Jag
29 | 2038 - 12 - 3 | 6’1
Appearance -
Jag doesn’t adhere to the typical image of a diver. His frame is lithe, his muscles (those that aren’t synthetic) lean rather than bulky, and the oversized jacket he wears that hangs off his body doesn’t do much for him either. His skin, once tan from the harsh African sun, has long faded to white after years with little exposure to UV rays. Jag’s remaining human flesh is peppered in faded scars, reminders from when he wasn’t the experienced diver he is today. The spaces between the burns and scars are filled with glowing neon tattoos, none with any meaning. Jag’s prosthetic limbs are composed of thick, black cords that weave together similar to human muscles. His legs are synthetic from the thigh down, left arm from the shoulder. If Jag had the funds, his right arm would be the same.
Jag doesn’t adhere to the typical image of a diver. His frame is lithe, his muscles (those that aren’t synthetic) lean rather than bulky, and the oversized jacket he wears that hangs off his body doesn’t do much for him either. His skin, once tan from the harsh African sun, has long faded to white after years with little exposure to UV rays. Jag’s remaining human flesh is peppered in faded scars, reminders from when he wasn’t the experienced diver he is today. The spaces between the burns and scars are filled with glowing neon tattoos, none with any meaning. Jag’s prosthetic limbs are composed of thick, black cords that weave together similar to human muscles. His legs are synthetic from the thigh down, left arm from the shoulder. If Jag had the funds, his right arm would be the same.
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Personality -
Before setting foot in the metropolis, Jag and Anje drafted a personal contract that each of them agreed to follow. That was over ten years ago, and Jag has made some amendments to their document, which is always subject to change.
1. Never kill innocents unless you’re being paid
2. No more augments only once a year unless you really more
3. Give any some a little spare money to the poor
4. Always tell the truth when convenient
5. Never steal from your employers unless they are no longer your employers
6. No drinking during the week morning
7. Never back out of a deal
8. Al███████████████████████████████cks
Only a fragment of his old self remains, though he’ll never admit it. Jag was reborn in the metropolis as a hedonistic, self-serving bastard, but he frames himself differently. The sniper likes to think that he hates his work as a diver and everything that comes with it; deception, shady deals, murder. He is often heard saying, “This is it. Last job, then I’m out.” Like a junkie, he keeps coming back for more. Jag was never good at much of anything back in Johannesburg. But in the city, his skills have people coming to him, out of all the divers. They hire him. The fact that the service people pay him for is murder doesn’t mean much to Jag.
Jag isn’t some emotionless murder machine, though he sometimes wishes that were true. Handing Anje over to CyberPsych devastated him, and the old wound continues to fester. At the time, he believed it was his only option, but ten long years gave him time to think of endless alternatives, none of which ended with Anje in a mental institution. The woman supported Jag from the moment they entered the city, but the second she leaned on him, he crumpled. Jag never knew if Anje loved him as much as he did her until the betrayal. The hurt in the girl’s eyes told him everything. The corporation that ran the institution didn’t allow visits, calls, or even letters, so Jag can only speculate what happened to Anje. Since then, Jag has attempted to distance himself from his humanity as much as possible through extensive augmentations. Robots, he reasoned, never turned on their friends.
Jag’s mood exists in two states. When working, he’s happy, calm, and pretty easy-going, sometimes even a little cocky. Outside of work, unless he’s drunk, Jag is brooding and reclusive, borderline suicidal. He tries to keep himself occupied at all times to avoid this state, sometimes seeking solace in the arms of a young prostitute who resembles Anje, but the depression is unavoidable. Bull, his only friend, helps him through these rough patches when work has dried up, but the old diver won't be around forever.
Before setting foot in the metropolis, Jag and Anje drafted a personal contract that each of them agreed to follow. That was over ten years ago, and Jag has made some amendments to their document, which is always subject to change.
1. Never kill innocents unless you’re being paid
2. No more augments only once a year unless you really more
3. Give any some a little spare money to the poor
4. Always tell the truth when convenient
5. Never steal from your employers unless they are no longer your employers
6. No drinking during the week morning
7. Never back out of a deal
8. Al███████████████████████████████cks
Only a fragment of his old self remains, though he’ll never admit it. Jag was reborn in the metropolis as a hedonistic, self-serving bastard, but he frames himself differently. The sniper likes to think that he hates his work as a diver and everything that comes with it; deception, shady deals, murder. He is often heard saying, “This is it. Last job, then I’m out.” Like a junkie, he keeps coming back for more. Jag was never good at much of anything back in Johannesburg. But in the city, his skills have people coming to him, out of all the divers. They hire him. The fact that the service people pay him for is murder doesn’t mean much to Jag.
