[CHAR] Dead Presidents

[BigPapaBelial]

Johnny Buzzkill the Bizness

Johnny Buzzkill

The Driver

◄ 31 ▎ MALE ▎ 5 feet 9 inches ►

P R O F I L E

You got your drivers, then you have your Drivers, with a capitol D, and you gotta have the D folks. Lemme tell ya. And then you have the Drivers who are pretty much one with their vehicle. Riggers. This is what Johhny Buzzkill did to become a better Driver. Installed a data jack and a slew of software that he could connect with any vehicle with a computer in it. Got it in chrome to boot. The lanky mohawked young man with pale white skin doe shis best work when he's behind a steering wheel of one of his tricked out vehicles, carefully kitted to give the best performance for a given situation.

Normally calm and collected, and always has his mind in several places at once. Slaved to the vehicle, or off in the air in one of his custom made drones. Fiercely intelligent and as much of a gear head as you might expect. He spends thousands to keep his garage of vehicles in top condition.

If he's not in a vehicle he's making repaired and doing his best to make sure he's prepared for the next run, red, blue and yellow mohawk, on display like the crest of a bird, grey eyes set for whatever he's doing at the time. Often enough that might be the next thrill, as he holds the record for fastest augmented speed records on twenty two different speed tracks in and around the warehouse he has bought to house his vehicles.

D A Y S - G O N E

Johnny started small, and without his augmentations. He'd always liked speed. And when he had the money he bought a beat up old muscle car and started with illegal street races at first. He took on every challenge he could manage. He lost just as often as he won. And as time went on he used the money from the races to get better cars, trick them out, on and on.

As time went on things got a little more interesting. His thrill seeking ways took him along a new path. Between races, he began to take smuggling and/or errand jobs, taking items or shipments to places and avoiding the cops. He began to make a name for himself little bit by bit. Trust worthy, punctual and didn't take alot of shit. You either paid for what you had shipped or you didn't get it. Only times he ever flipped was if one or the other side tried to pull a fast one. Which lead to his making a name as a get away driver. And a surplus of interesting loot and swag from jobs where one side or the other tried to fuck him over.

As time went on, he realized the only way he could get better is if he started to chop pieces of his head open and installing something to make his cars more responsive. A black market chop doc opened his head and spine up, attached a mini cranial computer, a data jack and the proper software to run it all. Soon his vehicles and him were more like one and the same. It took money, but he was making it by then.

Then there is the Dead Presidents...the present and recent past is all legendary...

M O R A L S

(ellipsis)

[KZOMBI3]

A S H | R A Z Z I

_{◄ 26 ▎ FEMALE ▎ 5'6" ►}

_{P R O F I L E}

---

Asher [ Ash ] Razzi; a slim figured woman of average height, hiding a toned and capable body underneath the eclectic and eccentric clothing she opts to wear. Her blonde hair is more synthetic than real these days, having damaged the majority of it with the amount of times she's dyed and bleached her locks. Instead she now sports synthetic LED fibers, thin as natural hair strands but with the ability to change colors as easily as one flips a switch. She likes the eccentricity of it all. Her eyes scan crowds as fast as she can scan lines upon lines of code with a steely blue gaze that lights up when she finds something even remotely new and interesting. Ash's personality can be described as something you would discover within a child -- someone immature. And though she is well into her twenties, Ash is nothing if not a big kid. But once she has a goal, you can bet your ass that it's gonna get done and it's gonna be done expertly so. She can't promise, however, that she won't be cracking jokes or annoying you in the comms though. So, be prepared for that, will ya!?

To piggyback off of her eccentric style, anytime she's jacked-in everything she touches she leaves behind gradient colors of the neon kind. It's earned her the moniker "Electric Barbie" or "EBB" for short [ since Barbie was known to be a jack of all trades & of course, her color choices ]. For someone that is believed to be a myth or an amalgamation of more than one person -- Ash has done exceptionally well for staying out of the spotlight in the Meatspace. At least in the form of The Decker; EBB. She is no stranger to being in the center of attention, nor is she above playing distraction when times call for it. Ash is charismatic enough for the rest of them. However, when her energy levels are low -- and it doesn't happen often -- she becomes a very lethargic and problematic child. Only when she is presented with a new and exciting obstacle or trinket [ and let's not forget sleep ] will she revert back to her high energetic, annoying self.

