Brenna

Name/Alias: Brenna Martinsen (no alias)

Age: 15

Physical appearance: Brenna is a teenage girl, a little taller than average, built like a nerdy stick girl. Messy blonde shoulder-length hair, usually tied lazily back into a ponytail. Emerald eyes. Her right arm is missing just above the elbow, recently amputated.

Mentality: Before she triggered, Brenna was a happy-go-lucky sort of person, always with a smile on her face. She was eager to help others even without getting anything in return. Naive about how the world actually works. After triggering, the old Brenna is still there, but...hollow. The smiles don't come as readily, she's a lot less trusting, and suffers from bouts of depression. She still tries to do the best she can, but it seems like as every day passes it gets harder to tell right from wrong.

Backstory: The daughter of a successful lawyer and a stockbroker, Brenna had a very carefree life, her family rich enough to avoid most of the problems plagueing the world. That all changed when she was kidnapped by human traffickers[1]. She triggered several months into captivity, and managed to escape a short while after. During her escape she was confronted by villains, and without her power able to help she barely escaped with her life. Instead, her right arm was torn to shreds, and she eventually stumbled into a hospital, nearly dead from blood loss.

She woke up in the hospital, still delerious from blood loss and the drugs they'd put her on. In her compromised mental state she feared she was still in captivity, so she escaped the hospital, leaving her on the streets with next to nothing to her name.

She considered going back to her parents, but decided against it, terrified that that would somehow lead her former captors to them and cause them harm[2]. Maybe one day she'll let them know she's okay, but for now it's safer they don't know about her.

[1]: She can't remember who they were, due to various factors.

[2]: Not neccessarily the most-logical thing in the world, but she is in a bit of a paranoid state at the moment.

Resources: Nothing but the clothes on her back, and the contents of her pockets. A cell phone, kept off to save the battery for as long as possible. A rusty pocket knife she found. Maybe $20 or so, cash.

Alignment: Unaffiliated

Equipment/Weaponry: None yet

Specializations: She's charasmatic, great at talking and listening to people. Has a pretty good memory, too. Her power has some bleed-over to medical stuff, giving her a lot of first-aid and other knowledge she wouldn't have otherwise.

Power: Tinker (Bionics): Brenna can create bionic implants and augmentations to replace and/or enhance the human body. Her augmentations must be "external" in nature due to maintenance and upkeep requirements (ie, a bionic arm or eye is fine, but not a tinkertech heart unless the user wants to have weekly surgeries).

Versatility: She hasn't dealt with her power much, but has lots of random creative bursts. If presented with a problem (no matter how mundane) her shard can't help but scream a solution at her, so to speak. Most of these are relatively useless ("yes, i know if I had mechanical extend-o legs i could reach the top shelf, shut up").

Example:

I stumbled down the sidewalk, not sure where I was. My arm--what was left of it, anyway--was a constant, almost-unbearable ache. My head pounded and my thoughts raced along faster than I could keep up.

The ever-present Washington drizzle made all my clothes stick to me uncomfortably, and as a breeze picked up I couldn't help but shiver. I'd been wandering for hours, unsure of where to go. All I knew was that I couldn't go back there. I wouldn't let them take me back.

But that didn't change my current predicament. It was getting dark, I was cold, and wet, and all I had to my name was a phone with a dying battery, a rusty old pocket knife I'd found in an alley, and a few dollars.

“Hey,” someone said, startling me. “Girl.”

A man, probably in his fifties, his face dirty and covered in a disgusting-looking beard. He gave me a reassuring smile, which only caused my head to rush into replacement teeth of all things. He'd need a lot of them.

“These streets aren't safe for someone like you wandering around,” the hobo said. He gestured towards the abandoned building behind him, and I noticed a makeshift ‘home’ inside. “If you want, feel free to get warmed up. It's not much, but...” he trailed off.

Could I trust him? I realized I was clutching what was left of my arm. I sighed. With the way he was hobbling towards his little hovel, I doubted he was much of a threat. I followed him warily.

I supposed his hovel was great as far as hovels went. A little fire burned in a makeshift firepit made of cinderblocks, and there were some milk crates for sitting. He had a pile of blankets to one side that I could smell ten feet away. But it was warm, and he didn't seem too hostile. I sat on one of the milk crates, holding my hand out to the fire to warm up a little.

“Here,” he said, handing me one of his blankets. I managed not to gag at the smell. Warm was more important right now.

“Thanks,” I replied.

“No need to thank me. We have to look out for each other. World's a rough place.”

“Yeah,” I said with a shudder. The last few months had been a nightmare I hadn't been able to wake up from until a few days ago. And somehow it had gotten even worse. I could feel it, like my right arm was still there, like it hadn't been torn to shreds and cut off. I knew, with the correct tools and materials...I could fix it...I could make it better.

I could see it now, feel it. A circuit, to read the signals of my nerves and translate them into analogue commands. Another converter, next to it, to convert my body's energy into electricity. Data and power feeding into an adapter, where I could mount a replacement. No, not a replacement. An upgrade. It wouldn't be cheap, no. But with the proper weapons system's they'd never be able to–

“You okay?” the bum asked, startling me–again–from my thoughts. It was then I realized I'd been mumbling to myself, about the ideas and plans tumbling around my head.

“Um. Yeah. Sorry,” I said, blushing a little. “Don't worry, I'm not crazy, just...having a bad day, is all.” Understatement of the century, that.

He nodded, not saying anything in response. I didn't think he believed me. Hell, I didn't think I believed me, either.

Neither of us spoke for a time. The bum turned his attention to sewing up what looked like a pair of pants, and I sat by the fire, trying to ignore the phantom pains and the headache.

The next morning I woke up, startled. The hovel was empty, the firepit cold now. The man was nowhere to be seen.

I'd been so tired, I'd let my guard down and fallen asleep. Just how far gone was I, that I'd let that happen? Ugh. I needed to be more careful.

I stood, wincing at the aches from sleeping on the ground. I noticed a bundle, sitting on the crate I'd used as a chair earlier. I grabbed it cautiously. It was a coat, too small for the homeless guy but close enough to my size. It didn't even smell too horrific. It felt like a hint, a goodbye gift given in hopes that I wouldn't be around to thank him.

I pulled it on, leaving it unbuttoned. His subtle hint was right, though. I couldn't be here. I didn't know where I could be, so I made a simple plan: wander until I found it.

With no other options, I stepped back out into the morning sun, smiling at the lack of rain, however brief it would end up being. Today would be better than yesterday, I was sure of it.