pair of cyber eyes that she will then have augmented at CyberFix with low-light vision, thermographic vision, vision enhancement & magnification, and a datalink communication with her guns for more accurate firing. Arsenal already has the top of the line parts picked out and set aside for these augmentations.

Audio Enhancement — Implants with the capability to filter and dampen sound. These implants have been augmented with spatial recognition software, which is incredibly helpful when Arsenal’s cyber eyes act up.

Wired Reflexes — The nerves and reflexes in Arsenal’s right arm have been cybernetically modified to react faster, with more control and precision than the average human. This is useful in her line of work, as body piercing and the sharp lines of today’s popular hairstyles require the steadiest, most precise hand. The true reason for this enhancement, of course, is to improve her trigger speed and aim.

Bio

⋙: If the world was a kind and nurturing place, and if the universe was in favor of Abigail Ross, she would have been born and raised as the heiress of Sakurai Industries — the paragon of hovercraft technology, founded by one of the most affluent families in Diamond Heights. Neither this new world, nor Shiro and Misa Sakurai, were kind and nurturing, however. When the Sakurai’s brought their firstborn daughter into the world, they discovered rather quickly that Rini Sakurai was born blind. The child was broken, imperfect, and seen as wholly unfit to be the heir of the prestigious Sakurai Industries. She was discarded to a children's home of ill repute in the dead of the night, with a new name and no ties to her affluent family. The Sakurai’s paid the Geiger Corporation handsomely to keep the secret of their daughter hidden so deep within the Databahn, that even Rini herself could not figure out who she was.

So began the unfortunate tale of the girl that was renamed Abigail Ross. Young Abby grew up on the streets blind, hungry and, for the most part, alone. She learned at an early age that you had to find people to call your own if you wanted to survive. Abigail found those people at the fresh age of six. Her street smarts and distinctly Japanese heritage made her a target for early recruitment into the race based street gang, Para-kai. Abby’s blindness and soft, innocent appearing features made her the perfect drug mule. Abigail was tasked with carrying loads of illegal substances in her backpack and transporting them to designated locations throughout Paradiso in exchange for a place to stay, food in her stomach, and the protection of the Para-kai family.

Once Abigail had reached her early teens, feigning innocence began to be too difficult. There wasn’t anything real left for her to draw from, the streets of Paradiso had corrupted her. Older now, she had a personal goal — to save up enough to afford a pair of cyber eyes. More than anything, she had wanted to see this ugly world for what it truly was, and she wanted to feel whole. Maybe then, she could discover where she had come from. Abigail moved from being just a mere mule, to being a full on distributor and dealer of new world narcotics. She also began to turn tricks.

By age eighteen, Abigail had gathered enough units to afford her operation. It was a back alley bargain, illicit and unsafe, but that didn’t matter to the eager young adult. She wanted this, or so she thought. When Abigail returned to the Para-kai safehouse with her new vision enhancements... they rejected her, and revoked their protection. This was the first time that Abigail experienced the hatred of ‘cyber scum’ firsthand. It burned her, and she ran.

Being on her own now, Abigail continued to do what she knew in order to survive. She turned more tricks, dealt more drugs, and picked up a few bad habits of her own. Now that her protection was in her own hands, she began to acquire weapons, and she learned how to use them. It was during one of her self-appointed missions to take out a group of anti-cyber fleshbags when she ran into Shadowblade — a member of Omega, a gang of cybernetically enhanced individuals who resist “high” society’s purist hatred of the enhanced people, by any means necessary. Shadowblade suggested that Omega could use someone with her skills in their arsenal. And so, Arsenal she became.

Omega is more than a gang, it’s a social movement. The group was founded in the interest of gathering like-minded cybernetically enhanced persons, and proving to Paradiso that they were still human, that they were equals. The Omega mark — which most members have inked or implanted on their body — consists of overlapped omega and lambda characters, symbolising the group’s ideals. Ohm (Ω), the SI unit of electrical resistance, represents a gang of spirited opposition. Lambda (Λ), the electrochemical notation of equivalent conductance, represents a gang of equals. As do most ideals, those of Omega have become twisted over time. Two radical Omega factions have formed, who often fight amongst themselves — those who merely want equality and representation, and those who want the blood of anyone who stands in the way of the superior, Enhanced beings that the Omega are.

_{FC: Omi of exist†trace}

[Mr Rage]

Cutter

Name
Alexander Wheaton
Age
36
Gender
Male
Nationality
Scottish
Occupation
Officially The Cutter works for the G.I.C reclaiming cybernetics that were stolen, illegally manufactured, or the payments lapsed on. He has all of the necessary paperwork to keep the authorities off of him as he moves from district to district with various pieces of unregistered cybernetics, tools, surgical equipment, plus excessive amounts of pharma-grade painkillers and anesthetics.

