P R O F I L E Troy Links is ambitious for an indie, always looking to outdo himself, never settling for subpar performance. He worked in the Night City hospital with a modest level of care, getting repairs done in a clean fashion with minimal loss of life and limb. Troy had a knack for finding and fixing wounds that rivals even seasoned ripperdocs.
However, that ambition caused a few problems for him in the past. He was a former employee at TTI, but he grew restless. The work became practice for him, and he realized that his skills had dulled from the monotony of it all. So, he left the Night City hospital, got rid of his SIN, and began work as a street doc. He barely speaks to much of anyone outside of working and negotiating, always testing new things, taking new equipment apart just to see what it does and then put it back together.
D A Y S - G O N E Excerpts from Troy’s voice logs:
“Start log. I’ve been in Night City for a while, and it’s…not what I expected. If I was told a month that I’d be getting paid to fix people up in the City of Dreams, I’d have kissed them. But now? All I feel is robbed. Everyday’s the same old shuffle: get up, head to the TTI hospital, wait for a call, hop on an AV-4, deal with some shirt or Solo who got caught up with the wrong gang, rinse, repeat. The city’s driving me crazy, and no one wants to listen. Everyone’s fine with this mindless complacency, and I was too, but not now. Now I want something more than being a number. I’m not here to waste my time on whatever issues some megacorp has. I came to Night City to make a name for myself. I’ll make this city work for me, even if it’s the end of me. End log.” - Entry No. 12
“Start log. I’m on the road to Night City, since I got stationed at the hospital there. The Whos said something about increased levels of crime and needing more bodies on the field. My workmates seem excited for the chance, and I can feel the anticipation going through everyone. I can’t wait to see what the city of dreams is like. So many different cultures and walks of life, and so many opportunities to shine in my own way! Frag, there’s so much to think and plan out, and so little time. I’ll figure it out later, but for now, I have to get myself a place to sleep, and some spending money. Oh, and get an address on the Net so my family can send me pictures. I plan to keep records of my time here, so I got this voice recorder. More to follow. End log.” - Entry No. 1
“Start log. I’ve taken my skills to the Black Market, and the patients are much more varied. I had seen bits of flash on some shirts in my old life, but some of the borgs have chrome I’d only heard rumors about! The patients pay well, and I’m looking at a set of cyberoptics with a few good functions. They’re meant for Solos and Fixers, but the UV setting is something I need for cleaning and infrared would be wondrous for finding overheating cyberware. Still, saving up for it’s gonna be a hassle, since my creds aren’t looking…great. But I’ve been getting a few more patients than the average in the past few days, so that might change soon. It’s kinda weird to imagine where I was a year ago. The lessons I learned on the Trauma Team stick with me even now. Being a ripper for the TTI wasn’t the worst decision I’ve made, and leaving wasn’t the best. But it’s fine, I’m fine. I’ve acclimated to this life. Still, I stay up at night thinking about these things. Heh, I shouldn’t dwell on it too much, so I’ll sign off here. End log.” - Entry No. 36
M E M O R I E S Excerpts from Troy’s voice logs:
“Start log. Some bount from TTI tried to chalk me out a couple days ago. The good news is he’s not going back to report to them, I made sure of it. I won’t be going down that alley until the badges clear the place though. At least I was alone when it happened, so no witnesses to deal with. But there’s a catch, as always. The bount got off a few shots from his taser, and it shorted out some of my optics, and partially disabled the jazz I’d had implanted. Hopefully the effects will wear off so I can get back to practice. But this brings up a worrisome problem. A bunch of megacorps are making some really big moves, and the Market’s reaching Chinese takeout levels of chaos, and it doesn’t seem to be letting up soon. I need some muscle, and I need it sooner than later. For the moment, I’ll lay low and see what comes up. End log.” - Entry No. 80
“Start log. First, an update. The optics and jazz are now back to functioning at full performance. The twitcher incident was a setback, but the effects of it have chilled. Now, for more interesting news. I recently came across a group of mercenaries asking for my talents. Night City’s been going to drek for a while, and I’ve never had so many patients in my life. It’s dangerous to be alone, and this might be my chance to be more than some expendable Street Doc. They seem to be a decent lot, but not many have medical experience, so I have decided to fill the gap. Hopefully the biz isn’t too bad. I don’t much care about their ideals, but an opportunity’s an opportunity. More to follow as needed. End log.” - Entry No. 88
C Y B E R N E T I C S
Rainbow Optics: A series of cyberoptics and bioware that let Troy see multiple wavelengths of light, including infrared, ultraviolet, and gamma rays for rapid diagnosis. These enhancements also give him telescopic vision, but Troy rarely uses this for anything besides delicate surgery and fine repairs.
Jazz Hands: A pair of chips in each of Troy’s forearms that earned him the nickname Fingers. These implants keep his hands steady under high stress, letting Troy give aid even in a gunfight. As a side effect, Troy’s aim is unnaturally steady.
”I never was good at packing. Still, this should be enough.”
Slide: A Tsunami Nue with a few modifications to make sure it never needs any significant repairs.
Bug Out bag: A duffel bag filled with surgeon’s tools, a Swiss Army knife, a bag of spare syringe tips, some creds, a few changes of clothes, a taser, and a gun cleaning kit.
The cure: A 10oz tempered glass bottle filled with a combination of cyanide and a fast acting corroding agent, as well as a piston. Perfect for sparing patients the suffering of cyberpsychosis. “May come in handy sooner rather than later.”
A L I S T A I R ' S E T ' L I U ◄ 26 ▎ MALE ▎ 5'8 ►
I was a teenage outlaw With no worries on my mind And now I'm getting older My heart is growing colder all the time...
P R O F I L E
Two years on the run from Arasaka have neutered Set’s once-flamboyant personal style into a muted shell of the corporate netrunner playboy he used to be. His facial features are unremarkably East Asian and slightly emaciated from a constant diet of sugary kibble. But no matter where he may be, it’s still clear to see that Set didn’t grow up on the streets. His skin is soft, pale and remarkably free of scars or cuts any other streetkid would proudly sport. But looks can be deceiving: Set is noticeably alert and aware of his own surroundings even when "jacked out" into the real world.
While two years of living on the Street have knocked his ego down a peg or two, Set’s past life as Arasaka’s pampered attack dog inevitably shines through once he is given a chance to prove himself. Set is good at netrunning, and–unfortunately for those around him–he knows it. In a corporate psychological diagnosis, Set’s personality flaws as an Arasaka employee included, among others: general impulsiveness, an inflated sense of self-importance, and an inability to work with people he considers less competent than he is. Su’s personal assessment, in simple terms: “a stuck-up asshole, especially to the people (he) love(s).”
