[center][i][b]ATERRA; Terra[/b][/i][/center] ---- [center][img]http://i.imgur.com/TFdhdGG.jpg[/img][/center] [b]Name:[/b] [indent]ATERRA-Proto-001 (All-Terrain Extreme Resistance Resolution Adjudicator)[/indent] [b]Nickname/Alias:[/b] [indent]N/A[/indent] [b]Gender:[/b] [indent]Female[/indent] [b]Age:[/b] [indent]N/A[/indent] [b]Appearance:[/b] [indent][list] [*][i]Height:[/i] 5'0"[/*] [*][i]Weight:[/i]110lb [/*] [*][i]Build:[/i] N/A[/*] [*][i]Hair Colour:[/i] N/A[/*] [*][i]Eye Colour:[/i] N/A[/*] [*][i]General Attire:[/i] N/A[/*] [/list][/indent] [b]Metahuman Abilities:[/b] [indent]Terra has been built with the express purpose of aiding her to be a skilled and efficient weapon of war. As such, she possesses many qualities that help her with her 'job': [i]Extreme Durability[/i] - at least on/with those parts of her that received armour installations before her break-out. [i]Extreme Combat Aptitude[/i] - for solo combat against one or many opponents ,though little ability to perform as part of a team as she was not designed for squad-based excursions. [i]Extreme Stamina[/i] - due to her mechanical body, which does not suffer the same weaknesses as an organic body. [i]Extreme Processing Ability[/i] - Able to 'see' 360 degrees in all 3 dimensions at all time due to her particular method of 'seeing' - she emits a subsonic pulse silently and frequently, which feeds information back to her at all times, allowing her extreme processing of external stimuli to form an accurate image of the world around her millisecond to millisecond (although her 'vision' is still blocked by walls etc. and her upwards/downwards 'sight' is limited to ten metres or so when not already blocked off). [i]Weaponisation[/i] - Her right hand has been replaced by a massive cleaver-like blade, while her left is larger than the average person's, has sharp tips for slicing and/or piercing, and is stronger and more dexterous. She has the capacity for greater upgrades, should she come into contact with someone capable of working with her mechanics. [/indent] [b]Skills and Talents:[/b] [indent]N/A[/indent] [b]Biography:[/b] [indent]Alice Freemantle did not begin life as a half-mechanic monstrosity created for the express purpose of massacre under the PC term 'conflict resolution'. She began life as a baby like many others, born to her mother, Janet Freemantle, and her father, Arthur Freemantle, and was considered beautiful. She grew up, went through school. Her father, a military man, molded her into the forces, despite the disagreement on her mother's part. Alice was happy to follow her father's footsteps, eager to please him. She performed well, and got into infantry. She went on tour. She was assigned a squadron, and performed a few covert operations, seizing weapons and other illegal materials, as well as terminating dangerous targets. She received medals, and then retired, spending time with her aging parents. Then her father was killed, and his death was labelled a terrorist assassination against a high-profile target with an illustrious military career. Alice came out of retirement, leaving her mother, now ill from grief, to seek revenge. She was given her own squad again, given information, informed of suspects and target locations, possible methods and motives. She was sent in, her team inserted into a "high-risk" danger zone, supposedly crawling with enemy insurgents. They were given cover identities, backup stories. Facial makeovers. Alice's mother died during the undercover period, but she never knew. What she did know was that one night, her squad came across information that turned the tide of the assignment. It had been stagnating, as operations occasionally do, and leads had been scarce; but an informant suddenly came forward, telling them where her father's killer would be. When they would be there. How many men they would have with them. It was a-go. A plan was made. The squad was armed. Members given tasks and roles to play. It was all coming to a head. On the journey over, their vehicle was hit by an ambush. These were no taliban RPGs; they were US-Army LAW launchers, Javelin strikers; these were not taliban shooters either. Too precise, too planned; snipers picking off those of Alice's squad who survived the initial bombardment of their Humvee with military-trained precision, using dragunov rifles that wouldn't be traced back to US soil. Alice was left barely alive, and taken in. A few years passed. What was left of Alice after the ambush - scarred and burnt flesh - was healed, made anew. And then they went to work. Parts were surgically removed to be replaced with 'better', more 'efficient' machinery suited to the task. Her insides were stripped to make way for circuity and technology that had been developed in secret over the last decade. Alice's mind was burnt out, reducing her to a child once again, ready to start anew with a new 'father', a new role model, who had new lessons and teachings to pass on. Alice became ATECCRA, a war-machine built to destroy enemy settlements in minutes, win battles in hours, and end wars in days. A secret weapon. She was brought online, and she began her new life. And she was terrified. Streams of information addled her newborn brain, which was incapable of sorting the massive influx of data being fed to it near-constantly. The fear initiated Fight or Flight, and Alice had never been one to run - and ATECCRA didn't have anywhere to go. She lashed out, slaying all those who tried to contain her and striking down the soldiers that arrived as backup. When she came to a dead end, her new-found strength gave her another option, and eventually she made it out of the complex into the sewers, escaping into the Nevada Desert. She travelled, her new legs moving her in bounds, and it took only a few days to reach the edge of the sand and the dry heat. She found civilization, and discovered that she was being tracked - how, she didn't know, but she didn't know much of anything. She escaped again, all record of her covered up by the government, and went back underground. She has been there since. Occasionally she surfaces, and occasionally special forces delve into her hiding place, the vast underground routes that connect most of the continent secretly. She has yet to find a friendly face. She has yet to learn anything of the world other than hate and fear. But she is still open to companionship. [/indent]