D.F.C. "Daniel" by MediaMan
TEAM: The Fallen
KIT CLASS: Cyberware
Hall Of Fame!
Survival - 8 wins!
League Wins: 8
League Losses: 3
Out Of League Wins: 0
Out of League Losses: 0
Total Wins: 8
Total Losses: 3
David Schneider - Win 0-0
The Walking Man - Win 0-0
Emissary - Win 0-0
Dr Caraway - Win 0-0
Anya Nan Ayna - Win 0-0
Meredith Xenakis - Win 0-0
Pamela King - Loss 0-0
Tommy and the War - Loss 0-0
Toc Darkon - Loss 0-0
The Voice - Win 15-8
Heaven's Hope - Win 10-7
I never understood how people could ever hate Dollarcorp. Sure, I mean, it's got its problems. But what doesn't? Nothing's perfect. Besides, it's better than a whole lot of the alternatives out there. Believe me, I've been stationed on enough worlds to know. Hell, this one world. It was frigid. A wasteland! Some sort of war, I dunno, a thousand years ago made it like this. The things that lived there, they could barely survive. They were lucky if one or two of their offspring saw the end of the first year. Dollarcorp came in and, yea, there was resistance. But after we subdued them, you should have heard these guys sing our praises. We gave them the secret of agriculture and all of the sudden they were well fed. We brought them thermal condensers and they were warm for the first time in their lives. Medicine, shelter, literature and music, the list goes on and on what Dollarcorp brought these guys. We gave them their lives back and they were happy. Sure, we transported a bunch of them to our interstellar mines, but how else did they expect to pay for services rendered? Like I said, little imperfections. Like everything in reality. Now, lemme ask you, do a few little imperfections justify some little snot running around in tights leveling office buildings and factories? People work in those buildings, they live in the places sometimes and when some schmoe with a cape blasts the thing with some divine god-essence or whatever ya call it they call themselves heroes? These ungrateful little SOBs say Dollarcorp is a machine oiled with the blood of the workers. Let me tell you the truth: your average Dollarcorp worker likes working for Dollarcorp. I like working for Dollarcorp. I've been a Dollarcorp Frontline Cyborg (DFC) for longer than I can remember and I like my job. Dollarcorp denies rights? These people, these outspoken, ultra-liberal, loudmouthed, ignorant, blind, gutless, cowardly and most of all lazy people, they think they know it all, but they don't. We've denied rights. Yea, we've had to kill people. I've had to kill people. It's my job, after all. Dollarcorp Frontline Cyborgs are usually the first wave in any major conflict. We're your typical Dollarcorp shocktroops. Everything from ground assault to guard duty, you'll find us. They throw hundreds of us at its enemies. But let me tell you, the way I see things most of these guys had it coming anyway. We've had to conquer and kill. The ones who accept us, the ones who do business with us, they're the good guys. Everyone else? Let me tell you, they're just lazy. They're good for nothing slackers who expect the world on a plate without working for anything. Like those guys on Pinkus VI. Those guys screw their entire economy over by running out of fossil fuels. They're about to wipe each other out in civil war when we come to bail them out. We give them an entirely new source of fuel, more efficient, cleaner burning and we sell them as much as they want. War is averted. And let me tell you, they've been so damn ungrateful ever since I'm actually glad when we execute those rebels in the street. Put some god-damn fear of god into them. We control the global energy market, they say. We've taken over. We've conquered them. We control the global energy market because these guys won't buy anything else. We're certainly not stopping them from developing another fuel. We've taken over and conquered. Ridiculous. Cyborgs patrol the streets and starships patrol the skies, but only because we're looking out for our interests. Let me tell you, if they could prove to us that we don't need these forces there, I think Marc Dollar would gladly pull them out. Too bad time and time again they show us that they're just not ready by blowing things up all the time. Every time one straps a bomb to himself and starts blowing up power plants, power plants that are staffed by Dollarcorp workers, by the way, who never did anything to hurt anyone, they just prove to us that we need MORE military there, we need MORE forces to protect our own lives. We're just minding our own business and giving you our business. It really hurts when you know Dollarcorp has gone to all this trouble to help out a world in