Stockbroker/PhysAd gunbunny assassin.
Currently based (more or less) on 400BP starting character rules.
Appearance[edit | edit source]
Franz is a rather ordinary looking man, with brown hair, a slightly pointed chin, and stylish glasses. He has a datajack mounted behind his left ear; the datajack is, in fact, totally fried and no longer useful for anything. He has an average build which suggests somewhat regular visits to the gym; he speaks English with a very faint Seattle accent.
When working at his "day job" or out on a job, Franz wears moderately priced suits, often with a lightly armored jacket. As a rule of thumb, everything he wears is 4–6 months out of date; as a result, nobody pays much attention to them. He usually keeps a streetline special pistol with him whenever possible. When running the shadows, Franz dons the bluejeans and cheap t-shirt he wears under his suit. He generally carries an Ares Predator IV; he has smartlink glasses and a fiber optic link connecting them as opposed to the standard wireless.
Bio[edit | edit source]
Franz Schmidt. used to be a rather ordinary stockbroker. A human of Germanic descent, he was not terribly bright, not terribly tough, and not overly good at his job. By a mixture of long hours and dumb luck, he managed to keep himself in the black day-trading; he didn't live marvellously, but he managed to stay under the radar.
In late 2063, Franz had a datajack installed. He got a good deal on it for a simple reason: It was a high end datajack, but a factory reject because it would stop working when bandwidth in some areas went past certain levels. Of course, Franz is a stockbroker; the big reason he got a datajack in the first place is because he was getting sick of lugging a set of 'trodes to work, and because his feet would start to tingle after a few hours.
On the day of the Crash of '64, Franz was logged on to the Seattle Stock Exchange. He hoped that as people sold stock so as to buy shares in Novatech, he might be able to snag a few good trades on stock which would bounce up to normal value in a few days. Of course, he was more than a little surprised when Deus' full compilation occurred.
However, before Franz's brain could be rendered into scrambled eggs by Deus' effects, his datajack literally melted. Franz suffered massive dumpshock; he spent two years in a coma, to wake up in late '66 with no money to his name, a lump of melted silicon in his head, and one hell of a headache.
On the way home, Franz took a path through a bad part of town; the last time he had seen it, it had been a thriving thouroughfare. (Having a well-loaded Ares Dragon crash into the middle of the street can do this kind of thing.) Accosted by a young Ork wielding a crude knife, the youth demanded that Franz hand over his money...or else.
Under normal conditions, Franz would have likely just handed over his money. However, Franz had been changed by the massive dumpshock in ways he could not imagine. In the time it took for the Ork's pupils to dilate from surprise, Franz had drawn his unused old Streetline Special, and sent a bullet directly between the mugger's eyes.
Over time, Franz realized that he had been changed by the Crash. He could kill. He liked killing. It was as easy as breathing; he drops the facade of the vapid, grinning sarariman, and kills his target.
In addition, Franz found he had somehow unlocked some previously unknown abilities. His synapses flew like lightning; he started working out, and became one of the speediest financial analysts in town. He had also started down the path of the Adept; the gun in his hand became almost as an extension of his arm. (The fact that he would often leave work to spend hours at a cheap firing range didn't hurt, either.)
His current career began the day that Franz visited one of his favorite restaurants. Perhaps one of the few things that remained from before the war, Tim's Tofu was a popular stop for those who liked their Soy to taste like Soy, and not something else. Business was hardly brisk, but Tim's location in an alley near the Exchange made it popular amongst brokers who were just getting their start.
As would be expected, Tim eventually gained attention from organized crime. Tim's original owner, a shadowrunner who used the place for money laundering and as a convinient place to get his favorite kind of stir-fried bean curd, had agreements with both the Mafia and the Yakuza to stay away from the place; he had ended career with positive relations with both. Of course, two young Triad members decided that they felt like starting their own operation; they felt that Tim's was a good starting place.
As the two Tongs, one an elf, one a human, made un-subtle gestures at their guns and snarled at the owner, Franz found himself delayed from getting his Tofu. Seeing as how these guys were obviously not going to be missed, Franz drew his Magnum, and killed the second before the first had an opportunity to hit the floor. He then ordered Combo # 5, with a double order of kimchi.
Tim (a rather skinny dwarf) was grateful; although he had some rather heavily armed and armored Troll buddies who could keep away goons like these, they were expensive and tended to make a mess of things. Although Tim had little in the way of monetary resources, he introduced Franz to a few mafiosi and yakuza he knew. He then began service as a hired killer; he mostly took care of those who defected from the Yaks or Mafia in a highly obvious and public manner.
Although a mildly crazy killer, Franz can, when he wants to, appear to be a normal stockbroker. He makes cheezy passes at women, talks about the stock market, and wears fashions that are almost exactly six months out of date. However, when he drops the facade and draws his weapon, you can see the mad monster residing within.
Franz's specialty is isolating his opponents in restaurants and social gatherings, killing them with a silenced hold-out at point-blank range, and leaving before the body is descovered. He capitalizes on his blandess; at first glance, he looks just like the thousand other corp workers who pass by every day, and few remember his presence, let alone report it.
His datajack is completely fried; however, it appears as normal on most scanners. (I did'nt include any essence loss; I figured that, since the datajack was totally fried and quite useless, it would'nt really matter if he had it anyway.)
Stats[edit | edit source]
High Pain Tolerance 2 (10BP)
Astral Chameleon (5BP)
SINner, normal legal (-5BP)
Allergy (mild, pollen) (-10BP)
Etiquette 2 (Corporate +2)
Computer 2 (Stocktrading +2)
Armorer 2(Firearms +2)
Pistols 6 (Semi-automatics +2)(+3 from Improved Ability)
Thrown weapons 2 (Grenades +2)
Blades 1(knives +2)
Economics 3 (Stockmarket +2)
Modern History 2
The Matrix Crash 2
Gear: 15,000 nuyen.
Improved Reflexes 2
Improved Ability: Pistols 3
Improved Sense: Low-Light
Improved Sense: Vision Magnification
(not yet finished).