|Well, all information looks like noise till you break the code|
|Titles and Awards||0|
|D.O.B.||September 19th 2049|
Metatype - D
Attributes - C
Magic/Resonance - E
Skills - B
Resources - A
Born in the favelas of Porto to a single mother. He learned quickly you either learned how to fight or learned how to hack and he knew after his first beating at the hands of the local bully that fighting just wasn't in the cards for him. So he worked on puzzles and developed his skills slowly from a young age occasionally taking jobs to support his mother and put away some money to come to America.
The streets had taught him to be resourceful, intuitive and to work quickly. His lack of schooling meant that he often saw problems from different angles. Some called his methods quirky but few would deny their effectiveness. He was, of course, involved with various groups particularly the ones with a fondness for "liberation of the system." He fell in with the crowd and followed the mantra of always leaving with something from everywhere he hit. Sometimes to the detriment of the job.
Six years he worked his way up from nothing and helped pay for his mother. Eventually moving out of the streets and into a middle class area. When tragedy hits, it hits hard. His mother began to grow ill and to keep up with the medical bills he began to take more and more jobs and take larger and larger risks. His house of cards came down soon after his mother died. A blotched run, no data, team dead, and him skipping town with all the funds from the job. First flight out to anywhere. Anywhere happened to be Seattle. He's got a couple credits to his name and his gear. He quickly gets setup with a fixer for jobs
Narrative Significant Qualities
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In Character Information
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David Camilo, Portugal
Mike Dosantos, Portugal
Tall and dark. Could be middle eastern or italian. Occasionally has stubble. Wears a suit and gloves. Has a nice watch.
"Have you ever heard the phrase all over him like a cheap suit? This was the suit they meant-- and they were being polite. The waistband bound him in ways even an inventive hooker couldn't dream up, and I suddenly knew with far too much certainty whether he dressed to the left or the right.
A tall man in a immaculate Tux with a gold Daft punk Thomas Helmet.