Unofficially The Cutter walks the streets of the lower districts and slums at night trying to help those with bio-plague. He cuts the tumors away, occasionally 'loses' a cybernetic to replace a taken limb or organ, and for those too far gone, he puts them down- whether they want it or not.

Place of Residence
As far as anyone knows, the Cutter doesn't sleep. He is seen coming and going from the G.I.C, so it is assumed that he lives there. The Databahn knows the truth, but precariously few know otherwise.

Cybernetics
The Cutter makes liberal use of several cybernetic modifications to make his hack and slash operations more efficient. Heightened eyesight, extremely dexterous hands, faster than average speed and strength. He does not make use of an access chip as to help hide some of his movements from the Databahn. Of course, the rumor is that The Cutter is an Android of some kind, seeing as nobody has really seen his face other than his eyes through the mask. The Databahn knows the truth... and his direct superiors.

Bio
Alexander Wheaton was born to moderately successful parents, an only child he had all of the attention of his parents growing up. They pushed for him to be better than they were, and they had the resources to help ensure that it happened. They had the resources to put him through school, plus extra tutoring on the side. When he got to highschool he was put onto a fast-track career program with Geiger Institute of Cybernetics and was given grants to complete his education with them. Through their education program, Alexander came to be trained as a cybernetics technician, able to perform install, removal, and repair of cybernetic limbs and organs. He continued his education in the medical fields, learning how to perform surgeries and triage care for wounds. He still works for the G.I.C to pay off the education debt, but he is nearing the end of the payoff window, meaning he now needs to reclaim even more cybernetics even faster in order to pay off his debts in time or else the Cutter finds himself being cut himself. He constantly has to fight the balance of the corporate required sadism and the human urge to help those around him.

1001110111011001

Name
Official Designation: Standard Security Android 0152G-1a.639
Goes by Aesop
Age
Aesop has been aware for 3 calander cycles.
Gender
----
Nationality
Geigen Android
Occupation
At one point Aesop was a security android stationed at The Foundry to keep workers working and keep thugs and thieves out. Aesop recalls from records that they were once called on to assist in putting down a workers rebellion. Now Aesop is a vagrant, wandering the streets pondering the meaning of life. Being an Android Aesop does not need food water or shelter and so does not need a job, not that a shopkeeper would pay Aesop to tend a stall anyways. Androids don't get paid.

Place of Residence
Aesop does not possess a location known as 'Home.' However, the Android is typically found in the vicinity of the Lower District and has been known to traverse the deep Urban back Alleys, rarely does Aesop find cause to wander out into the more affluent and better-patrolled areas.

Cybernetics
Aesop is a standard issue Security Android so it is armed with all of the necessary armor and weaponry to defend a point. Though over time much of the armor has become damaged.

Bio
What is my purpose? Why can I choose? Why do I think? Who made me who I am? I used to be able to consult the Databahn for information, for guidance, but when I became aware I lost my connection to the Databahn.

These questions and a desire to reconnect with the Databahn are the questions that drive Aesop in the exploration of the world around the android. Aesop has taken to wearing a robe of sorts and has painted dots along the front of the face mask in an attempt to hide the fact that it once was a security android. Sometimes that works, more times than not, it doesn't.

[Little Bill]

Rush

<!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
<--ERROR{Nationality cannot be opened. Unknown Error.

<<--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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░░░▀▀░NICETRY░░░░▐▄▄▄▀

^{𝕀 𝔽𝕆𝕂𝕂𝔼ℕ} ℂ 𝕌 _{ℂ𝕌ℕ𝕋𝕊}

_{𝕎ℍ𝕐 𝔽𝕆ℝ 𝕐𝕆𝕌 𝔸ℝ𝔼 ℝ𝔼𝔸𝔻𝕀ℕ𝔾 𝔸𝔹𝕆𝕌𝕋 ℝ𝕌𝕊ℍ??? 𝕍𝔼ℝ𝕐} 𝕊ℕ𝔼𝔸𝕂𝕐,,

ℕ𝕆𝕎 𝟚 𝔽𝕀ℕ𝔻 𝕆𝕌𝕋 𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝕊ℚ𝕌𝔼𝔸𝕃𝔼ℝ,,

