a character by Adam Luther
Tyrone is a freelance kneecapper, or a tax man, as he prefers to call himself. He's the guy who comes to see you after you don't pay your bills. He tends to either collect your money or your teeth. Either way it's just as fun.
Tyrone's 22, black, rather bulky and has the shiny, shaved, Avery Brooks look (vintage, loose the goatee). He's into the 'Black Power' movement of the 1960s and 1970s; he'd own paraphernalia if he had the money for it. He's got two very cheap cyberarms that sound like something C3P0 would have, only lower. Trust me, you can hear him coming from behind a door.
He tries to pull off that business-like attitude when he's collecting, up until his arm connects with your jaw. There's plenty of ego in his walk, er, his stride, and his voice is very deep. He tends to use profanity frequently, especially "fuckin" as an adjective, and gets angry easily, particularly if you're screwing with him and he knows it.
The two things he tends to complain about the most are his arms and his parole officer. His arms I've already talked about. They're cheap, period. His parole officer's a different story. Tyrone did 4-6 months a couple of years ago for drugs and not only got caught buying them, but got real sick from withdrawal (-1 BOD). He got out only to be assigned to the supervision of Dickens, his "bitch." They've got this little arrangement: Tyrone gives Dickens 50% of his income in exchange for a clean parole record: no guns, no drugs, a stable job, etc. Pisses the hell outta Tyrone too, except for the drug part; he doesn't touch them anymore. Of course if he doesn't listen, Dickens is bound to "find out" what Tyrone's doing now, and that'll be fun.
Right now Tyrone lives in The Taira Apts. with his younger brother, Stevie. Stevie's also in the business but has a clean record so far. He tends to bring home cheap hookers and throw them out as soon as he's done with them. The two of them get along just fine, expressing their love through insult contests. They don't want to live together but neither have the money to afford even a condemned apartment to call their own.
THEME SONG -
Stayin' Alive by the Bee Gees
(a.k.a. "The Pimp Song")
INT 6 REF 7 TECH 5 COOL 9 ATTR 6 LUCK 5 MA 6 BOD 9/8 EMP 6/5
Basic Tech +2
First Aid +1
Persuasion & Fast Talk +3
Resist Torture/Drugs +3
Strength Feat +3
Wardrobe & Style +2
Recognition +4, Strong Stomach +3, Bad Temper -3, Criminal Record -2 (on parole), Greedy -4
Two 3rd World, Noisy Cyberarms (-5 Stealth, from Ocelot's Discount Cyber Shop. Hey, they were cheap.)
THE SHIT HE'D PITCH IF HE HAD ANY MONEY -
- A green, dented Dai Lung Cybermag 15 that his brother's got right now (P·-1·P·C·1d6+1·10·2·UR). - 3 dozen Cybermag rounds (Yup, he's got them too.) - Kevlar Vest (SP10) - Stained, dirty pants and T-shirts - An old, worn-out jacket that's cheap enough to look like imitation, imitation leather. - A pair of boots that've seen better days. - Mirrorshades in such good condition they look out of place on Tyrone, or stolen. - A small, felt bag containing approximately 100 chipped or otherwise damaged teeth of assorted sized and shapes, all removed through impact blows to the face. (Souvenirs, if you will. Not for any sadistic reasons, but they sure as hell help with intimidating people.) - A handful of stripwire binders. - About 200 euro