And finally, the rest of my backstory, covering the In Debt negative quality, his lifestyle, and the contacts.
Link to Google Doc.
Working on my IC:
The Debt"Here is your money" the Ork said, handing him a credstick. "Don't leave town."
James was just about to take the credstick when he paused. "But that's what I need the money for. I have to get as far from here as possible."
The Ork withdrew the credstick and stared at James. The stare was somewhat distant, and James figured he was having a conversation with someone else. He waited patiently for the Ork to finish.
"Where are you going?"
"I... I'm not sure. South. As far south as I can get. Busan, maybe? I can let you know when I get there."
"See that you do. If we have to look for you, the money will be the least of your worries." The Ork extended the credstick to James. He wasn't fond of having anyone know where he was, but he needed the money, and the loan shark had a financial interest in him not being captured. For now. He took the credstick.
"Of course."
The money got him to Busan. He sent a message to the Ork when he found a place to stay - a run down apartment in a 100 story high-rise. More like 120 stories, but the upper floors couldn't be reached by the elevator that James was allowed to use, so he couldn't be sure exactly how many floors there were. It was cramped, and James was sure that there was a criminal cartel operating out of the lower floors, in addition to the gangs that laid claim to the individual floors - some claiming as many as 10 or so. He dared to do little more than sleep and eat at the apartment. He left only what could fit in a duffel bag there when he wasn't home, and it was well hidden. After two rather obvious break-ins, they had yet to find it.
But his funds were dwindling quickly, especially with the enormous interest the ork insisted on. Occasionally the ork supplied him with odd (and some VERY odd) jobs that payed that interest, but never made enough to eat into the principal. Though he could turn hem down if he chose, he feared that doing so too often might cause the ork to insist on an even higher interest rate, so he buckled. For the most part, they were good practice and while not victimless, the victims tended toward those that could afford the odd item to go missing, so he rarely minded. Even as far as Busan, the ork from Nampo seemed to have contacts, and thus work.
The DoctorOne night, sleeping in his cozy slice of poverty, he was awoken by the sound of some clumsy lock-picking at his door. Hoping that some noise might scare the thief into moving in, James snuck to the bathroom and flushed the toilet. "Bathroom" might be a bit grand sounding for the lavatory James accommodations provided - it was little more than a single wall to provide a modicum of privacy from the rest of the single room that comprised the apartment. The "shower", such as it was, was also hidden in the 1 meter square alcove created by this wall, a showerhead on the wall and a drain on the floor. While showering, he often used the toilet as a ledge to rest his feet on when cleaning them.
The lockpicking continued, and James decided to simply see who it was. Activating the door camera and speaker, he observed the thieves, two young men - about his age, and certainly no older than 20 - taking turns trying to unlock the door. He spoke to them through the door.
"May I help you?" He asked, sarcastically. They were startled, but not concerned.
"Yeah, you can let us in."
"Why would I do that?"
"Because we're coming in either way, and we might not kill you if you don't piss us off."
The authorities would take an hour or so to show and they'd be in by then, even as clumsy as they were And that was assuming he wanted to call them - he didn't need the law poking around in his life.
"I don't have anything of value for you."
"Then let us in." He noticed that they were wearing the gang colors of the gang that ran this floor, and the two above and below it. He couldn't remember the name, but he knew that he could expect no help from the other residents here if things went poorly. He made sure his duffel bag was well hidden and anything of value was in it, and he opened the door.
"Right move, Omae." said the larger of the two, as he checked James against the wall and held him there. The other man began searching the place, turning over what little furniture James had - it was all included in the rent and was both durable and chintzy. Turning up nothing, he patted down James. He turned up nothing but James's commlink.
"Where's your money?"
"There's a credstick under the pillow, it's all I have" James lied. The punk slotted it and frowned.
"That's it? 15 Nuyen?"
"I told you I don't have anything for you. My clothes, some soy, and 15 Nuyen. That's it."
