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Drystan

"You don't know who I am."

0 · 431 views · located in Night City

a character in “Cyberpunk 2038”, as played by El_Gringo

Description

Full Name: Griffin Shael Vaughan

Nickname: “Drystan”- Due to his characteristics reflecting the Knight of the Round Table of the same name.

Gender: Male

Age: 22

Sexual Orientation: Please, no labels

Height: 5'8"

Weight: 143 lbs

Augmentations/Skills:

Face Augmentation: Something of a rarity, Drystan underwent weeks of surgery for this aug. With it he can practically take his "real" face off, reconstructing it with his collection of 'faces.' The aug mechanics covering his skull can bend and reshape to build features resembling another person. Consider it face shape-shifting.

General Augmentations: The useful augmentations for advanced sight, hearing, and other senses have been installed. Otherwise, he is still a regular human being. There is no armor interlaced in his whole body.

Equipment: To go along with his chameleon augmentation, he owns a variety of practical effects too. Wigs, make-up, weight vests, and a variety of male and female clothes. On the rare occasion he goes as a female, he has fake breasts as well. Over his short life as a miscreant he has accumulated so many 'disguise' accessories, he hardly has a style of his own anymore. Drystan can be many people over the course of a week. He owns a variety of lock-picking kits and other thieves tools, and is very adept at stealth. A variety of small arms adorn his bedroom wall: he only carries concealable guns and blades.


Image
How his father knows him



Personality: When being real, he has a sharp wit and loves to chatter. An active night life style is a definite part of his life, all part of living in the fast lane. He has little time for posers or pussies, as he would put it. To say he is also impulsive would be putting it mildly, taking pleasures whenever he can. Drystan dabbles in hackery and the tech world, but prefers to leave that to the geeks. Hands on, that is how he approaches all. The deception he can undertake with his face aug is an enjoyable experience; a living deception. Many would say he is shameless.

History: Griffin was a single child, born to a high class escort from the loins of a high ranking crime boss. He was always provided for, through money delivered to his mother. On occasion his father would stop and share a few words of advice. Griffin wanted to impress him, to show him he could stand out.

He started by stealing, from vendors and shops. It was easy. The few times he was observed, he ran his little ass off. Over time, people learned to recognize his face as the thief he was. Griffin changed it up and started to vandalize, tagging buildings and public monuments with his ragtag group of scrappy kids. In school he took an interest in drama, excelling in theater, debate, and dance. Through his father he got the hook-up for top quality acting classes. He wanted control of his emotions, his mind, and his body.

When his mom was away, one of her regulars burst through the locked door, his strength aug rendering the high security lock useless. Horny, he decided to try Griffin out instead. Griffin gave way, showing no resistance, and lead the man to his mothers bedroom. Once inside, he reached into the closet to grab a "toy." To the man's surprise it was a submachine gun his father had left, just in case. A spray of bullets later, the man was face down in a puddle of blood. Those acting lessons had paid off big time.

The rebellious phase was over. Griffin played the knight Drystan in a school play, forever tagging himself with the nickname. Bold, shameless, deceptive, and reckless. He embodied the spirit of the man. School became a focus, his old friends fell to the wayside as thieving and tagging became less interesting to him. Griffin started to get to know his dad more, eventually he explained what kind of augmentations he was looking for. His father made them happen, and began utilizing him in jobs.

Drystan was used to eliminate a potential rat. He augged into a morose face with a giant nose, dressing as a homeless man. He even rolled in shit; Drystan was a method actor. The target walked by, leaving his apartment to go get groceries. A few gunshots later it was over, the face was changed, and the shit was washed off. The sullen, bum had disappeared.

Once he had finally pleased his father, he didn't want to work for him anymore. While his mother was no pure white princess, he preferred her to be in the dark about what he really did. She though he was a star of the theatre, of where he still held a civ job. Drystan looked elsewhere for his clandestine work, and the CKSD seemed willing to utilize his skill set. His maiden voyage was about to begin.

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How his mother knows him


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Daeron Ixt, father & Justine Vaughan, mother

So begins...

Drystan's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Imogen Trondeau Character Portrait: George Delaney Character Portrait: Antony Largo Character Portrait: Mark "The Sphinx" Parnasse Character Portrait: Laney Knobs Character Portrait: Drystan
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Mark shook his head. He took his coffee and sat back.

George nodded. Beside her the phone buzzed. Her eyes moved to it. “Good. Good that was the message I was hoping to get. You will have a technician and an infiltrator. You will need both for this job.”

She picked up her phone, typing back a message to Drystan telling him to come up.