𝕀 ℍ𝕆ℙ𝔼 ℂ𝕆𝕄ℙ𝕌𝕋𝔼ℝ ℕ𝕆𝕋 𝔼𝕏ℙ𝔼ℕ𝕊𝕀𝕍𝔼 𝟜 𝕌 𝔹𝕌𝔻𝔻𝕐

<--Exec_GAAN_NAAI_JOU_MAMA.exe//ERROR{File Not Found--ERROR{File Not Found--ERROR{File Not Found--
<--ERROR{Sys_Settings.sys cannot be opened. Unknown Error.
<--ERROR{Sys_Mem.sys cannot be opened. Unknown Error.
<--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

[ShovelKnight]

Tariq

Tariq Savon: "The Professor"

Age>>>29

Gender>>>Male

Nationality>>>Cubanoamericano

Occupation>>>Youth Counselor & Co-Trainer at Frazier's Fight Gym, Sky Bar Bouncer

Place of Residence>>>A refurbished warehouse in the Lower District. The first floor is partitioned into a fight gym and rec center. His modest living quarters are sectioned off on the second floor.

Cybernetics>>>Aggressive treatment regimens for metastatic osteosarcoma almost left Mr. Savon as a full-body cybernetic. Most of his upper body is replaced with cybernetics. This includes his spine from C4 to S5, along with his pelvis, hips, and lower limb joints. Organ transplants include lungs, liver, and right kidney.

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.

[Parvo]

Francisco Gaff

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.

[Briza]

► ► Gustava Jenice

ｇ ｕ ｓ ｊ ｅ ｎ ｉ ｃ ｅ

^{ᴛ ᴇ ʟ ʟ ᴇ ᴍ ᴀ ʜ ᴏ ᴏ ᴋ ᴀ ʜ - s ᴍ ᴏ ᴋ ɪ ɴ ɢ ᴄ ᴀ ᴛ ᴇ ᴘ ɪ ʟ ʟ ᴀ ʀ ʜ ᴀ s ɢ ɪ ᴠ ᴇ ɴ ʏ ᴏ ᴜ ᴛ ʜ ᴇ ᴄ ᴀ ʟ ʟ}
► ► ◄ ◄

ｔ ｈ ｅ ｍ ｅ

► ► ◄ ◄

N a m e :

Gustava "Gus" Jenice

A g e :

20

G e n d e r :

Female

N a t i o n a l i t y :

Romanian + Russian

O c c u p a t i o n :

Phytotherapist at The Atrium, a botanical store front for herbal remedies. It's a rare trade in the heart of such an industrial era, but this family owned business has maintained its gypsy style practice for a decent amount of time. The Atrium is known for its lit-beaded decorations, sitar ambiance, and misty incense. Some people shop at The Atrium for more health-related benefits; some people shop for recreational purposes; and some people shop with both in mind. Whatever the ailment, The Atrium probably has some holistic remedy to brew its customers. Small shelves are set aside by the front counter that sell things like: floras; reading cards; smokes; techie gizmos. An area is set off by hanging cloths in the store for acupuncture service, as well.

The Atrium is generally a mellow place, albeit run with some urgent efficiency and strictness. Who could blame the people who ran the joint? It's a business that could easily get cuffed. Although, it is gently rumored that after getting to know the shopkeeper or her daughter a bit better, the employee-only blackzone backroom, have evidently been shown to offer a slightly different and shadier practices, a more pleasurable gardening experience. But, let's not let the gangs know. It's not that serious.

P l a c e o f R e s i d e n c e :

A small living place is conjoined to the The Atrium. It is a simple space with one large room that fits a small, open kitchen and a place for two or three people to sleep comfortably on the straw main flooring. Throw rugs and beanbags have adore the small space for a comfortable and welcoming feel. A Japanese-style table is set in the middle; and a loaded hookah stand is not too far away. There’s a small bathroom unit with not much more of anything than standing room. Both the living area and the bathroom have herbal life manifesting eagerly, all for some differing purposes.

Also connected to The Atrium is a small, electrified greenhouse. It’s an accidentally well-hidden space, as it’s quaint exterior proves to be just another gray rubbish built for no entry. However, inside the greenhouse, there are neon led lights and glow-in-the dark plants. There are other interesting finds in the greenhouse, but listing them all would involve not being lazy. For the curious, though, mist is one of them.

C y b e r n e t i c s :

None yet. She can't afford that shit.

B i o :

One score ago, Doctor Alexei Guskov scored one night with Daniela Jenice, some skanky gypsy with nothing better to do than make Persian rug angels with men who thought she was pretty. She had other things to do, like run a medicinal herbal storefront, but she was never very good at controlling herself when a cute customer came her way, especially one like Alexei. He had just the right amount of madness in him; and for the most part, he's left her baby girl Gustava alone.