"Frakking slotter!" the larger one cursed, and threw James into the one table in the apartment. James might have damaged it, but nothing near as badly as it damaged him. He was concussed, he was sure, and his left arm felt like it was broken. The smaller one cursed as well, threw James commlink at him, and they both left.
James got up unsteadily and grabbed his commlink. He needed medical attention, and the medkit he had was not up to the task. He couldn't go to the hospital as the first blood test would burn his fake SIN, and would certainly bring he people he was running from down on his head. Finding a street doc had been on his to do list for months in anticipation of just such an occasion, but he hadn't yet crossed that item off.
But he had at least started some research and had a few numbers to check into. The closest one was in the building, a mere 20 floors below. He limped to the elevator after making sure his assailants wouldn't see him and punched in her floor. Seconds later he was stumbling woozily out of the elevator and down the halls, stopping occasionally to try to get the fuzzy numbers on the doors to focus so he could read them and get his bearings.
Soon, he was at the place. He pressed the button for the door and waited for the Doctor to answer.
He didn't remember her answering, nor getting on the bed. In fact, he was pretty sure he passed out waiting for her to answer the door. But when he came to, he was in a bed and in a strange apartment. It was much larger than his, with proper rooms. The room he was in had three beds, with curtains hanging down from the wall to provide privacy for each one. The other beds were empty, and the door to the room was locked. He was in his clothes, but his phone and shoes were gone. His head and arm felt fine.
"Hello?" he called. He listened for a response, or any signs that someone was around to hear him. He was answered with a noise as someone fumbled with the lock to the door and it opened. A youngish Japanese woman entered the room. She was in her late twenties (twenty seven, it turned out), elvish, and attractive in that wispy feminine sort of way. While not particularly strong or sturdy, she had the usual elven agility and from her eyes you could tell she was smart and, well, sharp, like nothing got past her. She was short, maybe a hair over 1.5 meters, and had straight black hair and nearly black eyes.
"You're up. And looking well." Her gaze may have lingered a little too long in certain spots while appraising his health.
"I feel well. Thank you."
"Oh, I don't work for free. But I'll take the thanks anyway."
"Oh. Of course. What do I owe you?"
"A name, for starters. Since you found me, I assume you already know mine, and I don't like being at a disadvantage."
Later, he found out that Rei was not in the habit of taking in strangers. Too dangerous. But she had seen he was Awakened and, coincidentally, not unattractive, and so had done some digging. She found enough to know his Alias - despite her claim to the opposite - and where he lived, and had made the decision to risk it. She had not, however, done so without precautions. Had he chosen not to pay, or take advantage of the situation in any way, in addition to her formidable repertoire of spells, he would have faced an unpleasant dose of fire spirit.
This was obviously the beginning of a strong friendship.
The FixerAfter having been in Busan for the better part of a year, word reached him about the death of a dear friend. Okay, "dear" and "friend" might not be entirely accurate, unless it were opposite day, in which case they'd be right on the mark.
The ork who had owned his debt had apparently yanked the chain of one of his other debtors a little too hard, and they'd
decided that killing him was better than owing him money. They turned out to be wrong, of course, as the ork had friends in the business, with that same asterisk as to the definition, and they'd snapped up his portfolio as efficiently as if a bank had folded, and dealt with the errant lessee quite harshly - scuttlebutt was that the krill paste in the neighborhood had a subtly different taste for a few days after his disappearance. And so James was informed that his debt was now owned by a man in Busan by the name of Kwan Oh-seong, locally known as The Whisper. If it happened in Busan, he had his fingers in it - he knew everybody that was worth knowing, even if he didn't know them well and even if they didn't know him.
James had received the news, such as it was, when a call from an unfamiliar commcode woke him up one morning. He soon learned that this was typical for Oh-seong.