“I will tell you now that the person you are going after is not much of a threat however she has a watchdog on her. You will need to eliminate him if you have any hope of eliminating her and this is an elimination job.”

George looked at Antony. “I trust though that you have no issue with that.”

Her hands folded on the table. “Once our last two arrive...” She looked at her phone. “Which should be momentarily I will fill in the details. Mark if you wish you can begin searching for information on our target. You are looking for a hacker who goes by the name Glitch.”

Mark didn’t flinch but he did stare at George. “Glitch? I know her. Why are you going after her?”

George shook her head. “I will tell you all when everyone gets here. I dislike repeating myself.” She frowned and put a hand to her shoulder. The skin was tight and it bothered her that she felt limited.

Her eyes fell on the door, waiting for Laney and Drystan.
--------------------------------
Imogen’s day started like any other. Yoga, coffee, a shower and then pouring over the research she had taken from Portel’s labs. There was a lot to go over and she had started sorting the lab results. She had found not only the research for the drug they were under contract for but other drugs, other lab results that had made her feel numb.

Her old teacher, the man she had to work under was in charge of some very questionable things. It did not surprise her, Mitchell had always pushed beyond the borders of ethics and reason. He was not that old, maybe in his forties when he ran the lab at the university and even then it was easy to see the man cared very little for others.

The things she found went beyond what Imogen had ever thought a scientist was capable of. She wondered how he managed to go undetected by officials and how his employers let these things go one. It is all about money... The more she read the more she understood that fact.

Homeless fed handfuls of unnamed drugs and then watched for reactions. Men tearing at their own skin as one drug caused them to hallucinate. Women left infertile or with deformed children after they were given untested drugs without their knowledge. The more she read the more ill she felt. Mitchell Vinger had ordered all the tests, monitored all results. His signature was on everything.

Imogen couldn’t look at the files anymore. It felt like what she read was sucking her humanity from her. She pulled on her coat and grabbing her purse decided to go out for a bit.

There were perks to living in the nicer areas of Night City. Shops that carried the latest fashions, gyms that specialized in high end clientele. Spas and jewelry stores. Restaurants of the finest standings and Imogen’s favourites, the little cafes.

She found a table all to herself in the corner after ordering her coffee. Pulling out her tablet she began to read her email. There was nothing special waiting for her so she flicked over to the scream sheets to catch up on the latest news and fashion.

“You know you have not changed one bit.” The clink of a cup and man’s voice made Imogen looked up. The colour drained from her face. The voice sounded familiar, though slightly different. It sparked memories of whispered comments in her ear. Her skin crawled.

Mitchell Vinger stood in front of her, placing her coffee down before taking the seat across from her. Imogen felt frightened and trapped. She sat up taller and composed herself.

“What’s the matter, surprised to see an old friend?”

Her hands folded on her lap. “Is that what we were? Me your lab assistant and you the sadistic scientist?” It took everything in her not to run, not to slip into her native french. She didn’t want him to know that he unnerved her.
“Such kind things you have to say about me. Are you going to drink your coffee? Hate to see it grow cold.” Mitchell eyed the cup.

“It can wait. To what do I owe the visit and how may I ask did you know where to find me?” Imogen’s mind raced. If he knew she was here did he know where she lived as well?

Mitchell chuckled. He was older than the last time she saw him and it showed in his eyes and salt and pepper hair. He still lacked a genuine smile.

“Why Imogen, imagine my surprise to see you on security footage that we were able to recover from a little mishap at my lab. Wasn’t much mind you, someone blew it up but you see with that and a bit of information we had come our way I was able to find you. I will spare you the boring details. So tell me, how much therapy did it take to get over them raping you in the alley? I am curious on what that does to a brain. I’d love to test you sometime.”

Her stomach tightened. “You...” She was shaking and it was clear from her voice and demeanour that he had gotten to her. “You really have no tactic. You simply must see what happens. Is that it? You wanted to shake me up? See if you could make me cry?”

Mitchell smiled. It was cold and sadistic. He leaned forward, coming in close to her.“I came to ask you to join my team. As payback. You owe me for that little stunt and the files you stole. Perhaps you’d prefer me to come take them from you, by force? That could be fun...”

Imogen let a breath out through her nose. “Leave. I have nothing to say to you.”

Mitchell leaned back in his chair. “Now that is a shame. I thought we could talk. You on my team once more would be so pleasant for me. But perhaps we shall to talk about it another time. I should give you time to think it over. Next time how about we do this at your place? Or maybe you will just show up at mine one day...” He left the threat hanging in the air as he stood. “Au revoir madame. I look forward to seeing you again.”

Imogen watched him leave. She grabbed her phone and dialed the first number that came up. It was the last person she talked to and that was Mark.