Post by Kella on Jul 22, 2009 15:18:07 GMT -5
Name: November
Original Name: Mahla Ket'hee
Race: Human
Age: 26
Height: 5'8
Weight: 140 lbs
Birth place: Ruusan
Appearance:
November's build is average, her frame of the expected size for her height. She's as lean as an assassin should be, muscles subtly defined. Her figure, also, is average, and she's less busty than most.
November's hair is somewhat unique, the product of an odd quirk in her genetic code. Most of it is soft auburn-brown, with streaks of bright red-orange and honey-blond. November's hair can almost always be found done up in some sort of braid or other, which highlights its varied colors. She has dark green eyes and even features. Her expression is sometimes thoughtful, more often bored.
When on a mission, November can usually be found in standard-issue light-armor. She sacrifices protection for maneuverability and silence. The blaster-resistant carbon-mesh is deep brown, and the leather-plating various shades of red and brown. It's made to blend into shadows. When not in the field, November can almost always be found in a white lab-coat, of varying degrees of cleanliness, depending on how many hazardous chemicals she's handled recently. Under her coat she'll usually wear a skin-tight brown shirt, and well-tailored black canvas slacks.
Personality:
November feels no emotions, and therefore, the word 'personality' means nothing when applied to her. However, November has an amazing mind for detail. None but the most infintessimal bits of information can avoid her grasp. She watches for patterns in everything, because patterns are the key to anticipation. She understands emotions and personality, but only to the extent to which the knowledge allows her to predict the actions of her quarries.
The impression November gives when met is of silent knowing. She's analyzed social patterns extensively, and can interact with others as expected when she wants, but most of the time that's rather low on her priority list.
As her RELIC chip begins its deterioration, emotions are revealed to November one at a time. She's often caught with one emotion, and no opposite to counter it. November hates that she doesn't understand emotions, she hates that they confuse her, because that makes her feel inadequate and imperfect. Emotions make her feel emotions toward her emotions, and it's another emotion, dissatisfaction, which makes her strive to ignore her emotions.
Profession: Ex-Assasain
Skills: Green Meadows training, Data Analysis, Chemical Explosives, Poison synthesis and delivery
Special Weapon: MRARR (Clicky)
Equipment:
Light Armor, Civilian Clothing
Boot-sheathed Dagger
MRARR
Collection of Poisons and Chemicals
Compact Gas-Mask. (effective for only short periods)
Set of Autoinjectors, loaded with various toxins.
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 7
Intelligence: 9
Speed: 8
Leadership: 4
Unarmed: 4
Melee Weapons: 5
Ranged Weapons: 6
Specialized Combat Skill: Slugthrower Rifle, 8
Special Non-combat Skill: Chemistry, 8
Bio:
Epilogue
Tinka Sheo was an apprentice healer, upon her home-town of Iziz. J'seph Blare was a human and a trader, whose unreliable ship brought him plummeting down to the Onderan surface. Tinka nursed him back to health. He was young, she was beautiful.
It was destiny.
They were wed. Five years passed, and they were joined by first one, then two, then three sets of pittering feet. However, wanderlust caught at J'seph's heart, and he led his family from the somewhat dangerous environment of Onderan, off to explore the Galaxy at large.
However, such a lifestyle could never be sustained long. Seeking a place to settle, J'seph's eye fell upon Ruusan. A smattering of small settlements covered the surface, and much of the planet was a wild and beautiful place. Perfect.
Henna, Quig and Kera; Daughter, son and daughter. The Blare children grew and flourished in their new home. Tinka was a good teacher, J'seph of suitable humor, and the family was happy.
Years passed, when Henna, then Quig married off. Kera was last to follow, when a man by the name of Avan Kit'hee caught her eye and her heart. Love became marriage, and marriage once more the patter of little feet.
Their daughter's name was Mahla.
She was an only child, and she was loved. Adored. Doted upon, paid the proper amount of attention, and cared for in every way. Mahla was all smiles and laughter, tears only coming when her boisterous ways and love for climbing landed her on the ground.
However, there are times in which things happen, for reasons only the Force comprehends. Kera fell ill, her condition degenerating slowly. The small colonies upon Ruusan didn't have the proper supplies to treat the malevolent disease, and so it was with a heavy heart that Kera and Avan left Ruusan, mothers and fathers bidding them sad farewell.
Mahla was only one when they reached Coruscant.
Here, life slowly settled into a routine. Kera found residence in a long-term-care facility, where her needs were attended to. To pay off the Medical bills, Avan took a two-part Job. He wrote columns for a daily holo-cast, and sold low-price merchandise for a particular trader. Mahla's days were spent divided between the Street-Vendor and the 'Hospit', so dubbed by her stumbling tongue.
‘Mamma’ and ‘Dadda’ soon gave way to full sentences, and Mahla was 2 ½ when conversation became something she could grasp. Her first six months of speech were defined by a near-constant chatter, question after question. However, Mahla learned that talking too much made Mommy tired and Daddy frustrated. So she stopped talking. But that’s when she realized she could answer lots of her questions all by herself. And so she did. She listened as Daddy listed off numbers, and watched as he turned sounds into those strange line-symbols. It fascinated her. When she did speak, her grasp of language was surprising, and she would come out with startling conclusions. Startling, because they were usually right…
Mahla was four, and proud of it. She was walking home with Daddy, and she could hear his pockets jingling with Credits. A good day at the store! And she’d learned a new line-symbol. But then the Bad Men came. They yelled at Daddy, and then Daddy yelled back. The Bad Men didn’t see Mahla, and she shrunk back into the shadows. She saw a red flash, and heard a loud bang. And then Daddy fell down, asleep. Except, he wasn’t asleep…
~
“Nobody was supposed to get hurt”, was the cry of the Defense. But the Judge was firm. His decision was also swayed by the fact that the Victim’s young daughter had been a witness. She’d identified the suspect. The girl was surprisingly resilient. The Judge had once had a daughter her age. The Defense didn’t stand a change. Voluntary Manslaughter, 20 years to life. But no court ruling could ever bring that Girl’s father back. And that was the ultimate injustice.
~
Five days later, Kera’s name ran in the obituaries. The disease had finally claimed her. Despite her will to fight, the shock of loosing Avan had been simply too much. She was gone. Dead.
And Mahla was all alone.
Surviving Relatives: Mahla Ket’Hee, Daughter. Age 4.
