| Attributes | Body: | 9(13) | Quickness: | 4(7) | Strength: | 6(9) | Charisma: | 2 | Intelligence: | 4(6) | Willpower: | 4 | Essence: | 2.88 | Essence Index: | 5.88 | Body Index: | 5.23 | Reaction: | 4(6) | Initiative | 4+1D6(6+3D6) | Dice Pools | Combat: | 8 | Task: | 1 | Karma: | 2 |
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| Cyberware | Type | Rating | Grade | Essence | Telephone | -- | alpha | .4 | Transducer | -- | standard | .1 | Retractable Spurs | -- | standard | .3 | Dermal Sheath | 2 | alpha | 1.12 | Smartlink | 2 | alpha | .4 | Bone Lacing | Kevlar | alpha | .8 | Bioware | Type | Rating | Grade | Bio Index | Cerebral Booster | 2 | Cultured | .8 | Synaptic Accelerator | 2 | Cultured | 1 | Muscle Augmentation | 3 | Cultured | .9 | Muscle Toner | 3 | Cultured | .9 | Reflex recorder: shotguns | -- | Cultured | .25 | Reflex Recorder: unarmed combat | -- | Cultured | .25 | Orthoskin | 3 | Cultured | 1.2 |
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| Skills | Active | Car: | 3 | Clubs: | 4 | Cyber Implant Combat: | 5 | Etiquette: | 3 | Etiquette (street): | 4 | Etiquette (Mafia): | 4 | Intimidation: | 4 | Pistols: | 4(5) | Shotguns: | 5 | Submachineguns: | 5 | Unarmed Combat: | 6(7) | Knowledge | Street | Smuggler's Routes: | 3 | Mafia Controlled Establishments | 4 | Yakuza Businesses: | 4 | Seoulpa Ring Territory: | 4 | Academic | Sixth World | Mafia History: | 4 | Background | Interests | Urban Brawl | 3 | Italian Cooking: | 5 | Languages | English (Cityspeak): | 4(6) | English R/W: | 2 |
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| Edges | Toughness (+3) | Flaws | Combat Monster (-1) | Bad Reputation (-2) |
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| Contacts | Fury (level 1): | female human fixer | 8-Ball (level 2): | male human, owner of the Corner Pocket Billiards Club | Tony Madrid (level 1): | male human, Mafia lieutenant |
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| Gear |
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History
You were Italian once. Part of a proud family, a proud heritage. And then the transformation came, the night when your whole world ripped itself apart. Now you're something different, something ugly, a crow among swans. They would never say that to your face, never admit that they couldn't care about one who held the family's blood. But you know that things will never be the same, you'll never be accepted again because you're body marks you as an outcast. So you haunt the streets and the shadows, unable to rejoin the family you once had and unable to completely escape its influence either. A laughable situation, if only you laughed anymore.
The days pass by in a blur of painful hangovers with the occasional moment of drunken bliss, you don't remember the last time you showered and your apartment is a fair approximation of a warzone. At first you think the pounding is in your head. It takes you a minute to realize there's someone at your door. The first two bottles you throw don't seem to discourage them, so you grab your shotgun and stagger across the room. Throwing open the door, you level the Mossberg and blink in surprise at the well dressed woman standing in the hall. She seems unimpressed by the weapon.
"Emilio?"
"Yar?"
"My name is Fury. I have a business proposition for you."