Ash enjoys coming up on problems that provide challenges for her -- though she can get discouraged and distracted, she always has time to crack a particularly difficult project -- sometimes even going days without proper self care in order to ensure the task at hand is completed to it's fullest capacity.

As far as Ash's exploits are concerned; there are none. At least nothing worth mentioning or gaining her notarization on any Corps radars. EBB on the other hand in an entirely different story.

_{▸ EBB stole more than 90 million credit and debit card numbers from a plethora of retailers. EBB was also the mastermind behind the hacking that caused the massive records breach of Cybertek Payment Systems 7 years ago.
▸ Jonan Fab alluded to plans to reveal the identities of several other 'hacktivists' at the Security F-Sides conference. In retaliation, EBB copied and made public thousands of private JFFab documents, including emails. The JFFab documents detailed some planned shady tactics, including launching a "dirty tricks" campaign against Wishileaks and disrupting a Salon: in-depth news, politics, business, technology & culture reporter who was assumed to be sympathetic to Wishileaks.
▸ Hacked into Suny Pictures via SQL Injection attack and stole data that included names, passwords, e-mail and home addresses of thousands of customers. EBB's followers and self proclaiming that the attack was retaliation for Suny's legal action against fellow hacker Jorg Holtz for jailbreaking into the StationPlay 3, claimed to have compromised over one million accounts.
▸ EBB has created 'trackers' that act as feelers to examine, recon a space in cyberspace and then relay that information back to a stand alone personal serve of her own. From there she takes the information and either discards because it is useless or follows the information back to the source and uses it for personal or business like gain.
▸ Among others ...}

_{D A Y S - G O N E}

---

Ash has always been fascinated with the technology that surrounded her, and when she was just 5 years old she built her first ever working rig out of spare parts that either her father would bring home or that she would round up from the neighbors in the dingy, cramped apartment building they lived in. Ash affectionately named it; Frankenstein -- and he would serve as the catalyst of all other rigs and platforms she created in the future -- all with the same name just with a number attached to the ending. Her personal deck -- which she's gone through 12 before this one -- aptly named 13.

Since her building Frankenstein 0.1, Ash has jacked-in on a daily basis -- it only growing once she found a cause -- namely herself. As Ash, she fights for the lil guy, the underdogs, those that ask her for her help -- for a price. Whether that's to track someone down, or make someone's life a living hell after they had done the same... it's all trivial and boring and nuanced in Ash's opinion. However, at the tender age of 9 Ash's boredom got the better of her and as she was maneuvering around in CS she couldn't help but follow the tracker she'd created -- effectively leading her to a small shop in her neck of the woods. It wasn't a big fish by any means, but it did rake in quite the amount of money -- and from there, she worked on their system to benefit herself and her family. A the time, her old man was sick and getting sicker by the day. It was only a matter of time, but she held out and extracted the necessary funds from a number of shops and stores and people that she could with her new found talents -- in the end however, it proved all for naught, since he passed a few months into his treatment. Since then, Ash has been on her own, sustaining herself with the stolen funds of others and the almost legit business of shaking down others for others. Due to her influx of funds, it didn't take much convincing of others for her to try and get hooked on acid and speed -- both serving a greater purpose in her jacked-in experiences. There are times where she goes without proper self care either due to the drugs or because she's too focused and driven on a project before her -- however when these moments have happened in the past, it was when she was the most successful, so Ash attempts to replicate those environments as often as possible in order to be the most successful.

Joining the Dead Presidents was something new and exciting -- and to say she was never bored was an understatement. With them she embraced her calling and with no remorse and an adrenaline high when she hacks and steals and does unto other -- it really is amazing~ and she doesn't plan on ever going back...

_{M O R A L S}

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...> goes here <...

