Race: Orc
Attributes: Body 6, Agility 1, Reaction 4, Strength 3, Charisma 4, Intuition 2, Logic 1, Willpower 3, Edge 1, Essence 0.034
Skills: Influence (Group) 4, Cracking (Group) 4, Electronics (Group) 4, Stealth (Group) 4, Athletics (Group) 1, Pilot Ground Craft 1, Automatics 4, Blades 2, Perception 4
Knowledge skills:Politics (Corporate) 6, Criminal (Yakuza) 3, Politics (Underworld) 4, Club Music 1, Procedure (Security) 1
Positive Qualities: Martial Arts I, Biocompatibility(cyberware), Made man, Human looking, Restricted gear (move by wire II)
Negative Qualities: TBD
Martial Arts: Damaging disarm with Finishing move and disarm
Cyberparts: Obvious used arm. Agility 9, Body 6, Strength 11
Cyberware (all used): Attention co-processor 3, Move by wire II, Reaction enhancer 1
Bioware (all used): Muscle toner 2, Syntahcardium 2, Tailored pheromones 2, Enhanced pheromone receptor 2,
Cultured bioware: Cerbral booster 2, Mnemonic enhancer 2
Geneware: PuShEd
Commlink: Fairlight Caliban, upgraded response 5, signal 5
Operating system: Novatech Novi, Firewall 5, System 5
Accessories: AR gloves, biometric reader, biometric lock, subvocal microphone, skinlink
Base programs@6: Analyse, Browse, Command, Edit, Encrypt, Purge, Reality Filter, Scan, Empathy
Hacking programs@6 with optimisation: Stealth, Exploit
Hacking programs@3: Armour, Attack, Biofeedback filter, Blackout, Spoof, ECCM
Hacking programs@1: Decrypt, Medic
Armour: Urban Explorer Jumpsuit (non conductivity 3, Fire resistance 3), Urban Explorer Helmit, Form fitting body full body suit (non conductivity 3, Thermal dampening 3, Massaging liners), SecureTech Vitals Protector, SecureTech Leg and Arm Casings
Posh clothes: Actioneer Business Clothes (non conductivity 3)
Armour accessories: Concealed holster, Hidden gun arm slide
Weapon: Katana with personalised grip, Ares crusader /smartgun/ personalised grip, Ceramic blade
Earbuds: Audio enhancement 3
Contact lens: Vision enhancement 3, Thermographic, Flare compensation
Glasses: Vision enhancement 3, Smart link, Flare compensation
Misc: Autopicker 6, Respirator 6
IDS: Fake SIN 4, Fake license 4
Ammo: TBD

CLASSIFIED

Vivak Sanjeev-McCurick (Known aliases: Spider (Seattle/Denver shadows), Sandy (Seattle shadows), Jamal Curin (UCAS) Shamier Hashin (India))
Vivak Sanjeev-McCurick, born Vivak Sanjeev, grew up in the hell that is the slums of kolkata. Born to an untouchable prostitute and a random john, Viveck was the oldest of 4 siblings, none of whom knew their fathers. The oldest by 6 years, Vivak was expected to help support the family and by his 5th birthday had started to beg on the streets where he could, and who’s pockets to pick and whose not to. He also learned when to run and when to fight at a young age, having to defend himself and his siblings from pimps, thugs, rapists, gangers and slavers.

By his 8th birthday he had moved from begging and the odd pickpocketing to being a footpad. While he was large for an 8 year old, he was skinnier than the average child his age, his frame being one of tighly corded and starved muscle. His tactics were like that of the feral cats and abnormally large (some say mutated from the toxins and poisons)spiders that lived in the alley his family squatted in. Using high ground and well laid traps he waited for lone victims to walk down the alley he was in and when the time was right, entrapped them in home made ropes and nets, and waiting for a second to see if the target was still a threat. If the target could still easily fight back, he would use a sling to hurl rocks at vulnerable parts until they were unconscious or dead, and if they were not a threat he would jump down from his hiding spot and club them with whatever blunt instrument he had on him until they quit moving. Initially he chose other slum dwellers as his victims and mostly took food and other things he needed to survive. Later he moved up to going after lone thugs, gangers, pimps, and corpers, whatever he felt he could take on his own.

