Right, time to embarrass myself. [@Kingfisher] can be blamed for anything wrong with the sheet. 

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[b]Name/Nickname: [/b]Callie “Calypso” Graham

[b]Gender:[/b] Female

[b]Age:[/b] 23

[b]
Appearance:[/b] In her line of work it’s preferred to be forgettable, and fortunately for Calypso she doesn’t have to put in too much effort to pull that off. Decently built at five and a half feet and with the almost athletic build of someone who subs fries for salad most days, Calypso is still only the most attractive person in the room is when she’s the only one there—unless there’s a particularly hot statue. Her skin is the olive tint of someone whose roots were in the Mediterranean, although she sure as sugar doesn’t know exactly where her heritage lies besides an “I ‘unno, Earth?”

Her face is plain and relatively inexpressive, with a hooked nose and thick eyebrows. The only makeup she really bothers with is around her eyes, which are brown and match her hair that she generally keeps up in a ponytail. Calypso prefers to wear casual clothes—leggings, jeans, tank tops, tees, zip-ups, hats, sneakers—over anything else, especially when working, and can safely say that the last time she wore a dress was fifteen years ago. She walks with the hurried importance of a person not wanting to be stopped and bothered by people handing out flyers or asking for handouts, stands up straight enough without seeming like the military-type, and tends to default to a quiet, calm tone when speaking.

[b]Personality:[/b] Calypso is the kind of person who would go to a party; she is not the kind of person that would bring the party. The young woman is sociable, friendly, and mildly outgoing, but she never seeks to be the center of attention and tends to keep her excitement at a muted level. She’s fun enough to be around without being insufferable, listens well to others, respects their opinions, and tries not to offend when she talks while still not giving in on her own beliefs. Amongst her friends, or at least the ones who only know her as Callie, she is viewed as mature, thoughtful, reliable, and “has her stuff together”, but this is largely because Calypso surrounds herself with hopeless wretches that  make herself look better in comparison. The truth of the matter is, the woman absolutely loves being depended upon by others because it is just one more way she is able to exert power. In a world where weak limbs can be chopped off and replaced in the blink of an eye, a useful person is an irreplaceable person.

Calypso carries with her an unbridled, perhaps even an unhealthy amount of ambition. Her ambition is coupled with a certain level of greed and fueled by a burning jealousy for that which she doesn’t or cannot have. Despite not wanting to be in the limelight, she does want to hold control over whatever court she finds herself in. She’s not above taking shortcuts, but patience is often in play when she is trying to seize a bit more influence over her peers and she positively exudes confidence when she is dealing with people. Calypso believes that weakness is something of which to be ashamed, to be kept hidden in the dark, or to be exploited in others. While she is willing to trust others with tasks and with their word, it is rare for her to share her feelings or fears. Often, when she does, it is only to let their guard down so she can rip more control from them.

However, that does not mean that she is some kind of narcissistic, antisocial megalomaniac. True, while she primarily cares only for herself and certain astute individuals can see the wolf inside of her, she isn’t utterly heartless. The woman has empathy and knows right from wrong, and if the high road is an option that still works in her favor then she will take it almost every single time. She would never directly harm someone unless in self-defense, although empty threats have been uttered by her before. Perhaps the most dangerous thing about Calypso is that she is extremely self-aware and knows how she measures up against other people. More importantly, she is capable of setting her pride to the side and accepting the fact that she will meet people who are better than her. Although she might not be as capable of hiding the fact that she doesn’t like them.

[b]Bio:[/b] Callie Graham was born into insignificance, just another poor kid born destined to amount to nothing and grow up to be a waste if she wasn’t wasted first. She could stare into a bottle or grab a needle and whine about how she was never given the options that other people were, but Callie looks at her rough upbringing as something that pushed her to become stronger instead of crippling her. Thanks to her mother being in a perpetual Trance limbo she had to learn how to be independent, making crappy meals and washing her own clothes in the sink. Thanks to the failure to properly staff the schools in the poorer districts of Megacity Arcadia, the lessons she learned on the streets stuck with her instead. Thanks to her friend that overdosed at the age of twelve, she learned that maybe it was better to be a teetotaler and deal with the pain instead of trying to bury it with powder.

