Law-savvy face with a magical knack.
Tracer (Human Adept)
B 3, A 4/5, R 4/5, S 2, C 4, I 3, L 4, W 4, E 3, Ess 6, M 5, Init 7/8, IP 1/2
Condition Monitor boxes (Physical/Stun): 10/10
Fairlight Caliban Commlink Condition Monitor: 10
Armor (Ballistic/Impact): 9/7
Skills: Automatics 3, Data Search 3, Disguise 1, Dodge 3, Forgery 2, Infiltration 3, Influence Group 3, Intimidation 1, Navigation 2, Perception 3, Pistols 3, Running 2, Shadowing 2, Tracking 1
Knowledge Skills: 20th Century Pop Culture 4, Alcohol 4, Bars 2, Corporate Law 4, English N, Gang Law 4, Seattle Corporations 3
Qualities: Addiction (Mild): Alcohol, Adept, Day Job (2500 nuyen/month, 20 hrs/week) (2), First Impression, Sensitive System, SINner
Adept Powers: Enhanced Perception (1), Improved Physical Attribute (1): Agility, Improved Reflexes (1), Improved Sense: Audio Enhancement 3, Improved Sense: Direction Sense, Improved Sense: Improved Scent, Improved Sense: Improved Taste, Improved Sense: Low-Light Vision, Improved Sense: Vision Enhancement 3, Kinesics (2)
Fairlight Caliban Commlink with Browse (3), Encrypt (4), Novatech Navi Operating System
Tracer with Fake SIN (4), Squatter Lifestyle
Travis with Day Job, Middle Lifestyle
Ulysses Coat with Chemical Protection
Ceska Black Scorpion [Machine Pistols, DV 4P vs. B, SA/BF, RC 4, 35 ©] with Folding Stock, Gas-Vent 3 System, Laser Sight, Sound Suppressor, Tracer Rounds x90
Colt Manhunter [Pistols, DV 5P vs. B-1, SA, 16 ©] with Laser Sight
Attack of Will (vs. Spirits) [DV 4P vs. I]
Ceramic Knife [Blades, DV 2P vs. I] with Ceramic/Plasteel Components (Level 1)
Unarmed Strike [Unarmed, DV 1S vs. I]
Harley-Davidson Scorpion (Harley-Davidson Scorpion)
B 8, Sen 1, Han +2, Fir 3, Pil 2, Rsp 3, Sig 3, Init 5, IP 3
Physical Condition Monitor: 12
Armor (Vehicle): 12 4
Tracer Bullet – or Travis Bonaparte as he is known at his office – is a young man of above-average intelligence and ambition stuck in precisely the right place in the world preventing him from being anything special. Trouble is, he’s smart enough and ambitious enough to know it, and chafe under it. It tends to make someone like him silently reckless, listless. He reads Chuck Palahniuk in his middle income condo, eating some of his soy tikka misala, and thinks yeah, why not me?
Tracer grew up immersed in the middle-class lifestyle of a white human male, and even in the sixth world that means a special class of privilege. He grew up around elves and orks and never thought anything of it, and at his corporate-sponsored day schools integrated and mixed with metatypes and genders of every spectrum. His favorite teacher of all time was a troll woman named Mrs. Brisbane who he recalls taught him that he was probably special. Maybe. She saw a lot of kids.
Tracer went to a private boarding school from the age of 16. A family friend confirmed when he awoke, and displayed the little signs of an adept, and his parents gouged their life savings to get him into a popular feeder school for adepts and mages that would open up a lot of doors for him. He never knew the depths of their sacrifice, but, he also never cared too much.
It turns out, he was an adept, but not particularly good at it. Though he had a powerful connection to the weave of magic, it all pretty much manifested in mundane ways. He won second place in a few academy track and field events. He captained the debate team, and spent most of the time chasing teen elf tail and living perfectly unaware of how good he had it. The troubles and disasters of his parent’s generation seemed irrelevant. Ancient. Not worth remembering.
His interest in debate got him a modest scholarship into the Law College that his feeder boarding academy was sponsored by. It was his parent’s proudest moment. He got shitfaced with his best friends that night and one of them got alcohol poisoning and died. Tracer woke up hungover next to a dwarf girl he never met.
He joined the fraternity for adepts in his college, Alpha Kappa Theta. He and his buddies threw some very excellent parties. Scholastically, he spent the majority of his time either blackout drunk or trying to get into the pants of one of his professors, an Elf woman who told him that she “felt like she just deserved someone exciting like him” after years of a failed marriage and treading water in a career with no room for advancement. He thinks he name was Tulip. Elves have names like flowers a lot.
He graduated and got a job at the corporation that had been a part of his life since he was born, Ares Macrotechnology, moving Tracer and people like him upwards into their machinery with perfectly practiced precision. His knack for accounting trickery and fraternal connections got him a decent job that made his mother finally stop worrying about him. He went to strip clubs every night. Got blackout drunk at the local dive bars. Fucked a lot of elves. Never called them again.
Then one night, when he was feeling his most pointless, nihilistic, and restless, he got an interesting offer for a special type of…job.
Argyle: Maybe the perfect boss, if only he didn’t care so much about race. Really respect the guy. He wants what I wants with running the shadows. Shows me the video too damn much. Never call him Horn Nigger.
Zed: Fucking beautiful. Really intimidated by this one. Immune to my charms (not unusual) but also seems to like me when I’m not mocking her. Really hate that damn video. Don’t fall asleep within 5 miles of her. Something weird about her family – possible connection to Renraku? More investigation is necessary. That chinkity checkers game she plays with the black and white stones seems interesting.
John Smith: Maybe my favorite dude of all time. Really gets me, can really knock ‘em back, and man, are his guns cool. Weird past or whatever. Essentially the coolest guy I’ve ever met. I wonder what frat he rushed?
Wraith: Fun to drink with, but I’m pretty sure he’s several light years ahead of our little gang in terms of skill. Wonder what he’s hiding from?
Two Dogs Fucking: [Tracer takes a stiff drink of some brown liquor.] I don’t think anyone on the team appreciates my self-restraint. That’s cause of everyone we know, I think Two Dogs is the most dangerous. I use casual racism as a mask – so does he. I know what I’m hiding. What about him?
Rally: Yeah, I’d fuck her.
Cyber Fabulous: Love this guy. I’d use him on every mission if we could get away with it. Big gay blue ork – you don’t see those often outside of Brazilian parties. Let’s throw funding at him and see where it goes.