~
The arrangement was perfect. A rehabilitation program for traumatized children. Green Meadows. Even the name sounded welcoming. The nurse who’d been taking care of Mahla for the last three months – it seemed a crime to dump her in an over-crowded orphanage--, was more than happy to hand off the melancholy child. Surely, she would be better off. Happy, again.
If she only knew.
~
Ever since the Bad Men took her Daddy away, Mahla couldn’t stop the pictures from flashing in front of her eyes. The Blaster flashes, Daddy not-sleeping on the ground… Mamma not breathing anymore… So many emotions coursed through her fragile mind. Fear, Pain, Sadness. But now she was in a new place, so they were mixed with wonder, desire to know all she could. The emotions and memories were so overwhelming…
And then they were gone.
November awoke to cold. Cold metal, cold skies, cold people. But that didn’t bother her. Nothing bothered her. But nothing brought her joy, either. For the first few months, her emotions battled fiercely against the RELIC. They fought, and fought hard. Some, fear. Some, wonder. But in the absence of memories, the predominant fighter was joy. At the touch of a hand, the sight of a simple cloud. But the RELIC was infallible, and after those first few months, November’s emotions simply just stopped fighting.
Her regimens began. Patterns that would continue to stay in effect for a very long time. Growth hormones, to accelerate her growth. Rigorous classes, in subjects ranging from science to strategy to history. Physical exercise, basic cooking, and the like.
White-coats, she called them. The workers of Green-Meadows. And when November was five, they began to teach her things. Not just classes; no, she’d been having classes since the day she first arrived. Not classes, special things. Things like knives and blasters and computer hacking. A little of this, a little of that. A year passed in this manner, and at everything she tried, November was simply… average.
Green Meadows did not accept average.
Which put little November in a bit of a tough spot. Until, that is, she was given a particular box of chemicals, quite by mistake. And so, she began to experiment. The result was definite. She had found her niche.
The next three years of November’s life passed quickly, though November had no perception of time. Her classes continued, her education expanded. Growth hormones were administered regularly, as were others to encourage the growth of her muscle mass, improve her stamina and her ability to focus. November experienced harsh growing pains, but a sparing dose of pain-killer was enough to take the edge off. Even so, November was forced to develop a high pain-threshold early, which subtly aided her in Physical Training.
Math, Physics, History, Calculus, Strategies, Strength, Speed. Monotony.
Aside from this, two things defined these three years in November’s life. A discovery, and a friend.
Curiosity. Not an emotion, per se. Perhaps more a way of viewing the world. For one could define it as the desire for learning. Or, one could define it as the natural and innate instinct for learning, intensified. Be it Desire or Perspective, the RELIC set no bounds upon it. And November’s inner curiosity did not just smolder. Nor did it burn. It blazed. Much discussion occurred between the white-coats as to this development. In the end, the pros outweighed the cons. The former being November’s ability to self-motivate and surpass the level of her peers, especially concerning her favorite subject; chemistry. The latter could not be predicted, and were – therefore – deemed as inconsequential.
If they only knew.
~
A friend. And though the favor was only ever one way, it was still dealt out every day by Nenna, the middle-aged woman who ran the Cafeteria. She was captivated by the poor children, the ones who seemed so shy and introverted. Twenty-six of them, there were. And November was her favorite. She braided November’s hair every morning at breakfast, just like she’d done for her own children long ago. Soon, November realized that she was expected to pull her face into that curious muscle-pattern the woman called a ‘smile’. She did as she was told. Nenna took it to be genuine, at least as much as the girl could muster, and so she took November under her wing. None of the white-coats protested, for what difference could a simple cafeteria worker make? The half-friendship persisted.
November’s years of puberty passed as expected. Her muscles and joints fought to withstand the strain of her accelerated growth. Yet still, those of Green Meadows knew precisely what they were doing, and November achieved feats far beyond the abilities of baseline humans.
November found herself favored by many of her instructors. She was self-motivated, stunningly intelligent, and had a mind for patterns. They obviously made sense to her. She could be show the most disparate of data, and make some sense of it. She managed to get to the 543rd digit of Pi before her Geometry instructor became bored and decided she’d passed the course to a satisfactory degree. Her class times brought her in contact with the other children, but she only cared about studying. And training. Physical training was harder for her than it was for her peers, but she drove herself to the limit. Because they told her to. She lived for following orders.
During the years from 11-12, November’s education began to specialize. She’d learned, and mastered, the basic components of things like Blasters, daggers, hacking, piloting, security, demolitions. Now, her studies began to go more in-depth, and she was taught more about strategy, more about calculating odds and probabilities. She showed an ability to analyze certain situations, and delegate—within a limited degree—who should be where, and doing what.
When November was 13, her mind for patterns got her into trouble. She began to smile when she succeeded, frown when she didn’t. Show emotion. The first instructor to notice this—for November stood out like an angry Wookiee—whisked her off to the testing room. However, she showed no signs of recent emotions. And the RELIC had been functioning perfectly. As it turned out, November had been imitating emotions. She’d watched the White-coats, and the way their facial muscles moved in response to certain outcomes. November had noticed that person-to-person communication was more efficient when these facial expressions were implemented properly. And so she’d begun to use them. It was fascinating to see this develop spontaneously, so the scientists let her be.
By November’s 15th birthday, her growth had stopped, settling into a comfortable 5’8. Over the next six months, she underwent a great number of surgeries. Her major joints were replaced with synthetics, replacing the tattered cartilage of the old. Her lowest set of ribs was removed, making her physical movement markedly more fluid. Lenses were fitted to her eyes, improving her fast-track vision, and ability to focus on far-away objects. Not to mention, they also refracted light as to improve low-light vision. She also endured several other minor ‘improvements’, and spent the next four months in recovery.
This point marked the end of November’s friendship with Nenna. There were no ‘goodbye’s, no last days. November simply began eating at a different cafeteria. However, she still braided her hair every morning. One of the white-coats had told her it looked professional, and to keep it up. She obeyed.
At age sixteen, November was subjected to the most rigorous test yet. Three and a half weeks, in the wilderness. And she'd have to survive with nothing but a knife, and a rope. For a normal human, the statistical odds would have been grim. But November was hardly a normal human. She felt no fear-- she didn't feel anything-- and it was with simple indifference that November watched the ship-- her only lifeline-- drift away from the surface of Dxun.
She was all alone.