M I S C E L L A N E O U S

_{M I S C E L L A N E O U S}

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Bras? What're those? ✦ Has a banana ktulu ball python named; Charon ✦ Built her first hacking rig when she was just 5 with spar parts picked over from the apartment she lived in at the time - affectionately named Frankenstein ✦ Disorganized - controlled chaos she calls it ✦ Gets bored easily ✦ Undiagnosed ADHD ✦ Hums ✦ Drums her fingers / items ✦ Plays with her hair unconsciously ✦ LOVES electro swing music. ✦ Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

---

_{FC: Chloe Norgaard Color: FF00C1}

[Trivval]

Wesley Data

_{W E S L E Y D A T A
◄ 48 ▎ MALE ▎ 178cm ►}

_{P R O F I L E}

---

Old school. When you're up shit creek and you ask that guy you don't want to owe a favour for an assist, Wesley is the guy they know to get it done. The fixer, the man that the consigliere entrusts to ensure that things stay to plan. Able to act as anyone, from anywhere, Wesley has a knack for being able to ghost his way through any corporate detector - technical, or social. Average height, average build, with a face that could change to be anyone - literally - in his later years Wesley has found himself in the ideal position to slip in labs, branch offices, depots, warehouses, any assume the role of anyone ideally placed to extract information, or allow more direct crews an easy passage.

Wesley was an old quantum cowboy, in one life several generations ago he used to live the life of a corporate hack. Not the grueling existance of some plebian - he had aspirations, a future. Stock Analyst, window office, 89th floor - taking home a peon's average yearly wage every week, every day if the market played nice. Connecting dots that no-one else can see - some, perhaps, less legiitimately obtained but no one cares so long as there are profits. There are three ways to win: be first, be smarter, or cheat - Wesley endevoured to do all three.

Things changed, computers got faster, smaller, implants and upgrades became more common. Deadly afraid of the affect that cybernetics has on the human psyche, Wesley avoided corrupting his soul as much as possible. He fell behind, his peers plugged in and connected had the compute to see patterns he couldn't. So long as your output remained high, any eccentricy was overlooked by the overlords. As soon as the numbers started to drop he found himself staring up at his old window view, alongside the peons he once looked down on.

Now he maintains bare minimum upgrades to scrape by in the modern world, and absolutely nothing that directly interfaces with the core of his being. What he lacks in cybernetics, he makes up for in subtle bio-modifications: high-tensile nanocarbon fibers at the base of every muscle group. Not extensive, not for strength like some of the champion meat-gladiators who parade across legal and illegal entertainment... subtle but numerous enough that with a throbbing constant pain he can literally wear any face that he desires.

_{D A Y S - G O N E}

---

Wesley was raied in a sheltered and gated community. Not wealthy, just lacking bullet holes on the interior walls. But such an environment does allow the bright to thrive rather than merely survive; hard-study, extra-curricular exercises and a unlocked server rooms allowed Wesley to find himself studying alongside the children of the corporate elites. He put himself on the fast-track to success, and was due to find himself on top of the work if simple fear didn't get in the way. He knew how easy it was to break into trivial systems, everything held a certain pattern and once you studied it enough you could find the one thread which would unravel the entire shirt. Having seen, and beat, the best of corporate security on his meteoric rise on the corproate ladder Wesley hardly felt he could trust any computer to sit inside his skull, any system to interface directly with his nerves. Data wasn't just a cool name, it was the essence of his being - everyone always had to be right 100% of the time, he only had to be right once. Before cybernetics became commonplace, being able to visualise and contexualise these vast streams of information was a skill. Now, anyone jacked in can do the same.

Cast down from his ivory tower, Wesley did what he did best: assessed, analysed, processed. He had enough money to live comfortably the rest of his life, yet that wasn't enough. Data wasn't just a namesake, it was an addiction. To see a pattern, to bet against it and to validate your success - thats what he lived for. The only reason he used to be able to afford to live like a king was because the corporation had their fingers pressed against the scale, tipping it in the favour. If that pressure was to be aleviated for a second, everything would get really fair really quick - and no one wants that. If you know whats coming, if you can form the right leverage, you can jump off the scale at the arc of it's swing and come out ahead. Wesley resolved to do just that.

For the last twenty years he's been slowly tipping the right scales. Sometimes hired, sometimes for his own amusement. Identfying the right fulcrum to generate the most profit. It's been a while since he last dealt with the Dead Presidents, apparently they're getting out? Well this should be hell of a last job for them.

_{M O R A L S}

---

See in OOC.