By the time he was 10 he had made a bit of a name for himself and started selling the electronics he nabbed to several of the ‘trix gangs operating out of the slum, while helping with jobs both they and more conventional gangs had. Several had tried to recruit him, but in his mind, joining one gang meant making enemies with the rest, and he stayed independent, careful not to step on any toes and to keep as many different groups happy. His next youngest sibling was now 5 and by now Vivak’s mother didn’t have to whore as often to keep her income high enough to pay her pimp and still provide what she could, and he felt secure knowing that he could leave them with 2 of the small pistols he had stolen and a couple of the bullets he had scrounged and saved for.

He was 14 when he was first hired by a Corp. A local fixer he had met and used regularly to pawn any goods he had stolen needed a person for a job that he thought Vivak could do. A national level corp had need to scare off its potential competition and hired Vivak to do this by scaring the lead executive of the competing corporation. Waiting for the man to go to the washroom in a local diner near the border separating the slum and corp areas of Kolkata. As soon as the man was alone in the bathroom, Vivak, who had been waiting in the washroom for nearly 3 hours, calmly walked out of his stall, and using a home-made taser that he had picked up of a street thug, knocked the man out. Dragging the man out a window and through a back alley, he soon took to beating and mildly torturing the man, stripped him of all possessions and cloths and left him naked and half-dead. Within minutes he had managed to get all the man’s cloths and items to nearby street kids and other desperate folk. The corper, seeing the abuse he had endured within the first few minutes inside the city, and that he could see his clothes being worn by so many people so brazenly, decided the city wasn’t a good place for his corp to set up shop and moved to nearby Bihar instead.

This had set up his career as a shadowrunner, using his fixer and a few of his collegues to set up more and more runs in the hellhole that was his home. By the age of 15 he could afford for his family to be off the streets and living in a one room apartment in a crappy tenament building. He also had gotten himself a few weapons, mostly second hand or relics and a home made commlink through a hacker he was friends with that ran with a local ‘trix gang. His life would be changed though by a mid-level executive who he had once tried to rob between runs and had accidentally saved the life of when he jumped out of his hiding spot and scared the would be assassin, allowing the Johnson to escape while Vivak fought for his life. Barely surviving, Vivak limped home and collapsed, spending the next week in and out of conciousness. When he awoke, he found a message on his cobbled together Commlink from the exec, offering him work.
Unknown to him, this man was a mid-level executive with SK Prime and was incharge of security for several of the corporation’s facilities and offices. He set Vivak up with a low level grunt job, watching over a construction site. While the pay was half of what he was use to as a small time street runner, the perks more than made up for it. His family would be housed by the corp in the safer parts of the city, his mother would be trained as a secretary and placed in a job and his siblings would all be enrolled in a corp ran school until they were 18, allowing them to be able to get jobs or continue on in an SK approved post-secondary institute. Knowing he had to take care of his family, he dedicated his life to his job, knowing he had to make sure he stayed useful and afraid of not just losing what he had gained, but what he had gotten for the family he had vowed to take care of.

Within 2 years he had worked his way up to being a higher ranked security officer, having even been in charge of security for smaller sites on several occasions. Seen as a rising star, he soon started to relax a bit, and had started going to both SK ran social events, and corp permited bars and events. To make up for this, he finally decided to start using the Corp Cyber and Bio policy, receiving cyber and bioware for time added to his contract, so that he could perform his duties even better. It was this time that he met his future wife, an anglo secretary from the corporations Europe division whose boss had been transferred to the Prime offices for India. Within a few weeks, despite his serious social flaws and her awkwardness in social settings, they started seeing each other. By the end of the year, they had a corp funded wedding and he had taken her last name and added it to his, making him Vivak Sanjeev-McCurick. A few months later they announced they were having kids, and as it turned out, twins.

