The smell of rotting synth-meat and stale kibble forces you conscious. It's dark, and as your hands grope around the pitch blackness, it's wet. You attempt to stand, and a resounding crash happens as you whack your head on metal.
The pain forces memories back into your head, the shooting, the car chase, hiding in this very dumpster... and who you are...

1: Corporate Netrunner. Raised in a training facility, the net's a second home to you, and you know your way around it better than meatspace.

2: MedTek Dropout. You used to be trauma team, now you're... whoever pays best. Couldn't keep up with the constantly raising deadlines and demands. Burnt you out.

3: Classic Solo. You were born out on the streets, grew up fighting. You were good enough to make a living out of it.

4: [Write-in!]