[PhoenixEye9]

Kurt Diaz

◄ 34 ▎ MALE ▎ 6"0 ►

Appearance

https://www.deviantart.com/hinecko-rin/art/OC-618120750
(Again sorry for link, deviant art wont let me open a just .jpg for some reason)

P R O F I L E
Kurt wants for nothing more than money, and occasionally to make things go bang. Due to this he often would spend times in the mountains where people would just assume the explosions were parts of mining operations.
The love explosions all started watching the classic Michael Bay films with his father (a successful chemist for the Augmentation Radial Development Clinic Corporation). That love didn't die off as he got older, even just gaming the explosion was always his favourite part. The look, the controlled power, the magnificence of it all. It drove his initial studies of chemical reactions, and it helped that his father understood the reactions and helped to drive the passion thinking his son would become a special effects tech, or maybe a valued arms designer for Corporate protection. Yet obviously this backfired.
Kurt was driven feeling the heat and power of his explosions. This led to an unfortunate "accident" in college, where he managed to create an effective concussive commonly used in gas grenades when blended with chlorine, nitrogen, and tungsten happened to create a massive burning fireball. At the volume tested it was enough to detonate not just the lab, but the entirety of the science building.
Kurt was smart enough to know what was about to happen, and was already going out the window by the time the cylinder burned through.
The police presumed him dead, the heat of the blast was enough to vaporize most who were in the lab. It was a fair assumption, yet now Kurt lives on as "The Dragon", ordnance developer and arms dealer.

Official Dossier

WANTED "THE DRAGON"
-Developer of an oral based explosive breath
-Providing explosives to rebels in the east
-Terror attacks in the capital
-General disturbance to public health and safety
-This individual is believed to be an angry individual with an 'explosive' attitude, however he is believed to be a charismatic individual due to followers in his terror attack, show extreme caution when attempting apprehension

D A Y S - G O N E
After the Science lab incident, Kurt stood back to admire his handy work. The power he wrought, the heat and power. He needed more.
He quickly moved to an abandoned mining operation. At this mine he met his first introduction to the underworld, Demi "the Dragon" Desoto, an anarchist seeking to topple the powers in the capital. After a short conversation Kurt was in, not due to a hatred of the government but because he knew he could work on his explosives in peace. All at the expense of another, until Demi turned to leave Kurt as the scapegoat.
Kurt was arrested, booked as "The dragon." They didn't even know his specialty device yet. He asked politely and got a piece of gum from his outfit, that shred of humanity was their downfall. Once placed in his cell, Kurt chewed until the gas release was enough, and at a click of his tongue the wall came crumbling down, the blast drew a lot of attention yet Kurt ran fast and far as he could. Each breath hurt as his jaw was severely damaged, and his body ached from the recoil.
With luck and another click of his tongue at the fence he escaped thanks to the fear of the police. He turned his back on the capital but his face was now known. A blessing and a curse, it brought business people looking for weapons a solid point of sale, though others came as anarchists.
All he could do was set them up to do the job, yet it led to people believing he was the mastermind the whole time.
The hunt for him was fierce for years but after enough puppet jobs he's faded into the darkness again on the terror front though many suspect he is still behind it. For years the weapon trade was enough to satiate his money need, yet he wanted into a refined money job, the upper class of crime.

He found the Dead Presidents shortly after turning 30, initially he was still hot headed, yet now his temper has tamed. Now he's just looking forward to the next score, ready to turn his skill to the refined craft.

M O R A L S

[krismer22]

Alex Deckard

<sub>Alex Deckard


◄ 23 ▎ MALE ▎ 6'3 ►</sub>

_{P R O F I L E}

---

Mother fucker decked in the colors of the dead, Alex Deckard he was a merc first and foremost. Well that was before he went on a life of crime, being a merc could be a crime aswell but something drew him to DP. He's a cocky son of a bitch and seems to live in the moment a thrill seeker, you could compare him to Ash but he wasen't drugged up or a bubbly little soul locked away in a small tight girl's body.

Money motivated his motor and that's what kept him going all this time, if it wasen't for the steady ammount of banks the crewed robbed he would of left a lone time ago. The fame was nice too but he didn't want to be stuck on meat-stick land for too much longer, going to the moon seemed like an approriate ending for a bad ass like Deckard. He likes the crew but of course there are limits to his friendship you'll never know when someone will mono-blade you to the back.

_{D A Y S - G O N E}

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High Orb Merc.

That's how it was described to the mother fucker - oh right he was some street trash. Starting off as a urchin he lived in the streets of the High Orbtial Society. Living on his own at a young age he got into the gang life, yea those kind of gangs before running into trouble in his late teens with security. He decided to join up with a local PMC - Woods. He served a bit of time there before heading planet side after a small incident. . . up there of course. He linked up a few connections in New Wealth cit, he ran into the Crew when he was younger and fit in as the enforcer. Alex just shows up to jobs and keeps it professional, is that so much to ask for?

