“Brad will pay with his life for what he did to my beloved Fifi. But only after I’ve chopped his nuts off with a particularly blunt cleaver.” -Masher

District: The Pleasure Strip

Occupation: Brad Hunter.

Masher is a loner who has spent the last few years of his life intent on avenging the death of his best friend and digital pet rat Fifi.

A few years prior, Masher had been enjoying a virtual bonding session with Fifi at his tiny apartment. He suddenly heard a crash, bang, wallop just beyond his front door. But before he even had time to fart, three little cyberpiggies crashed into his apartment.

Masher immediately felt his left leg explode below the knee just before somebody tackled him to the ground. As a cyberpig pinned him down by the neck, he watched in horror as another cyberpig (who we now know is Brad) shot Fifi’s life support computer chip which is the only way to permanently erase a virtual pet.

“Where’s the candy?” Brad squealed.

“You killed Fifi!”

“Grow up.”

“I’ll fucking kill you!”

“Yeah, right, whatever. You’re lucky I’ve already hit my kill count for today or your brains would be next. Now where’s that fucking candy, Mashedpotato?”

“Screw you!”

Brad shot his other leg which made Masher almost pass out from the pain.

There was a burst of static as a crackly computer voice said that they were needed immediately.

“Let’s just take his Ubercomputer,” one of them said. “And leave him here to bleed out.”

The cyberpigs disappeared, but Masher somehow didn’t bleed out. Instead he regained some strength and cauterised his stumps using a hand iron. He then crawled his way to some backstreet augmentation surgeon who gave him some new legs made out of cheap carbon.

Masher was a changed man, and not just because his new legs were shit. He vowed to kill Brad and, shortly after, himself so he can finally rest with his best friend.

It’s now clear as day that Give Me Head morale was nonexistent by this time. They must’ve known that the situation was terminal otherwise such a terrible idea for a playable character would have never made it out of the meeting room. It would’ve been slightly terrible, but definitely not total garbage.

Preferred Weapon: A gun with no name. As noted elsewhere, the final collectors’ cards began to seriously run out of juice.

[Insert your own question]: [Insert your own answer]

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