need and this is how they repay you. We've had to incur some extra fees as a result, but look me in the eye and tell me those bastards don't deserve it. We're nice guys, but even we have limits. Our hand has been forced more times than I can count. I've thus seen more battles than I can count. Sometimes I feel bad. I had to shoot children one, two, twenty times. Felt bad about that. One time, I helped bury hundreds of people at once after a Dollarcorp bombing. That made me feel bad. Still, I'm not the one making these decisions. Just following orders, after all. You can't really think about it too much, because you gotta realize, you gotta remember just why they're being shot and bombed. When I get attacks like this, I tend to remember something that happened once, in my early years as a cyborg. We were occupying this town after a battle and we brought Dollarcorp Agricultural products over to the refugees, to be rationed out. We knew there were rebels infiltrating the place, so that's why we had to psi-scan everyone who got some. Well, this one kid. He just snuck up and snatched the biggest loaf of bread you could imagine. There was another officer with me so I left my station and ran the kid down. Grabbed him and forced the guy to his knees. I leveled my weapon at his head. Dollarcorp doesn't take too kindly to thieves, which means I don't either. I told him this. I told him the penalty in this situation is death. Then I saw three little youingins and they looked at him, holding that damn loaf of bread as if their entire lives depending on getting it. The kid looked at me and he was crying. I couldn't do it. I tossed the bread to the kids and left. It was when I got back to my station that it happened. I was shot. The primative weaponry, of course, bounced right off my dermal plating, but I knew I was hit. I turned around and it was the kid. He was a stinking, freeloading rebel. I should have known. No one loyal to Dollarcorp would try to get away without paying. I forced him to his knees and shot him in the back of the head then and there in front of everyone. They said later on I was famous. Live, intergalactic TV cameras had caught it, but Dollarcorp PR had defused it.
Personality: There's a lot of myths about we Frontline Cyborgs because no one in Khazan really gets to know us that well. We're not mindless, first of all. Having mindless robots is too much of a liability in combat. They're much easier to hack into and control. Second, we're not obssessive in our loyalty to Dollarcorp. We're not consumed with killing the enemies of our companies. Look to the Special Ops for that sort of thinking. It's a job, really. It's only a job. A lot of people in this line of work, that's their motto. They shoot down crowds of people at a time and they say to themselves "I'm just doing my job." And it's true. It's just a job. Lots of people get paid to fight. Just us included. Third, a lot of people think that we cyborgs just sit in pods all the time until we're needed. Not true at all! We have a good time when we're off. We drink, we dance, we pick up pretty girls. Also, they think we're all manufactured in some factory somewhere. They would be shocked to know that over 60% of all Frontline Cyborgs are volunteers. That's right, over 60% of us love Dollarcorp so much, we willingly became part machine. If there were ten of us in a room, only four would have been forced to be a cyborg against their will. I myself volunteered when Dollarcorp occupied my world. They also think we got no free will either, that Dollarcorp's tinkered with our brains. If we have no free will, how can I be standing here, drinking beer? No one forces me into anything. It's all me. But let me tell you what we all have in common. We all do love Dollarcorp. It takes good care of us. A great pay, terrific benefits and we've got an entire branch of Dollarcorp Insurance devoted entirely to us. We all truly believe in Dollarcorp's message, so much we wanted to defend it to the death. We're all intensely loyal to each other and let me tell you, I'd rather die than be a snitch. We cyborgs all have a lot in common. We all work together like a machine to bring Dollarcorp plans to completion. Still, don't let that make you think we're all alike. There's a lot of things that make us all different. Why, me personally... Umm... Uhh... Well, we're all different in different ways. I'll get back to you on how. But the one thing that binds us is that we all love Dollarcorp.
| Superior The pinnacle of human strength. |
Can bench press 1000 pounds.
|Standard Normal human agility.|
|Weak BELOW normal human endurance. |
Goes down easy and stays there.