November wasted no time in preparing herself for whatever dangers might lay ahead. Her eyes were alert for bright colors in the forest, when she spotted the creature she was looking for; a small amphibian. Strange little creatures, they were. Their skin oozed poison, the death knells were already tolling for any animal that tried to swallow one. A single one of the amphibians could excrete enough poison to kill twenty grown men. Perfect.
Knife now glistening with the deadly substance, November continued her way through the jungle. She was suddenly attacked by a Zakkeg, who managed to throw her roughly against a tree before she had time to react. November immediately sized up her opponent. There, a weakness.... November waited for just the right moment, and just as the Zakkeg spread open its maw to attack--
November thrust her blade into its tongue, leaping backwards and out of the way, realizing for the first time that her left arm was limp, immobile, and had been as such since the Zakkeg first attacked. However, she had little more to fear from the beast, for the poisoned blade worked its wonder quickly, felling the Zakkeg. She tended to her wounded shoulder; the collision with the Zakkeg had knocked it out of the socket. Her brain registered no pain as she snapped it back into place. Now that the threat was dissolved, her RELIC allowed a dull throbbing to register, just enough to discourage movement and allow healing.
The immense mass of the Zakkeg was enough to feed November for the next week, before the flesh began to rot through. And even then, the scent of the Zakkeg still lingered, scaring off the smaller predators. November tracked the Zakkeg's lair, and set up camp there, a relatively safe place within the hostile wilds of Dxun.
For the next two weeks, November hunted Game for sustenance, using her rope as a noose to catch herbivores, and poisoning herbivore meat to attract and kill the larger predators.
Three weeks found her still alive, albeit with several new scars and a strained shoulder, earned during her first encounter with the Zakkeg.
However, November felt no sense of victory. She felt no satisfaction, no sense of completion. Her survival simply was. She meant nothing, her life meant nothing. Her life simply was.
The perfect mindset of an assassin.
The next four years passed in rapid succession. Subtle progressions ran throughout the months, each defined by their eventual culmination…
~
November’s time was split between her missions, and her studies. Many days could find her in the upper Lab, away from the depths of the inner-level. Here only could she find the vast amount of equipment, resources, and test-subjects required to satiate her curiosity. She spent her days, mixing various chemicals, concocting poisons, studying the nervous system. These studies brought her into daily contact with the other workers at the Lab. Workers who, like Neena, knew nothing of the secret of the 26.
His name was Leo. He was young, and had been hired fresh out of school for the job at Green Meadows. At first, he’d hardly noticed November. She was quiet, withdrawn. But she had an aura of mystery about her, and it entranced him. He began to watch her. She always seemed so emotionless, but sometimes…
November was, as ever, still in the habit of imitating patterns. She’d pull her face into a smile at success, collapse it into a frown at failure. The other scientists were more responsive when she behaved this way. It was advantageous. Nothing more.
It was a foolish thing to do, and Leo knew it, but over time, he developed an affection for November. She noticed the favoritism, but deemed it inconsequential. That is, until one fateful day, not a week after November turned twenty. He pulled her aside in the hall, confessed his feelings.
Feelings? What where feelings? Those things that made the others change their faces, fit into her patterns? Yes, this must be what he meant by feelings. However, November didn’t know the pattern for this behavior, so she remained silent.
Leo would forever regret what he did next. It would ruin his life, and his career. But those were not the thoughts running through his mind as he kissed her. It was short, and not lingering, but still, it was a kiss. And nothing goes unnoticed in Green Meadows.
November’s body reacted as was natural for it to do, and a surge of emotion ran through her brain. It was too much for the RELIC to handle, and so it simply shut her mind down completely, causing November to enter a brief catatonic state. Leo had already dashed shyly off.
The next morning, she awoke with no memory of the previous day. Her mind had been wiped slate-clean. Leo was simply gone. They said he was fired for stealing an experiment. It wasn’t entirely untrue. But either way, it didn’t matter to November. Her RELIC had been updated, a new patch installed to prevent her from entering another catatonic state; that had the potential to be deadly. But there’s this thing, about patches. Sometimes they have bugs.
~
A few months after the interchange with Leo, November came to a realization. She’d begun to observe the dates, simply because she was curious to monitor how time passed. Time fit a perfect pattern, and this appealed to her mind. However, November began to notice an anomaly. There were days on the calendar for which she had no memory. Three and four days missing at a time, even a jump going as far as three weeks. There were two possibilities. One, November’s memory was flawed. This was impossible. Two, November’s memory was being altered. This was far more likely…
A year passed in which November observed this anomaly. Each time she went on a mission, she cataloged the new experience. She also realized that her mental state would indicate she had done this many times before, yet she had no memory of these. And so each time November would make the discovery that she was sent on missions, an efficient and perfect killer. And each time the discovery would be stripped away.
However, over time, the discovery became less of a memory, and more of a fact. It was a pattern, just like all the others she’d learned. She was an assassin out for hire. Her poisons did terrible, wonderful things, but these adjectives meant nothing to her. They were efficient, they were quick, and that’s all she needed to know. These realizations didn’t bother November in the slightest. What reason did she have to stop serving Green Meadows?
Six months into her twenty-first year, November began to experience the results of the patch on her RELIC. In order to prevent total shut-down, it had been programmed to allow emotions to be felt in very specific circumstances. This worked perfectly. However, once the flow of emotions was allowed, even for a moment, the gate would never close. The action’s coding had a bug. And it was during that mission, six months into her twenty-first year, in which November finally met those specific circumstances…
Away from the Campus: Check.
Life threatening situation: Check.
Adrenaline, anger, and fear released in controlled amounts: Check.
The quarry was on top of her. Literally. Breath hot upon her face, heavy armor crushing her beneath. She’d been caught, overpowered. But that wasn’t the end of the story. Finally, she managed to thrust a hand free, autoinjecter. Down she brought her hand, and the needle plunged into his neck, between the armor. His entire body began to twitch violently, and then he went limp. November shoved him off. Her new neurotoxin had worked perfectly. The strangest of sensations was present behind her navel, warm and soft. Her facial muscles suddenly twisted into a half-smile. Of their own accord. November immediately began to analyze this. The sensation was not due to any of her five senses. And now her facial muscles wanted to move? Emotions. She was feeling an emotion. This thought intrigued her. Did this feeling have a name? What pattern did it cause? … ah, it was satisfaction. She was feeling satisfaction…
The mission continued and concluded as usual, November’s memory, and discovery wiped once more. However, the imprint of that feeling satisfaction would remain; the gate had been opened. Every success in the lab brought this feeling. And November… she liked it. For isn’t pleasure just a heightened sense of satisfaction? She worked harder than ever before, not for only curiosity, but also for this thing, satisfaction, that didn’t follow the patterns of efficiency or rationality. November had to force herself to not seek satisfaction too much, for that would damage her efficiency. But it was addicting, this emotion…
November considered alerting her superiors to this new emotion. She knew she wasn’t supposed to feel it. Perhaps it was a test, but this possibility was unlikely. Yet… to report the problem might be to lose the ability to feel the emotion. And November liked it far too much for that. And so began the quiet rebellion.