Jag isn’t some emotionless murder machine, though he sometimes wishes that were true. Handing Anje over to CyberPsych devastated him, and the old wound continues to fester. At the time, he believed it was his only option, but ten long years gave him time to think of endless alternatives, none of which ended with Anje in a mental institution. The woman supported Jag from the moment they entered the city, but the second she leaned on him, he crumpled. Jag never knew if Anje loved him as much as he did her until the betrayal. The hurt in the girl’s eyes told him everything. The corporation that ran the institution didn’t allow visits, calls, or even letters, so Jag can only speculate what happened to Anje. Since then, Jag has attempted to distance himself from his humanity as much as possible through extensive augmentations. Robots, he reasoned, never turned on their friends.
Jag’s mood exists in two states. When working, he’s happy, calm, and pretty easy-going, sometimes even a little cocky. Outside of work, unless he’s drunk, Jag is brooding and reclusive, borderline suicidal. He tries to keep himself occupied at all times to avoid this state, sometimes seeking solace in the arms of a young prostitute who resembles Anje, but the depression is unavoidable. Bull, his only friend, helps him through these rough patches when work has dried up, but the old diver won't be around forever.
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Biography/background –
With the advent of corporate domination, global cities like Tokyo, Shanghai, New York, and London found their wealth increasing tenfold. When corporations roosted in these cities, they became sprawling metropolises, people flocking in from the surrounding areas to enjoy the new and exciting amenities these places had to offer. Those who didn’t were left in the dark ages. Small towns were sucked dry of resources by both corporations and the increasingly hostile environment, and didn’t remain inhabited for long. Larger cities that failed to adapt to changing global affairs retained a meager population comprised of those too stubborn to accept tech, or those too stupid to use it. The rotting city of Johannesburg was one of those cities. The city where Jag was born.
Jag’s father fought in the Wars, leaving him with two broken prosthetic legs and a disdain for technology. His mother shared this hatred, though for more ideological reasons. Jag grew up on a meager farm on the outskirts of the dying city, a tedious and boring life. Both his parents loved him, but were quite strict. His father taught him how to shoot at a young age to help protect the household, but also out of sheer boredom. Jag was no natural marksman by any means, but he slowly improved his aim by putting thousands of rounds downrange. His mother was a romantic, born 100 years too late, who fantasized about the days before tech. Jag wanted for nothing in his youth, save for implants. His parents, both staunch “humanists”, believed the body shouldn’t be corrupted by technology, so cybernetics were always out of the question.
As a teenager, Jag would occasionally slip out of the house and into Johannesburg, taking in the crumbling city’s sights and sounds. When Jag was 15, he saw a scrappy-looking girl in the slums, around his age, with a group of thugs surrounding her. Jag moved to intervene, but quickly found a cool blade pressed against his throat. Apparently, this was just the distraction the girl needed, and she made quick work of the men. Her name was Anje, and Jag was instantly smitten. The young man spent every moment he could with the girl, shirking farmhand responsibilities and stealing into the night at any opportunity. Until now, Jag never thought about the outside world; his only concerns were his parents and the genetically modified corn. Anje told him of real cities, not the rusting husk of Johannesburg. She told him about the people there, the danger and the excitement. The two had a shared dream of moving to one of these metropolises and working in the shady underground, bringing their own brand of justice to the criminal organizations like the old detectives in the black and white movies.
Jag desperately wanted to impress Anje. He suggested that they get implants from one of the back-alley mechanics that were so rare in the city. With some stolen cash, Jag bought the two their first cybernetics, subdermal watches on their wrists that never told had the right time. Of course, they couldn’t just stop at one. They kept getting bigger and better tech whenever they could, pawning stolen goods to support their new addiction. Jag decided to get a simple optic targeting system, his first significant implant, which was the one his father discovered. The two were out shooting and Jag managed to score a bullseye with the first round in his magazine. Then another. And another. The rounds hit the same spot, every single time. Jag’s father recognized this precision from the war, and gave his son an ultimatum; remove all his tech, or move out. Jag and Anje got their T-cards the next day.
The neon metropolis failed to disappoint them. After establishing themselves, Anje and Jag started a private investigating business within the slums of the city. Anje felt right at home; she knew the tech, the ins and outs of urban life, and perhaps most importantly, how to hack. Jag, on the other hand, was utterly useless, but Anje helped him along. Their partnership was short-lived. With all the money coming in, Anje was able to kit herself out, and she had all the latest implants; more than anyone could ever need. What she said was her “last one” set her over the edge. After the surgery, Anje slipped out of the clinic and went on a rampage, destroying everything in her path; Jag tracked his partner and calmed her down before injecting her with Neurotop. With Anje out of commission, Jag was responsible for keeping their business afloat, in addition to paying for her weekly Neurotop injections. This only lasted for a few months before Jag, up to his eyes in debt, committed Anje to CyberPsych Mental Institution, a corporate-run psychiatric hospital for c-freaks, hoping they could cure her while also easing his bills.
