Sorry for double post but here it is. I never remember my spelling being this bad. I think I may have invented some new words too. Above still applies, just pm or shout if anything needs changing. 

[hider] Alias: Caliban, real name forgotten
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Gender: Male
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Age: Doesn’t know, probably over thirty, maybe little less, likely a lot more. He feels ageless, beyond age.
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Job: Technically a Crimelord, Warlord seems more apt.
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Aliases (If necessary): None.
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Notoriety/Fame Rating: B+ or A-, only for being relatively unknown on the top floors.  
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Personality: Despite the whirring wreckage of  a broken mind Caliban can at times be quite sombre. Though don’t be fooled this quiet demeanour may be broken at any point, nor does it excuse the cruelty of his voice or deed. He has a great weakness for literature. It is important to stress , Caliban does not think in human parameters, his  emotional response to any given occurrence is uncertain. 
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Appearance: It is best to leave his appearance up to your imaginations.  Standing at a full height of 7 foot 5, but with the stature of a large deformed ape, Caliban is a biomechanical freak show, a wildly chaotic fusion of pale, scarred, leprotic, carrion flesh, under which wires and black blood is clearly visible and industrially blasted, twisted chrome. His barbwire face retains a distinctly human element but appears little more than a nightmare to the sturdiest of souls. For those who dare look at his face would see  his right eye is a deep, human green.   
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History: Caliban’s past his cloudy at best. He believes himself to have been born on the ground, to good parents, missionaries perhaps. He must’ve had a better life than many that is for sure, he at least had an education a right few received. At some point he must have visited the upper levels, he remembers the lights most of all.  At this point all memories fail and consciousness blackens.  After the period of  void came madness, after that blood. Then a baseness akin to animality. This mindless being found itself  in the wild and empty  expanses of the ghost town were in made terror on the junkies and criminals that found themselves in encamped  in his territory. 
His presence in the ghost town gave rise to the legend of the Beast in Ghost Town. During this stage his brain began to ‘reboot’ day by day recalcifying  whatever intellect could be scavenged and  skewedly relearning his self-awareness.. Catching a glimpse of his his barb wire face  (more poetic that literal) in a pane of glass is what cemented the identity of Caliban. Recalling , as a child reading, Shakespeare’s the Tempest, specifically the line , ‘not honour'd with a human shape’. If he were not a man he would be a monster, Caliban. Knowing full well what his return to  humanity would entail, having read Frankenstein after all.  Aware of  what he had done  to all those people he endeavoured to evolve. After all any beast could hunt, it took much more to conqueror. Caliban decided he would partake in the sport of all those cruel men who made themselves  a misery to the city of Neo-Roma.  
Having quickly grown his Empire through force, low cunning and the horror of his own visage, he currently controls a large if exceptionally poor (even by Ground standards) swath of territory along/around/including the border of the industrial Ghost zone. His territory is for all intents and purposes lawless, so long as his ever shifting cabal of lieutenants remained loyal to him, (which they would, for they cannot match him) he is satisfied. His potentates income is less that that of the major Crimelords but wealth is not what concerns him. His gang largely makes money from the extortion of local and tolling those who attempt to make use of health clinics as well as pushing minor drugs. He has yet to find a stable supplier of Red Spice nor has he moved on the Tetri-Corvatta clinics. His relation with the other Crimelords is a less than diplomatic, unending hostility, there are constant, unimportant border skirmishes. 
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Augmentations: Caliban is more of a machine than man and more of a monster than machine.
-Low tech but extremely forceful enhanced muscle synapses with back up servos and several industrial pistons which massively boost strength and endurance, the perceived weight of these modifications is counteracted by their efficiency. Caliban is surprisingly expedite and agile.  
-Intermittent patches of bullet proof weave, whatever compound it was made out of was obviously a prototype as many patches have begun to rust. Furthermore there are several large battle-scarred tensile plates welded onto his body which look like they could take a significant amount of damage. 
-A large array of bladed weapons are strewn across  his body which vary from concealed circular, hard tipped spinning saw blades to rudimentary knives.  
-Not an augmentation per say but hidden within the crevices and scars of Caliban’s twisted body are diminutive spindly robotic spiders which regularly prong there way across his wounded body making whatever repairs they can, from welding to stitching to the removal of viscera.  
-From his hunched back and upper arms protrude all manner of  antennas and spikes, which alert him to thermal, electrical and chemical changes in close vicinity.  
-Perhaps several mental  and visual upgrades over which he has very tentative control if any at all.
-He assumes his organs are not his own. He needs not eat , drink or sleep, nor does he tire. His blood slicks around his veins a sickly black. He assumes he doesn't need to breath as he never runs out of breath and his nervous system is not that of a normal man having believed he has broken his spine several times. As a result of this Caliban is unaffected by red spice and all other intoxicants.   
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Equipment: Little if any that isn't attached to his body except for a dirty mustard shawl he drapes around his body as a minimum semblance of human practice. 
[/hider]

Edit: Whoops! Looks like "of Ghost Town" has already been claimed.