~
Over the next nine months, November continued to go on missions, experiment, and learn as usual. When she wasn’t in the lab, she was doing calculus, or continuing her physical education. Other subjects took her time, but to a lesser extent than they had before.
Every few months, a new emotion would quietly appear. At least, that’s the way it seemed, for November had no recollection of the specific circumstances that led to the gate being opened. She identified two new emotions during this period, to add to the first, making three. Satisfaction, Dissatisfaction, and Disappointment. And the second she felt the strongest. However, she knew her own pattern, and was able to make it appear as if nothing had changed. Even so, there was no denying the fact that she felt dissatisfaction when she thought about her current arrangements. She was not allowed to leave the compound; she wanted to explore what lay beyond. She was not allowed to test her poisons on humans, unless prisoners were captured. But she was not permitted to kill those. And she was not allowed any more information on the Alphabet 26, despite the fact that she was one of them. All these things she was curious about, and before this point, it had never bothered her to be denied. But she was still denied. And now it bothered her.
And so, November began to entertain strange thoughts of rebellion. And then, one mission, November spied a grand avian flying overhead. Suddenly, she wanted to fly, to be free… and hence came a new emotion. Desire for freedom. As soon as her remembered self felt this emotion, the plan was decided upon. She would escape. She would leave this place. She would fend for herself, just as she had done during her trial, six years ago. She would be efficient. She would evade capture. And she would see what lay on the other side of the walls…
The best strategies are well thought-out, and so November began to observe, but in a new light. She looked for holes in Green Meadow’s defenses. Anything that might keep her in. She plotted, planned.
And then a bit of news wormed its way through the facility. Several of her peers were gone. Missing. But she knew the truth. Alpha, Delta, Echo, Uniform, Oscar. Escaped. Victor and Tango, disappeared on the way to a mission. November steeled herself. She had found her opportunity…
She was sent on another mission. This time, it was to hunt down and capture the rogue assassins. She would hunt them down, yes. But she would not be returning… She was sent as an underling for Foxtrot, to aid her with the hunt.
By this time, the remote-function of her chip was beginning to degrade. She couldn’t always fire her dart-gun, there was interference when it came to tracking… It wasn’t long before these things would be noticed. And so she waited for the right time, playing along for the mission. And then, when the opportunity rose, she fled. November attempted to hack the mainframe via the remote point of the ship, to disable the tracker in her chip, but to no avail. She was no computer specialist, and despite her intelligence, the encryption was too deep. This path would not be efficient. And so she slipped away, quiet in her unanticipated flight, wandering out onto the planet’s surface.
She would track down the escaped assassins. Whichever she found first, though paths were most promising when it came to Victor and Tango. And then she would act from there. She felt dissatisfaction with the fact that her plan was short-sighted. But she also felt satisfaction. Because, for the first time in her life… she was free.
RP Sample:
November's eyes narrowed as she scanned the inside of the ship. Most of the others were resting... and if they weren't they soon would be. November twisted the lock on a small canister, watching with satisfaction as the silky gray fumes began to hiss into the air. Yes, satisfaction... oh, how she loved that feeling. She had exactly seven minutes to escape; the gas mask she wore would only last that long before the cartridge needed to be cleaned.
November waited exactly one minute; she had to be sure the knock-out gas had taken full effect. And then she slipped from her bunk, grasping the bag which she'd already packed. Five minutes, fify-five seconds.
Silently, she made her way through the ship to the control room, where Foxtrot lay slumped against the console, moaning quietly. It was as she had predicted. November's fingers flashed over the computer's controls. She had to disable the tracker, had to unlock the block on her TAINT...
Two minutes passed. She had made some head-way, but this was far too inefficient. Dissatisfaction toyed at her stomach, and November frowned. She would be too easily tracked... However, November had noticed the degradation of her chip which had begun when the first of her peers had escaped. Perhaps... November calculated the probability, and found that there was a seventy-five percent chance the tracker of her chip would fail before it caused her danger. To escape now would be the most efficent plan of action.
And so, like a shadow, November slipped from the ship, emerging onto the landscape. She had no knowledge of where she was; Foxtrot hadn't decided it prudent to tell her. This had been an intelligent move, and November recognized this.
And now, she was away from the base. The situation was life-threatening; the only times she could use her TAINT were the same times the other assassins could track her. And fear was beginning to trickle into her bloodstream...
So when the Doubt came, a sudden and vicious wave diluted to a simple insistence by the semi-operational RELIC, it stunned November. Perhaps this was just a test. Perhaps she was failing. Either way, her programming had failed. And this made her imperfect. This revelation displeased her, but the emotion reminded her that her programming was imperfect, which displeased her more. November was left in a downward-spiral of doubt and dissatisfaction, which stopped her in her tracks. Did humans always experience emotion like this? It was overwhelming, and caught her up in complete and utter despair... all rationality was gone, drowned, where were her numbers! The facts she could tell, the facts always listened to her, they followed patterns... November's body began to tremble, and she felt something hot upon her cheeks. Her eyes were watering, but profusely, not from external stimuli, but from inside... what was wrong with her?! She was supposed to be perfect!
Suddenly, November tripped and fell to the ground, pain rocketing up her elbow. The physical jar caused a rush of adrenaline, which washed away the wayward emotions. November slowly stood, looking back at the ship. Her breathing was heavy, the logic returned. She could not doubt herself. She was efficient. She was logical. She wouldn't loose control again. Surely emotions followed patterns, too. Just... more complicated ones. Yes, that was it. This was a challenge. Yet that doubt refused to remove itself entirely. November did her best to ignore it. She would press on. For, after all, there was a 55 percent chance that locating another rogue assassin would bring answers to several mysteries. Curiosity dominating her mind, November plunged back into the night...
Original Name: Mahla Ket'hee
Race: Human
Age: 26
Height: 5'8
Weight: 140 lbs
Birth place: Ruusan
Appearance:
November's build is average, her frame of the expected size for her height. She's as lean as an assassin should be, muscles subtly defined. Her figure, also, is average, and she's less busty than most.
