**Character Bio: Jonny Fever** *Real name: Unknown* *Alias(es): The Luau Lich, Coconut Bastard, That One Guy Rogue Hates* --- **Role:** Fixer (unofficial, unlicensed, unhinged) **Base of Operations:** South Pacific Imports Warehouse (abandoned), Santo Domingo **Affiliations:** Various mercs dumb enough to answer his calls, scattered corpo washouts, and one extremely loyal cyber-enhanced parrot named *Mai Tai* **Status:** Alive (inexplicably) --- **Overview:** Jonny Fever is Night City’s loudest enigma—an unwashed hurricane of bad decisions wrapped in a floral shirt and slathered in synthrum stench. Nobody knows where he came from, but rumor says he drifted into Night City on a modified cargo hauler turned tiki bar from Hawaii nearly two decades ago. Since then, he’s carved out a baffling niche for himself among the city’s more desperate mercs: the go-to guy for jobs that sound like drunken ramblings but somehow pay out like corporate wet dreams. His fix gigs are legendary for all the wrong reasons. One week you’re stealing an AI chip from an Arasaka transport, the next you’re escorting a crate of genetically-enhanced pineapples into Pacifica with no context and a stern warning not to open it (someone always opens it). The missions are convoluted, the instructions cryptic, and Jonny’s barely coherent half the time—yet the eddies always flow. He’s also the only known individual to have **survived** not one, not two, but **five** assassination contracts from **Rogue** herself. His crime? Repeatedly hitting on her at the Afterlife with lines like *“Ever been to a luau in low gravity, babe?”* and *“I bet you taste like mango and war crimes.”* After his fourth survival, Rogue offered double the pay for the fifth hit. After the fifth failed attempt, she just said *“Fuck it,”* and banned him from the Afterlife for eternity. Even her bouncers refer to him as *“That Floral Freak.”* --- **Known Traits:** - **Bombastic personality:** Talks like a washed-up rockstar crossed with a Hawaiian cult leader. Every call starts with “*YOOOO it’s ya boy, FEVER, comin’ atcha live from the sweet side of the synthrum coma!*” - **Aggressively drunk:** Constantly blitzed on synthrum, mindfuel, or some homemade cocktail he calls *Cyber Punch*—a volatile blend of liquor, nano-stims, and cola-flavored trauma patch glue. - **Mother-insulter:** Has a bizarre fixation with threatening to sleep with the mothers of anyone who questions his methods. No one's sure if he's joking. Some *are* sure he's succeeded. - **Inexplicably successful:** Despite (or perhaps because of) the chaos, his jobs tend to end with massive payouts. Corporations hate him, mercs tolerate him, and netrunners have dedicated conspiracy boards trying to figure out if he’s secretly a black-ops AI stress-testing Night City. --- **Last Known Job Posting:** > “Job’s easy, choom. Break into an abandoned hotel, steal a bathtub full of anti-grav eels, then bring it to this noodle shop in Kabuki. Don’t ask questions. Also, your mom says hi. I was with her last night. She’s proud of you. Probably.” > — Jonny Fever, voice message at 4:37 AM, with audible synthrum burps in the background. --- **Street Reputation:** - “He’s a drunk, he’s a clown, but he made me a millionaire.” - “I lost an eye and half a liver on one of his gigs. Still worth it.” - “If he calls you, *never* answer on speaker. He *will* talk about your mom.” - “I don’t trust him. But I’d die for him. Or maybe I already did.” --- **Rumored Facts (Unconfirmed):** - Once dated a Ripperdoc who installed a breathalyzer that could disable his car. He hacked it to read at 0.0 when he’s over 0.3. - May be part dolphin. - Allegedly has a vault in Pacifica containing nothing but vintage beach towels, explosive pineapples, and two A-tier Militech netrunners in suspended animation for reasons unknown. - Might actually be a rogue AI fragment from a failed Hawaiian resort program that gained sentience and escaped during the Unification War. --- **If found unconscious in public:** Do *not* administer aid. Do *not* call authorities. Do *not* engage in conversation. Just check his pockets for eddies and leave. **...Unless you’re ready to make a small fortune the stupid way.**