"Lucky" Lenny Bowskawicz

Pothead/Slacker with a Golden Gun

Description:

Fast Hybrid

XP 7

Agility………d10
Smarts……d6
Str…………..d6
Spirit……….d4
Vigor……….d6

Cha…….-1
Pace……10
parry……5
Toughness….5

Armor
Head: 3
Torso: 6
Arms: 6
Legs: 3

Firewall
Strain: 4
street Cred

Skills
Shooting…………..d10
Fighting…………….d6
Streetwise……….d4
Athletics…………..d8
Notice………………d6
Stealth……………..d10
Drive…………………d6

Edges
Ex-soldier

Hindrances
Habit, minor (sticky icky) -1 charisma
Clueless, major common knowledge -2
Big mouth, minor

Occupation
Layabout

Weapons
Duke McCoy Combat knife – Str + d6 + 1, + 1 str vs disarm
Gyroc Rifle – Range 24/48/96, 3d6 dam, rof 1, wt 10, ammo 30, Heavy weapon
Gyroc ammo – 200
Street Talker Pistol – Range 5/10/20, 2d4+ 1 dam, rof 1, wt 3, ammo 6, AP 1 semi-auto
6mm pistol ammo – 50

Armor
Biker Jacket – Armor 3, wt 8, torso/arms, collision damage -1 die
Under armor – Armor + 1, wt 1, torso/arms/legs, stacks (1.5K)
UP Balaclava – armor + 1, wt -, head, stacks (1K)

Gear
Combat webbing –
Sticky Icky – 22 hits
Mama Ling’s subscription – 50cr/month
New Jump Board!
destitute lifestyle x2 months paid (500cr/month) – an 8 × 8 unit with a toilet, sink, some cabinets/lockers and access to a community shower facility
Crisis team responder kit
Stim patches x5
Military antidotes x2
‘Discreet’ weapon transport case
15 EMP grenades

Software
t-app e-stream, 3 months (.15K)
range-finder app (2K)

Augments
Smart-gun 2 – 2 strain
Sub dermal armor, advanced – 2 strain

cash on hand
5700

Contacts
Eddy James – Urban Farmer. Because few things help poor people’s morale like food that tastes like… food.
kathy Fei-hong – Mama-ling’s Franchiser
Elena Tasseva – Fallen Chrome Angel of the Underworld?
‘Goat’ Tasseva (?) – Chemist. Hacker. Satanist.
Enrique – A Cabbie that shows up quick and doesn’t ask questions. Basically the best kind.

/me is a dark-skinned man in his mid to late 20s. His eyes droop slightly at the corners but still have the light of one who’s not had thier spirit completely crushed by life in the Motor City. His clothes are shabby like they were chosen from the bin behind Goodwill where they put the stuff they won’t put on the shelf. It’s a hodgepodge of ill-fitting military surplus under a weather-worn motorcycle jacket. His right eye bears the scarring and exposed components common with no-frills cyber implants.

Bio:

Lenny was your typical Middle class Cascadian teen with no ambition but to ‘get by’. When he came of age he signed up with the national guard, figuring he’d coast a few years and take his discharge some where that would give him a decent lower-management wage. Unfortunately it’s hard to keep your slot in the guard when you like to toke up and bitch about work. And when you suddenly have a regular paycheck and hardly enough sense to remember to cash it it’s real easy to blow it on crap before you realize it. So that’s how he ended up with a bunch of new genes (“bro, wouldn’t it be so bitchin’ if I could like, grow a tail?”) and how he ended up with a bunch of circuitry in his head, (“dude, I heard they have this thing that makes like, cross-hairs in your vision like video games”) and how he ended up with a bunch of titanium webbing glued to his insides (“Man, I took such a wicked hard spill on my board the other day, I should get that bone surgery so I don’t have to wear a helmet.”) His general laziness and irresponsibility was often overlooked because he kept his unit’s name on the winner’s podium at the Inter-agency shooting competitions and earned decent points for the team in the combatives tournaments.

After the third strike caught with with home-grown 420 in his system on-duty, they drummed him out. It was a pretty big bummer, but he’d heard Detroit was the sort of place where “Dudes’ll lay off your case” so he left with the little bit he owned stuffed in his duffel. Unknown to him at the time, another guy was trying to smuggle some contraband through the same bus route in a similar bag. The smuggler took the wrong bag, just as he noticed some customs agents closing in. He nipped off with Lenny’s clothes as Lenny walked in the other direction with a bag full of guns and mil-surplus looking to score some reefer and a place to crash. It was actually two days before he realised he had the wrong bag, and some folks started calling him lucky, since the process of selling off the goods kept a roof over his head, noodles in his belly and THC in his veins for 2 months. The money is running out now, and the thought of having to find another paycheck is kinda annoying him, but if he hits another decent payday it’ll be noodles, pot and movies for another month or two.

"Lucky" Lenny Bowskawicz

Interface Zero Detroit cheechbhs