|Standard Normal human mental resources.|
Neutronium Dermal Plating
My parents didn't really get it. Why did I want to be a cyborg? Why throw away your humanity? Why help THEM? Our oppressors. They didn't understand that the war was over. It had been over for years. I couldn't even remember life before Dollarcorp occupied. I was born just at the close of the conflict. I never saw the statues, the monuments, the mountains and museams. Dollarcorp had destroyed them all so what value were they to me? I had no loyalty to this world. All I knew was that my first memory was watching the cyborgs parade down the streets. My parents cried, but I got inspired. When I grew up, I understood and appreciated all Dollarcorp had done for us. It gave us new jobs, better technology, more entertainment and new medicines. The least I could do in return was serve the people who treated me so well. I haven't heard from my parents since I walked into that recruiting office and got fitted for dermal plating. The stuff comes from dead stars. There are denser things out there, but most of the time, for what your average Frontline Cyborg has to deal with, it gets the job done. I'm not going to say there's nothing out there that can get through it, because let me tell you, in all the battles I've seen, I've noticed tons of things going through it. I've lost a lot of good friends fighting Dollarcorp's enemies. But, I've seen just as many things not get through it, before our weapons tear those guys to pieces.
- Power: Armor Skin
- Kit Power Link: Cyberware
The dermal plating hurt to get put on. When it was fused onto me, when it assimilated everything organic on me, I couldn't even scream it hurt so much. Compared to the installation of the Mass Cannon, the armor didn't even hurt at all. At least your skin is used to being exposed to pain. Your organs aren't, and as they drop the machine into your open chest cavity, even after all the things I've seen serving in Dollarcorp's armed forces, it's a disturbing sight. It's a little ball, about the size of your heart and they put it right below. Nothing happens at first and you're told to brace yourself. Then five metal tendrils dig themselves into, separately, your heart, both lungs, liver, and spleen. Watching them turn from flesh to machine is one of the most frightening experiences ever, especially once they're done. Because then they start turning other things in your body into something electronic. The guy next to me screamed and it didn't sound remotely human when he did it. Inside your arms, right on top of your wrists, you get little bulges the size of an egg. Those are the mass cannons. Their power supply is hooked up to your major organs to the point where your body's production of ammo and juice is just as natural as your production of saliva and bile. Someone explained how they work to me once. The faster something goes, the more mass it accumulates. Each round is expelled at such a speed that the mass is able to rip most targets in two.
- Power: Projectile Attack
- Kit Power Link: Cyberware
- Area Effect This attack causes damage in a large area.
- Seeker This attack hunts and follows its target.
- Ranged Attack Attack usable at a distance (only).
- Multi Attack Attack can hit multiple times during one strike.
The machines don't stop at the spine. They travel up and into the brain. Believe it or not, the brain has no nerves. It can't feel any pain. Not that it mattered. Having my entire chest become computerized distracted me from the fact that two very small tendrils extended into my left and right lobe. They told me later that information was pumped into there. Mostly rudimentary combat training, focusing on the Mass Cannons in my arms. I've got it all in my head and I got it all within hours. It saves a lot of time that would have been spent in basic training. I can hit most things I have a mind to now.
Something else was put into my brain too. They say they only changed around a few things, but I think there's a lot more up there that they reorganized than they say they did. I can tell this by the few times we've faced down telepathic enemies. I don't even will it, but something in my mind just shuts down as soon as something touches it. It's like, the gates are locked, please go away. Enemy psychics could control me without the protection Dollarcorp offers. If I start to feel emotions I shouldn't, the program within my brain sets me straight. If I start thinking things contrary to my mission, blatantly disloyal to Dollarcorp, the program sets me straight. If I start to see things, dream things, I shouldn't be seeing or dreaming, the program sets me straight. It's great defense against the psychic terrors we fight. It's for protection like this that I risk my life for Dollarcorp every day. It's for the freedom I enjoy under Dollarcorp that I love it so much. And would never, ever, think otherwise.