November's hair is somewhat unique, the product of an odd quirk in her genetic code. Most of it is soft auburn-brown, with streaks of bright red-orange and honey-blond. November's hair can almost always be found done up in some sort of braid or other, which highlights its varied colors. She has dark green eyes and even features. Her expression is sometimes thoughtful, more often bored.
When on a mission, November can usually be found in standard-issue light-armor. She sacrifices protection for maneuverability and silence. The blaster-resistant carbon-mesh is deep brown, and the leather-plating various shades of red and brown. It's made to blend into shadows. When not in the field, November can almost always be found in a white lab-coat, of varying degrees of cleanliness, depending on how many hazardous chemicals she's handled recently. Under her coat she'll usually wear a skin-tight brown shirt, and well-tailored black canvas slacks.
Personality:
November feels no emotions, and therefore, the word 'personality' means nothing when applied to her. However, November has an amazing mind for detail. None but the most infintessimal bits of information can avoid her grasp. She watches for patterns in everything, because patterns are the key to anticipation. She understands emotions and personality, but only to the extent to which the knowledge allows her to predict the actions of her quarries.
The impression November gives when met is of silent knowing. She's analyzed social patterns extensively, and can interact with others as expected when she wants, but most of the time that's rather low on her priority list.
As her RELIC chip begins its deterioration, emotions are revealed to November one at a time. She's often caught with one emotion, and no opposite to counter it. November hates that she doesn't understand emotions, she hates that they confuse her, because that makes her feel inadequate and imperfect. Emotions make her feel emotions toward her emotions, and it's another emotion, dissatisfaction, which makes her strive to ignore her emotions.
Profession: Ex-Assasain
Skills: Green Meadows training, Data Analysis, Chemical Explosives, Poison synthesis and delivery
Special Weapon: MRARR (Clicky)
Equipment:
Light Armor, Civilian Clothing
Boot-sheathed Dagger
MRARR
Collection of Poisons and Chemicals
Compact Gas-Mask. (effective for only short periods)
Set of Autoinjectors, loaded with various toxins.
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 7
Intelligence: 9
Speed: 8
Leadership: 4
Unarmed: 4
Melee Weapons: 5
Ranged Weapons: 6
Specialized Combat Skill: Slugthrower Rifle, 8
Special Non-combat Skill: Chemistry, 8
Bio:
Epilogue
Tinka Sheo was an apprentice healer, upon her home-town of Iziz. J'seph Blare was a human and a trader, whose unreliable ship brought him plummeting down to the Onderan surface. Tinka nursed him back to health. He was young, she was beautiful.
It was destiny.
They were wed. Five years passed, and they were joined by first one, then two, then three sets of pittering feet. However, wanderlust caught at J'seph's heart, and he led his family from the somewhat dangerous environment of Onderan, off to explore the Galaxy at large.
However, such a lifestyle could never be sustained long. Seeking a place to settle, J'seph's eye fell upon Ruusan. A smattering of small settlements covered the surface, and much of the planet was a wild and beautiful place. Perfect.
Henna, Quig and Kera; Daughter, son and daughter. The Blare children grew and flourished in their new home. Tinka was a good teacher, J'seph of suitable humor, and the family was happy.
Years passed, when Henna, then Quig married off. Kera was last to follow, when a man by the name of Avan Kit'hee caught her eye and her heart. Love became marriage, and marriage once more the patter of little feet.
Their daughter's name was Mahla.
Childhood, Foreboding
Ages 1-4
Ages 1-4
She was an only child, and she was loved. Adored. Doted upon, paid the proper amount of attention, and cared for in every way. Mahla was all smiles and laughter, tears only coming when her boisterous ways and love for climbing landed her on the ground.
However, there are times in which things happen, for reasons only the Force comprehends. Kera fell ill, her condition degenerating slowly. The small colonies upon Ruusan didn't have the proper supplies to treat the malevolent disease, and so it was with a heavy heart that Kera and Avan left Ruusan, mothers and fathers bidding them sad farewell.
Mahla was only one when they reached Coruscant.
Here, life slowly settled into a routine. Kera found residence in a long-term-care facility, where her needs were attended to. To pay off the Medical bills, Avan took a two-part Job. He wrote columns for a daily holo-cast, and sold low-price merchandise for a particular trader. Mahla's days were spent divided between the Street-Vendor and the 'Hospit', so dubbed by her stumbling tongue.
‘Mamma’ and ‘Dadda’ soon gave way to full sentences, and Mahla was 2 ½ when conversation became something she could grasp. Her first six months of speech were defined by a near-constant chatter, question after question. However, Mahla learned that talking too much made Mommy tired and Daddy frustrated. So she stopped talking. But that’s when she realized she could answer lots of her questions all by herself. And so she did. She listened as Daddy listed off numbers, and watched as he turned sounds into those strange line-symbols. It fascinated her. When she did speak, her grasp of language was surprising, and she would come out with startling conclusions. Startling, because they were usually right…
Mahla was four, and proud of it. She was walking home with Daddy, and she could hear his pockets jingling with Credits. A good day at the store! And she’d learned a new line-symbol. But then the Bad Men came. They yelled at Daddy, and then Daddy yelled back. The Bad Men didn’t see Mahla, and she shrunk back into the shadows. She saw a red flash, and heard a loud bang. And then Daddy fell down, asleep. Except, he wasn’t asleep…
~
“Nobody was supposed to get hurt”, was the cry of the Defense. But the Judge was firm. His decision was also swayed by the fact that the Victim’s young daughter had been a witness. She’d identified the suspect. The girl was surprisingly resilient. The Judge had once had a daughter her age. The Defense didn’t stand a change. Voluntary Manslaughter, 20 years to life. But no court ruling could ever bring that Girl’s father back. And that was the ultimate injustice.
~
Five days later, Kera’s name ran in the obituaries. The disease had finally claimed her. Despite her will to fight, the shock of loosing Avan had been simply too much. She was gone. Dead.
And Mahla was all alone.
Surviving Relatives: Mahla Ket’Hee, Daughter. Age 4.
~
The arrangement was perfect. A rehabilitation program for traumatized children. Green Meadows. Even the name sounded welcoming. The nurse who’d been taking care of Mahla for the last three months – it seemed a crime to dump her in an over-crowded orphanage--, was more than happy to hand off the melancholy child. Surely, she would be better off. Happy, again.