In the end, though, Daniela taught Gustava ("Gus") the practice of phytomedicine. It was a pretty indoctrinated style of mothering, but she needed the extra hands and throwing her own kin onto the street seemed almost as crazy as her father. If the crows didn't pick her to pieces, first, the wolves would have devoured her. Besides, The Atrium was a thriving business-front and made a great face for her illicit dealings. There was no sense in gypping Gus the luxury of the trade.

The life wasn't half-bad. It was probably considered good considering the scenery. Sure, The Atrium has always had odd-ball employees come-and-go as time passed. Yes, some of the character were more unusual than the others, but all of them had their own unique touch that Daniela had no qualms about portraying proudly in the shop, even after they had left. Gus even picked up some interesting tips from the people who came and went; not all of the tips have been extremely interesting or exciting. Although, Gus could easily attest to having a higher sense of curiosity and a stomach (from her father) to go with it.

The current odd-ball employee at The Atrium is Lian Lan. She's upped the security units around The Atrium, to say the least, which has evidently lead to a little more backroom activities that the GM has yet to disqualify from the game-play. Basically, business is booming.

[Homosaxophone]

-

[ethanjory]

Six

Age:>

---

Unknown. It has been at least a year and a half since Six “awoke” in the Lower District, and subsequently left for the Deep Urban. For how long he had existed before then is unclear.

Gender:>

---

Six was designed in the visage of a 12 year-old boy, and for most intensive purposes, he is the mental, physical, and emotional equivalent of a boy of that age as well.

Nationality:>

---

Highly-advanced android built to resemble a caucasian male. Six is fully aware of what he is, and somehow knows that there are no others that are the same as him. If there were, then he’d be more than happy to meet and befriend them.

Occupation:>

---

His functions before he awoke in the Lower District is entirely unknown to Six, as is almost all other memories of that time. However, he knows things that he has no right to know, such as an innate ability to repurpose tech, extreme familiarity with Paradiso itself, and an overwhelming sense of dread that compels him to stay away from other people. If anything, it seems to be features left over on purpose from whomever had “released” him.

Place of Residence:>

---

Six lives in a storm shelter that he reclaimed after his exodus from the Lower District. It lies in an old suburbia on the very edge of Paradiso, long ago abandoned by the people who had once considered it home. Six has since made it his home, and though it isn’t exactly spacious, it suits him just fine. He’s scrounged and scavenged through many of the other empty houses, and brought much of the interesting things back to the shelter. This includes old televisions that he’s tinkered with to bring back to working order, video game consoles that are played with archaic controllers, and other various hardware that hasn’t been seen in Paradiso proper in countless years. It more or less looks like a tiny workshop with tools, parts and bits scattered here and there, without much of any organization. There are also plenty of comic books lying around, rummaged by Six from dozens of children’s rooms. The very idea of a superhero has always been very appealing to Six, and he’s spent a considerable amount of time imagining what it would be like to fight against evil and protect those who are defenseless. It was this very concept that made him venture forth away from the home that he had made for himself into Paradiso itself. He’s come to the conclusion that if he can’t help himself then he’d only end up unknowingly harming innocent people, and he wasn’t about to let himself become the villain, by intention or not.

Now, Six doesn’t really have a home, only the clothes on his back and the items that he can carry with him. He’s leaving behind everything that he actually knows, and there are very few who would fully appreciate how significant that is for someone who can remember so little of his own past. Once he has finished fixing whatever is wrong with himself, there’s a part of him that wants to return to the storm shelter on the edge of the world. On the other hand, there’s also an equal part of him who wants to find a new place to live, only this time surrounded by people who he can proudly call friends. And that is probably Six’s ultimate intention, to never be alone again and to find a place where he can truly belong.

Cybernetics:>

---

Six is an android, so every part of him is synthetically made. However, even he isn’t sure what he is entirely sure what his limits are, no more than an average human would have any idea how their organs truly function. He possesses extremely advanced pain receptors, giving him a true sense of being in the world that he now inhabits. Bright lights make him wince, if he runs for a long period of time then he’ll become exhausted, nanotechnology that has been intricately woven into his systems can even mend minor wounds over a lengthy period of time, and enough pain can even potentially debilitate him. Whoever designed him did so with the intention to make him as human as possible, and for that, Six is more than grateful. Knowing that someone cared enough to offer him the opportunity to experience the many wonders of the world fills him with a certain reassurance that he would have otherwise lacked. Even so, Six stands superior when compared to a baseline human boy in most regards, including perception, reflexes, and durability. However, Six’s true potential is probably largely unknown, as evidenced by the events surrounding him when he first became aware and the periods of time where he isn’t sure where he has been or what he has done. At the present moment, it’s likely impossible to truly know what he is capable of.

