[hider=Abigail Harlow] [u][b]Name:[/b][/u] Abigail Harlow [u][b]Gender:[/b][/u] Female [u][b]Age:[/b][/u] 18 [u][b]Place of Birth:[/b][/u] Buckhead [u][b] Sexuality:[/b][/u] Undecided [u][b] Relationship Status:[/b][/u] Single [u][b]Occupation:[/b][/u] Assistant [u][b]Power:[/b][/u] Telekinesis - manipulating objects with your mind, ranging from making the nearest teacup float a few inches in the air to slowing down bullets. [u][b] Cost of powers use:[/b][/u] Memories. She systematically loses her memories from the latest to the earliest the moment she starts using her powers. The strength and exertion of her powers decides the rate at which she forgets the recent (and then not so recent) past. A sort of self-preservation technique kicks in as the mental strain can exhaust Abigail and stop her from losing too many memories too quickly. [u][b]Appearance:[/b][/u] A short, scrawny woman with pale blonde hair which reaches a little ways down her spine. Abigail’s nose is small and tilted upwards a little; she has dark blonde eyebrows, flawless teeth and thin lips to give her a bright and dazzling smile. Her eyes are the most notable feature - deep blue, exuding a false warmth. When her facade is shattered, those eyes turn cold and her intellect shines through them. They’re the eyes of a cunning rogue. Abigail’s body is frail and flat - she has pale skin, bony wrists and small extremities. She’s almost entirely flat-chested - an A cup on a good day - and she has a multitude of faint nicks and scratches along her elbows, knees, hands, ankles, and feet. Standing at 5’2, she’s hardly an imposing figure. [u][b]Skills: [/b][/u] [i]Stealth:[/i] Undeniably the most useful skill Abigail has in her arsenal. Forced to learn the ways of being neither seen nor heard at a young age, Abigail’s ability to move undetected is nothing short of awe-inspiring at times. She’s light, small and agile; coupled with her sharp observational skills, Abigail has practically mastered the art of sneakiness. [i]Agility:[/i] Ties in closely with stealth. She may not be the fastest sprinter but when it comes to twists, turns, dodges and climbing you know Abigail will be in her element. In order to be agile in the first place Abigail has her observational skills and a quick reaction time. [i]Intelligence: [/i]Being one of the top strategists in a crime syndicate requires an incredibly sharp mind. Abigail plans ahead and makes sure to cover her tracks, requiring a fair bit of mindpower to be able to outsmart people who were older, stronger and stupider than her. She uses every trick in the book to deceive, lie, pretend and bargain her way out of situations that may well end up getting her killed. [i]Criminality:[/i] Abigail took a more ‘hands-on’ approach to her new life, making full use of her sneakiness to learn some other dubious (but admittedly very useful) tricks from her co-workers. Basic lock-picking, light fingers, car hijacking and disabling simple alarms are some of her skills. Essentially, if it’s not legal, she could probably do it - but there’s an equal chance she’ll be pretty bad at it or get caught. She only uses these skills when she really has to. Abigail looks seemingly overpowered at the moment with her strong skillset towards being a sneaky bitch. However, it is important to remember that Abigail is pretty much crap at everything else; she is rather frail when hit, she has little to no brute strength to rely on, her skills when it comes to survival are limited to cooking and sticking band-aids onto things...She’s simply not cut-out for close-quarters combat or living in the wild. Unfortunately for Abigail, close-quarters combat and living the way nature intended seems to be increasingly popular for The Unwanted. [u][b]Personality:[/b][/u] Confident and outgoing, Abigail borders on childish with her boundless amounts of enthusiasm and optimism. Do not let her bubbly personality and restless, animated movements fool you; the rumours circulating the great Abigail Harlow are intense and highly exaggerated. Her wide and encouraging smile is encompassed by the lips of a fluent liar who does not even begin to show the slightest amount of respect for honour or morality. Abigail does what she wants, when she wants; she is rumoured to hold no loyalty save for her own and that of the highest bidder. This does not mean that her cheeriness is an elaborate ruse - she is genuinely just a happy person - but she'll be just as happy to blackmail a widow or steal from a beggar if the situation calls for it. Since her mystery is upheld by the outrageous amount of gossip surrounding her, she holds true to her perceived persona - a chaotic neutral with a reckless and impulsive behaviour spurred on by a constant state of hyperactivity. However, she is not as nonchalant about whose side she is on; if someone manages to lower their guard and truly attempt to protect and comfort Abigail, becoming the closest allies with her and actually trusting her, then she will extend her loyalty in return and use her skills to look out for those she cares about. When displeased, Abigail has a horrible habit of sulking, pulling faces and not-so-subtly trying to garner