Years went by, and Vivak slowly rose up the security ladder, moving first to heavy security in the Prime headquarters to working for a HTRT in Europe for a few years before moving back to India to work in a black R&D station in Bihar as the second for the Major in charge of the site. By now his family had grown to include a baby girl to go with the twin boys who were now 8 years old. At 26 years old, Vivak never thought his life would be this good.
All came to an end though, as all things too good to be true do. A run on the site that he was taking care of occurred when he was off duty and with his family. The site was compromised by eco-terrorists who publicly revealed that the site was used by an unnamed corp to create bio- and nano-weapons for use on mass civilian sites. SK, not wanting this to get further out and to be associated with it, decided it had to liquidate it, and with it all the non-essential personnel and erasing all information regarding their existence on a corporate level. Within less than an hour, a kill team had made it to his place and slaughtered his family, Vivak surviving only because he was blown out of the building by a blast that sent him hurtling into the air and into a nearby river.
Nearly drowning, bleeding profusely and most of his lower body severly burnt, Vivak slowly made his way back home to find it alight and not a soul alive. None of his family had survived. Making his way back to Kolkata, he stumbled into the shop of his old Fixer, barely alive and needing help.

When he next awoke it was 2 days later and he had new bio and cyberware installed to keep him alive. For the next two years he worked the Indian shadows, taking any chance he could to hurt SK as he did so. He lived in a shack near where he grew up, talking to himself as if his family was still with him, gesturing madly and talking to a ferret when moods struck him, always setting places and making meals for 4 more than were needed. Soon though, things became to hot for him to survive, and when he heard that one of the men who had ordered the hit, his superior at the Bihar Site, had relocated to Seattle he made the move, using a fake ID set up for him as a security specialist for a Indian security firm owned by the fixer, complete with Seattle licenses for most of his cyber and bioware. For a year now he has been running the Seattle and occasionally the Denver shadows, always on the lookout for more work.

It all began with a chance meeting in rural Montana. Only two people know the specifics, and dear old dad would never speak of it. No one else I found ever acknowledged meeting my mother. But somehow, dad ended up raising me. So what you say? It's not like there's never been another single dad in the world. But let me tell you a little about Winifred, Montana. Population: 156. Population of redneck caucasion human metatypes: 151. Population of hormonally overdriven male white redneck human metatypes: 49 (the other 30 were generally too young or old). Population of young elf females: 1 (that would be me). Are you starting to get the picture?

The first time they came after me, it was out of the blue, and the whole thing passed in a state of absolute shock. The one thing I learned was that I wasn't going to dominate anybody by physical strength. (And that dad really, really, did not want to know.) The next time they came, though, I found my alternative. I looked, gave it, I don't know, a little twist, and really looked, and it was almost as if their intentions were written all over their faces. That time, I managed to escape. The next time, I wasn't so lucky -- but then, I was able to talk them around instead. How I did it, I didn't really know -- but I pulled out all the stops, and somehow, they changed their minds.

This scene would be repeated time and time again over the next six years. The older I got, the more tenuous my escapes got. There was no way I was going to stay in that town, "family" or no. I just couldn't manage to actually pull myself together and leave, until the craziest thing happened -- a college recruiter came through! He claimed he was looking for untapped sports talent (though what team Winifred could field outside Combat Biking is a mystery to me), but I only needed one evening with him and he submitted an enthusiastic recommendation for both admissions and financial aid. Before you can say shazam! I was off to UW.

There was only one little wrinkle. I'm a little lousy at school work. And by "a little", I mean really, utterly, hopeless. Didn't know much about city living either. One semester in, and I was an emotional wreck -- plus broke and pretty much failing out. The only thing that saved me was that I met ones of the deans during enrollment, and I threw myself on his mercy. I became his pet project -- and he basically scheduled an intervention on my behalf. With a moment to breathe, I realized I was going about this all wrong. From that point on, I worked the student body to learn about Seattle, and I worked the grad students to get the grades I needed.

