John Around Him was born Aug 22 2055 in Wanblee in the Souix Nation, the middle of what used to be Pine Ridge Reservation in the old bad days. This was also the day Ares set of the nuke in Chicago so his life started off with a bang. The son of Seth Around Him and Mary Iron Kettle, he came from a large family like most orcs, with several brothers and sisters to bedevil him or keep him in line. With his father working for Crow Dog Freightways; John grew up around various trucks, the people who drove them, and those that wanted things shipped legally or otherwise.

Some of John’s earliest memories are the stories about how the Anglo’s were out to take their lands again. The combination of those stories and the memories of the news stories and outrages from the SURG when Hayley’s Comet came around leave him standoffish and slightly untrusting of Anglos.

When the Crash 2.0 came in 64 his mother was recalled to active service and John ended up traveling with his father in the trucks. It was during this time that he began to realize that Leonard Crow Dog, who owned the trucking company, was shipping more than was just on the manifests. His ties to the Lakota Mafia helped keep John’s family fed and safe during the Crash and afterwards. Later in life John drove a few truckloads for him like his father had done.

When Mitsuhama pulled out of Tsimshian, the Sioux military provided part of the NAN forces that took over. It was during this time that Mary Iron Kettle died as part of the expeditionary forces. After his mothers death, John’s father started to drink heavier and got more reckless. The trips started getting longer, not just in the Sioux nation or right outside the border, but down into FreeCal or Pueblo lands, and eventually west into Salish territory as well. During this time on the road he encountered and did business with the Cutters, one of the larger gangs in North America. He became particularly friendly with Michelle Belle, one of the shaman (Snake) that was part of the Seattle chapter who seemed to find a tall Amerindian ork worth spending occasional time with.

In 2070 John got his notice that it was time to put in his year with the defense force, so he thought his wondering was going to be over for a while. He got picked for a rigger upgrade, since he already had experience with heavy trucks and equipment, and they got him further training on the hardware and tech end as well. Unfortunately about ¾ of the way through the year he was involved in an accident. Maybe it was training maneuvers gon wrong, maybe he and a friend were racing APC’s in the dark. Either way, in the end there were several wrecked vehicles and several dead or injured. Luck and the fact he was doing what he was told to do kept John from prison, and he got a shiny new arm and set of eyes to replace the ones that got damaged in the wreck.

Trying to keep busy after his discharge, John started hauling freight and wasn’t very particular what he carried as long as he could deny knowing about it or avoid getting caught. He did good during the Tempo craze making runs up and down the coast both on his own and for the Cutters as well as the various others he had met like Pops Logan, the fixer out of LA, who’s daughter Jenny had a gig working for Horizon. They were an item for a wile but his roving ways kept it from lasting.

A few months ago he started doing a lot of refrigerated runs, driving sealed vans with refrigeration units, or carrying sealed cases with a cryoseal and a strict time limit on delivery. The deliveries were to clinics sometimes, and sometimes just to a warehouse. Eventually luck caught up and he had to get rid of a case in a hurry. Now he owes Tamanous 15 large, unless he wants to be in one of those cases himself.

Still, the odds are on his side. He knows people that need things moved, he has skills, He has the gear and the ID’s to move things, and what is life without a little danger to get his heart pumping in the morning?

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Living next door to Dorian Bigio led to an interesting childhood; the younger cousin of Bruce Bigio shared in the waxing and waning fortunes of the family as he grew up. William Bradford, a neighbor born at the same time, was his closest companion through this rise and fall. Of course, you don't get screened to be in the same neighborhood as the capo of the Seattle branch of La Cosa Nostra without having the right background -- the Bradfords came from a long line of teamsters who had drifted so close to the Bigios as to be considered blood.

All of this granted William, who preferred Bill, a comfortable childhood. And living away from corporate pressure with an inseparable best friend next door made him luckier than the wageslave masses. But he was acutely aware that the "family business" would never belong to him; not only was he not direct family but he was not a born leader like his friend. So through the travails of youth and growing up Bill supported his friend the best way that he could, by watching his back.

The relationship was fruitful because Bill proved sharp eyed and subtle. So much so that the relationship was formalized when Bill was made a member of, and the put in charge of, Dorian's retinue of bodyguards: Brian Knuckles was the muscle he worked most closely with. Bill proved his usefulness again and again in the late 2050s and early 2060s as the Bigios neared the height of their power, protecting Dorian from all of the worst the yakuza and the O'Malley's had to offer. He was rewarded with cyberware and bioware, though never enough to become conspicuous. The innocuous nature of his modifications proved crucial as he and Dorian travelled frequently -- to Denver and LA where he hit it off with fellow mobsters Todd O'Leary, a grim former army intelligence officer, and Denny Hame, a gregarious troll who rose to power in spite of his race, respectively and to the Cascades where he befriended an ork smuggler named Brandon Running-Bear who had a fierce amerind heritage streak.

The crash changed everything. Surviving the initial chaos, and keeping Dorian alive, worked Bill to exhaustion and forced him to kill or be killed in ways he'd never contemplated before. Maybe it was that stress that brought on his late awakening. When the dust had settled the astral plane was open to Bill and his SIN was gone.

Dorian exulted. Plane crashes, car wrecks and angry rioters had torn gaping holes in the power structure of Seattle's mob and fate had left him with a freshly SINless magical asset with some combat experience. He made a power play for the record books and Bill, every loyal, backed him at every step.

But something had changed for Bill. Maybe it was seeing the emotions he caused or the emotions he unleashed, maybe it was being called on to kill the bodyguards of Andrew Ciarnello -- they were just like him, or maybe it was watching as a car he rigged to explode was driven to an elementary school when his target picked up his daughter, regardless of the cause Bill lost his taste for blood and became deeply depressed.

A lesser employer might not have understood what was happening or had him killed when he slipped up, but Dorian knew Bill in the way that someone who knew him when he was five could. He urged Bill to seek help and, more grandly, was forgiving when help came in the form of Zen buddhism (through a string of psychiatrists and drugs). Though some of the mob didn't take kindly to his "worshipping goddamn yak bullshit," Dorian was just glad to see his Bill return to life.

Bill's dues to the mob are paid and his intense study under Sensei Shodo Harada has brought him back to the world, but he's deeply uncertain where he fits. Out of habit more than any real desire, he has begun taking contracts that use the skills he's developed. Further, he's taken to the road frequently -- resettling briefly in Denver and LA -- to shake his past. He remains haunted and fends it off only by meditation. But the more he meditates, the more his magical abilities grow and the greater danger he poses and risks when he takes these contracts. He's as keenly aware of the trap that places him in as his contacts, so much so that he took the street name Koan because he too is an unsolvable puzzle. But all witticism aside, he and everyone he knows understands that he walks a fine psychological line between finding his identity and becoming the dangerously unstable combat wizard that nightmares are made of.