D A Y S - G O N E
POB: Shenzhen-Guangzhou Greater Metropolitan Region, People’s Republic of China
Subject was born an only child and moved with his family to San Francisco in 2055. Parents were electronics technicians for Zhirafa.
In 2064, subject was second runner-up of his school district’s local hackathon. In 2066, became the youngest ever grand champion of San Francisco’s Annual City CodeCup with his proposed redesign of the SFPD’s defensive NET architecture.
In 2069, subject was first-runner up of the Arasaka Programming World Cup for Young Technology Leaders, and was correspondingly awarded a scholarship in computer science in the Tokyo campus of the Arasaka Institute of Technology.
After graduating from the accelerated track, subject moved to Singapore and worked as a cybersecurity specialist for Arasaka. Was promoted several times for exceptional performance in neutralizing SovOil cyberthreats to Petrochem facilities in Indonesia.
Subject developed an observable gambling compulsion and was frequently sighted in Macau casinos when on paid leave. Subject was also the unconfirmed source of several minor decryption programs detected and quarantined by Macau police, possibly initially sold off to triads to pay off casino credit.
Subject was reportedly involved in a romantic relationship with one Qiao Suli, a Singaporean chemical engineer for Petrochem.
On 2075/10/14, subject was identified as the trigger of a distress signal originating from one of Arasaka’s Singaporean dataforts, later established to be the result of an attempted unauthorized mass decryption of field operative biodata. Subject was immediately apprehended by Arasaka Security and a tactical interrogation yielded the working conclusion that he was acting on the orders of several Macau triad bosses in order to pay back a series of accrued financial debts. His claim that no sensitive data was leaked to criminal elements was deemed unlikely.
Subject escaped from detention with the aid of an outside actor, possibly Qiao. Arasaka security operatives immediately engaged in hot pursuit, but subject was able to have his company-provided geotracker implants surgically removed piecemeal throughout Southeast Asia. Subject's last known biosignals were traced to Calcutta. Complaint on Qiao was submitted to Petrochem HR, but investigation failed to yield results.
Subject’s employment contract was TERMINATED by Arasaka on 2075/10/17. Arasaka will not consider any future applications from subject for formal employment or other contractual work.
Arasaka has classified subject as PERSONA NON GRATA and will be treated according to field ROE as determined by Arasaka Security.
M E M O R I E S
log located. filetype: audio
“Set, if you’re listening to this, you’re probably out of the facility. Give your body some time to heal from what those Arasaka thugs did to your internal cyberware. In fact, I suggest you have all of that junk removed from your system. The less data footprints Arasaka has on you, the better.
“Now, onto what you need to know.”
A deep breath.
“I don’t know how I could have fucked up your life more than you did.
"You loved to go on and on about your fancy toys, your supercars, your casino memberships and your corporate penthouses–that it was all because of you. That nobody gave you anything, that you worked for every single eurobuck of this meaningless corporate bullshit.
"Well, now, you can’t blame me. You can’t even blame Arasaka–you knew what you got yourself into. This is all on you.
"You’ve thrown away your life. With your credentials wiped, you’ll never work another proper corpo job again. And it’s not just Arasaka that’s after you–the only way you’ll get into triad territory again is with your head on a pike. Your parents are even under house arrest, for Christ’s sake. Not to mention how I’m definitely on Arasaka’s watchlist now–you couldn’t have broken out of there without somebody helping you.
“But, someday, Set–”
A pause, then quiet sobbing.
“I wish you would remember who you were before. When we met, you promised that you would work so hard, we’d live in one of those starscrapers in the atmosphere with a view of the Milky Way in our living room. We both promised each other so much. I don’t know how we could get it back now.
“One day, you could come back here. To Singapore. For us. But I wouldn’t even know where to start. You’ll probably have to do dirty jobs, hurt and kill even more people . . . all so that you can have a second chance at life. I don’t know how I could live with that.
“This is the last thing you’ll probably hear from me in a long time. I have my own life to live and my own name to clear. But in case a miracle happens, in case you manage to put your life back together again . . .
Steven has stared CyberPsychos down without flinching. A cool, calm and collected individual. Despite medical technology and body sculpting keeping him physically around the early 40s, his age is starting to catch up to him. He has a dislike for Cyberware and those that rely on it to bolster their combat effectiveness. He has returned most of his advanced cyberware when he retired from MaxTac. He has seen what CyberPsychosis can do to the best of people and made a promise never to go down that road. Steven Bates, who goes by the code name ‘Clock,’ is a 6’2 athletic man. Coming from a wealthy family of Corporate Workers, Steven is conventionally attractive due to BodySculpting, at least he would have been in his younger days. Now the lines are starting to come through, and he has more scars from adding and removing Cyberware.
D A Y S - G O N E “Where does one start? The beginning is a good a place as any, I suppose. ”
Born to a pair of Corpo Workers in Night City, Steven Bartholomew Bates was pretty well off. His parents cared for him, and their jobs payed well enough to keep him out of too much trouble. Steven went some Ivy League Corpo School, but never really got good grades. Where Steven failed academically, he excelled physically. During his teenage years, he won a fight against one of his chipped classmates before he himself had any Augs. This raw talent was recognised by Arasaka, and they attempted to recruit him to be a Corpo Solo, but he declined because he wanted to really help people. So he signed up to the NCPD once he graduated high school. Once he started getting equipped with high end combat augs, it became apparent Steven was quite good at his job. About a year after joining the NCPD he met a girl at a bar in his down time. Catlyn Davis. She was a lab technician working for Arasaka. Nothing too major, but it paid the bills. Steven and Catlyn hit it off. They started dating and got married two years later. About eighteen months after the wedding, Steven got offered a transfer to MaxTac. He was hesitant to take the transfer as it meant he would be in more danger and would have to get some experimental military grade augs. Catlyn convinced Steven to accept the transfer, saying that the extra money would be helpful in helping them start a family. The next ten years were good. Steven proved very good at his job. The only downside was Catlyn proved to be infertile. A genetic condition that cost to much to fix to be feasible, even with them both working full time. So they bought a high end apartment and we’re living the high life. With Steven making a name for himself within the ranks of MaxTac, his hours were increasing. During one particularly long shift, he got a call to say his wife had been in a car crash. Caught in the crossfire of a gang hit gone wrong. Luckily they had Trauma Team coverage so she was saved. Steven knocked off early that shift, and spent the night with his wife in hospital. After the required surgery, she was physically fine, but her mental health had taken a hit. Once Steven went back to work, Catlyn began to have panic attacks, and had developed a slight addiction to the pain medication she was given after the crash. She began to feel unsafe, and found she could get the pain meds from a ripper doc if she got augmented. This started Catlyn down the road of getting addicted to Cyberware. She hid this from Steven who was getting called into work more and more. Five years after the car crash, Catlyn went Psycho. Steven was at work and got the call to put a CyberPsycho down. There was nothing abnormal about the call, until he got there and realised the CyberPsycho was his wife. He tried to calm her down, but she had already gone too far. He was forced to put his wife down. This rattled Steven, who the following week had most of his CyberWare removed, and put in his resignation. He got a hefty pension for his service and for relinquishing most of the Cyberware. So he got to keep his apartment. He lasted about five years on his savings and pension before he needed to pick up a new job. Given his service record, it was relatively easy to find a fixer willing to bring him on as a Merc. He once again began to make a name for himself. Once again getting Auged, but not to the extreme he had when he was working for MaxTac. He earned a reputation for not relying on Cyberware.