"If you want to work of this month's interest, be in the lobby in five minutes. I'll give you the details there." The call was then terminated. The man on the screen was middle aged, Korean, and comely for his age. His eyes were hard and his face was clean shaven and free of adornment. What he could see of his shirt looked expensive and in good taste. As far as James could tell, he looked like a mid-level sarariman. Thoughts of burly Ares security forces flashed in his head as he wondered why someone besides the ork had called him. He prepped for the worst, and took the elevator to the third floor, then the stairs to the lobby.
The man was there, seated with only one other person - a troll, also dressed in a snappy suit. The troll had close cropped hair revealing a datajack and some old style cyber eyes - the kind that looked more like chrome swimming goggles. When the troll shifted to look around the lobby, a chrome hand, presumably attached to a chrome arm, flashed briefly from its perch on the chair's armrest. The troll did not see James, and returned to his previous angle, providing him a view of the elevators and the front door of the lobby.
James checked the lobby for any other potential threats, but only the usual customers were there. He sauntered over, and when he was within arm's reach of the man that had called him earlier, he cleared his throat. It had the desired effect on the troll, who reacted with obviously boosted reflexes, standing and spinning to face James, his hand halfway to his weapon holstered at his side from a shoulder strap. The other man showed no surprise, however, though whether he was or was just hiding it well, James couldn't be sure.
"James Woo, I presume" said the seated man, without facing him. "Please, have a seat." He indicated a seat in front of him. James eyed the troll, who had relaxed, and then took the seat he had been offered.
"I'll make this short. My name is Kwan Oh-seong. Little Bear is dead. And before you ask, no, I did not kill him. His last will and testament, in a matter of speaking, places his loans and assets in this region under my care. So you now work for me. Are we clear so far?" James had never known the ork's name - real or alias - and wondered what Oh-seong meant by "worked for".
"But I don't owe you any money - I took the loan from Little Bear. If he's dead, then my loan is finished" he felt silly using the name, but felt it was better than continuing to refer to him as "the ork". The man chuckled mirthlessly.
"If it worked that way, every loan shark would have a very short life expectancy. No, people like Little Bear and I, we have business relationships with each other. When you take a loan, the money comes from a number of, let's say, interested parties. When one of those interested parties meets an untimely demise, their interest in that loan is redistributed amongst the remaining parties. Only, this works not just on individual loans, but entire portfolios of them, much like the banks." James was already lost - corporations and finance were not his forte. "So when Little Bear died, his portfolios were redistributed. And here we are." He paused for a moment, finished with his explanation, but not long enough to leave an opening for any questions. This was all the explanation James was going to get.
"All of the details are the same, only you pay me now. And you work for me. I don't like loans - they are risky and involve way too much paperwork. So, you work for me, you get paid a little, and your loan gets paid off. I catch you working for anyone else, we have a problem." The troll shifted, just enough to remind James that he was still there.
"And here's your first job..."
The ShadowrunnerThat was a year ago. James had seen his 19th birthday come and go in the dreary apartment building in Busan. He did much more interesting work for Oh-seong than he did for Little Bear, and the jobs had even allowed him to begin buying off his loan - barely. The Whisper was good at what he did - James rarely found the work difficult, much less impossible, and had yet to be cheated or betrayed by an employer, though Oh-seong had given him jobs where, by his own admission, each was a distinct possibility. And Rei and him had hung out some, even though he rarely had use for her services - though still more often than he would like.
He'd also made an acquaintance of a shaman that worked out of the alleys near the apartment building, selling talisman's ans other items out of his van. He was tall, even for a Korean, and rail thin. He had long hair, styled in a fashion reminiscent of the Native Americans he'd seen in trids. Where he made his talisman's was anyone's guess, but he only sold what he could make or buy himself; none of the other Talismongers in town seemed to want anything to do with him.
It wasn't the life of a spy, but it was more interesting than the life of some faceless security guard protecting some corp lobby somewhere. And who knows, if he could make a name for himself - as James Woo, of course - maybe he could even enjoy some of the glamor and wealth that distinguished the life of a spy to his subsistence level existence.