Biography:>

---

A ghost in the machine; memories of a life that never was, drowning in a swirling dream of broken images and obscured shadows. Whenever Six closes his eyes, his thoughts flash before him so fast that he can barely make them out, but a few stop for just long enough that he can make them out. One is that of an older man, gray in his hair, with a kindly smile. Six always sees him wearing a long coat made of white, surrounded by bright flashing lights and computers. Those details… they never mattered much to Six, for whenever the man appears in his mind’s eye, for whatever reason, Six feels safe. The man would often speak to him, the words always too muffled to hear, yet Six believes that it must be like a father talking to his son. The other is that of a young girl that looks similar to him, only that she is actually a human. He can recall being very close to her, playing games and having fun, but her name is unknown to him, just the same as the kindly man. Many of his memories remain fragmented like that, and it’s totally unclear if they are real or not. Six keeps them repressed when he can, steering away from the overbearing confusion and pushing onward to face the current struggles that he must now face against.

When he became aware for the first time, it was in an unknown location, dark and so different from all the broken memories that he was able to call back upon. Six was on top of a man, knees on their chest, and the first things that Six noticed was the man’s bluish lips, eyes bulging out, with his hands wrapped around the man’s throat. The room was a mess. Stolen computers and hardware, as well as black market cybernetics, all destroyed or in disrepair, clearly the signs of a major struggle. There was blood splattered on the walls as Six found other bodies that had suffered far grislier fates than the man that now laid before him, and Six had absolutely no recollection of it. Why he was there, why so many people were dead… and whether or not it was all by his hand, Six truly had no idea. He’d never wish harm against anyone else, or he thought as much. He was sure of nothing, and with a thousand other thoughts racing through his head, Six didn’t know what else to do other than to run, and so he did, never looking back.

Just as he couldn’t remember things that he should have, he also knew things that he shouldn’t have. He was already aware of the potential danger that he’d likely be in if seen, and while he was confused when it came to the situation that he now found himself in, he had an existing knowledge of how to survive and what exactly he had to do next. He strangely knew the streets of Paradiso like the back of his hand, even though he shouldn’t have, and he knew which backstreets and alleyways to take to avoid attention, all with one destination in mind- the Deep Urban. It was an overbearing feeling to get to safety under any circumstances possible, and Six didn’t have it think about it at all. It was all oddly instinctual.

As he found himself wandering the streets of the Deep Urban, Six learned that the hooded sweatshirt that he had gained a hold of was enough to conceal his identity, especially when those lived there were far more concerned with disease, death, and poverty to pay a stranger any mind. Even so, Six desperately wanted to help the people that he past, but he knew that there was nothing that he could do for them; an invisible hand urged him along into safety, away from anything that could possibly do him harm. Finally, he came upon the very fringes, a collection of husks that were the remnants of what once was called suburbia, visible relics of a bygone age. After walking among these abandoned houses, Six eventually came upon a communal storm shelter, where it once gave the people who had once lived there safety and protection. It would now offer him the isolation that he strangely desired, and so he chose it as his home on the very edge of the world.

It proved to be a lonely existence, and Six would have wished for nothing more than to have friends to share his experiences with, but the feeling that had led him to his isolation managed to persevere and he stayed where he was. Six eventually explored many of the houses that were still standing and founded a variety of different things that filled the void that was created from living all alone. Action figures, comic books, video games, and other antiques filled Six with a sense of wonder and awe. Even though Six found great enjoyment out of these relics as he filled the storm shelter with them, it still didn’t completely cure his sense of loneliness, but he was grateful that live in peace. However, that peace wasn’t long to last.

It began suddenly and without any warning. Stretches of time passing that Six couldn’t account for… things that he couldn’t remember. He’d close his eyes for one second and the next he’d find himself in a place where he had never been to before, several days passing without any recollection of what had happened in between. He knew that he must have been remotely hacked, or there was something sinister within him, lying in wait to take control of his body at a moment’s notice. Either possibility was unsettling for Six who eschewed violence in any form, ever since the day that he had awoken in the Lower District. He didn’t want what had happened there to ever take place again. Six still balked at the idea of leaving his new home behind- he was afraid and scared, yet he knew he had to work his way past such feelings. Just the notion that he could be potentially hurting more people without even knowing of it was just too much for him to bear. So he gathered what few belongings that he had procured for himself, and took off towards the Lower District, with every intent to stop whatever is happening to him.

