[hider=Wesley Data]
[CENTER][SUB][COLOR=cecece]W E S L E Y   D A T A
◄  48   ▎   MALE  ▎  178cm  ►[/COLOR][/SUB][/CENTER]


[SUB][COLOR=cecece]P R O F I L E[/COLOR][/SUB][hr][color=a8a8a8]
	Old school. When you're up shit creek and you ask that guy you don't want to owe a favour for an assist, Wesley is the guy [i]they[/i] know to get it done. The fixer, the man that the consigliere entrusts to ensure that things stay to plan. Able to act as anyone, from anywhere, Wesley has a knack for being able to ghost his way through any corporate detector - technical, or social. Average height, average build, with a face that could change to be anyone - literally - in his later years Wesley has found himself in the ideal position to slip in labs, branch offices, depots, warehouses, any assume the role of anyone ideally placed to extract information, or allow more direct crews an easy passage. 

	Wesley was an old quantum cowboy, in one life several generations ago he used to live the life of a corporate hack. Not the grueling existance of some plebian - he had aspirations, a future. Stock Analyst, window office, 89th floor - taking home a peon's average yearly wage every week, every day if the market played nice. Connecting dots that no-one else can see - some, perhaps, less legiitimately obtained but no one cares so long as there are profits. There are three ways to win: be first, be smarter, or cheat - Wesley endevoured to do all three.

	Things changed, computers got faster, smaller, implants and [i]upgrades[/i] became more common. Deadly afraid of the affect that cybernetics has on the human psyche, Wesley avoided corrupting his soul as much as possible. He fell behind, his peers plugged in and connected had the compute to see patterns he couldn't. So long as your output remained high, any eccentricy was overlooked by the overlords. As soon as the numbers started to drop he found himself staring up at his old window view, alongside the peons he once looked down on.

	Now he maintains bare minimum upgrades to scrape by in the modern world, and absolutely nothing that directly interfaces with the core of his being. What he lacks in cybernetics, he makes up for in subtle bio-modifications: high-tensile nanocarbon fibers at the base of every muscle group. Not extensive, not for strength like some of the champion meat-gladiators who parade across legal and illegal entertainment... subtle but numerous enough that with a throbbing constant pain he can literally wear any face that he desires. 
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[SUB][COLOR=cecece]D A Y S - G O N E[/COLOR][/SUB][hr][color=a8a8a8]
	Wesley was raied in a sheltered and gated community. Not [i]wealthy[/i], just lacking bullet holes on the interior walls. But such an environment does allow the bright to thrive rather than merely survive; hard-study, extra-curricular exercises and a unlocked server rooms allowed Wesley to find himself studying alongside the children of the corporate elites. He put himself on the fast-track to success, and was due to find himself on top of the work if simple fear didn't get in the way. He knew how easy it was to break into trivial systems, everything held a certain pattern and once you studied it enough you could find the one thread which would unravel the entire shirt. Having seen, and beat, the best of corporate security on his meteoric rise on the corproate ladder Wesley hardly felt he could trust any computer to sit inside his skull, any system to interface directly with his nerves. Data wasn't just a cool name, it was the essence of his being - everyone always had to be right 100% of the time, he only had to be right once. Before cybernetics became commonplace, being able to visualise and contexualise these vast streams of information was a skill. Now, anyone jacked in can do the same.

	Cast down from his ivory tower, Wesley did what he did best: assessed, analysed, processed. He had enough money to live comfortably the rest of his life, yet that wasn't enough. Data wasn't just a namesake, it was an addiction. To see a pattern, to bet against it and to validate your success - thats what he lived for. The only reason he used to be able to afford to live like a king was because the corporation had their fingers pressed against the scale, tipping it in the favour. If that pressure was to be aleviated for a second, everything would get really fair really quick - and no one wants that. If you know whats coming, if you can form the right leverage, you can jump off the scale at the arc of it's swing and come out ahead. Wesley resolved to do just that. 

	For the last twenty years he's been slowly tipping the right scales. Sometimes hired, sometimes for his own amusement. Identfying the right fulcrum to generate the most profit. It's been a while since he last dealt with the Dead Presidents, apparently they're getting out? Well this should be hell of a last job for them.[/color]


[SUB][COLOR=cecece]M O R A L S[/COLOR][/SUB][hr][color=a8a8a8]

	See in OOC.[/color]


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