coffee colored woman with dreadlocks
B: attributes 20
C: skills 28/2
D: nuyen 6000
D: human (3)
E: magic 0
B 3, A 5, R 5, S 3, W 2, L 4, I 4, C 2, Edge 5, magic 0, INI 8+1d6
qualities: +7 bad rep: drug addict, +5 UCAS SIN, -10 gearhead, -2 steely eyed wheelman,
pilot ground (wheeled, bike) 4 (6)
gunnery (ballistic) 4 (6)
automatics (machine pistol) 5 (7)
sneaking (urban) 4 (6)
engineering grp 2
animal handling 1
pilot aircraft 3
automotive repair 4, Boisie gangs 4, Boise law enforcement 2, small unit tactics 4
George rigger/armorer 1/5
Mechanic Mike 2/2
Barry (the used carlot guy) 1/2
Yancy Keats- cop 1/3
Stephanie DMV- Chocolate
SIN (2) Monique Williams
bike racing armor 8
motorcycle helmet 2
10x plastic cuffs
Sony Emperor (2)
Shalonda Jones was born and raised in Seattle. She was a combat driver in the UCAS military until she developed an addiction to Jazz and was discharged. Her career military family disowned her. When rent came due and she still didn’t have a job she went to the barrens with her gun. In a dive bar there, called 665 (the neighbor of the beast), she told the bartender she was looking for work as a driver. He nodded to a short wisened Asian man sitting at a back table smoking an e cigarette.
“I heard you had work.” said Diamond.
“Who are you?” asked the man.
“I’m Diamond. I used to drive for the military but…I left. Wasn’t as easy to find a delivery gig as I thought. You have anything.”
“I might just.” he said.
Diamond did a test run delivering what turned out to be a plastic bag of babypowder. After that it was off to the races and she was delivering contraband, driving for B&E’s, until she worked her way up to a bank job. Her addiction to Jazz worsened as her jobs became harder.
Her team went in early leaving their metalinks turned off in the glove box of their stolen car. She sat sweating needing a fix but she was out. She had took her last hit too soon and it had worn off. A dealer in the alley next to the bank was too much to resist. She looked at an ARO. She had time. She walked over and bought a hit of jazz just as her crew ran out shooting. They exchanged gunfire with the guards. Her crew jumped in the passenger side of the car. She started to join them when the cops showed up too fast. They must have been in the neighborhood already. A brief shoot out left two of her crew wounded and they all went to jail.
She couldn’t find anymore work with her tarnished rep so she spent the last of her money on Jazz and went on a bender and OD’d. She woke up in bed at St Jude’s Medical Center with Father O’tool praying over her. He got her into their inpatient rehab program. She was discharged with no where to go and not a UCAS dollar or a single nuyen to her name. She stopped the first trucker she saw and hitchiked Where he was headed, Boise. In Boise she stopped at the first dive bar she saw. She punched out a Hellbat for hitting on her and was offered a drink. She doesn’t recall the rest of the evening but remembers waking up in the mornining in the Hellbat’s clubhouse fully dressed with a Hellbats prospect cut on over her riding leather and the world’s worst hangover.