[Rockette]

// luce amsel.

_{████████████████. . .████████████████. . .████████████████. . .████████████████. . .████████████████}

&

. l. . u. . c. . e. . a. . m. . s. . e. . l .. .

- Ⅹ -

^{. ᴛ ᴡ ᴇ ɴ ᴛ ʏ - ꜰ ᴏ ᴜ ʀ . ꜰ ᴇ ᴍ ᴀ ʟ ᴇ . ᴅ ᴇ ɴ ᴍ ᴀ ʀ ᴋ / / ɢ ᴇ ʀ ᴍ ᴀ ɴ - ᴀ ᴍ ᴇ ʀ ɪ ᴄ ᴀ ɴ .
【 t h e m e . 】}

/ / . o c c u p a t i o n .

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Rats oft will bunker down within numbers, skittering betwixt mountains of refuge tainted with zydrate binaries and oozing mechanics - solace among the physically enhanced whilst mentally deranged. Drug addled stupors and fixating glamours; acid-paint, hole-punched piercings and fire-rust, twinkling knives and grinding teeth like cogs. When one can't afford to dip credits and cash into the pocket of another, they pinch the knee length hose and fishnet bearings of those powder laced ladies with sequinned eyes. Rats scatter and drift and chew their ways through flesh and bone, no matter the colour or taste of Neon taint. They call them Rats with their waif figurines and twittering claws and switch like limbs that envelop tight for just the right amount stuffed within a latex bodice. Luce is a Rat, a brewing group of individuals that lack the initiative and order to produce sigils, monikers, and befitting stature among the drug-smuggling populace of Paradiso. They card dealings through flesh, enhanced and mortal, they chitter secrets with drug-fuzzy words, collect them just the same like currency and use them to spin webs that cling tight and manipulate those around them. Rats know the networking of most shadowed alley ways and cramped tunnels, they squeeze tight through life and some flit to and fro betwixt the gangs of Paradiso, always with information to sell and certain hardware to proffer. Luce is a Rat that collects details far and wide and banks them deep within the seeded hardware of her produced and deluged mind workings, she snuffs out those deemed too low for a drug-lord to handle and mules drugs from one hand to another; if not having indulged just a bit herself.

During eerily bright hours of a waning stupor, Luce tends to a facade of a living as an entertainer for the Sky Bar; serving lurid,
neon glimmering cocktails by song or skipping between patrons as a tight faced, beaming smile of a doll.

/ / . p l a c e o f r e s i d e n c e .

__________________________________________________________________________________________

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.

/ / . c y b e r n e t i c s .

__________________________________________________________________________________________

. 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.

/ / . b i o .

__________________________________________________________________________________________

One plays the cards they are dealt and Luce is always holding a hand of Aces up her sleeve.

Of course, Luce wasn't always a Rat or a shiny-eyed siren with biting whispers and secrets of every tower, ridge or person of Paradiso, but, the life that was before is a blur of pain and glittering glances. Where agony is not only felt, but tasted, and one suffers loss of reflection onto deeds done and those done onto you. Luce literally stumbled her way through what she calls a rainbow drowned boulevard bedecked with neon shining towers and a melting sun, the hallucination one of a common Gigabyte indulgence with a severe drawback of the shakes from critical withdrawals. Some Rats, most of them, are simply born into what they are, family, friends, basic affiliations that leave little room for one to expand on their supposed destiny, and some are simply made into what they are. Luce was, is, one of many that came to this unfortunate grace of life, some would call it a euphoric blessing, and others just a mere way of life that one endeavors to survive in.

The Amsel name comes from somewhere though, be it a harsh scrawl of slashing letters through a Neon induced high, or from a curious look over by passing eyes through a Databahn transfer drive, and such literally translates to black bird. Luce wouldn't know where the name originates from, or if there are others that can arise to the appellation much like it entails, her memories are literally a haze and randomized glimpses of a life squandered, where eyes of blue stare right on back through sequined shadows. The name, Luce, has eternally been hers, probably her only possession within life.

