Mean B*tch
Allie J.
| Species | Echani |
| Birthplace | Kynaron City,Echelon Prime |
| Age | 24 |
| Gender | Female |
| Height | 5'10" |
| Weight | 150 lbs. |
| Hair Color | Black (dyed) |
| Eye Color | Silver |
| Skin Color | Chalky Pale |
| Dis. Marks | Body, Neck, & Facial Tattoos |
| Build | Sleek & Athletic |
| Faction | Echelon |
| Faction Rank / Affiliation | Independent Contractor |
| Force Sensitive | No |
| Voice | Kate Moss |
| Writer | Extinct |
B I O G R A P H Y
Her earliest memories were not of comfort, but of Kynaron's streets breathing around her like a living thing, alleys slick with perpetual mist, towers looming as cyclopean silhouettes against a bruised sky. Orphaned young on Echelon Prime, she learned quickly that Kynaron city did not nurture; it tested.
Hunger was a constant companion, and trust a dangerous indulgence. The streets whispered lessons in cruelty and vigilance, and she listened well, growing into a child who slept lightly, watched shadows too closely, and sensed that something vast and uncaring pressed down upon the city, shaping lives with indifferent intent.
As she grew into adolescence, survival curdled into transgression. Petty theft became calculated crime, and calculated crime became routine, as though the city itself had initiated her into its hidden rites. She ran with smugglers and data-runners, committing acts that felt less like moral failures and more like inevitabilities.
Laws, to her, were fragile human constructs, easily bent or broken, and the consequences of her actions rarely troubled her conscience. Kynaron city rewarded those who took without hesitation, and she learned to take efficiently, leaving little trace, like a rumor that vanished before dawn.
It was through crime that she first encountered cyber technology, not as wonder, but as revelation. Old terminals, scavenged decks, and forbidden access ports became her sanctuary, humming with secrets older than the regimes that claimed to rule Echelon Prime.
She taught herself code the way others learned prayer, slicing through firewalls with obsessive precision, hacking systems that were never meant to be understood by minds like hers. In the shifting patterns of data, she sensed an alien order beneath reality, something vast and logical that did not lie. Machines made sense where people did not, and she gave herself wholly to them.
Her body, too, became an instrument of survival shaped by relentless discipline. Drawn into underground fight circuits and brutal training halls, she learned martial arts and boxing not as sport, but as necessary violence refined into skill. Each blow, each movement, was practiced until it became instinct, her body responding faster than conscious thought.
Pain lost its meaning, becoming merely another signal to be interpreted and endured. Those who faced her often felt that they were not fighting a person, but something honed and hollowed by necessity, striking with unsettling calm.
In time, she shed her birth name as one sheds a contaminated skin. The past carried too many ghosts, too many vulnerabilities that could be exploited, and so she chose a new designation: Allie J. The name was simple, precise, and deliberately incomplete, a fragment rather than a whole.
It marked the end of the girl shaped by the streets of Kynaron and the beginning of something colder and more self-defined. In abandoning her old identity, she did not escape the influence of Echelon Prime: but she learned, at last, to stand apart from it, an orphan no longer claimed by the city, but by the deeper, darker currents that had always guided her.
P E R S O N A L I T Y
Allie J. keeps herself apart as though proximity itself were a risk best avoided. There is an unnatural deliberateness to her distance, a sense that she has learned, through means she does not share, that closeness invites consequences. She listens more than she speaks, and when silence stretches around her it feels intentional, almost ritualistic, as if words might summon attention from things better left unnamed.
Her intimidating nature does not arise from force or threat, but from implication. Allie J. possesses the calm of one who has glimpsed truths that erode the comfort of ignorance. Her eyes linger a fraction too long, not with malice, but with the detached curiosity of an observer studying something fragile and temporary. People feel diminished under her regard, sensing that she measures them against incomprehensible standards, and that by those measures they fall short in ways they cannot articulate.
Charm fails to take root in her presence, wilting as though exposed to some subtle, corrosive influence. Allie J. does not indulge in pleasantries, nor does she cloak her thoughts in civility for the sake of social harmony. Her speech is spare, clinical, and often unsettling in its honesty, stripped of the comforting lies people tell themselves to endure one another. Those who seek warmth or reassurance from her find only an unnerving clarity, a reminder that human sentiment is a thin veneer over deeper, colder realities.
Allie J. does not trust people, not out of bitterness, but from a learned certainty that human and alien intentions are mutable and often unknowable. She regards others the way one might regard an ancient text written in a half-deciphered language; full of gaps, contradictions, and symbols that promise meaning but conceal something far more unsettling beneath. Every word spoken to her is weighed as though it might carry hidden implications, every gesture examined for motives that lurk just beyond perception. In her quiet vigilance there is the sense that she has witnessed trust unravel into horror before, and that to place faith in another mind is to invite forces best left uninvoked.
S K I L L S--&--A B I L I T I E S
- Martial Arts
- Her mastery of martial arts is unnerving to behold, her movements precise and fluid as though guided by patterns not meant for human bodies.
- Boxing
- Her boxing skill is a grim calculus of timing and impact, each strike delivered with the cold inevitability of a closing cosmic cycle.
- Slicing
- She slices computers and breaks locks with a reverent precision, her fingers moving as though obeying sigils only she can perceive, unraveling protections never meant to yield to human thought.
- Coding
- Her coding unfurls like a blasphemous manuscript, lines of logic inscribed with a fluency that suggests forbidden understanding rather than learned skill. Her programs do not merely function: they awaken, executing with an eerie inevitability.
- Computer Operations (Inc. Repairing)
- She tends machines with the solemn care of an acolyte, diagnosing failures as though reading subtle omens etched into corrupted circuitry. Through her hands, broken systems are restored not merely to function, but to a more obedient purpose.
- Problem Solving
- She approaches mathematic equations and puzzles as one might approach a forbidden geometry, perceiving solutions through angles and patterns that unsettle ordinary reason.
- Robotics
- She assembles and repairs droids with a meticulous reverence, aligning gears, servos, and code as though restoring fragments of some mechanical entity. When she reprograms them, their behavior subtly changes, obeying her commands with an unsettling fidelity that suggests she has inscribed her will into their metal minds.
- Stealth
- She moves with a silence that feels unnatural, slipping through spaces as though the shadows themselves have agreed to conceal her.
T H R E A D S
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F A C T O R Y
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C O D E X
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