However, even though she avoided the fatal traps that most of her peers fell for, she was still stuck in a living hell. More specifically, as she entered her teenage years and whatever supply of money her junkie mother was pulling in had fallen off, she was being pushed to the edge of desperation. Originally, Callie had intended on finishing high school because even having an education from a piss-poor school was better than having nothing, but she needed to start making money and she needed to do it fast. The unstoppable march of technology moving forward had eliminated the need for most part-time jobs fit for a untalented teenage punk, so she figured she’d turn to a job in sales. Of course, the only thing people in the area that would be interested in what she was selling would either be drugs or herself, and she had no desire to be a gangbanger or in gang bangs. Instead, she took a third option and signed up to become a runner for Capri.

Capri had been around for a few years on the Warp and had recently grown in popularity as a courier service for those who desired secrecy and valued their package enough that they didn’t want to risk it with a hackable drone. The service was simple and streamlined with a no-questions asked policy, allowing people to deliver anything, legal or otherwise. Capri protected the identities of the senders and recipients through a number of techy-crap that Callie did not understand, but it was clear from the sign-up page that any problems with the law would fall solely on the shoulders of the courier. In other words, it was a scapegoat service. Want to move some guns but not sure if the heat has been keeping eyes on your operation? Time to call for a Capri. The risks were clear, but the pay was promising. Typing “Calypso” into the blank space for username, Callie’s life toeing the line of crime truly began. It’s also when the jealousy that fueled her ambition first began to fester.

She had seen how the other side lived through television through years, but it wasn’t until she had delivered a package to her first penthouse or dropped one off behind the toilet in the bathroom of a bumping club that she realized what she had been missing out on. Up until now, money had been something that was a necessity, something that was sacred. To simply put it, without the meager amount of money she had she would die. After working for Capri for a few months not only did she know that she would be eating that week, but that she had enough to store away in hopes of moving into a nicer place or putting her mother into a rehab clinic. For what seemed like the first time in her life, she started to know what it felt like to have control over the things around her.  

However, while it might’ve been her best option, being a professional patsy wasn’t the best of careers for anyone to pursue. She avoided the cops and corporate security officers like the plague, but there were still nights where the calls were too close for comfort. Every now and then she would have a client who would harass her or try to pay her extra to do something that wasn’t part of her job description—Calypso was a delivery girl, not an assassin. She had been shot at several times, but still less than if she had been flying colors of a gang. Plus, unlike those who ran in a gang, she still had some deniability since she didn’t know what she was delivering either. She could go to bed at night not certain if she was a good person, but at least knowing that she wasn’t an awful person, and sometimes that is enough.

And then she woke up one morning to find out that the cybernetics clinic that she had dropped a package off out back had blown up several hours later in an attack claimed by the Neanderthals, leaving a few dozen people wounded and several killed. If the guilt of being instrumental in a terrorist attack wasn’t enough, the images of her from a camera feed dropping off the football were plastered over screens all over town. Word on the Warp was that the Awakened were on the hunt for the still-unknown bomber (thankfully, her face had remained hidden by her hat), not to mention the authorities were also searching for the suspect. Calypso laid low for several weeks, and eventually the buzz surrounding the attack diminished. Instead, everybody started chattering about some stupid map. Although it wasn’t any old stupid map, it was a stupid map so valuable that if Calypso got her hands on it and found the right buyer she’d never need to live another day serving as the tool for someone else ever again.

Sounds like a good deal to her. Maybe she'd reconsider her stance on joining with a gang after all.

[b]
Other:[/b] As previously mentioned, Capri is a courier service primarily used by Warp users to deliver illegal goods while keeping their hands clean and their identities mostly anonymous, leaving all the fault on the delivery boy if they get caught. Despite her last job leaving an awful taste in her mouth, Calypso is still an active runner for the time being.

Calypso believes that the smartest way to fight is to avoid confrontation in the first place. She’s uncomfortable around guns and has never shot one in her life. That said, she does carry a Static Pick, a stiletto-like knife that is as useful for stabbing assailants as it is for temporarily disrupting electronics with an electronic pulse.

While she isn’t opposed to cybernetics in anyway, the woman does not have any herself.

Calypso was originally just her Capri handle, but it has grown to be pretty much how most people know her these days—it seems like the only one who still calls her Callie is her mom.

Capri is her main form of income, but Calypso bartends part-time as well. People still enjoy having a bartender listen to them moan about work, even if she’s just pushing a button when it comes to mixing their drinks. It used to be called Bar 451, but ever since the Black Brethren moved into the neighborhood the locals started to call it the Black Hole. Fun place to drink if you don’t mind a stabbing or two.

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