Gabriel is known for pulling off bank jobs for profit, and employs Lemuria Codecrackers for mapping out corporate servers in preparation for a run. He uses Silencer chips that make his Killer icebreakers more efficient. He's not above a little bribery to get what he wants. As a safety measure, Gabriel has his secretary rigged to lawyer up if he happens to go off-grid. He is associated with Mr Li.
According to Gabriel, Savor-faire ("Predictive algorithms that fetch you the program you need before you even know you need it") is his second-favorite lady.
Born in New Angeles and raised off-grid, Gabriel Correa Santiago never had a future as a normal, law-abiding citizen. Disenfrancistos in the undercity of New Angeles, like Gabriel once was, have no obvious path out. With no official IDs, they can’t easily get government assistance or education, not to mention jobs. The jobs they can find are difficult or dangerous, usually illegal, and the pay is awful. Things have only gotten worse with the rise of androids driving wages down. So the fact that Gabriel turned to a life of crime isn’t surprising; what is surprising is that he found he was very good at it.
Gabriel got his start in chip-ripping and PAD-cracking, but it didn’t take him long to start learning the trade and moving on to bigger and better things. He never received formal schooling, but he received a top class education in running from years of on-the-job training and a series of increasingly learned and sinister mentors in both meatspace and on the shadow net. Now Gabriel is one of the most accomplished cybercriminals you’ll find anywhere – not just in New Angeles, but in the solar system. And all this time, he’s never forgotten his first rule: look out for yourself, ‘cuz no one else will.
Short Story Edit
(transcribed from the rulebook)
Gabriel was hungry. Nothing new. Grew up hungry. Grew up lean. Grew up mean on the streets of New Angeles. You don't get much schooling on the streets but you do get an education. Gabriel grew up speaking three languages and cursing in three more. He learne how to spot a cop or a spydrone, how to palm a PAD from a ristie's coat pocket, how to crack the case and burn out the auto-locator without scragging the valuable electronics inside.
Being hungry gave him an edge. Had to want it more. Had to need it. Had to be willing to do what it took to get ahead. So, yeah. Gabriel was hungry. He liked it that way. Kept himself hungry. Cracking PADs turned into cracking code, turned into cracking networks. Could've gone straight, worked for HB or one of the small software startups that bloom and die like mushrooms on a corpse all through New Angeles. Gotten fat. Complacent. Lost the edge.
"Better this way," Gabriel said, hanging upside down outside the 124th floor of the Hu-Jintao arcology. A green light blinked on the small black box affixed to the window by his head, claiming the alarm was successfully disabled. Gabriel ignored it; it was linked to his cortical implant and he'd know if it needed his attention. He focused on carefully removing the cut glass from the window before him. Couldn't drop it, couldn't let the wind snatch it away. He used his good hand, his flesh-and-blood hand, for the operation. Deftly he tucked the circle of glass, about the size of his palm, into the front pocket of his vest. Then the laser probe had to be placed just so, with the beam striking the optical port on the sarariman's desk inside, and then he was in to the network.
He pulled a cable from the laser probe and socketed it into his wrist -- his bad wrist, his metal wrist. An optical connection established, his implant came to life, flooding his mind with data. His sense of his body fell away; he wasn't hanging upside down a mile above the street with the wind tearing at his clothes anymore. He was in a river of data, a bodiless phantasm, a ghost in the machine.
But he was still hungry.
"Of course I steal from the rich. They're the ones with all the money."
"You contacted me because I'm the best."
"A little preparation goes a long way."
“Yeah, I followed the money. Unfortunately, it was only two credits.”
Gabriel flashed his trademark grin. A good grin, one that charmed ladies, put men at ease and frightened anyone who knew him well.
“Public network kiosks, vending machines–there’s all sorts of poorly-secured power sources in the city. Tap in to one of these and you’ve got plenty of juice when you need it. A little advance warning when the power grid starts misbehaving, too.”
“Sometimes it’s helpful to remember that you’re not the only one who loves money.”
“Gabriel Santiago is a man without a sense of guilt. He has no remorse. He seems to take no joy in his work. As far as I am aware, he has no soul… He is a true professional, and it’s a pleasure doing business with him.”