M E M O R I E S
“My wife. At least she used to be. I’m a damn fool for ignoring the signs, a d refuse to let it happen again.” “I know it’s unhealthy, but I can’t help but run the BD of our wedding. Lucky those mil spec augs had the recorders built in.” “I’ve finally invested in a good CyberShrink BD. I keep seeing her face when I close my eyes. I haven’t slept in days and the crew are getting worried. Hopefully this helps.”
“Probably the only member of the crew I don’t respect.” “Choom’s a CyberPsycho, don’t care what he has to say about. Taking ‘walks’ to kill people, it’s fucked up. You should only ever kill people out of self defence or because you are being paid to. This self righteous crusade is nothing more then the ramblings of a Psycho.” “Best to keep him at arms reach lest he turn on us. I’ve got MaxTac on speed dial for when that day comes.”
“A net runner is a dime a dozen in Night City, but a good one damn hard to find. Set is one of the good ones.” “Some members of the crew used to give him grief about being born a Corpo, but he’s one of us now, and I’ll fight anyone that threatens him.” “I used to try and defend the kid, but he seems to be able to look after himself.”
“I wish she would lay off the CyberWare. It’s be a shame to have to dial MaxTac on her.” “At least she has enough common sense to keep her carnage limited to the job we get paid to do.” “Not going to lie, I’m not sure if I found incredibly sexy, or incredibly scary.”
“The Doc. I appreciate his work. Shame he couldn’t save Boots, but that’s what you get for running ahead without a plan. I don’t blame the Doc for not being able to save him.” “He’s good at his job. If he doesn’t have the Ware you are looking for, chances are he knows where you can find it.”
G E A R & C Y B E R N E T I C S
MiliTech Berserk MK.5 - His operating system. Allows him to go Beserk for a short period, giving him an array of buffs.
Blitzkrieg Arc-Thrower - Replacing his left arm, it operates by firing a low-energy laser down an ionized air path which creates a high voltage 10m lightning bolt that fires from the end of his arm, giving him the power of the Gods.
Muscle & Bone Lace - Muscle and bone lace use nanites to thread microscopic artificial fibers through muscle and bone tissue. The result is that the tissue is both stronger (physical strength is enhanced) and more resistant to damage. Muscle and bone lace will enhance overall strength and durability, but not to the degree of an actual artificial cyberlimb.
Kiroshi Dodgeball - This cyberoptic option from Kiroshi Optics consists of a logic processor keyed to predict movements of the human body according to established patterns of body language. The device will enhance the user's close-combat capabilities, allowing him/her to predict an opponent's offensive or defensive actions.
Constitution Arms Hurricane Assault Weapon
Federated Arms 454 DA "Super Chief"
A thermal Katana
Midnight Arms SOR-22
a pair of combat knives. One deals extra electromagnetic damage and the other deals extra chemical damage.
P R O F I L E Tall, business like and stalwart. This man, with tanned skin and dark haired, with an undercut, a shock of blonde hair. With a deceptively strong frame hidden under his doctors gear. A set of extra limbs grafted to his spine. One of them being an injector that can morph into a three fingered hand. The other being a medical cutting tool that can also morph into a hand. When out in the field with the team he's wearing light combat armor, colored in a urban tactical pattern, along with combat boots and along sleeved compression shirt. Both arms are colored matted steel grey, Both hands house smart weapon interfaces. And with a flick both hands can change into "Delicate Work Arrays" that help him install cyberware. His doctors outfit is a long thigh length doctors coat, padded and with abit of kevlar.
D A Y S - G O N E You start small. You go to school usually. If you're focused you can go far. If you're lucky you get picked up by a corp education system and you go far and fast. Some people get lucky. Jorick did get rpretty lucky in the grand scheme of things. His family wasn't terrifically rich or anything, but Truama Team International saw something in him perhaps. Jorick was allowed into a Corp run education academy. For some time he coasted along. But showed some interest in Bio-physical synchronicity and augmentation. upon his 19th birthday and his graduation from the TTI Education Academy in Vancouver, Canada he was offered a chance. The company would set him and three other medical personnel up with a Medical/Ripper clinic or a "Legal Augmentation Clinic" near the Corp Plaza of Night City.
What kind of person would he be not to snap that up.
Half way through his 19th year of life he'd now be Doctor Jorick Godricksson, doing "chrome" grafting and surgery for anyone and everyone. No matter the circumstances. Rich and Poor. Old and Young. He'd set up debt and payment opportunities through TTI finances, to help his patients.
To this day he still works out of that Corp Plaza ripper clinic, and regularly will don light armor, and grab up a pair of Kang Tao A-22B Chao smart pistols to help out on the field while of course having a medical bag filled with meds for the team.
Meeting the Crew
At first, it was a distant relationship. This or that member of the early crew came in for some Chrome work. Someone would come in and offer to sell him some bit of chrome they'd picked up, and he's buy it off them for an okay price, probably well below what it was really worth, but it's still fair.
This would continue for sometime, as the crew in general came to him for work or to sell mods and augments.
Has operated a few times on this or that member of the crew after a bad fire fight or an Op that went sideways.