Four years later, voila! A degree. A joke, really, since I can't think of a single fact I learned during the entire thing. Not quite true; I did find that I have a gift for languages. And I did learn plenty, of course, just not academically. But now I was loose, and it left me with a small debt, and the question of what to do afterward. I tried the whole corporate thing -- it was no trouble to get an offer as a mid-level personal assistant. That lasted about 30 seconds. While my coworkers were open books to me, it turns out an entry-level corporate job requires the kind of structure and mental organization that I'm completely wretched at. It's possible I could have made it work, just like college, but... why?

So I worked my U-Dub classmates instead. I tried the jet-set lifestyle for a while -- it's amazing what you can talk yourself into with a little effort. But this trended dangerously toward my Winifred experience. With a more civilized veneer, for sure, but the demands were the same, and I was spending too much time talking myself out of trouble. So a taste of the life was all I really got. (It was delicious!) Still, I was starting to despair of ever finding my place in the world, unless it was behind the counter of Cap'n Beef (but I'd've sooner gone back to Winifred).

Then I reconnected with "Sly" Stevens -- so called on account of his talent with the ladies. He was pretty far down my list, mainly because I wasn't immune. But now I was there. Turns out old Sly didn't take a postdoc, didn't go to work for the man, didn't in fact pursue traditional gainful employment at all. Well, let me amend that. He went for what turned out to be fairly de rigueur in certain circles -- running the shadows. I was awed. I mean, everyone's seen shadowrunners on the trids, but I kind of thought they were just a fantasy. It was like meeting an action hero from the movies, and finding out he was for real!

Before you know it, he took me under his wing. Sure, there was some payback required, but this time, I was a willing participant. And Sly opened my eyes to the world under the world.

At first, I couldn't figure his angle. It wasn't like I was any good with a gun -- I had pretty much the same skills he did. We were, as I learned to call it, the Face. Any how many runs really need two of those? I just pasted myself to his ass and backed him up, for a tiny, tiny cut. Most of it went to bringing him into my lifestyle, truth be told (I couldn't live up to the jet setters, but I did what I could :). Time came, he was offered a milk run, and he sent me on my own (though still for a tiny cut). The next run, I figured it would be back to usual. But at the last minute, he begged off, saying he was sick. Sick? But my cut got a lot bigger, and I didn't question.

And then it hit me. He didn't want to run at all. He had the connections, and he had passed on the skills. He just wanted a cut.

And boy, did he ever have the connections! My first real score, and I had to have a place. I told him what I wanted -- space, a top-flight entertainment rack, and a quiet neighborhood. And I also told him what I planned to spend, which I figured for half of what I needed. But he hooked me up with an agent who came through in spades, even with a friggin' community garden! It's an old industrial complex in Auburn, which some genius decided to remodel into condos. So they're spacious, with giant ceilings and wide open floor plans -- plus the garden on the roof. And while it's not the nicest area (you can't get away from the industrial roots), it is quiet, just like I asked for. The only down side is the wireless is a mess -- slow and insecure. But it's got enough juice to drive my entertainment stack, which is all I really need.

One more under my belt, and I was ready to go under the knife -- though still a bit tight on cash. Sly hooked me up with Doc Searls, a "personal enhancement" doc with an urgent facilities problem. He had been running a decent business out of what was technically residential space. Come one night, a team of shadowrunners crashes in with their busted-up chummer -- OK, maybe you can pass that off as friends with *really* poor manners. But then the corporate goon squad shows up in chase, and the firefight blows the place to hell. Now the landlord who looks the other way so long as the bills are paid... well, the only reason he's not talking to the cops already is he figures maybe he can blackmail the good doc first. This was a straight-up mess, but I sat the boys down and we all came out on top. I bought my upgrades at a discount from Doc, but it was still enough to give him the immediate cash to fix the place back up and put down his deposit on a new space. Doc and I split the rent on the old place, even though nobody lives there any more (best tenant of all, I guess). Doc moved his practice, but he left his forwarding info inside, for people who haven't gotten the message. And every once in a while, I can use the place to hide out, or Doc can send a patient there to recover.

