[center][h2]Spencer Tras[/h2][/center]

[h3]About[/h3]
Just your average busker-cum-mercenary from the streets and slums of Careo Fas, smelliest planet in the outer ring. He conceals his armaments under a gilt-trim crimson Technocrat officer jacket. Beneath that, he wears nanofiber mail combat fatigues that are remarkably scratch, slice, stab, projectile, and stain resistant; sometimes they even serve as camouflage. Around his waist is a utility belt, ornamented by both plasma and concussion grenades, trip wire, throwing knives, and duct tape. Slung across his back is his homemade plasma rifle, equipped with iridium capsules and an adjustable nozzle. Quite a few other things also weigh him down, mostly looted off the bodies of his victims. Well, let’s be honest, they were mostly victims of bad luck. 

[list][*][i]The Ghetto[/i]—a plasma rifle that has been rigged, jigged, and repaired so many times that it looks like it is more lethal to the person using it than their target.
[*][i]Chapel[/i]—.442 caliber automatic gauss electromagnetic rail pistol with a phase-shift magazine that transmutes atmosphere into ammunition.
[*][i]PI-PSA45-K[/i]—.45 caliber handgun with a high-frequency bayonet, flash light, and laser sight containing 12 explosive cobalt-tipped rounds in its clip.
[*][i]Megumi Sakura[/i]—wakizashi, reflective as a mirror and  tomb of an ice elemental, she has routed armies with her icy floes.
[*][i]Keefe[/i]—war sword, crafted by the Xindi, carved with runes, and drenched in an ominous shroud of dread and decay; have no doubt, Keefe will carve spirit as readily as flesh.
[*][i]Rhiannon[/i]—seax (long, thick knife) exuding a black mist that can solidify into a shield of sorcery at the bearer’s whim.
[*][i]High-frequency Blade[/i]—katana vibrating in the ultrasonic, a factor that overcomes even the toughest of physical obstacles.[/list]

Under his ratty blond hair and over his dopey green eyes are designer shades that doubtlessly cause every girl within eyeshot become as moist as the ambiance ascending from his pits.

Whoops. That last bit is just nerves.

[h3]History[/h3]
Having gathered just enough money for a ticket out of heck, after his loathsome beginnings at Careo Fas, Spencer went to the spaceport. He had no real plans, but they went up in smoke when a terrorist group bombed the facility before he even opened the door to step in. Unscathed, he did his best to take care of the wounded, but was driven off by their uncharitable nature. On his way back to his flat in the less affluent region of Careo Fas, he heard a shooting at a bar, and curiosity drove him in. There, a gunman thrust a weapon in his hands and told him to kill anyone who came by. He stood there in shock, and eventually someone did venture close enough to witness what had transpired there. Afraid, he shot the woman in the shoulder and ran. 

Fortunately, that is the night war erupted. In the confusion, he managed to make his way as a stowaway aboard a freighter, which left him on the planet Terra in an interesting city called Southern Sea. From there, he was recruited by a man named Tersan Rogut, given clothes and armaments, and trained as an assassin with an affinity for energy rifles.

There are many exploits Spencer engaged in under Tersan's direction, especially those involving a lycanthrope named Will who had numerous run-ins with the Red Technocracy. The two would pose as pimp and product, and try to lure high-ranking members of the Technocracy into a disreputable situation. This resulted in quite a few questionable videos and pictures of Will being strewn across the Red Technocracy pornnet.

After a series of strange, psychotic dreams, Tersan made sure Spencer started taking some anti-psychotropic medication. Injected in the buttocks. Spencer wasn't a huge fan of being held down by Tersan and stabbed with a horse needle, but the medication did get the job done. 

In the aftermath of these dreams, Spencer took up residence in Wing City and became a drunk, gambler, and a man of high-reputation and ill-repute. His many exploits there include urinating on a machine named Cuddles and escaping due to a Goldbergian series of events that sent him into the sewer below the Gambit's Bar, from which he was later rescued by Rin and Motoko, machines constructed by Ryand-Smith. After being informed of his assault on the robot, he created a nice apology card out of construction paper and colored sparkle-glue and forwarded it on to Cuddles. He never did receive a response.

From Wing City, Spencer ended up on Valhalla. At least, he thinks that was it. As a drunk stripper, it was too much to remember. Then a man named Loinel reconnected with him and offered him a job as an informant working for The Abdictory. Not hard; right? Not really. A frequent planet hopper, he got in a fight in Allure City on Fortis and, the next day, woke up in Allure City on Earth. Under siege. Well, he high-tailed it to his friend’s apartment, went into the back room, and hit the city-wide EMP, passed out, woke up, ran outside, and got teleported to safety just moments before an antimatter nuke hit the city.

[quote=C | I | M | P | T][code]
Out of the Ordinary
 > 0 Clout
 > 0 Intellect
 > 4 Magic :: unusually good luck ensures success in his endeavors
 > 1 Physical :: street busker born and raised, always on the run
 > 2 Technological :: can figure out any weapon on-the-fly[/code][/quote]
[quote=Soul Sigil][code]
Beyond the Veil of Flesh
 > Ximbic-8 inspected Spencer Tras’ soul and marked his right ass cheek with a radiant glyph: six-sided diamond dice rolling through a line of cocaine on a skank’s taint and scoring double sevens.[/code][/quote]