A particular moment with a former member of the Crew named Boots was a sad time. Brought in ripped up at the chest and hip. The only thing those who brought him in was that they had run into someone with a wicked set of mantis blades. Jorick's clinic mates had all come in to help him. All four plus the nursing staff at one point in a small exam room working to try and keep the kid alive. Twice bringing him back from the brink. But in then end there was just nothing they could do. Boots had passed away. Jorick pleading with the other three doctors and the nursing staff to keep quiet. And then shooing the crew out the door before the corporate team sent to check on the clinic because of an automatic alert that was sent out arrives. Jorick covered for the Crew at that moment. And many moments after that as well.
M E M O R I E SFirst and foremost, everyone who approaches Jorick is treated the same way. Distant and as a client first, not a friend. It takes many visits or a high end, high take situation to get into his good books and then you're going to be looked after with the best of intentions.
Medical Director Crassius Nork - Jorick's direct supervisor at the local TTI Headquarters. The pair don't always see eye to eye, but there is a mutual respect between the pair. Crassius works the coporate boards and funding parties. And keeps the many TTI medical operatives running with the resources he procures. Jorick describes him as acerbic and needlessly loud, but the respect is clear.
Eric Forheen, Tod Liker and Veronica Staggir - The other three Doctors that work out of the Clinic with him. Eric works with surgery, while Tod does work specifically with neural interfaces. And Veronica is a Drug and Stim specialist.
Set - Good kid, young, former Corpo. But what sets him aside is how good he is on the Net. Almost makes Jorick want to ask him what it's like, and if he's ever had a chance to approach the Black Wall.
Steven Bates - Former Corpo again, can't hold that against someone. What is really scary though, former MaxTac. And Chromed to high heaven. A former CyberPsycho hunter...this guy is something else. But Jorick can respect that.
Fingers - Interesting kid. Lots of respect here for being former TTI. Not sure why someone would want to leave Trauma Team International, but hey you do what you gotta do. Working street doc deals now, good man in Jorick's books.
G E A R & C Y B E R N E T I C STends to carry twin Kang Tao A-22B Chao smart pistols.
Both arms are cyberware, each hand having a smart weapon interface installed, as well as the ability to switch from a normal hand into a 4 digit Delicate work Array for performing cyberware installation.
TTI grade Neural interface. Can quickly be plugged into a Trauma Team Int. computer to go into Corporate physician mode and know everything a TTI employee needs to know about a patients coverage, incident and the care that is allowed.
He has in his possession a light combat vest, covering only his torso when he has to come into a fight.
His doctors coat is padded with a few carefully placed kevlar plates.
P R O F I L E Petre is a bit reserved, while he may openly discuss things with other people, it generally is regarding things he needs from them, or something they need from him. That is, he's willing to engage in some small talk, but don't expect him to discuss much else. He feels a bit out of place in a merc crew, but even Petre realizes the biggest gigs are going to require a team of people he can somewhat trust, at the very least. A part of him yearns for his old nomad days, but another part knows that those memories are forever tainted, stuck in the throes of nostalgia.
D A Y S - G O N E
Petre was born into the nomad lifestyle- for a very long time, all he knew was the nomad lifestyle, and for a time he was also very much attached. There was nothing like roaming the badlands, driving without a care in the world, and shooting up Raffen Shiv. For a time, he did actually view the clan as family, as many nomads did. But all good things had to come to an end. One fateful raid on a Raffen Shiv encampment led to the old leader, Adrian, dying. The new leader, Marian, was not up to the task. Marian had none of the charisma or leadership skills Adrian had. Soon enough Petre felt like it was no longer a “family”, despite Marian always stating nothing would change. It felt more like they were more mercs to Marian, doing jobs not to help the clan as a whole, but to enrich Marian’s pockets.
The last straw was when Marian announced the clan would be absorbed into the Snake Nation. Petre didn’t hate Snake Nation per se, but it really wasn’t his thing. The clan wouldn’t be the same, they would become the monolith that was Snake Nation. So when he heard about Night City, a place where a solo could make good eddies, he up and left in the middle of the night, and headed to the Californian border. Not a word to his former clanmates- he wanted a fresh start in life.
Night City was.. strange to Petre. The bustle of the big city was something new to him, and he wasn't sure whether he liked it or not. Sure, there was a lot better food than there was out in the badlands, and it felt good to actually eat something that didn't taste sawdust flavored. However, it felt even more dangerous than the badlands he was accustomed to. Sometimes Petre felt facing a dozen different Raffen Shiv clans was safer than venturing into some parts of Night City. Nevertheless, he made a small reputation for himself in the city, as a reliable merc for hire.
Soon enough though, Petre realized he would need to run with a crew, at least if he wanted to get anywhere in Night City. More people watching your back is always good for your survival, as he learned running with a nomad clan. Whether he could trust them was a different issue, but it didn't matter to be honest. Better gigs need a good crew, so Petre found a crew that he where he could at least tolerate the people he was working with.
M E M O R I E S
N/A for now.
G E A R & C Y B E R N E T I C S
Cyberware: Gorilla Arms: Allows user to have enhanced strength in the arms. Self-ICE: Countermeasure to quick-hacks that lasts for a short time when activated. Adrenaline Booster: Pumps Adrenaline in high-stress situations, allowing the user to stay at peak performance for longer. BioDyne Mk.1 Cyberdeck: Affordable cyberdeck with decent performance for the pricetag. Weapons: Tsunami Kyubi: Reliable Semi-Automatic assault rifle. Comes with stock laser sight. Machete: Self-explanatory blade, good for chopping items, or people. Vehicle: Thorton Colby "Little Mule": Cheap truck, but is armored and equipped with an environment projection system, and has been upgraded with a stronger engine than the stock variant.
Everyone says that first impressions are crucial when beginning a relationship with anyone. So those who meet Maya for the first time will see her as a calm, cool, collected, and professional individual who takes what she does very seriously. Some may even see her as a drone, showing very little emotion besides what is appropriate in the current situation. While all of this is accurate, her true personality will show after trust is earned by getting to know the individual, fighting alongside them, and learning their intentions. Those that have had the opportunity to earn not only her trust but also friendship, will find that Maya is a sharp and witty individual who cares deeply for those who work alongside her, and can even have a sharp sense of humor along with a warm, cheerful personality during rare occasions.
Maintaining a strict military fitness schedule, Maya keeps herself in top physical condition, though still has the slim female form that other female soldiers retain. When out of her armor, the first thing one would notice would be the color of her eyes, a very vibrant azure blue. She keeps her black hair short, and slightly combed. Due to her genetics, she is lucky enough to look a bit younger than her actual age, which has led to accounts of confusion in the past. The only tattoo that she has is from the early days of being part of Trauma team, upon her back.