Now, Doc Searls is great when you need a cyber upgrade, but he's not the most delicate when it comes to more routine medical matters. For that, I lean on Carmine, a shaman healer I met back while I was under Sly's wing. Carmine's specialty is bringing people (and she uses that term very loosely) back from the dead, or anything close enough to it. Sad to say, we came to her because we needed her in a professional capacity -- Sly and I were fine, but the tough guys on our team had been brutalized by a sniper. We made the long trip out to Cougar Mountain in Renton, and in the end the whole team walked out -- something I wouldn't have believed if I hadn't seen it. But in between, Carmine allowed as she had a small problem with the Yakuza. They figured that since they owned the Cougar Mountain Resort, and she was right there in the foothills, she ought to be paying protection too. Now you don't need to know Carmine all that well to know she's a straight shooter, and wouldn't buy into something like "protection." Sly volunteered us to help sort this out (a technique I later reproduced with Doc Searls). The yaks almost threw up when he laid things all out straight -- you can tell they treasure their little euphemisms, and I thought they might draw on us right then and there. But I did my best to calm them down and straightaway Sly re-wrapped the whole package in different terms. Suddenly everyone was happy! Instead of protection money, the Yaks promised to bring Carmine business -- and only of the most urgent type. She agreed to overlook the charges, if the cases were sufficiently serious. What can you say? She's a Phoenix shaman.

And this is only scratching the surface of the folks I rely on to make my own way in the world. I haven't forgotten about the Yaks -- we dealt with Okugi, a Shingiin, and I expect he'd at least take a call again. Then there are some of my college friends who are still kicking around Seattle -- Jimmy Shields (a forensics tech for Knight Errant), Zinger (a slicer, as if you couldn't guess), and Bill Johnson (a company man, who actually, honestly, has the last name "Johnson"). Plus there are the folks I've met along the way, like Sam Adams, one of the night-shift bartenders at Infinity (he does look sort of like the picture, other than the hair, but it can't be his real name). So I do OK, though I've got nothing on Sly's rolodex. But hell, that's what I have him for -- fixer extraordinaire. And standing date, too. :)

From Street Magic page 43

The Zoroastrian Tradition
Concept: Magic, to the Zoroastrian magus, is part of the
struggle between ultimate good and evil, an otherworldly force
bound up in the fate of humanity that can be harnessed through
complex symbology and purity of spirit.
Combat: Guardian
Detection: Fire
Health: Earth
Illusion: Water
Manipulation: Man
Drain: Willpower + Logic
Zoroaster, the ancient prophet of Zoroastrianism, revealed
to his followers in ancient Persia that mankind’s place
in the cosmos was as the tipping point in the conflict between
the ultimate good of the One God Ahura Mazda and the ultimate
evil of the god Ahriman. Humanity possessed the free will
to decide between good and evil and the capability to harness
power through knowledge. The Zoroastrian religion encourages
mankind to work for good and teaches how to access the
great mystical power of the cosmos through astrology, symbology,
and knowledge of angelic and demonic beings called
the ahuras and daevas respectively. The Zoroastrian tradition
is sometimes called “hermeticism with a purpose” because
Western hermeticism borrowed many of the techniques and
symbols of Zoroastrianism, but Zoroastrian magi dedicate
them to the cataclysmic battle between good and evil.
Zoroastrian magi regularly deal with ancient Near Eastern
angels and demons in their pursuit of knowledge, and they realize
that they constantly walk a line between salvation and damnation.
The spirits often challenge the magi who summon them
with difficult questions of morality, to test where they stand or to
tempt them into darkness. Many magi learn powerful symbols to
protect themselves from the influences of the demonic daevas. It
is extremely rare for a Zoroastrian magus to take a mentor spirit,
as it often signifies that his devotions lie somewhere other than
Ahura Mazda.
While Zoroastrianism never truly died out, it experienced a
true resurgence in the past decades. Backlash against the fundamentalism
of the Euro Wars brought new converts to Zoroastrian
communities in Iran, and the Parsis of India have gained a great
deal of influence since the Awakening. The tradition has also
caught on in traditionally hermetic circles, such as universities
and corporations, providing a familiar technique but also a strong
reason to pursue knowledge.