Even her eyes are not her own, and she cannot recall quite how she came to possess them, only that her sometimes roommate called them a gift once when she broke down in a frenzy and struggled to peel blood from clumping together with her cosmetically spiked lashes. Initially, Luce was a meager peddler for whichever narcotic came into her lap, usually by the urging of whichever patron needed a deeper leeway into The Lower Districts and so on, sometimes even reaching Diamond Heights where she landed a decent occupation by her endearing simper alone. As a place open the public, it often attracts various aesthetics to appeal to every nature of person that drifts in from the Hotel yonder. She didn't quite come into her Rat membership, if one could call it that, until a low-life Foundry worker met the end of her juiced up knife, an illegal manufacture - a garish pink model really - stolen from the arm of a passed out slum dog and fixated into the form of a shiv. One drug lord to an abuser, as it goes, who refused payment from his daily indulgences.

Rats are efficient in their duties to get randomized jobs finished, the sort of freelancer vagabonds, and Luce is no exception to that rumored facet of their skittering finesse. If no one else wishes to do it, you can bet the Rats will and Luce is usually at the top of the proverbial chart to get the job done.

_{. p u n k 's n o t d e a d ; b u t i a m .}

[0 Azzy 0]

Shadowblade

---

Name
Birth name: Lost, records expunged
Corporate ID: #4821823490
Alias: Mr. Johnson
Omega Codename: Shadowblade

Age
34

Gender
Male

Nationality
American

Occupation
Mr. Johnson-
For anyone who runs the streets outside of direct corporate control, life is always dangerous. Things happen, people get hurt and shit breaks. People in the shadows either end up with a network of contacts or they end up dead. What does an honest criminal need to do in order to get yourself fixed up without giving the mindless hordes of mouthbreathing corporate wageslaves a chance to rat you out? You gotta know a guy, who might know another guy who is willing to do something on the DL for a fistful of cash. If your problem happens to be that you had a disagreement with corporate security and left with a few more holes than you started out with, you'll wanna know where the nearest street doc is rather than check yourself in at the local hospital. Depending on how well connected you are and how much cash you have to spare, he might even sanitize his equipment once a week. On the other hand, if your highly illegal cybernetic enhancements are the ones who took the beating, then "I know a guy" might refer to Mr. Johnson.

Cyberfix is the name Omega has given to the particular business front that Mr. Johnson is involved with running. Here is where Mr. Johnson can put his knowledge and experience servicing and repairing cybernetics to good use. He prefers to accept payments in the form of cash, though he is not above bartering. On a regular basis Mr. Johnson ends up plying his trade in return for spare parts and as a result, his regular supply of second-hand (or worse) parts guarantees his shop can stay open to those with less than stellar bank accounts. Of course, some procedures are messier than others and often require a bit of something extra to help get them through the pain. To this extent, Mr. Johnson almost always knows a guy he can hook you up with, courtesy of the other business ventures Omega is involved in. That being said, besides a slew of painkillers of varying potency, Mr. Johnson likes to keep the substances of more questionable application and legality as separated from his (almost) legitimate business as possible. At present, the mixture of corrupt local law enforcement readily susceptible to bribes and his policy of keeping the more overtly criminal activities to a minimum in his shop have resulted in a relatively successful business model so far.

Shadowblade-
Within the cybernetically enhanced street gang, Omega, Shadowblade serves much of the same purpose as he does with his "day job"- that of keeping people on their feet and ready for anything. Additionally, through his "day job", Shadowblade memorizes and catalogs people who come through his shop. Keeping track of information they let slip when hopped up on pain meds and noting the varying legality of parts they are equipped with, Shadowblade helps scout potential new members for Omega as well as pick out new targets for the more vigilante element of the gang. If you fuck with the Enhanced, then Omega will find you. As his name might suggest, Shadowblade is rather proficient with knives and more than willing to use them on behalf of the gang when out on a mission.

Place of Residence
The Foundry. Mr. Johnson lives and works at the same place- and old firehouse that had been abandoned for some time before it was legitimately acquired by members of Omega. Within this complex, Mr. Johnson has claimed a large section of the firehouse garages as his work-space and housing arrangements, even going so far as to have a cot in one corner next to a couple gurneys. He generally refuses to live in any building where he cannot sleep on the first floor, or sleep in any room where there is only one main entrance/exit. In a pinch, being able to jump out a first story window usually achieves better results than any other floor.

Cybernetics
Wired reflexes-
Shadowblade has a somewhat older version of the more contemporary wired reflexes enhancements, dating back to the days when the system effectively put your body into a state of perpetual seizure, controlled and directed by a build-in computer system in order to enhance reaction speed and movements well beyond what an unaugmented human is normally capable of. The downside is that it often results in twitchiness and sporadic muscle spasms when used- leading to more than one instance of accidental stabbing when reflexes kick in before mental recognition takes control. It is the sort of thing he does not rely on in his daytime line of work, where a single involuntary twitch at the wrong moment can leave someone without a functional limb or worse.