If she only knew.
~
Ever since the Bad Men took her Daddy away, Mahla couldn’t stop the pictures from flashing in front of her eyes. The Blaster flashes, Daddy not-sleeping on the ground… Mamma not breathing anymore… So many emotions coursed through her fragile mind. Fear, Pain, Sadness. But now she was in a new place, so they were mixed with wonder, desire to know all she could. The emotions and memories were so overwhelming…
And then they were gone.
Dawn of Autumn
Ages 4-5
Ages 4-5
November awoke to cold. Cold metal, cold skies, cold people. But that didn’t bother her. Nothing bothered her. But nothing brought her joy, either. For the first few months, her emotions battled fiercely against the RELIC. They fought, and fought hard. Some, fear. Some, wonder. But in the absence of memories, the predominant fighter was joy. At the touch of a hand, the sight of a simple cloud. But the RELIC was infallible, and after those first few months, November’s emotions simply just stopped fighting.
Her regimens began. Patterns that would continue to stay in effect for a very long time. Growth hormones, to accelerate her growth. Rigorous classes, in subjects ranging from science to strategy to history. Physical exercise, basic cooking, and the like.
White-coats, she called them. The workers of Green-Meadows. And when November was five, they began to teach her things. Not just classes; no, she’d been having classes since the day she first arrived. Not classes, special things. Things like knives and blasters and computer hacking. A little of this, a little of that. A year passed in this manner, and at everything she tried, November was simply… average.
Green Meadows did not accept average.
Which put little November in a bit of a tough spot. Until, that is, she was given a particular box of chemicals, quite by mistake. And so, she began to experiment. The result was definite. She had found her niche.
Initiation
Ages 6-9
Ages 6-9
The next three years of November’s life passed quickly, though November had no perception of time. Her classes continued, her education expanded. Growth hormones were administered regularly, as were others to encourage the growth of her muscle mass, improve her stamina and her ability to focus. November experienced harsh growing pains, but a sparing dose of pain-killer was enough to take the edge off. Even so, November was forced to develop a high pain-threshold early, which subtly aided her in Physical Training.
Math, Physics, History, Calculus, Strategies, Strength, Speed. Monotony.
Aside from this, two things defined these three years in November’s life. A discovery, and a friend.
Curiosity. Not an emotion, per se. Perhaps more a way of viewing the world. For one could define it as the desire for learning. Or, one could define it as the natural and innate instinct for learning, intensified. Be it Desire or Perspective, the RELIC set no bounds upon it. And November’s inner curiosity did not just smolder. Nor did it burn. It blazed. Much discussion occurred between the white-coats as to this development. In the end, the pros outweighed the cons. The former being November’s ability to self-motivate and surpass the level of her peers, especially concerning her favorite subject; chemistry. The latter could not be predicted, and were – therefore – deemed as inconsequential.
If they only knew.
~
A friend. And though the favor was only ever one way, it was still dealt out every day by Nenna, the middle-aged woman who ran the Cafeteria. She was captivated by the poor children, the ones who seemed so shy and introverted. Twenty-six of them, there were. And November was her favorite. She braided November’s hair every morning at breakfast, just like she’d done for her own children long ago. Soon, November realized that she was expected to pull her face into that curious muscle-pattern the woman called a ‘smile’. She did as she was told. Nenna took it to be genuine, at least as much as the girl could muster, and so she took November under her wing. None of the white-coats protested, for what difference could a simple cafeteria worker make? The half-friendship persisted.
Growing Into Orchestration
Ages 9-15
Ages 9-15
November’s years of puberty passed as expected. Her muscles and joints fought to withstand the strain of her accelerated growth. Yet still, those of Green Meadows knew precisely what they were doing, and November achieved feats far beyond the abilities of baseline humans.
November found herself favored by many of her instructors. She was self-motivated, stunningly intelligent, and had a mind for patterns. They obviously made sense to her. She could be show the most disparate of data, and make some sense of it. She managed to get to the 543rd digit of Pi before her Geometry instructor became bored and decided she’d passed the course to a satisfactory degree. Her class times brought her in contact with the other children, but she only cared about studying. And training. Physical training was harder for her than it was for her peers, but she drove herself to the limit. Because they told her to. She lived for following orders.
During the years from 11-12, November’s education began to specialize. She’d learned, and mastered, the basic components of things like Blasters, daggers, hacking, piloting, security, demolitions. Now, her studies began to go more in-depth, and she was taught more about strategy, more about calculating odds and probabilities. She showed an ability to analyze certain situations, and delegate—within a limited degree—who should be where, and doing what.
When November was 13, her mind for patterns got her into trouble. She began to smile when she succeeded, frown when she didn’t. Show emotion. The first instructor to notice this—for November stood out like an angry Wookiee—whisked her off to the testing room. However, she showed no signs of recent emotions. And the RELIC had been functioning perfectly. As it turned out, November had been imitating emotions. She’d watched the White-coats, and the way their facial muscles moved in response to certain outcomes. November had noticed that person-to-person communication was more efficient when these facial expressions were implemented properly. And so she’d begun to use them. It was fascinating to see this develop spontaneously, so the scientists let her be.
By November’s 15th birthday, her growth had stopped, settling into a comfortable 5’8. Over the next six months, she underwent a great number of surgeries. Her major joints were replaced with synthetics, replacing the tattered cartilage of the old. Her lowest set of ribs was removed, making her physical movement markedly more fluid. Lenses were fitted to her eyes, improving her fast-track vision, and ability to focus on far-away objects. Not to mention, they also refracted light as to improve low-light vision. She also endured several other minor ‘improvements’, and spent the next four months in recovery.
This point marked the end of November’s friendship with Nenna. There were no ‘goodbye’s, no last days. November simply began eating at a different cafeteria. However, she still braided her hair every morning. One of the white-coats had told her it looked professional, and to keep it up. She obeyed.
Survival of the Fittest
Age 16
Age 16
At age sixteen, November was subjected to the most rigorous test yet. Three and a half weeks, in the wilderness. And she'd have to survive with nothing but a knife, and a rope. For a normal human, the statistical odds would have been grim. But November was hardly a normal human. She felt no fear-- she didn't feel anything-- and it was with simple indifference that November watched the ship-- her only lifeline-- drift away from the surface of Dxun.
She was all alone.