_{M O R A L S}

---

..

[Ratattack]

CS

Kevin Adrian

_{◄ 50 ▎ MALE ▎ 6'0 ►}

_{P R O F I L E}

---

A man of no nonsense, Adrian is the shot caller of Dead Presidents and doesn't take shit from anyone. He had been in the game for so long he might as well of made the fucking game. He lives in a older day, he's no augs and no nonsense obviously. He wears a leather jacket, a pair of kick ass jack boots and some chinos with a beater tee like he's still a hot cup of shit ready to sling lead. He's cool calm and a calculated like any mastermind mother fucker would be, hell he knows when to smell bullshit and he knows how to deal with the crew. He has no hair by the way that's how bad ass he truly is.

_{D A Y S - G O N E}

---

Born in New Wealth he clawed his way from the ground up he was born into organized crime, his father was your typical king pin until it all came down. Thanks to the New Wealth Corporate Police, his father was taken away point and click just fucking gone from his life. Growing up to the be a 9-5 wage slave was not what he wanted for his legacy to be a tradesmen or some office drone shill. He wanted to carve out of a piece of city for his own, he ended up joining up with a fledgling little robbery group called the Dead Presidents. They grew and they grew fucking big, of course the crew he runs with wasn't the one he started off with, people fucking die of course. He's at the top as the crew leader, but this is the last take. Legacy's have been made, it's up to him to ride it out.

_{M O R A L S}

---

Badass

"You don't take shit from anyone, you don't look at explosions and you're a player. The world is your bitch and you are drowning in it all - power, money and fame. The question is who is to stop you?"

+1 Hungup on FakeID prematurely.

(1/10)

[Ever Faithful]

Jackie North
◄ 24 ▎ FEMALE ▎ 5’ 7” ►

My Hider

P R O F I L E

---

Clean pale skin, red lips, bright blue eyes, and lovely black hair; that’s the first impression anyone would see when they meet Jackie. Even for criminals doped up on drugs, even they wouldn’t want needles and knives tearing at their skin by a doctor drunk or just as high. This aura of purity from the self-discipline and orderly living put her in stark contrast with all of her patients.
Of course, combining the occasional fetish for nurses, reverse Florence Nightingale effect and her smooth skin body, Jackie was the target of all sorts of advances. Some crude while the rest were at least trying to put in the effort to be as straight edge as her. But at the end of the day, Jackie would ignore them all. Cause who wants to sleep with a drug addict?
No means no from her and those who are too thick to realise it may find themselves bleeding out on her medical table. The blood, the overdose, the injuries, this angel of death got numb from constant exposure so she wouldn’t. Don’t ask how she got her medical supplies and she won’t ask why her patient got his injuries.
Jackie is very handy with a razor and scissors which, quite unexpectedly, makes her a half-decent barber and an amazing interrogator. Many mob bosses paid her handsomely to extract information from prisoners because after all, leave the doctor to know the most vulnerable assets of the human body.

D A Y S - G O N E

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Jackie North, that demon daughter, working in the underworld selling her body. That’s just how anyone will remember her, how they know her. But that’s not who she really is. In reality, Jackie was forced upon this life ever since her father had his fall. She had a promising career as a medical specialist from the traits she inherited from her father. Dr. North was a well liked doctor and respected for a single father that had to manage

However, Jackie lived a living lie and the house of cards that her father set up came crashing down all around her. She learned that her father was secretly partaking in the illegal black market organ trade and child killer. When news broke out, her father was immediately arrested and set up for trial. The amount of victims Dr. North accumulated since the day Jackie was born was so astronomically high no one could bear to look at the list of names.

Simply by being his daughter, Jackie’s reputation vanished overnight as no one wanted to associate themselves with her. With no job or college wanting to take her in, she had to flee to the underworld to make a living. Not as a prostitute as one might think, but as a medic to the small mob boss. From there she drifted from mafia to mafia like a wandering bard offering to perform medical services to anyone willing to pay.

Given her high education, Jackie wasn’t cheap and many gangsters tried to swindle her. But as the saying goes, “Don’t insult the medic.” She ended up with the Dead Presidents from her drifting. After all, criminal or not, everyone needs a checkup.

M O R A L S

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See in OOC.