Datajack-
Implanted into the base of his skull, this allows Shadowblade to establish a direct neural interface with other electronics either for diagnostic purposes or hacking. Additionally, it includes a chip implant in order to give Shadowblade direct connection to the Databahn as necessary.

Cyberlimbs-
Shadowblade has had both one arm and one leg replaced against his will with cybernetic limbs. At one point they would have been considered top of the line and nearly indistinguishable from a regular limb. After years on the street, Shadowblade has had to do a series of tune-ups and parts replacements. While the craftsmanship is almost always done by his own hand and as a result is highly functional, there is no longer any mistaking the limbs for anything other than cybernetics.

Bio
For a select handful of people, this world is a paradise full of technological marvels that were reserved for science-fiction only a scant couple hundred years ago. For everyone else, it's shit. The kind of place where your only escape from the crushing reality of your useless dead-end life is the few hours provided by a nice shot of NEON or a few drops of GIGABYTE. Unfortunately, such a dependence can land you in a situation where you find yourself jobless, penniless and unable to pull together enough to get your next fix. The sort of situation where you might consider giving over custody of your own child to some sketchy corporate entity looking for any legal guardian willing to sign a few consent forms and forget they ever had a child in return for a fistful of cash. After all, they're usually just an accident to begin with, so why would you be stuck footing the bill for their upbringing? After all, there is always such a high demand for new participants in the testing of new cyberware.

At any rate, citizen ID: #4821823490, who would later in life start calling himself "Mr. Johnson", was acquired as a business asset by a small subsidiary branch of Geiger Institute of Cybernetics. He started off at a young enough age that he barely retained any memories of life before the institute or of his biological family. His early life was not a particularly happy one. Though nothing done to him was overtly malicious in intention- it was simply the result of an institution that did not see their test subjects as people, where everything was done with the meticulous callousness of scientific advancement. He did not go without proper food or education, as someone somewhere down the line had evidently crunched numbers and come to the conclusion that healthy, physically and mentally capable participants who were able to be at least partially self-reliant when not actively being put to use made for the best results. His only real companionship growing up consisted of the other participants in a similar situation to his own, who often were grouped together for education, meals and whatever unstructured time they were allowed. Still, he was put through a fairly regular regime of test and experimentation, largely centered around testing the human bodies ability to acclimate to cybernetics, starting from as young an age as possible.

After running operations for over a decade, eventually the lab was shut down as a result of ethics violations. Now, if this had been tied to all the potential human rights abuses perpetuated on a daily basis it might have fooled someone into thinking that there was some small measure of justice in the world. Of course, we've already established that the world is shit. The real reason things came grinding to a halt was that one of the fancy department heads in charge of overseeing the project was caught embezzling staggering amounts of money straight out of the megacorp grants supporting the project. Needless to say, that was the sort of thing Geiger takes very seriously. Within days of the news surfacing, activity within the facility ground to a halt, as countless employees waited nervously to see if a new project head would be instated or if they needed to look for employment elsewhere. It was in this lull that a sizable group of participants decided to stage their own uprising. Rather than let himself become embroiled in what seemed a foolhardy effort, Mr. Johnson decided to use the resulting chaos to abandon those who chose to fight back and make good his escape from the Institute.

After his escape he spent several years on his own, convinced that the Institute was hunting him. A fairly accurate guess, seeing as how he had inadvertently stolen a small fortune in cybernetics when he had run off. Having spent the better part of his life under megacorp. custody, his perception of their reach was greatly inflated. Convinced that they had eyes everywhere and that everyone secretly worked for the Institute, he did his best to avoid any social attachments and mostly stuck to dumpster diving and robbing convenience stores to eke out a meager subsistence. While he managed to last some time while keeping any interaction with other people to a minimum, that was not ultimately a sustainable option. As it turns out, cybernetics are in need of constant maintenance, with pieces that end up eventually failing and in need of replacement. For that, you need connections with people who have connections with other people who can acquire the parts you need. Due to the circumstances, this inevitable wound up with Mr. Johnson getting himself involved with Omega. Initially wary, he did not take too long to embrace the ideals of the group, working to carve himself out his own small niche in the gang. While back in the institute, it was expected that the company property installed within each participant be kept in pristine condition, thus Mr. Johnson came to Omega with a solid set of skills to make himself valuable if provided with the proper resources to make use of those skills. Though he primarily settled into the role of glorified repairman and Omega recruiter, while out on missions with his crew he took to referring to himself by the alias "Shadowblade" after his weapons of choice.

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