Born and raised in the excuse of middle class left in Seattle, young Abraham Foxx was born to Ork parents and had no problem fitting in within the community his parents were social members of. Though his youth was that of a normal child, things started getting worse and worse as he got into his teenage years.
When he was thirteen his father was killed in a drive by/hate crime by Humanis bastards while attending an Ork Pride rally. Left with a rather disgruntled view on anyone who couldn’t accept people for the way they were born he made a habit of getting in trouble throughout high school by making a lesson of those who put people down for no reasons. His only relationship aside from the few friends he’d gathered was his mother, who was to say the least, overprotective.
Upon graduation from high school, he saw what he was destined for. Without any really useful technical skills he was bound to fall into one of the couple dozen gangs or Ork policlubs that swarmed his neighborhood with graffiti and Ork Pride flyers. He knew that would lead to the same life for him as his father, not something he wanted. So he enlisted in the UCAS Naval Services.
He did gloriously throughout basic and into advanced training. He was top of his class in both basic training and advanced naval training. He had found something he could make more of himself out of. And it was more than enough to give his mother and his baby daughter Alicia the life they deserved back home.
After standard training he applied for UCAS Navy S.E.A.L training and membership. And though he struggled with the technical side of the operations, he excelled in personal control and squad based tactics. He was able to lead his training squad on a number of virtual testing missions with scores off the charts. He came out of the program a Chief Petty Officer.
Four years later and a few dozen successful missions, he had earned the prestige he’d needed to leave the S.E.A.Ls and become a standing Lieutenant, but honorably declined. Truth be it, Abe strived in the field and it was what he lived for. The next mission and that little ball of joy, Alicia was all he looked forward to when he woke up. He lived for his family and the job.
Operation: Flash and Grab was a simple one. Two squads of four were to infiltrate L.A. and “extract” a rogue agent looking to sell UCAS military secrets to the California Free State for safe passage and a very respectable amount of money. Squad One, consisting of Lt. Abraham Foxx, CPO Neil McDonald, PO2 Grahm Herring, and CWO2 Jason Lamont were to set charges to a number of small buildings in the vicinity of the targets location in an attempt to make the opposition move him to the more secure location already held by Squad Two.
When they reached their first objective and began to place the charges his eyes were assaulted by something he didn’t want to see, something that made him know he’d made the wrong choice. The small complex consisted of two business levels as well as a school. And just as they were arriving he saw it. It was a group of students climbing out of a school bus, and filing back into the school. The charges were already placed and were ready to be blown.
Abe made the call and disarmed the detonator, and though he knew it was the right thing, it was going to bite him in the ass. Squad Two was discovered and terminated and because of Abe’s insubordination, four men died at the hands of Cali Free State forces. Making a hasty retreat back to Seattle, Abe was court marshaled as soon as they hit land. He was dishonorably discharged and sentenced to five years in UCAS prison facilities.
Since then, he’s been let out on parole, which has just recently come to an end. He’s attempting to make amends with the now 13 year old Alicia who is more than a handful. Enrolled in a cheap private school, she is having more than a few problems fitting in as an Ork. But she is a surprisingly good violinist and though she tries to act out, she secretly has a passion for it.
Abe now lives in a two bedroom apartment with his mother Agnes Foxx and his daughter Alicia, doing what he can to make money for the two to keep the life they’re used to. With his parole over he can now partake in jobs that can take a little more of his time. And he isn’t as reliant on “The Red Crush” for help when he needs it.

I am damned.

Not figuratively, although that could certainly be said as well, considering the circumstances I find myself in. Literally. When my time comes, I will not sit in the court of my Lord; I shall be outcast, unworthy and imperfect. The things I’ve done, and will continue to do in the name of Ahura Mazda make this true.

