Lives alternately with her mom, a low-level manager in a Renraku arcology or in a cheap flat she rented after her mom caught her speedballing cram, long haul and trance in her bedroom, the multicoloured derms arranged like the stoplights of an intersection up along her wrist and inner arm.
She runs an unsuccessfull business as a matrix club manager, a hipster place in the style of a retro futuristic 80s night club, attracting only a small, but moderately loyal crowd, though it nearly seems to bother with the donation request by the stylized entrance of red neon, black metal and plain glass.

Dropping out of school at the age of 17 to sell pirated ICE breakers to hotdoggers in Atlanta had seemed like a good move when she'd made it, but she'd quickly discovered that moving stolen ware without a fence was a bad move, especially when what you were doing was basically trying to cut out the middle-man, and the local had gotten wind of her attempted dealings and tried to cause shit for her with corp security in the arc. An investigation had been called for, but nothing ever came of it.

Wise from her first mistake, she changed her access ID, got a new commcode and tried again, this time moving the software through the local fences, which seemed to work a lot better, nobody calling in favours from hackers to get her face a shiny new criminal SIN. She suspected they always knew she was the little shit that had tried to muscle in on their territory, but if they did, they didn't seem to care. The flow of biz had aquired a new player, the fences were making money, the hotdoggers were frying their brains on corporate black ICE. Everything was normal.

After the thrill of earning her own money for the first time in her life wore off however, she quickly discovered that this was nowhere near enough to pay for the kind of glamorous lifestyle she'd always wanted. So a year later, a slow year of accumulating contacts and resources and plenty of trial, but mostly error, runs on corporate junk servers that'd she'd had time to grow wise from, she tried a more serious intrusion, moving through the ICE of black corporate server and obtaining several gigs of music expected to hit it big, once it was released for public consumption, a few months from then. Moving this through a fence in a nameless bar in a nameless back alley had earned her more money than she'd ever owned, and ever the antisocial BitHead, she'd spent most of it on gear, and the flat to move her away from her mother, who by now was getting worried about the derms she'd found in her daughter's trash, and how she'd seemingly spend days without sleeping, and seemed to suffer infrequent mood swings.

A week later she'd recieved an offer from someone calling themselves a friend of her musical fence. She was good, he'd told her, a rising star, a new talent in the hacker community.
He said he wanted her help for a run. A shadowrun. A problem had occured in the world of the ever changing game of speed chess played by the triple A corps, which had been delegated down the rungs of the corporate ladder of lazy managers until it landed in the lap of a low level executive, another man on his way up who could get things done. A Mister Johnson.
Intel needed to be extracted from a server unreachable by way of the global matrix, and it needed to be done quickly, and on the cheap. She wouldn't even have to be there, he'd said, a group of infiltration specialists would accompany a drone trailing a fine line of fiberoptic cable into the compound where the server was kept. They'd connect the line, and she could do the run from the ball pit of the local McDonalds, if she wanted.
Though Mister Johnson reccommended that she not take him seriously on this.

The run went off well, with only minor complications, and almost no casualties on either side of the conflict. She retrieved the data, and delivered. Mister Johnson was pleased, and though he'd warned her that he wouldn't be able to pay her much, she'd definitely benefit from the boost in her reputation.
This turned out to be true enough, and with the conclusion of this job, she found herself somewhat unexpectedly thrust into the world of freelance corporate espionage.