D A Y S - G O N E
"The days of the past may be gone but the memories still remain."
Maya was born to a wealthy Corpo family within the city center on [October 13th, 2044] during the early morning hours. Both of her parents were delighted to have their first child, and quickly set to work, ensuring she would have the best life possible. Her education, her work place, and what she was exposed to was quickly set up for her, allowing little to no room for any venturing off into a merciless city that was more likely to leave her dead in some alley then show her a shred of dignity. This kind of protection carried on, and eventually lead into pampering, where she received only the very best that money could buy in all areas.
The years passed by, and Maya would only see short glimpses of what it was like outside of her finely tuned reality. Though at the age of five, her more than idealistic view of life received a small sample of what it was like for those less fortunate. While returning from a school session with her personal teacher Nikolai, an explosion rocked the city center, causing panic and chaos not only within the tower she had once lived in, but also the streets below. Nikolai quickly avoided the falling debris and with a little bit of intuition, had decided to avoid the flaming carnage of what was once her her home. Instead, he attempted to calm the young Maya down, taking her to a small apartment within Japan Town, located in the Westbrook District.
Once arriving, Nikolai carefully affirmed that they had not been followed, then ushered the young girl inside of the compartment complex and eventually up to his personal living quarters. As soon as they had bothered entered, Nikolai locked the door behind him and moved into the living room, turning on the television to the local Night City news station. What showed upon it was Maya's home, or the whole towering building, now engulfed in flames. The reporter spoke about a terrorist attack but due to information that had been passed onto him from Maya's parents, said otherwise. Another Corporation, who they expected to be Arasaka, had been showing anonymous aggression towards their family with threats of retaliation for what they assumed was business deals with Biotechnica or other reasons Maya has yet to come to understand.
This was the first, but not the last time that Maya was faced with the death of loved ones. It dawned upon her that she now had nowhere to go, and no home. She was now at the mercy of Nikolai, and whatever he chose to do with her. Having been family friends with the Erathell's though, Nikolai showed something rare for those who call the city home, kindness and compassion. Nikolai quickly adopted Maya, and continued to do his best to teach Maya everything she would need to know about holding a Corpo position, as well as what life was actually like in the city, on top of doing his best to be a father.
Nikolai had checked Maya's family will, which left everything they had to her. Upon trying to claim these funds and physical items, they were informed that due to legal reasons, all but ten percent of the funds were available. Nikolai decided to hold these funds for himself until Maya was old enough, then pass over the owed money to her.
More years passed by, while Maya tried to step way from her Golden Child mentality, and more into the life of any other day citizen. She was told by her father Nikolai that she would have to prove her worth out there in the real world, and that no one would be there to watch her back once she was alone. This realization had come to her shortly after her parents died, but hearing it from Nikolai had caused something in her mind to change. On the off chance she would be assaulted, she began taking self defense classes for not only hand to hand but also firearms and a surprisingly young age. From this, a new interest began to form, one where she could not only protect herself, but others that needed it.
Maya's chance to try her newly found skills came around the age of 16 while walking home from picking up baking supplies for the banana bread she was going to attempt to make. Near a turn she was supposed to take, she noticed what appeared to be a gang member attacking an older homeless man for the little money he had on him. Without thinking, Maya ran up behind the gang member and kicked out his lower leg from the knee, then brought her right fist down upon the right side of the mans face with one swift movement. It was enough to knock the man out for a moment, allowing the homeless man to run away. Though when she turned around, happy that she had helped someone, another one of the gang members had shown up, ready to teach her a lesson.
When she arrived home that evening, she did so with a broken nose and a black eye, which was lucky for her due to the fact that the gang member had been armed with more than a knife. As would be expected, Nikolai was quite upset with her, but also proud of her in away, though had decided to ground her for her stupid actions that could have easily gotten her killed.
Two years later, Maya came to a crossroad in her life where she was presented with a choice. Nikolai knew she wanted to follow in her parents footsteps, but also knew that she wanted to help others. One road lead to the Corpo lifestyle which ended up with her parents death, and the other a career in the medical field. These were the choices presented to Maya from Nikolai, along with pro's and con's of each. Both would be very difficult, both rewarding in their own way. Maya decided that she would think about her carrier path over the next few days then make a choice when her mind was more clear.
Exhausted from the conversation, she took a cold shower and went to bed, putting much thought into what her future would hold. The night would turn to morning, and the morning into the afternoon when she awoke. Walking out into the living room, she found a data-pad. Upon it, was a message that informed her that Nikolai had to leave Night City to head back to his own home, to care for his own parents, and live his own life now that she had chosen her own path, and could take care of herself. The bottom of the message informed her that he loved her dearly and was proud to call her his daughter while he had the chance. Further below, it explained that everything inside of the apartment, including the apartment itself was now her own and that a large amount of money that was from her parents will had been moved into her account. For three days after, she felt the pain she had felt so many years ago when her real parents died, and found herself alone, once more, within the world.
After three days, she found herself again, and had decided to go with her dream of being a medic, and quickly enrolled for Trauma Team International who had her in an academy within 24 hours. From here, she excelled at her academics and proved that she not only had the talent to be a medic, but also had a prowess for combat. She had finely landed her dream position, and was putting her heart, soul, and mind into it at every chance she could. After three years of studying and working alongside actual members of Trauma Team, she was allowed to partake in her first emergency call as a fully fledged member of T.T.I. putting everything she had learned to use and becoming a valued member of the team she was part of.
During those ten years, a representative from Max-Tac had approached her, offering her to become something more, a combat medic for Max-Tac. Maya had not only heard of Max-Tac, but had seen them in action, how they worked, and most importantly how they gave little to no care for collateral damage. Maya thanked the man for the offer and left him with a simple, I will think about it and get back to you, though she never did. This left her employers confused but also pleased that she had not left them, the feeling was mutual for her squamates.
Though like the wayward wind, people find themselves moving on and setting a new path for themselves. This was the same for Maya after an incident that resulted with the death of many high profile card holders as well as civilians. The line between Trauma Team and Max-Tac was beginning to blur as time went on. After ten years, she found herself resigning from her position within Trauma Team. Thankfully due to her work with TTI, she left with a nice pension which helped her acquire most of the equipment she now owns, and fully paid off her apartment.
These days, Maya finds herself helping on the streets where she can, doing side jobs here and there, and assisting within the Night City Medical Center. Her account lies almost barren with few funds to keep her floating, even with all the work she does. Within her mind, she wishes to not only do more but to become more than what she currently is, to make a positive impact upon the city, and to find who killed her parents.
