- My Story Is...
“Smoke? Yeah, I know ‘im. He get you what you want. Want a scrubbed piece? Smoke got you. Want a side hustle? Smoke got you, baby. Want a tall-ass platinium blonde wit’ stilleto heels, thigh highs all stuffed in a leather getup lookin’ like she gon’ tie you up an’ whip you an’ shit but she really got a bio printer in that bag of tricks an’ ’bout to cut off dude’s hand an’ get you behind that ultra-sec vault door? Dig, Smoke got you.”
- My Appearance
“I was waiting for Nakamura when this wall of muscle walked in. Man, this guy looked like he stepped out of a tank, you know? One of them designer tank-borns, paid for by some high roller to be DNA’d into the epitome of professional. Guy comes over and asks to see my verachip. He was cool though, polite, well dressed. Stacked and jacked, but spent more on his suits than I did on my ride. Anyway, I thought the dude was gonna ice me when we got in the elevator, but he just told me to have a nice visit after the door opened again.”
- My Secrets Are...
Purchasable, for the proper amount.