5. What's the story behind your street name? Did you choose it, or was it given to you? Why?
What's in a name? That which we call a rose, omae. Best to leave that kind of poetics to the Bard, neh? No, that's not the name of some new crime boss. What are they not teaching you kiddos these days? Somebody remind me to buy the lot of you some knowsofts to round out your educations (or lack thereof). Don't they have Shakespearean-sculpted nodes somewhere in the Matrix? Frag me anyways.
But let's put all that drek aside for now and answer this week's burning question. If you're a halfway functional slot at all, you may have scanned that my street name doesn't come from my resemblance (in form or function) to the garden tool. Nor is it some secret elf title for an important magical gardening task. You can thank my ID guy Sneaky Pete for that half-baked notion. It's about the silliest conspiracy theory ever; but they'll say anything on those Matirx-casts he's always streaming.
As it turns out, my moniker was bestowed on me by some of my previous "professional" associates as a multi-layered pun. Thanks again, Ivan and Sergei: you slots are hi-fraggin'-larious. In all seriousness, though, it suits me fairly well, if you know your vocabulary. Allow me to drop a little knowledge of the less common applications of the word "rake" to help explain:
1. (verb) To gather together, specifically in the context of gambling winnings.
2. (verb) To search or examine thoroughly; ransack.
3. (verb) To aim heavy gunfire along the length of.
4. (noun) Abbreviated form of "rakehell", an ancient term for a carefree, witty, sexually irresistible aristocrat man prone to immoral conduct and heartless womanizing.
My comrades at the time decided that all four of these meanings applied to me, for reasons somewhat obvious to those who know me. The first one was a low-blow jab at my past gambling issues, which are mostly under control these days. Second, I'm known to be thorough in my approach to the biz. As for the last two definitions: I've been known to both shoot and sweet-talk my way out of jams, as the situation demanded. I have to admit, I do tend to have my way with the ladies; there was this one time with this ork gal named Felina...
[redacted/censored/eww-gross!]
Okay, Tryx, enough of that! Will you stop hacking my posts already? I get the hint: "old people sex is gross" and all that drek. Let's agree to disagree, and leave our juvie-selves at the door, so ka?
Anwyays, you add it all up, and you've got "Rake" - another poor slot about as mixed up as the rest of you chummers. I guess I'm still waiting for that wisdom they supposedly hand out with age. I'll be sure to let your descendants know if that package ever arrives at my doorstep, chummer, but I don't think I'll lay around waiting on it in the meantime, as there's work to be done and nuyen to be earned/stolen.
Now, for a more important question: which one of you n00bs forgot to bring your silencer?
-Rake