Still, his debt kept piling up. He took increasingly risky loans from criminal organizations, which finally caught up with him when one of them came to collect. The bounty hunter found him at a bar, which he’d been frequenting more and more lately. Jag managed to outdraw the bounty hunter and put a couple of burning holes in his chest, catching the attention of an aging diver, Bull. The man took Jag under his wing, teaching him how to be a diver. Ordinarily, Jag would object, but being short on cash, he didn’t have much of a choice. That, and Jag learned he was good at it. The two worked together for a few years before Bull retired, though they stay in contact, the ex-diver serving as a mentor. Now, Jag works almost exclusively in wetwork, since he doesn’t have the skillset for anything else. The sniper doesn’t mind this too much.
With the advent of corporate domination, global cities like Tokyo, Shanghai, New York, and London found their wealth increasing tenfold. When corporations roosted in these cities, they became sprawling metropolises, people flocking in from the surrounding areas to enjoy the new and exciting amenities these places had to offer. Those who didn’t were left in the dark ages. Small towns were sucked dry of resources by both corporations and the increasingly hostile environment, and didn’t remain inhabited for long. Larger cities that failed to adapt to changing global affairs retained a meager population comprised of those too stubborn to accept tech, or those too stupid to use it. The rotting city of Johannesburg was one of those cities. The city where Jag was born.
Jag’s father fought in the Wars, leaving him with two broken prosthetic legs and a disdain for technology. His mother shared this hatred, though for more ideological reasons. Jag grew up on a meager farm on the outskirts of the dying city, a tedious and boring life. Both his parents loved him, but were quite strict. His father taught him how to shoot at a young age to help protect the household, but also out of sheer boredom. Jag was no natural marksman by any means, but he slowly improved his aim by putting thousands of rounds downrange. His mother was a romantic, born 100 years too late, who fantasized about the days before tech. Jag wanted for nothing in his youth, save for implants. His parents, both staunch “humanists”, believed the body shouldn’t be corrupted by technology, so cybernetics were always out of the question.
As a teenager, Jag would occasionally slip out of the house and into Johannesburg, taking in the crumbling city’s sights and sounds. When Jag was 15, he saw a scrappy-looking girl in the slums, around his age, with a group of thugs surrounding her. Jag moved to intervene, but quickly found a cool blade pressed against his throat. Apparently, this was just the distraction the girl needed, and she made quick work of the men. Her name was Anje, and Jag was instantly smitten. The young man spent every moment he could with the girl, shirking farmhand responsibilities and stealing into the night at any opportunity. Until now, Jag never thought about the outside world; his only concerns were his parents and the genetically modified corn. Anje told him of real cities, not the rusting husk of Johannesburg. She told him about the people there, the danger and the excitement. The two had a shared dream of moving to one of these metropolises and working in the shady underground, bringing their own brand of justice to the criminal organizations like the old detectives in the black and white movies.
Jag desperately wanted to impress Anje. He suggested that they get implants from one of the back-alley mechanics that were so rare in the city. With some stolen cash, Jag bought the two their first cybernetics, subdermal watches on their wrists that never told had the right time. Of course, they couldn’t just stop at one. They kept getting bigger and better tech whenever they could, pawning stolen goods to support their new addiction. Jag decided to get a simple optic targeting system, his first significant implant, which was the one his father discovered. The two were out shooting and Jag managed to score a bullseye with the first round in his magazine. Then another. And another. The rounds hit the same spot, every single time. Jag’s father recognized this precision from the war, and gave his son an ultimatum; remove all his tech, or move out. Jag and Anje got their T-cards the next day.
The neon metropolis failed to disappoint them. After establishing themselves, Anje and Jag started a private investigating business within the slums of the city. Anje felt right at home; she knew the tech, the ins and outs of urban life, and perhaps most importantly, how to hack. Jag, on the other hand, was utterly useless, but Anje helped him along. Their partnership was short-lived. With all the money coming in, Anje was able to kit herself out, and she had all the latest implants; more than anyone could ever need. What she said was her “last one” set her over the edge. After the surgery, Anje slipped out of the clinic and went on a rampage, destroying everything in her path; Jag tracked his partner and calmed her down before injecting her with Neurotop. With Anje out of commission, Jag was responsible for keeping their business afloat, in addition to paying for her weekly Neurotop injections. This only lasted for a few months before Jag, up to his eyes in debt, committed Anje to CyberPsych Mental Institution, a corporate-run psychiatric hospital for c-freaks, hoping they could cure her while also easing his bills.