M E M O R I E S
"My adopted father, he raised and taught me as if I was one of his own. Then dropped me like a brick, moving on to take care of his real family when I was old enough to take care of myself. I do owe him a great debt that I can never repay though. Though I am very thankful for everything he has done for me, and selflessly given. Perhaps someday I will see him again, perhaps not, but only time will tell.
"Mattson was my Trauma Team International instructor, and squad leader for the ten years I was part of TTI. He helped me improve my medical and combat skills to what they are today, along with teaching me about discipline. Eventually, we grew to become close friends, but nothing more than that."
"Troy was a former employee at Trauma Team international, something we both have in common. Apparently he likes to keep to himself most of the time, tinkering with new things and equipment. More information is needed before an accurate assessment can be formed."
"Apparently Alistair had themselves a corpo position, living the high life while the rest of the city did their best below, sounds familiar. He seems a bit impulsive, self-centered, and egotistical, perhaps I am misreading him, but I doubt it. More information is needed before an accurate assessment can be formed."
"This individual stands out among the rest in my honest opinion, and the fact that he is Ex-Max-Tac makes me cautiously Paranoid of him. There is an old rumor that says most if not all Max-Tax are made up from people who were once Cyberpsychos, and after seeing how they shoot anything that moves, would not surprise me in the slightest. He seems like a good man though, but that could be deception. More information is needed before an accurate assessment can be formed, or perhaps he will kill us all before I get the chance."
"I always welcome more medical professionals among a squad, and this mans shared history is quite impressive. Here is to hoping we can learn something from each other down the line if everything goes well. Though trust is earned, and at the moment, more information is needed before an accurate assessment can be formed."
"Petre is a reserved individual from what I can gather, though some small talk happens here and there. I tend to keep to myself as well at most times. Due to all of this, much more information is needed before an accurate assessment can be formed."
"Arm blades designed with lethality and concealment in mind. As effective as they are flashy."
The blade is superheated to allow for thermal damage as well as cauterization of injuries.
"But..! If you spend a lotta time in the Badlands, it's worth investing in cloaking gear. Holoskin, active camo - what have you."
Allows for almost complete invisibility for a short period of time.
Kiroshi Optics MK.5
"This advanced Kiroshi optical system is designed for the most demanding users. It incorporates the latest breakthroughs in neural-link technology, unprecedented support of optic function and the most powerful scanning algorithms on the market."
Allows for scanning of personnel showing NCPD information on the individual as well as enhanced vision. (Night vision, thermal vision, and able to enhance viewing distance.)
Dynalar Sandevistan [Custom]
"Thanks to trademarked synaptic transmitters, this Sandevistan from Dynalar ensures even more comfort and control in combat situations as well as increased neuromuscular tension."
Increases reflexes both on and off the field of battle as well as increase cyberwear functionality.
Trauma Team Network
An implant that allows the user to search through Trauma Teams extensive database, locating very detailed information on injuries and how to most effectively treat them.
Brennan Apollo (Raptor)
A customized version of a Brennan Apollo Off-Road, more resembling a military motorcycle than anything else. Has a rear seat so someone else can join her if the need arises. The compartments are smaller but are reinforced for security reasons.
Made up from parts of both Militech and Zetatech drones, this small custom made drone can easily fit inside of a backpack or case for discrete transportation. The drone mostly fills a scout role but can be modified for combat or medical situations. Currently, it has no way to be charged, and requires either a Militech or Zetatech power core, thus leaving it dormant.
Trauma Team Medical Equipment
Maya has kept all of her Trauma Team Medical Equipment, and now carries it with her in a secure military grade backpack in case of an emergency.
A small but very well taken care of apartment in Japan Town, located in the Westbrook District. This is where she keeps all of her worldly possessions.
Backpack and outfit
Maya wears a military backpack upon her back, filled with Trauma Team Medical Equipment, a few snacks, small tools used for fixing up weapons and armor, and a couple other useful items.
Her outfit is mostly created from repurposed Trauma Team armor pieces attached to a comfortable set of fatigues that has a digital urban camouflage upon them. All of the armor is recolored to be either black or a dark grey. Due to parts of her armor being made from these pieces, Maya can attach spare magazines, grenades, and other tactical gear of her choice to said outfit with ease.
An authentic Acoustic Guitar Maya bought around the age of 18 as a side hobby, which eventually lead to her learning how to sing as well.
Zhenya "Zen" Makarova "The Beast From the East, that's me! Night City's number one Former Soviet Solo." ◄ 48 ▎ FEMALE ▎ 6'8" ►
P R O F I L E "I'm like a puppy really, a big, strong Rottweiler puppy that loves you until you bother it. Then it rips your face open. Till then, all love."
Zhenya is a SINless, heavily augmented Solo with no shortage of experience, a thirty-year veteran of corporate conflicts and gang wars across the globe. Like most Solos, she's not quite right in the head after having spilled more blood than could be healthy for her psyche. Over her seven-odd years in Night City she's built a reputation of dependability: you can depend on her to go in guns blazing and leave a lot of bodies behind. She's unsuited for stealth or espionage and is thus relegated to low-tier hits, clearing out rival gangs from street corners or beating the shit out of an informant to send a message.
Physically she sticks out from the crowd, standing far above the vast majority of people without some sort of leg extension bodymod. While her height is somewhat impractical in day-to-day life it does wonders when she's getting paid to shake someone down. Physically she's in excellent shape, looking younger than her near fifty years thanks to some choice surgery before she moved to the Free States. While she's most definitely buff her build hides the augmented strength she can bring to bear. Zen dresses practically, eschewing the flashy neon getups favored by some Solos in favor of simple tank tops and cheap cargo pants.
While not as outright nuts as some of the people living in Night City Zen is most definitely 'off'. All the times she's been shot, stabbed, hit by cars or thrown from buildings has given her a very black sense of humor. She likes to claim that the only reason she's not in Hell is that the devil won't take her. She's long past the point of killing for anything other than money and the sense of power it gives, unbothered by the idea of hurting other people if it gets her what she wants.
However, she's not interested in performing random massacres. What she craves is the adrenaline rush from a proper shootout, the sense of danger when bullets start flying in her direction. Merc work is her outlet for this need to butcher and break people, leaving her in a rather friendly (if overly enthusiastic) state all other times. Zhenya speaks quickly and acts quicker, invading people's personal space as she drags them into rapid-fire chatter about anything and everything.
