Dragonfly

Tessa Banks, codename Dragonfly, sat in her rundown studio apartment, watching the latest reruns of old family sitcoms, while drinking one of the many alcoholic drinks of which cans littered the trash bin. She was dressed in a simple, black top and blue jeans, hugging her athletic figure, with her knee high boots propped up on the old, raggidy sofa. This was a tuesday for her, and was her way to unwind when rent was coming due and she didn't have a job to pay for it. Pretty par for the course, really.

Standing at 5'3", the dark haired beauty was far from what you would call threatening, with some curves, but a bit more muscle. Beneath the skin, she was a network of chrome and electronics, surprisingly giving her far more strength and durability that one would expect. Something she found useful, as street thugs seemed to think she was an easy mark. No, Dynasoft had made sure their private sanctum security staff were decked out, and she was no exception. While no Soldier, she could handle herself in a fight, and the magnum tucked into a holster hanging over the long trench coat had served to put holes in quite a number of people.

Another dumb jack and a laugh track sounded, with a cute blonde girl making a shit eating grin that made Tessa almost want to vomit. She really hated this shit sometimes, but it served to generally alleviate her mood. Still, with no money income, things were going to turn bad soon enough. "Maybe i'll just fuck the asshole..." She sighed, referring to her land lord. The fat perv had somehow gained enough money to be a slum lord, much to her surprise. People like him didn't generally last past puberty, and the slimeball seemed to only revel in where he was at. Maybe he was so at home at that muck, that the muck just ignored him. She was pulled out of this thought when the burner phone she used for business rang. A sign from one of the thousands of gods? Who knew.

Picking up the outdated smart phone, she answered. "Hello?" While people couldn't much see it, there were dark satellites mucking around the space above the planet. Underground networks that used old tech to make things run smoothly for the downtrodden. Old tech phones were a far cry from the super computers of the modern era of communication, but they served to be disposable, and only traceable if you knew what satellite carried the data, to what location. Perfect for someone like her that didn't want to be found. Not unless someone had her number, anyway.

"Yo, honey!" The voice on the other phone stated, the deep, feminine voice belying the tone. "Didn't catch ya at a bad time, did I?" The voice belonged to one of the Fixers in the area. Namely, a troll going by the name of Madam Tank. Not the best name, but given the woman stood at nearly 8 feet tall, and was a fricken stone troll, few were willing to test the theory.

"No. Just watching reruns." Tessa responded, flipping off the tv to cut out the noise pollution. It didn't stop the gunfire from the streets outside, though. "What have you got for me?"

"A party gal!" The troll chuckled. "Seems she decided to get some strange in the wrong neighborhood. I need my number one tracker to find her, and get her back home. Interested?"

It wasn't to uncommon of a job. It would probably pay the bills for the month at least. A lot of rich kids liked slumming it in the darker areas of New York. They meandered from their million dollar apartments in up town, and made their way to to the seedy clubs of the slums. Usually tailed by body guards that were highly paid chrome addicts with an itchy trigger finger. They'd go back and tell their friends how hard they were, never really being in much danger. The common street punk couldn't go up to a fully chromed super soldier, after all.

But every now and then, one got it in their mind to take the extra step. To ditch the security, and make their way through the streets on some notion they were untouchable. Tessa had snagged several back. Most were just after ****, some for someone they thought they loved, and one strange one that had decided he wanted to write about life on the streets. It was these dumb rich kids, often referred to as 'Party Boys and Girls', that made her bread and butter.

"Pay well?" Tessa asked.

"Very well. Daddy is loaded down, and wants to shell out some of that extra green on us poor folks."

"I'm in. Same meeting point?"

"I'll be waiting with bells on."

Dismissing the thought of a massive, hulking troll with bells on, Tessa hung up the phone, and began to dress. The long, dark trench coat wasn't to stylish, but it did well to conceal the hand cannon she hid beneath it. Finishing off the last of her booze, she tossed it, before heading out. Surprisingly, her land lord was to busy yelling at some poor goblin family to make a pass at her. The day was already looking up.

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Tessa Banks
Code Name: Dragonfly
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Class: Private Eye

Stats:
Combat: 2
Intelligence: 2
Tech: 1
Silver Tongue: 1
Intimidation: 0
Brawn: 0
Occult: -1

HP: 8/8
Credits: 5

Abilities:
On the Case
Detective Discipline: Informed
Magnum Ops

Equipment
Peacemaker (Magnum): 3 damage, Ranged, Armor Piercing, Loud, Discreet
Skill Wires-Associated Skills: Bargaining, Network Hacking (Stolen) (Cybernetics)
Trench Coat
Inconspicuous Car

Threats:
Dynasoft 0/8

Mission Threat:
0/8

Contacts
Madam Tank-Fixer-Friendly
Expert: Humanoid Trafficking

The Smith-Gunsmith-Friendly
Expert: Guns

Doc Smith-Street Doc-Friendly
Expert: Medicine