User Profile

(The following is the IC Background for the character. It is to be considered all OOC info when read here. If your char wants to learn about her past talk to me and we can work it out in scenes.)

An alcoholic father and an overly zealous mother. Great way to start life huh? Well that's the hand I was dealt. As if that wasn't enough to put a kid in counseling for years to come whatever power is that is out there had the wacky sense of humor to give that kid a mutant gene to top it all off. Great huh?

How Mom and Dad met, let alone ended up hitched is a mystery to me. They were like night and day. She was all uppity and waggling her Bible around and he was always drunk and smacking people around. Usually me. Sometimes Mom too.

We weren't the wealthy people in our little town near Huellet, Wisconsin. Heck you could even say I come from the wrong side of the tracks. Course when you're dad can't keep a job and your mom is the Cashier at the Piggly Wiggly that's not all that suprising. Of course this lead to teasing at school from the other kids who wore the best clothes and all the name brands. Forget about little sleepovers and Birthday parties. No way I'd have had those. Not even if the parentals had let me. Like I'd want people coming to ye olde shack and having more ammo to make fun of you with. Elementary school kids can be brutal.

It wasn't until puberty that things got real interesting and for more reasons than the usual ones. I first started noticing there was something that was a little different about me when I was at the mall. No I wasn't one of those girl lucky enough to be there shopping or on a date or even catching a movie. I was people watching. The cheapest form of entertainment when you can't manage to sneak into a movie after all.

I had a couple bucks I'd found along the train tracks but not enough to buy eats. I figured I'd try to charm the pimply faced boy who looked like he was a member of the pocket protector crowd into looking past the fact that it wasn't enough to cover the food I ordered at the Happy Burger there in the mall. At least long enough for me to get the heck out of Dodge before Mall security showed up.

Imagine my suprise when the kid started running after me and shouting after I slipped the two bills in his hand and grabbed the food and walked away quickly. It wasn't until I heard what he was shouting that I stopped running. He was trying to give me change. Change?!? He said I'd handed him a twenty and shoved the change in my hands grinning from ear to ear. I think he thought I was interested in him or something. I thanked him and took off without a word.

That night I tried to figure out what happened. I realized that I had been concentrating so hard on getting him to see what I wanted him too that it worked like some kind of hypnosis or something. So I set out to investigate this little theory of mine.

Now I was never a bad student exactly but I never really put a lot of effort into my school work either. I suppose I could have been one of those honors students but that was never my thing ya know? So I decided to try and convince the teacher that I'd handed in my paper in class the next day. No big if it didn't work. So I stapled a few pages together that were blank and when the time came the next day I handed it to her. She took it with no complaints. It wasn't until a few days later when she approached me and admitted she had lost it somehow. I managed to get an A by default.

Everything was peachy keen till my 16th birthday. Dad was on another bender. Mom was being her normal passive self trying to appease him with dinner on the table and the house all neat and tidy and all that garbage. You know, all that "the man is the head of the household and a woman should know her place" crap that she always spouted.

He had started in on me. Stupid stuff, my hair looked terrible. Didn't I have any kind of self respect? I was a disgrace to the family. All the usual stuff. And did Mom try to say anything in my defense? Of course not. But then again that was par for the course. She was like a frickin Steppford wife or something minus the money and clothes and blonde bimbo hair.

It was when he hit me that something in me just snapped. I don't know why, I mean, it wasn't the first time the old man had hit me. I guess I'd just let it build for too long. I hit him back and then he started wailin' on me. We ended up in a big tussle in the living room, knocking over the coffee table and even managed to knock the TV off it's stand and send it crashing to the floor. I was just so filled with rage that I couldn't see straight. In my mind's eye I could see him just engulfed in flames and burning alive. It wasn't something I intentionally did, I mean I just thought it. You don't exactly think straight when you're like that.

He started screaming in fear, at least I figured it was fear later, at the time I didn't know what was going on. All I knew was that he'd stopped hitting me and was slapping himself all over as if to put out the flames I'd seen in my mind's eye. My mother rushed to his side and tried to help. It was the last straw. I ran to my room, threw a few things in an old army rucksack I had and went out the window.

I hitched a ride in a boxcar headed east. I didn't know where I was going or what was gonna happen to me but I figured anywhere was better than here. Somewhere along the way I managed to fall asleep. When I woke up I was in Pittsburg. I was scared as heck that my folks had called the police so I decided it would be best to get away from the railways altogether. I found the nearest truck stop and hitched a ride with a tanker truck headed north to New Jersey.

That's where I called home for the last three years. Of course 'home' is a relative term really. One night home could be a park bench. Another it could be a cardboard box in a back alley or a couch offered by one of the working gals down on 5th and Vine. Course I never accepted the offer more than once a week from them if that much. They always tried to talk me into getting into the business. Not my thing.

I survived by basically learning how to rummage through trash, eventually learning to pick pocket, and sheer determination. The first two years were tough cause I had to avoid the cops at all costs. If my folks had reported me missing, which granted was highly unlikely unless it was just to beat me senseless for leaving, they'd run my name and it'd be back off to Wisconsin for me. Not my idea of a good time.

I found a guy that made IDs for 50 bucks and once I had the cash scraped up for it got one. Of course that only helped so far. If you run a fake ID then nothing comes back which I guess is better than getting busted as a runaway. I had to learn that one the hard way. Luckily I was in better shape than the 50 year old cop that had apparently had one donut too many.

It wasn't easy living on the streets and my gift wasn't as reliable as I was counting on. It would come and go. Like if I was physically exhausted it didn't seem to work. Or if I was stressed too badly it would be totally unpredictable. I had to learn to defend myself out there and after quite a few good beatings I took I managed to pick up a few tricks that saved my butt. Dirty tricks but hey whatever it takes to live through it right? That's a lesson I learned long ago from the parentals. Or rather from living with them.

The pick pocketing was where my gift came in most handy. A quick illusion to distract a person and an accidental bump into them or a pretend fall and thier wallets were mine. Not the easiest life but hey, it's way better than living at home.

Now I'm in New York. Moving on to new scenery and all. I hear that there's other people like me here. A lot of them. People with unexplained gifts and powers. Maybe I can learn more about what I am from them. I hate the term mutant or mutie. I don't consider myself one. To me mutants are like three headed goats and people with like gills and scales for skin you know? Who knows where this new turn in the road will take me but it's fun to find out.

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