She's also perpetually broke. Riding the poverty line is far from uncommon in Night City of course but for a Solo with as much experience as she has Zen is embarrassingly low on creds. Her Fixer is so low on the totem pole that he can only offer her jobs that pay a couple thousand eddies a pop and she's in debt to a ripper doc for fixing up her dog after it caught some stray lead. Without a stable corpo paycheck and lacking the the resources she had in Eastern Europe she's forced to live off of cheap takeout while sleeping in her car.
Zhenya doesn't mind. She's free to do what she does best without having to put up with all the boring rank-and-file bullshit Life's a breeze really, except for the fact that she's in a foreign country where she has no friends or family. And that she's a (barely) functional addict with expensive habits. Putting all of that aside, she's loving life.
Her issue with Night City is that while she's a pretty big fish she's swimming around a huge pond. The screamsheets are full of boostergang shootouts and high-tech hitjobs, so much blood and gore that she kind of fades into the background. Being a giant brawler might have been a good way to get famous back in Yekaterinburg but here she's got a competitor on each block.
Dying isn't what scares Zhenya, everyone gets flatlined sooner or later. What disturbs her is being forgotten after she goes. As loathe as she is to admit it being a lethal cyberjock isn't enough to make people remember her, not without doing something truly impressive. She's not sure what her mark will be, only that it needs to be big.
The other thing Zen fears is being hacked. The idea of losing control of her chrome upsets her to the point that any piece of cyberware with a connection to the Net is automatically turned down. Her gear can still be accessed by drilling into a hardpoint but if some netrunning asshole incapacitates her to the point that they can get under her skin she’s screwed either way.
She takes life as it comes and always with a dogged optimism born out of bravado. Whatever happens, whatever's thrown her way, she'll take care of it just like she did everything else.
D A Y S - G O N E "My oh so very tragic past and triumphant rise to glory."
Zhenya Makarova was born in Yekaterinburg, Russia on October 14, 2029, a scant four years after the end of the Fourth Corporate War. Her family was originally loyal to the Soviet Union but broke away in the face of it's increasing corporate control, both of her parents and her elder brother Red Army operatives before signing on with SovOil.
The family was solidly middle-class, living in a series of decent apartments across Russia and the other constituent republics and getting food that was adequate in both quantity and quality. Zhenya received a decent education and had the means to make something of herself, perhaps a middle manager for SovOil or crossing the border to become an accountant for Kang Tao. Hell, with her height she could have played basketball
However, she never took to the idea of a desk job. Zhenya grew up fighting with other children and running from local law enforcement when she and her friends were caught scrawling tags over public property. While not quite antisocial she was uninterested in playing it safe. It was obvious that she was an adrenaline junkie, fueled by excitement more than anything else.
By the time she was in her mid-teens she had a number of infractions on her record, mostly disorderly conduct for brawling and a couple cases of joyriding.
Had it not been for her parents track records of service to SovOil Zhenya would simply another been another gopnik, hanging out on street corners while trying to prove herself as the baddest motherfucker around. Instead she was signed up to serve like the rest of her family, given basic security training before being given a gun and told to defend corporate interests from the same riffraff she had been hanging out with.
While she was hardly thrilled at the prospect of wearing a uniform or taking orders the power that SovOil gave her was intoxicating. She had a license to kick ass, not just allowed but expected to bust the head of anyone who even looked at company property funny. Most of her paycheck was spent on down payments for black-market cyberwear and fueling her addiction to syn-coke with the occasional hospital visit for injuries sustained in back alley brawls. There was a learning curve for the first couple of years, a few citations for excessive force and reckless endangerment, but eventually some pencil pusher managing the personnel roster had a brilliant idea:
Why risk collateral damage and waste a perfectly good goon when she could be reassigned to the middle of nowhere?
With the USSR's old enemy America having splintered into NUSA and the rise of corporate power over the Politiboro most of the conflict in Russia was internal. Besides the usual gangland warfare the various nations of Neo-Sov often had border clashes, to say nothing of the more organized crews making a living off of attacking SovOil storage depots. Zhenya was sent to Siberia to deal with those vultures, the wide open wasteland the perfect sort of environment for someone like her.
That was her life for the next three decades. Trying to stay warm inside desolate SovOil outposts, serving as gunner on AV patrols to clear out bandit camps and laying waste to anything she was told to. In between the months on the job were the weeks-long stretches of downtime, most of which was spent partying or running her own rackets on the side. SovOil didn't care if its guards were selling confiscated contraband or shaking down villages for protection money, as long as they did their jobs.
By her forties Zen had straightened out, more or less. She had figured out how to toe the line when required but found herself growing bored. The hard-partying lifestyle fueled by synth had been replaced by painkillers and sedatives done in private, the running gun battles with would-be thieves in the shadow of the Urals all blurring into one. Siberia was growing old, a change was needed.
The opportunity came when her EV was shot down by some booster with a stolen rocket launcher. The low power of the degraded warhead hadn't been enough to blow the vehicle apart and Zen survived the crash thanks to the aggressive amount of cyberware she had installed. With the rest of the crew dead she simply trekked back to base, grabbed her stuff and slipped free.
Her father had passed a decade ago and she hadn't spoken to her mother or brother in years. Zen found it easy to leave her old life behind, crossing the border into Poland and then onto Germany. The no longer United States was chosen as her final destination purely on basis of distance. She wanted to get as far away as possible as quickly as possible and with the help of smugglers she managed to do just that.
Eurodollars were not officially exchanged in the Neo Soviet Union and much of what Zen had earned from her side hustles was spent on making it to NUSA. She needed a job, and what with having spent her whole life as a professional gunslinger, had little in the way of marketable skills. But she had arrived in the early stages of the Unification Wars, NUSA moving to finally bring the Free States back under its thumb. Militech, the real power behind NUS of A, needed more bodies and was willing to bring on a foreigner who wanted to be thrown into the meat grinder.
Zhenya fought at Ridgecrest in what would be the bloodiest battle of the Unification War before marching north for the coming assault on Night City (noting the irony of her home country sending support to the soon-to-be-besieged city), only to be sorely disappointed when the arrival of an Arasaka supercarrier forced the Militech/NUSA army to retreat.
After the Arvin Accords Zhenya was unceremoniously booted from Militech, her maverick attitude no longer tolerated without a conflict to let her get killed in.
The remainder of her Sov cash was long gone and her salary from Militech had been blown on drugs and picking up new gear. Zen was dead broke with no friends or family to rely on, lacking even a superior officer willing to vouch for her. What she did have was an arsenal of heavy weaponry, some military-grade chrome and the directions to a town she had intended on painting red anyway.
