A DM Stash & Nerikson Collaboration
[Presupported in 32mm and 75mm scale]
[LYS Files Included]
Raised in the pontoons and canals of the flooded old city of Southport, now just called The Port, Clarence’s childhood was understandably turbulent in the slums of the Chrome Coast. One plagued by neglect, abuse, guns pointed at his skull, cigarettes burned on his skin. Such is life being a Portie, living in the side of the Chrome Coast beyond the wall, where the eyes of the law seldom wander and most justice is dealt out frontier style, like bush rangers of old.
So Clarence never had much of a chance as a kid, least of all owing to him just being seen as a weirdo and a freak by his peers, showing signs of psychopathy at an early age, and dealt with an unhealthy obsession in elite and expensive tech that a povo kid like him would never have a dream of getting. Unless he took it, forcefully: and he did. The elite never saw him or those like him as people, so he didn’t see them in the same light either. It was easy for him to fall in with the wrong kind of gang then, one that ticked all his boxes: the LED-heads. There he got his moniker, “Blink” for being “a creepy mother-fucker who never broke eye contact with anyone”, even before he got his LED visor. Here he got all the tech he wanted, and he got to personally take it from the corporate rats and spoiled princes and princesses of the Chrome Coast, all on a five finger discount.
With a passion for his gruesome line of work, Clarence found himself quickly rising to the rank of Lieutenant among the Burleigh Chapter of the LED-heads. Usually such positions arose whenever the previous lieutenant got ventilated by a bunch of coppers, or scrambled their brains delving into too many bootleg Neurodives. Clarence was sure that wasn’t going to happen to him: he was built differently from the rest. He never had humanity to leave behind, and he simply lived his life as a thug with the dial always turned to 11. Though his one point of weakness was being called by his real name “Clarence,” especially in a mocking manner. Any beneath him learnt pretty quickly not to do that, usually after they’d copped a bullet to the knee or had a finger cut clean off.
But not everything’s smooth sailing for crims like Blink, it didn’t take long for him to realise that his skull is just as vulnerable to a .50 cal bullet as everyone else's. After his crew kidnapped and tried to ransom the daughter of a local politico, his compound was raided by a fully-kitted merc corp who completely butchered his crew and stole the girl back. Vowing vengeance, Blink swore to use all his resources to go after them, that is until he realised what was happening, and that same politico had now placed an even higher bounty on his head after her daughter zero’d out after her rescue. Now he’s hiding back in the slums of the Port, waiting for this to all blow over. Like it ever will.