Still, his debt kept piling up. He took increasingly risky loans from criminal organizations, which finally caught up with him when one of them came to collect. The bounty hunter found him at a bar, which he’d been frequenting more and more lately. Jag managed to outdraw the bounty hunter and put a couple of burning holes in his chest, catching the attention of an aging diver, Bull. The man took Jag under his wing, teaching him how to be a diver. Ordinarily, Jag would object, but being short on cash, he didn’t have much of a choice. That, and Jag learned he was good at it. The two worked together for a few years before Bull retired, though they stay in contact, the ex-diver serving as a mentor. Now, Jag works almost exclusively in wetwork, since he doesn’t have the skillset for anything else. The sniper doesn’t mind this too much.
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Weapon(s) –
Pitt G4 .50 Sniper Rifle: Jag’s go-to weapon for any wetwork. At this caliber, it doesn’t really matter what you’re shooting at, it’ll penetrate with devastating effect. Magazine capacity of five rounds. The weapon is fairly compact for a sniper rifle, and can be broken down and stashed in a medium-sized suitcase.
AAC Model 9: As far as handguns go, the Model 9 is pretty run of the mill, firing .45 rounds with a 12 round magazine. He typically carries the gun at all times in his coat pocket.
Pitt G4 .50 Sniper Rifle: Jag’s go-to weapon for any wetwork. At this caliber, it doesn’t really matter what you’re shooting at, it’ll penetrate with devastating effect. Magazine capacity of five rounds. The weapon is fairly compact for a sniper rifle, and can be broken down and stashed in a medium-sized suitcase.
AAC Model 9: As far as handguns go, the Model 9 is pretty run of the mill, firing .45 rounds with a 12 round magazine. He typically carries the gun at all times in his coat pocket.
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Skillset –
Stealth
Nimble
Marksmanship
Stealth
Nimble
Marksmanship
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Augmentations –
Blackhammer Bionic Muscle Grafts: Jag’s muscles on his left arm and both legs have been completely stripped away from the bone, replaced with a corded black synthetic muscle that weaves into his torso. While the replacement is slightly tougher than human flesh, the real advantage lies in the quick-twitch neuron receivers that allow Jag to move these limbs much faster. The synthetic flesh still relies on Jag’s blood to operate.
OptiNerve Mk. III Targeting and Identification Unit: A simple optic nerve replacement that hooks up to a Net chip in Jag’s brain. The tech features a facial recognition system which then accesses the individual’s public records on the Net. The OptiNerve has two other features, a simple zoom and a night-vision modification. Since it is an older model from his PI days, Jag’s eyes will glow a neon blue when using this tech.
Kenshiro Systems Subdermal OctoCamo System Version 5.3: A thin, transparent layer beneath Jag’s skin and over his muscle grafts that, when activated, mimics the color and pattern of his surroundings. His clothes are wrapped in the same material as well, and have embedded microchips that link the two together. The system can also hide his thermal signature for short periods of time as well. Overall, the camouflage is only convincing from a distance or in the dark; up close, the human eye can easily recognize the human shape.
Kenshiro Reflex Chip: This modification slows down Jag’s perception of time by forcing his adrenal medulla to produce twice the amount of adrenaline. Time is slowed for very brief moments, one to two seconds at the most, giving him enough time to dodge a fist or draw his gun. The inhibitor cuts itself off after being activated three times in rapid succession, and cannot be used for a few hours; any more and Jag would likely have a heart attack from the influx of adrenaline.
Blackhammer Bionic Muscle Grafts: Jag’s muscles on his left arm and both legs have been completely stripped away from the bone, replaced with a corded black synthetic muscle that weaves into his torso. While the replacement is slightly tougher than human flesh, the real advantage lies in the quick-twitch neuron receivers that allow Jag to move these limbs much faster. The synthetic flesh still relies on Jag’s blood to operate.
OptiNerve Mk. III Targeting and Identification Unit: A simple optic nerve replacement that hooks up to a Net chip in Jag’s brain. The tech features a facial recognition system which then accesses the individual’s public records on the Net. The OptiNerve has two other features, a simple zoom and a night-vision modification. Since it is an older model from his PI days, Jag’s eyes will glow a neon blue when using this tech.
Kenshiro Systems Subdermal OctoCamo System Version 5.3: A thin, transparent layer beneath Jag’s skin and over his muscle grafts that, when activated, mimics the color and pattern of his surroundings. His clothes are wrapped in the same material as well, and have embedded microchips that link the two together. The system can also hide his thermal signature for short periods of time as well. Overall, the camouflage is only convincing from a distance or in the dark; up close, the human eye can easily recognize the human shape.
Kenshiro Reflex Chip: This modification slows down Jag’s perception of time by forcing his adrenal medulla to produce twice the amount of adrenaline. Time is slowed for very brief moments, one to two seconds at the most, giving him enough time to dodge a fist or draw his gun. The inhibitor cuts itself off after being activated three times in rapid succession, and cannot be used for a few hours; any more and Jag would likely have a heart attack from the influx of adrenaline.