Brian's a Junkie, a petty thief, and a part-time prostitute. There's no sob story to be had here, he built his own garden path to hell brick by apathetic brick. Raised in the florescent glow of the plastic fantastic burbs he was a bored little brat with a taste for the club scene, techno and drugs were his man made gods.

His parents tried to help him... rehab, reform school, the sort of measures you'd expect but in the end (and trust me, there's always an end) they had to cut him loose...some people can't be saved ya kno? He doesn't blame them, hell, he's barely aware of what his own name is half the time. Reality was too harsh, too sharp around the edges, and getting off isn't nearly as fun without a good buzz. He wanders the ghettos of Hathian aimlessly when he's awake, either selling himself or grifting to scrape enough money together to score, another night of screwing and getting high, his personal downward spiral of self destruction.

The poster child of a wasted life... but being scum isn't so bad, there's security in knowing you can sink no lower.