Har-dee-har.

I've never found that quote as funny as some of my patients do. I suppose that's because, often times, it's far too close to the truth for me to find the humor in it. Griffith says I'm just not cynical enough yet. I can believe that; it would explain my so-called life.

I run what most would call a one-man chop shop. I like to call it a street clinic, but that's my idea of a joke. It's what you might call my one-man resistance against the system. That's also a joke -- not as in humor, as in sad fact.

I used to be part of the Executive Class. Upwardly mobile, if you will. My folks both were doctors who'd gotten together and opened their own private clinic -- admittedly, in a rather affluent neighborhood -- it's not as altruistic as I'm trying to make it sound. My folks were good people at heart; they just liked their creature comforts. Like BMWs and modern art. Can you blame them? Right. Me, too. Particularly over the modern art. But only now that I'm here in the gutter. Well, moving past that. I had a good education; the best schools they could afford, as well as practical assistance in the clinic well before I ever got into college. It was great training to be a doctor. Not so hot a childhood, but I've rarely heard of one that wasn't worse recently and I'm not here to whine to you about how little I was hugged.

The quake of 2010 took everything. The clinic was destroyed with my folks and the patients in it. Most of the estate I would have inherited had been tied up in the agriculture industry -- Dad was old college buddies with too many rubber-stamped geneticists -- and the insurance company we belonged to folded when its corporate offices and a good 35% of its clientele ended up victims of massive property damage. So, I ended up with enough cash to pay off the funerals and secure a new place for myself after liquidating everything. Not enough for college. Your heart bleeds for me, right? Stuff it.

I worked as a paramedic through the food riots, trying to secure enough capital for a registered doctorate of medical science. God, what a nightmare that was. That's the first time the street and I got acquainted. I didn't like it but it liked me. I made a lot of contacts during that year; it's stupid, and I got fined for it, but I still believed in the substance of the hypocratic oath (even though I hadn't taken it) and helped as many people as I could get to despite corporate policy about non-card holders.

That seemed a blessing in disguise, at first. A good percentage of the folks I helped out of my own pocket were mercs in the employ of various corporations trying to keep rioters out of corporate protected zones. When the police would show up, there would oftentimes be a confused three-way gun fight that got real messy, real fast. Anyway, because most mercs have a good memory for the people who can keep them from circling the drain, a few of them tracked me and my corp down to land a few pretty sizable contracts. Suddenly, I was a corporate golden boy. I got full financing to finish my formal education, and a made a good number of friends with some pretty serious individuals. For example, there's about three MI-Tac officers out there that consider themselves in my debt. Helps me sleep at night sometimes, that.

Don't worry; no good deed goes unpunished. Our primary corporate umbrella changed hands in some multi-billion dollar exchange a few years ago. It was a pretty botched takeover, considering it was folks with that kind of money to throw around, with some of the executive assassinations actually leaking to the press a few days after the fact. Come to find out the corporation responsible for the assassinations already had a contract with our hospital and had, shock and dismay, had their mercs patched from that very same not-so-stealthy assassination by a medical doctor within the hospital. The self-same medical doctor that had brought that contract to the table.

Three guesses who that stooge was.

So, there I was. No job, no chance, and little money. I'd like to say that I soldiered through it without a care in the world, and carved out a new niche for myself. All I will say is that while the array of cheap booze is mind-boggling, if you get down cheap enough, there's no longer a taste difference between any of them. Only the quality of the hangover changes.

I got dragged out of the bottle by the same merc that had tracked me down at the hospital. Griffith. Seems there's actually quite a market for patching up mercs without leaving a paper trail. Shocking, huh? Yeah, well -- I know a lot more now then I did then. So I patch up folks who know to find me for a respectable fee. I can fix most cyber implants that have gone south, or were unprofessionally done by some guy with a hot glue gun in the first place. For a substantial fee, I can be convinced to cart my stupid butt to the front lines to make sure a team will make it out in as few pieces as possible. On off days, I open the clinic to folks in the neighborhood that I can afford to treat from last week's earnings. Did you know that Gangers have mothers? Yeah, me neither. Live and learn.

For the record, if you can still breathe after the sudden stop, the scenery's terrible, but some of the company isn't half bad.

Oh. And vive le resistance.

Name: Brandon Connelly
Class: 3rd Level Dedicated Hero / 5th Level Medico
Starting Occupation: Emergency Services
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Height: 5' 10"
Weight: 190 lbs
Eyes: Green
Hair: Brown
Skin: Caucasian

Strength: 10
Dexterity: 10
Constitution: 10
Intelligence: 14
Wisdom: 18
Charisma: 11

HP: 40
Defense: 20
Initiative: 4
Base Attack: 5
Speed: 30'

Fortitude Save: 12
Reflex Save: 6
Will Save: 14

Reputation: 3
Wealth Bonus: 11

Melee Attack Bonus: 5
Ranged Attack Bonus: 5

Total	Ranks	Skills
3	1	Computer Use
8	8	Concentration
10	6	Craft (Pharmaceutical)
5	5	Diplomacy
1	1	Knowledge (Art)
7	5	Knowledge (Earth and Life Sciences) *
3	1	Knowledge (History)
7	5	Knowledge (Physical Sciences)
7	5	Knowledge (Streetwise)
7	5	Knowledge (Technology)
6	2	Listen
16	11	Profession (Doctor)
10	8	Repair (Electronic)
4	2	Search
6	2	Sense Motive
6	2	Spot
20	11	Treat Injury *
-	-	Read/Write Language (English)
-	-	Read/Write Language (Japanese)
-	-	Speak Language (English)
-	-	Speak Language (Japanese)
* denotes permanent Class Skills from Starting Occupation

Feats
Starting Character: Improved Initiative
Starting Character: Windfall
Starting Dedicated Hero: Simple Weapons Proficiency
2nd Level Dedicated Hero: Medical Expert
3rd Level Bonus: Run
1st Level Medico: Personal Firearms Proficiency
1st Level Medico: Armor Proficiency (Light)
1st Level Medico: Armor Proficiency (Medium)
3rd Level Medico: Surgery
6th Level Bonus: Great Fortitude

Talents / Special Abilities
1st Level Dedicated Hero: Healing Knack
3rd Level Dedicated Hero: Healing Touch 1
1st/3rd Level Medico: Improved First Aid (+2)
2nd Level Medico: Protected
3rd Level Medico: Procedures
5th Level Medico: Unflappable

Basic Gear
Bullet-resistant Jacket
9 mm Sig P226