I originally came to this realization when I was working for the Sunshine Corporation. They had recruited me while I was young, paid for my education, determined where my interest lay and set me on a course. I was grateful. I was young and thought I was immortal; I loved the thrill of magic and of combat. While life in corporate security was usually fairly boring, the occasional chance to stretch my skills against those who would attempt to harm the company or its people made up for it. The pay wasn’t bad, either.

Since Sunshine was a “middleman” corporation between utilities and the solar grid, it was rare that I needed to go offsite. It was on one of these infrequent excursions to the linkup site that I met my future wife. Anisa was my age, beautiful, acerbic and extremely talented as a mage. She was the “brains” of the outfit, she’d specialized in information gathering magicks. We hit it off and, with the companies blessing, 6 months later were married. Things in my life were wonderful. I had a position I enjoyed, I had a wife, and a year later, I had a daughter.

It was about this time that I converted fully to Mazdaism, what the uninitiated call Zoroastrianism, after the great Prophet. I had been introduced to the concepts during my training in the various Traditions of magic. Something about it struck a cord and I began studying it and attending services. With my full conversion, I fully adopted the tradition as well, which was a long and difficult process. Through my faith, I learned how to entreat aid from the Yazata, the immortal spirits through which Ahura Mazda makes his will known to us. One Amesha Spenta, in particular became my guardian; Vairya as he is known, began speaking to me with greater and greater frequency. I had learned about the war between the Ahura and the Daeva and with conversion, committed myself to the conflict. “Good thoughts, good words, good deeds" became the phrase by which I tried to live my life.

Anisa did not convert with me. It caused us some minor conflict, but ultimately it was not the thing which caused us to split. She does think “my foolish religion” ruined our lives, but she’s wrong. The company did that when they took my daughter. Yes, MY daughter, Sura, the light of my life – Anisa’s reaction proved that not only was she not worthy of being a mother, she was evil and had no right to the title.

I’d come home after my shift and noticed the apartment was too quiet. I assumed they were at the park or something and thought nothing of it until she returned home and did not have Sura with her. I asked her where Sura was and she said, “Peters took her so she could be trained.” Just like that, matter of fact, no emotion or inflection, as if it were the most normal thing in the world to have your two year old taken by strangers.

We fought. I stormed out. I went to my supervisor and was told to stand down, “This is for the best. She will get the best education and care available. She’s special, I think you know that, and the company thinks the investment is worth it.” I yelled some more and eventually, I was “escorted” out, by people I’d considered friends only hours before. I tried to find out where she had been taken, to no avail. I tried to call in favors, I tried threats, I tried begging. None of it worked. Eventually, I was fired – I had “ceased to be productive” and my “constant insubordination” made me “difficult to work with.” When I tried to return to my apartment, I couldn’t even get onto the block. Security turned me away. I got served a divorce priority message about that time, so I left.

I found an apartment, not too far from Downtown. I’d made a few friends in low places during the 5 years I’d worked in Security, so I used them to get in contact with someone who could help me find “work.”

I will do whatever it takes to rescue my daughter. I doubt I can do this and always remain on the side of the angels. Thus, I am damned.
Notes:
Navid Ardashir is a Zoroastrian Mage.
Vairya is his Mentor Spirit. Vairya is the Amesha Spenta of Dominion. He is represented by the Wise Warrior Mentor Spirit Edge.
Navid has a Big Regret – he worked for the Sunshine Corporation; the company he is now working hard to destroy.
Navid has a Lost Loved One – his daughter, who was taken by the company because she was “special.”
Anisa is Navid’s ex-wife. She is a Hermetic Mage who has numerous Detection based spells. To his knowledge, she does not know any combat spells.
Navid is prejudiced against goblinized meta-types. He is unaware of this, he just tends to treat them with slightly less respect than he should.
Navid is a SINner; but rarely uses his legal SIN since joining the Underworld.
I leave it purposefully vague as to whether or not the Sunshine Corporation is actually doing something evil and heinous, or if Navid has suffered a break and is in the grip of paranoid delusions. I’d originally assumed the former, but in the writing it became less and less certain in my mind which direction the truth laid.

I’ll post up his character sheet once I’m satisfied with his spell selection.