November wasted no time in preparing herself for whatever dangers might lay ahead. Her eyes were alert for bright colors in the forest, when she spotted the creature she was looking for; a small amphibian. Strange little creatures, they were. Their skin oozed poison, the death knells were already tolling for any animal that tried to swallow one. A single one of the amphibians could excrete enough poison to kill twenty grown men. Perfect.
Knife now glistening with the deadly substance, November continued her way through the jungle. She was suddenly attacked by a Zakkeg, who managed to throw her roughly against a tree before she had time to react. November immediately sized up her opponent. There, a weakness.... November waited for just the right moment, and just as the Zakkeg spread open its maw to attack--
November thrust her blade into its tongue, leaping backwards and out of the way, realizing for the first time that her left arm was limp, immobile, and had been as such since the Zakkeg first attacked. However, she had little more to fear from the beast, for the poisoned blade worked its wonder quickly, felling the Zakkeg. She tended to her wounded shoulder; the collision with the Zakkeg had knocked it out of the socket. Her brain registered no pain as she snapped it back into place. Now that the threat was dissolved, her RELIC allowed a dull throbbing to register, just enough to discourage movement and allow healing.
The immense mass of the Zakkeg was enough to feed November for the next week, before the flesh began to rot through. And even then, the scent of the Zakkeg still lingered, scaring off the smaller predators. November tracked the Zakkeg's lair, and set up camp there, a relatively safe place within the hostile wilds of Dxun.
For the next two weeks, November hunted Game for sustenance, using her rope as a noose to catch herbivores, and poisoning herbivore meat to attract and kill the larger predators.
Three weeks found her still alive, albeit with several new scars and a strained shoulder, earned during her first encounter with the Zakkeg.
However, November felt no sense of victory. She felt no satisfaction, no sense of completion. Her survival simply was. She meant nothing, her life meant nothing. Her life simply was.
The perfect mindset of an assassin.
Living Lifeless
Ages 16-20
Ages 16-20
The next four years passed in rapid succession. Subtle progressions ran throughout the months, each defined by their eventual culmination…
~
November’s time was split between her missions, and her studies. Many days could find her in the upper Lab, away from the depths of the inner-level. Here only could she find the vast amount of equipment, resources, and test-subjects required to satiate her curiosity. She spent her days, mixing various chemicals, concocting poisons, studying the nervous system. These studies brought her into daily contact with the other workers at the Lab. Workers who, like Neena, knew nothing of the secret of the 26.
His name was Leo. He was young, and had been hired fresh out of school for the job at Green Meadows. At first, he’d hardly noticed November. She was quiet, withdrawn. But she had an aura of mystery about her, and it entranced him. He began to watch her. She always seemed so emotionless, but sometimes…
November was, as ever, still in the habit of imitating patterns. She’d pull her face into a smile at success, collapse it into a frown at failure. The other scientists were more responsive when she behaved this way. It was advantageous. Nothing more.
It was a foolish thing to do, and Leo knew it, but over time, he developed an affection for November. She noticed the favoritism, but deemed it inconsequential. That is, until one fateful day, not a week after November turned twenty. He pulled her aside in the hall, confessed his feelings.
Feelings? What where feelings? Those things that made the others change their faces, fit into her patterns? Yes, this must be what he meant by feelings. However, November didn’t know the pattern for this behavior, so she remained silent.
Leo would forever regret what he did next. It would ruin his life, and his career. But those were not the thoughts running through his mind as he kissed her. It was short, and not lingering, but still, it was a kiss. And nothing goes unnoticed in Green Meadows.
November’s body reacted as was natural for it to do, and a surge of emotion ran through her brain. It was too much for the RELIC to handle, and so it simply shut her mind down completely, causing November to enter a brief catatonic state. Leo had already dashed shyly off.
The next morning, she awoke with no memory of the previous day. Her mind had been wiped slate-clean. Leo was simply gone. They said he was fired for stealing an experiment. It wasn’t entirely untrue. But either way, it didn’t matter to November. Her RELIC had been updated, a new patch installed to prevent her from entering another catatonic state; that had the potential to be deadly. But there’s this thing, about patches. Sometimes they have bugs.
~
A few months after the interchange with Leo, November came to a realization. She’d begun to observe the dates, simply because she was curious to monitor how time passed. Time fit a perfect pattern, and this appealed to her mind. However, November began to notice an anomaly. There were days on the calendar for which she had no memory. Three and four days missing at a time, even a jump going as far as three weeks. There were two possibilities. One, November’s memory was flawed. This was impossible. Two, November’s memory was being altered. This was far more likely…
A year passed in which November observed this anomaly. Each time she went on a mission, she cataloged the new experience. She also realized that her mental state would indicate she had done this many times before, yet she had no memory of these. And so each time November would make the discovery that she was sent on missions, an efficient and perfect killer. And each time the discovery would be stripped away.
However, over time, the discovery became less of a memory, and more of a fact. It was a pattern, just like all the others she’d learned. She was an assassin out for hire. Her poisons did terrible, wonderful things, but these adjectives meant nothing to her. They were efficient, they were quick, and that’s all she needed to know. These realizations didn’t bother November in the slightest. What reason did she have to stop serving Green Meadows?
Curious Discovery
Ages 21-22
Ages 21-22
Six months into her twenty-first year, November began to experience the results of the patch on her RELIC. In order to prevent total shut-down, it had been programmed to allow emotions to be felt in very specific circumstances. This worked perfectly. However, once the flow of emotions was allowed, even for a moment, the gate would never close. The action’s coding had a bug. And it was during that mission, six months into her twenty-first year, in which November finally met those specific circumstances…
Away from the Campus: Check.
Life threatening situation: Check.
Adrenaline, anger, and fear released in controlled amounts: Check.
The quarry was on top of her. Literally. Breath hot upon her face, heavy armor crushing her beneath. She’d been caught, overpowered. But that wasn’t the end of the story. Finally, she managed to thrust a hand free, autoinjecter. Down she brought her hand, and the needle plunged into his neck, between the armor. His entire body began to twitch violently, and then he went limp. November shoved him off. Her new neurotoxin had worked perfectly. The strangest of sensations was present behind her navel, warm and soft. Her facial muscles suddenly twisted into a half-smile. Of their own accord. November immediately began to analyze this. The sensation was not due to any of her five senses. And now her facial muscles wanted to move? Emotions. She was feeling an emotion. This thought intrigued her. Did this feeling have a name? What pattern did it cause? … ah, it was satisfaction. She was feeling satisfaction…
The mission continued and concluded as usual, November’s memory, and discovery wiped once more. However, the imprint of that feeling satisfaction would remain; the gate had been opened. Every success in the lab brought this feeling. And November… she liked it. For isn’t pleasure just a heightened sense of satisfaction? She worked harder than ever before, not for only curiosity, but also for this thing, satisfaction, that didn’t follow the patterns of efficiency or rationality. November had to force herself to not seek satisfaction too much, for that would damage her efficiency. But it was addicting, this emotion…
November considered alerting her superiors to this new emotion. She knew she wasn’t supposed to feel it. Perhaps it was a test, but this possibility was unlikely. Yet… to report the problem might be to lose the ability to feel the emotion. And November liked it far too much for that. And so began the quiet rebellion.