Night City didn't judge. It took her in like it did every other lunatic merc, a neon playground for her to ply her trade. With her connections far and few between Zen was at the bottom of the pile, an overqualified hired gun for those unbothered by things getting loud. Any decent-paying job she found required more discretion than she was capable or cared to give and there were always expenses. Food, meds to patch herself up with after jobs, new cyberware, various sedatives to numb the aches and pains picked up after a life of combat, so many things to buy and not enough eddies to buy them with.
But Zhenya didn't mind being homeless. She had a car to sleep in and a dog to hang out with, which was about as much as she needed. More importantly, she was free. No bosses yelling orders, no parents to try and impress with her service, she worked when she wanted for who she wanted.
She could be whoever she wanted, even if the person she wanted to be was just a more infamous version of who she already was. She found people willing to work with her, a crew with varied skillsets to complement her expertise in destruction, and with them came better paying gigs.
M E M O R I E S
Jake Tao- A low-tier fixer, perfect for a low-tier solo. Johnny likes to spin himself as being bigger than he is and Zen nods politely despite knowing full well he's not going to find her a job different than the usual "burn rival stash spot here, shoot a too-curious bennie there." He's useful not because he offers good gigs, he's useful because he offers lots of them. It's the one advantage of working with bottom-of-the-bin clients, plenty of poor people want other poor people dead.
3D- An actually competent fixer, even if he has poor taste. Zen likes to work for 3D because he offers her gigs that actually paid well...or at least he did before he was ran out of his mansion. She tries to throw him a bone now and again in the aftermath of the bordello raid but there's only such much she can do when she's already skipping meals to afford more ammo. He's a a good buddy and a great driver but a very bad source for fashion advice.
Uncle Sam- Zen's pet, personal therapist, diary and pillow. He's named after the patron saint of her adopted country and he's just the bestest boy in the whole world, yes he is! A stray blast of buckshot took out an eye and a leg but Zen managed to rush him over to a ripperdoc in time to save his life.
G E A R & C Y B E R N E T I C S "All my worldly possessions. It's uh, it's not much."
Mark. 31 Heavy Machinegun- Eighty-two pounds of high-powered weaponry, firing .50 BMG from a backpack-mounted feed system. The Mk. 31 is unwieldy even for those all borg'ed up but its ability to chew through cover, light vehicles and most definitely people make it worth keeping around. Fires a variety of rounds, all of which will absolutely ruin someone's day.
Militech Crusher- The Crusher's small size makes it convenient for use indoors while its eight-gauge payload and twelve-round magazine make it deadly. It's Zhenya's go-to when the situation warrants some semblance of subtlety.
RT-46 Burya- Zhenya's sidearm from her SovOil days and one of the few tech-weapons she cares for. Low-capacity and most certainly not low profile but makes up for these deficits with its sheer power. If it doesn't drop dead after getting shot by a railgun Zen probably shouldn't have shot at it in the first place.
"Rezat" Officer's Sword- Her father's official parade sidearm from his days as an officer in the greatly diminished Red Army, it was given a very unofficial nickname when she inherited it. The titanium blade is sharp, durable, and lightweight while the decorative grip contains pressure sensitive circuitry. A squeeze of her hand sends a current of around eight thousand volts up the blade.
Even if she can't pierce their skin that much juice can inhibit a chromed up opponent just fine.
Kerenzikov- Gives a boost to Zen's reflexes for a brief moment, allowing her to dive out of the way of that grenade or intercept that punch at the last minute.
DefnDum Protection System- Zen regularly fires off huge guns inside enclosed spaces, a recipe for disaster if proper precautions aren't taken. The DDPS is wired to Zen's eyes and ears, automatically dampening extremes in decibels and lumens to manageable levels.
Subdermal Amor- SovOil equips its security forces in the Siberian wastes with beneath-the-skin armor plate as an added defense against small arms fire.
Grounding Plating- Bounce Back and MaxDoc can help with bleeding, burns and blunt force trauma but electricity will still happily cripple a chromed-up killer. The dispersal systems through Zhenya's body ensure that any nasty electromagnetism she encounters will simply be brushed off.
Syn-Lungs- Being a muscular giant with metal bones will only get you so far. Zen has to lug around a lot of heavy shit at speed and doing so requires more air than a normal fleshy set of lungs can provide.
Babble-On Translator: Zhenya's English is rudimentary, consisting of enough short phrases and street slang to get by but any conversation more complex than that is beyond her. The Babble-On lets her cheat by automatically filtering words in English into her native Russian and vice versa.
The standard Babble came with the option of Cool, Polite Female and Cool, Polite Male, making Zen sound entirely different than she does when using her actual speaking voice.
Titanium Skeleton- A reinforced skeletal structure to let Zhenya carry extreme weight and protect her knuckles in a fight.
Röntgeneyes- A set of ocular implants from the International Electric Corporation. Despite the name they're not actually powered by X-rays but by sonar, the cyberware allowing Zen to see people through walls and track their movement using radio waves. The blurry shapes are sharpened into proper outlines by microcameras so that she knows what's on the other side of the wall. Useful when combined with high caliber weaponry that can shoot through cover.
Pain Editor- A good quality Pain Editor numbs the sensation of injury, helping to manage shock and to keep the recipient in the fight, provided the wound isn't lethal of course. Zhenya got hers for cheap from a third-hand dealer which means that it totally blocks out the pain.
This is an extremely dangerous effect because it means that Zen runs the risk of bleeding to death if she's not careful. She won't be able to feel when her outer gear and subdermal armor are breached so she has to constantly check herself to know if she's on death's door or not. As with some natural cases of Congenital Analgesia the effect can be somewhat lessened by being treated with naloxone but this is an expensive and temporary fix.
Agent- Zhenya's cell phone, computer, personal assistant and main source of entertainment outside of murder, all in one convenient package. Galena GA32t- A used model of an already cheap sports car, given to Zen as payment for a gig. Since she has no permanent home it pulls double duty as her bedroom and transportation. Heavy Armorjack- In the form of an armorweave trench coat with metal plates inserted at strategic points and a laminate armor vest underneath. It won't help much if she gets shot in the legs or the head but its far better than nothing. Everything Else- Spare ammo, spare magazines, the few hundred eddies Zhenya has left, changes of clothes, a couple blankets and the various drugs she takes. Generally strewn about the floor and trunk of her car.