Ragger is a true child of the streets and if you ask him who his parents are 4 times he'll give you 5 answers. Honestly, the boy doesn't know. He was kidnapped out of a supermarket at age 2 and then abandoned by his abductors when the realized they didn't know who to contact to make their demands. Reggie, as he was known, would have died quickly if an old Sluagh spinster named May hadn't spotted him from behind her drawn shades, hurried down stairs, and swept him up to raise as her own.
Ragger underwent his Chrysalis before his third birthday. While May was generous and devoted, her mortal frame was about burned out and she couldn't keep up with the rambunctious boy. With few reigns, he grew up on the streets. Natural dexterity and inhuman skills made him a natural pickpocket and car thief. Word eventually got out that the "Wild Child" was the best pickpocket out there and he began to gather other like-minded childlings. Some came to join, others to challenge, but all fell under his charismatic spell and by the time he was 9 he was the undisputed king of the filches and cutpurses of San Francisco. They called themselves Ragger's Band. Other fagins sent bully-boys to carve territory out of his flesh but they either returned empty handed or joining him.
When May died, he plunged into a brief but deep depression but was rescued by Henry, a troll who had originally been sent by a rival to rough him up and had almost immediately fallen under Ragger's spell. Without the surrogate mother, a surrogate father stepped up.
Ragger seems to be of mixed Indian and African ancestry. His eyes are always smiling, verging on a sneer and his fingers are impossibly long and thin. He sports a near-buzz cut of his curly black hair but he always wears a backwards 49ers cap so it isn't like his hairstyle matters. He's not quite 4 and half feet tall and finds it impossible to sit still for more than seven or eight seconds at a time. His fingers always move and he'll lift a wallet from a companion before he even realizes he's done it. He usually wears a madcap motley of team jerseys and baggy pants, though occasionally he'll slum in flannel.
The world is Ragger's oyster and he's acquired a taste for seafood. San Francisco is a sandcastle waiting for him to kick it over. He's surrounded by friends who realize how great he is. there isn't a kid on Nob Hill who has more video game cartridges than he does, and even if there were, he could whip their ass and their father's ass too. He has no idea what's impossible, simply because for him nothing has been yet.
When dealing with "adults" he puts on airs of a businessman. He talks about prudent moves and long-term investments, though it's quite obvious that he hasn't planned past 3:15 tomorrow afternoon. He looks to Henry to back up his decisions 100%, and has absolutely no doubt that every member of his little band of thieves will back him as far as he cares to go. The possibility of a situation where he might come out on the short end hasn't even occurred to him yet.