Shaking Down Shadows
Street Cred: 0 Notoriety: 0 Public Awareness: 0
At 5’ 4" and 100 lbs soaking wet, this young and innocent looking girl with long, flaming red hair would probably have difficulty intimidating a child, though her lithe yet thoroughly … matured form, along with her rather suggestive attire, would certainly preclude her from ever being mistaken for such herself. Dressed in a tightly form-fitting body suit with irregular patches of black, white and orange, she moves with a grace that is distinctly feline. Completely bereft of weaponry of any kind, and about as physically imposing as a baby panda, one might be tempted to laugh dismissively if she were to claim to be even a novice runner.
Callie’s parents were poor and oppressed. They were also, to her frustration, completely oblivious to the fact that they were being oppressed. They seemed to buy the whole “we want to help you help yourself” bulldrek the corps were slinging, hook line and sinker. So when she became Awakened and her parents started shopping her around to various corps like a prize sow, she knew she had to jet.
Since then she’s lived almost exclusively on the streets, though she rarely has to wait long before some guy or another offers to “save her” from her miserable existence. Most are predatory creeps, and they quickly learn that she is not nearly as helpless as she seems. She’s grown accustomed to, even appreciative of, these attempts to victimize her, since the first thing she does after teaching them a much needed lesson is to rob them blind. After getting a nice warm shower, of course.
But not all of them were creeps. Some genuinely wanted to help her, and Hank was one of these. She’d encountered him early on, which was fortunate since she hadn’t quite honed her survival skills to the razor’s edge that they are today. He was a bear shaman, and though she initially curled her lip in distaste (ewww, bear), she soon learned the value of seeing things from perspectives different from her own. He taught her how to hone her magical skills, and remains a close friend and a father figure, as well as a fallback place to run to when things get tense.
Callie survives through a combination of random burgleries (targeting assholes whenever possible, but if they’re rich, then they’re probably assholes), small jobs involving the quiet acquisition of various goods, and the “kindness” of random leering men. Actually, this last category had become her favorite, affording her the opportunity to get some stress relief in the form of a Scumbag Beatdown, and usually a little payday to boot. And so she’d started taking steps to maximize her exposure, so to speak. Her skin-tight chameleon suit (her kitty suit, as she calls it) coupled with her now patented pouty, doe eyed I-Hope-No-Big-Bad-Man-Comes-And-Gets-Me look has kept cash in her credstick for months.
Not that there hadn’t been close calls. Occasionally one of the scumbags was a little bit formidable. It had been a while since she’d actually been scared, but still she’d lately been thinking maybe it was time to step up her game, go for a bigger payday. Because in the back of her mind, she knew that one day her luck might run out. Cats famously have nine lives, but she wasn’t sure exactly how many she had left…