pity or attention from others. [u] [b]History:[/b][/u] [i]Dear Future Abigail, I’m writing this and giving it to the Boss so that we’ve got a backup copy just in case everything goes to shit and you manage to forget everything. The real copy is...hell, you don’t need to know that since you’re already reading this. Okay, no messing around, we’ll go from the start. You don’t need to know the names of your parents. They were heroin addicts and overall assholes who gave birth to an even bigger asshole - yours truly. You were an only child and apparently a mistake as well, so that must be pretty comforting...but don’t worry, your biological mother and father weren’t worth the grit in their sneakers. Know why? The moment you were old enough to understand the concept of money, you got suckered into smuggling stuff into your school for the older kids in order to raise a bit of extra cash. Hell, sometimes I’m even grateful for it - if you didn’t get manipulated into that high-risk low-reward drudge work and didn’t get a taste for breaking the rules early on then maybe you wouldn’t have gotten to where you are today. Started off with contraband, things like sweets and gum, then mommy’s dealer sent you in with little packets of ‘sherbet’. That little job kept you going for around 4 years. You made a bunch of friends out of it and started to learn a fair bit about business, if I do say so myself. Then it all changed. You were just a kid when it all happened, some snot-nose little working class brat who had her ego inflated by her so-called ‘shady business’ in the corridors of that state school. The door was kicked in, your dad got a well-deserved kick in the jaw, those goons grabbed the dealer and shoulder-barged your mom on the way out again. I don’t know what possessed you to do it - maybe we’re just a little crazy after all - but seeing your only known family snivelling on the floor is enough to pull a few heartstrings, even if they were wastes of space. And-...maybe it’s a bit of curiosity too. I can’t remember; so much happened since then. Long story short, you took in the make, licence plate and colour of the car and tailed it all the way back to their hideout. Maybe we were trying to be noble? All I remember is how foolish we were. Got in through the top floor window and spied on these men until someone grabbed you from behind, dragged you kicking and screaming down to the other thugs and then clasped a hand over your mouth and nose. Brought you straight up to Boss. To be perfectly honest, we’re both pretty lucky those dimwits didn’t slit your throat and leave you in the gutter...anyway, the Boss saw some potential in you. God knows you weren’t satisfied with trying to look after those deadbeat drug addicts, and whilst your little salesmanship game at school made you feel important, he asked you if you wanted to expand your horizons. You said yes. Here’s where the tutoring began. I really hope it’s been ingrained into your psyche by now because I worked my ass off to get where I am today. There aren’t any exams for this line of work - if you don’t pass these tests you wind up dead. Luckily, it turns out you had a real knack for being a deceitful little girl and with the right tips and lessons, you learnt how to run a proper business. The Boss taught you everything he knows, and you’ve done awe-inspiring things under his wing. You had a penthouse suite, everyone knew your name, you mingled with the rich and famous but you never ever let it get in the way of your job. You’ve made a lot of money. Hopefully you’re still smart enough to notice I just used the past tense. Guess what? I’m writing this in the back seat of a rusty old pick-up truck deep in the arse end of nowhere! Here’s the second big shocker; you went to the Wildlife Charity Gala with Boss and, well...things went south. It got real bad. You barely made it out in one piece and the moment we’d turned the corner away from the street the two of you started executing Plan F. Almost immediately after the Gala we lost employees left and right, things got pretty stressy...We took it in shifts to handle our job and the preparations for plan F, loads of paperwork and coffee. When we lost Stevens the Boss went right up to your apartment personally and we both got out of the city. Since then it’s been hell. I haven’t had a proper sleep in days, I look like a tramp...I had to cut my goddamn hair too, and this baseball cap itches. In all my years of planning and preparation for the “Just In Case” scenario, well...I guess I didn’t think it through that much because who honestly believes that everything would come crashing down the way it has? Things just got scary too. We’ve been knocked off our ivory towers. No more bodyguards or hired thugs to keep us safe, no average-joe looking workers to do all the menial stuff for us...every moment we spend in the public eye is a fucking nightmare because it only takes one person to point and mutter. If our cover’s blown, we’re worse than dead. But hey, relax. If you’re reading this letter then you’ve got the Boss with you. He’ll tell you what to do. And...if you’re reading this letter and Boss is dead? FUCKING RUN.[/i] [/hider]