My name is Belial; I'm a shadowrunner. First, if you are wondering, no, Belial is not my given name. My parents loved me. I will not be using my given names as I have enemies. Enemies that would like nothing better than to have my head on a pike outside any of their homes. Enemies that would go to any lengths to accomplish that goal, including hurting my family and friends to get to me. I have done anything and everything you could imagine: industrial espionage, extractions, protection, even wetwork. I'm not a bad guy. I'm just a bored kid from Renton who found his calling.

As I said, my parents loved me. They were corp wageslaves (and no I won't say which one). I grew up in the American dream, in the suburbs with ample trideo to watch and more than ample matrix games to play. I went to U-Dub to get a real education. This really slotted my parents off, as they had dreams for me and my siblings to follow in their footsteps as inglorious (see education) corporate drones. But I learned things in school other than a few 10 neuyen words that I liked to throw around at parties and in literary works such as this. I also learned that I did not want to pursue a profession with my chosen major (again, don't want put any of the professors in danger [seriously, these are some nasty guys that want to kill me]).

I kind of fell into running the shadows as a lark. I, like many of my peers, saw the guys in the trids and the movies and thought "hey I could do that." They see the trids and see the strapping, good looking shadowrunner not only get to blow away the bad guy on a weekly basis but also get impossibly rich while doing it. Plus he gets to bed the perfect 10 model or trideo starlet that he saved that week. Well, of course, that's rarely how it all turns out. One of two things happens to most of the naive middle-class kids who buy a gun and decide they too are going to run the shadows. They find out that a shadowrunner just starting out rarely gets to blow drek up, or gets paid worse than most working class stiffs. As a bonus, the only women he gets are the ones he can pay for with the paltry cred he acquires when he has no rep and quits early. Or they stick around too long. The shadows eat them alive, and they end up in a shallow grave in Redmond (if they are so lucky).

I, however, went into the biz thinking that I could get a little extra cash, and got proper schooling in the ways of the shadows from those who had been there before. By the time I got out of school (graduated with a 2.5 GPA) I had the rep, the skills, and most importantly, the contacts to actually go into business for myself.