~
Over the next nine months, November continued to go on missions, experiment, and learn as usual. When she wasn’t in the lab, she was doing calculus, or continuing her physical education. Other subjects took her time, but to a lesser extent than they had before.
Every few months, a new emotion would quietly appear. At least, that’s the way it seemed, for November had no recollection of the specific circumstances that led to the gate being opened. She identified two new emotions during this period, to add to the first, making three. Satisfaction, Dissatisfaction, and Disappointment. And the second she felt the strongest. However, she knew her own pattern, and was able to make it appear as if nothing had changed. Even so, there was no denying the fact that she felt dissatisfaction when she thought about her current arrangements. She was not allowed to leave the compound; she wanted to explore what lay beyond. She was not allowed to test her poisons on humans, unless prisoners were captured. But she was not permitted to kill those. And she was not allowed any more information on the Alphabet 26, despite the fact that she was one of them. All these things she was curious about, and before this point, it had never bothered her to be denied. But she was still denied. And now it bothered her.
And so, November began to entertain strange thoughts of rebellion. And then, one mission, November spied a grand avian flying overhead. Suddenly, she wanted to fly, to be free… and hence came a new emotion. Desire for freedom. As soon as her remembered self felt this emotion, the plan was decided upon. She would escape. She would leave this place. She would fend for herself, just as she had done during her trial, six years ago. She would be efficient. She would evade capture. And she would see what lay on the other side of the walls…
Escape
Age 24
Age 24
The best strategies are well thought-out, and so November began to observe, but in a new light. She looked for holes in Green Meadow’s defenses. Anything that might keep her in. She plotted, planned.
And then a bit of news wormed its way through the facility. Several of her peers were gone. Missing. But she knew the truth. Alpha, Delta, Echo, Uniform, Oscar. Escaped. Victor and Tango, disappeared on the way to a mission. November steeled herself. She had found her opportunity…
She was sent on another mission. This time, it was to hunt down and capture the rogue assassins. She would hunt them down, yes. But she would not be returning… She was sent as an underling for Foxtrot, to aid her with the hunt.
By this time, the remote-function of her chip was beginning to degrade. She couldn’t always fire her dart-gun, there was interference when it came to tracking… It wasn’t long before these things would be noticed. And so she waited for the right time, playing along for the mission. And then, when the opportunity rose, she fled. November attempted to hack the mainframe via the remote point of the ship, to disable the tracker in her chip, but to no avail. She was no computer specialist, and despite her intelligence, the encryption was too deep. This path would not be efficient. And so she slipped away, quiet in her unanticipated flight, wandering out onto the planet’s surface.
She would track down the escaped assassins. Whichever she found first, though paths were most promising when it came to Victor and Tango. And then she would act from there. She felt dissatisfaction with the fact that her plan was short-sighted. But she also felt satisfaction. Because, for the first time in her life… she was free.
RP Sample:
November's eyes narrowed as she scanned the inside of the ship. Most of the others were resting... and if they weren't they soon would be. November twisted the lock on a small canister, watching with satisfaction as the silky gray fumes began to hiss into the air. Yes, satisfaction... oh, how she loved that feeling. She had exactly seven minutes to escape; the gas mask she wore would only last that long before the cartridge needed to be cleaned.
November waited exactly one minute; she had to be sure the knock-out gas had taken full effect. And then she slipped from her bunk, grasping the bag which she'd already packed. Five minutes, fify-five seconds.
Silently, she made her way through the ship to the control room, where Foxtrot lay slumped against the console, moaning quietly. It was as she had predicted. November's fingers flashed over the computer's controls. She had to disable the tracker, had to unlock the block on her TAINT...
Two minutes passed. She had made some head-way, but this was far too inefficient. Dissatisfaction toyed at her stomach, and November frowned. She would be too easily tracked... However, November had noticed the degradation of her chip which had begun when the first of her peers had escaped. Perhaps... November calculated the probability, and found that there was a seventy-five percent chance the tracker of her chip would fail before it caused her danger. To escape now would be the most efficent plan of action.
And so, like a shadow, November slipped from the ship, emerging onto the landscape. She had no knowledge of where she was; Foxtrot hadn't decided it prudent to tell her. This had been an intelligent move, and November recognized this.
And now, she was away from the base. The situation was life-threatening; the only times she could use her TAINT were the same times the other assassins could track her. And fear was beginning to trickle into her bloodstream...
So when the Doubt came, a sudden and vicious wave diluted to a simple insistence by the semi-operational RELIC, it stunned November. Perhaps this was just a test. Perhaps she was failing. Either way, her programming had failed. And this made her imperfect. This revelation displeased her, but the emotion reminded her that her programming was imperfect, which displeased her more. November was left in a downward-spiral of doubt and dissatisfaction, which stopped her in her tracks. Did humans always experience emotion like this? It was overwhelming, and caught her up in complete and utter despair... all rationality was gone, drowned, where were her numbers! The facts she could tell, the facts always listened to her, they followed patterns... November's body began to tremble, and she felt something hot upon her cheeks. Her eyes were watering, but profusely, not from external stimuli, but from inside... what was wrong with her?! She was supposed to be perfect!
Suddenly, November tripped and fell to the ground, pain rocketing up her elbow. The physical jar caused a rush of adrenaline, which washed away the wayward emotions. November slowly stood, looking back at the ship. Her breathing was heavy, the logic returned. She could not doubt herself. She was efficient. She was logical. She wouldn't loose control again. Surely emotions followed patterns, too. Just... more complicated ones. Yes, that was it. This was a challenge. Yet that doubt refused to remove itself entirely. November did her best to ignore it. She would press on. For, after all, there was a 55 percent chance that locating another rogue assassin would bring answers to several mysteries. Curiosity dominating her mind, November plunged back into the night...
