Riley a broyé ses dents comme Jenkins l'a dit. Sa peau rampait à la mention de nanites, courant dans ses veines et ligotant un noeud autour de son cou. Elle a essayé de trouver du réconfort dans l'idée de les enlever après la mission, mais un homme qui démêlait un couteau sur la tête de l'aller était tout aussi susceptible de mentir et de se croiser. Elle n'allait pas prendre la parole de M. Sinister pour quoi que ce soit. Le rat.
Une fois que Jenkin est partie, Riley a fait son chemin jusqu'à la couchette tandis que certains se dirigeaient vers le salon. Une boisson enivrante avait l'air délicieuse, mais elle n'aimait pas l'idée d'aller en mission. Très peu professionnel, potentiellement fatal aussi. En trouvant son lit, Riley a arraché la tablette que Jenkins avait mentionnée. Le technopathe était aussi un technophile, il semblait, comme Riley regardait sur le design élégant. Un peu plus creusant a découvert une ceinture épaisse avec de petites poches cousues dans une ligne, un rang de soldats. Remonter à ses pieds Riley a rapidement rejeté son uniforme de prison, jeté sur un simple coton et tiré sur boxer-shorts. Maintenant dans une tenue résolument confortable, elle sortit de la couchette, traversant quelques-uns des autres Rogues, mais ne voyant aucun visage alors qu'elle s'inclinait la tête sur l'écran de la tablette.
Laissant ses pieds marcher à travers l'entrepôt et au salon, Riley entendit des bavardages - et des cris - alors que ses yeux glissaient d'un coin à l'autre, ingérant des lignes d'information de ses nouvelles camarades. Certains sont issus de scandales, de crimes. Riley a grimpé bruyamment à travers les tiroirs avec sa main libre, en ramassant des couteaux. Elle les jeta vers le haut pour les regarder roulotter, et les prit chacun par la poignée avant de les envelopper dans la ceinture qui tournait autour de sa taille. Elle sourit à l'écran alors qu'elle sentait sa moitié inférieure devenir lourde avec ses butins. Ah, le pillage. Elle était revenue à ses racines, n'est-ce pas? Une fois que chaque gaine a été remplie d'une lame, Riley s'est penché contre le compteur, pour engager les profils restants à la mémoire.
Le salon était relativement calme, avec un homme musclé se remplissant de nourriture et de boisson, et une blonde Riley reconnu comme Natilaya - une sorte de femme fatale qui avait tué ses victimes après les avoir couchés avant la vie de prison - a fait plusieurs voyages pour une quantité impressionnante d'alcool. Alors qu'elle sortait du salon, Riley lui a ouvert un front. Russe? Elle avait les caractéristiques pour ça.
En fouillant ses doigts sans esprit pour les faire sortir de la mauvaise habitude, Riley atteignit le dernier des profils et se leva de l'écran pour regarder la blonde dévorer sa nourriture. "Travail à toi-même un appétit, hein?" Riley a dit depuis son comptoir. Elle a de nouveau fait référence à la tablette. "Karate Bastard." Riley regarda l'homme avec un sourcil levé pour transmettre une légère réprouvation, puis changea d'expression pour une confusion grimacée. "Je suis désolé." Les excuses n'étaient pas très sincères, mais Riley n'essayais pas de le convaincre autrement. "Je peux vous appeler Keith à la place? Ou Blackwell?" Un sourire aigu éparpillé sur son visage, adoucissant les plis de la victoire précédente. "C'est juste que ma mère me disait toujours de ne pas jurer."
Name: Riley Pielwood
Alias: NA
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Species: Human
Personality: Snarky and with a love for sharp humour, Riley wouldn’t immediately come across as psychotic to those she meets. Fun-loving and highly appreciative of a few chuckles, Riley makes careless remarks and laughs whenever she will. Though bright and energetic, she hides her claws and filed teeth behind her wide smile, tucked away until her hackles have been raised. Her laughter is bark-like and sharp, as is her bite. She likes teasing people and ribbing them in good fun, but nowhere near as much as she enjoys seeing an expression ranging from dismay to horror to panic to pain unfurl over a face, and knowing she has put it there. She enjoys herself a fair dose of chaos, might instigate it now and then, but she has found that dropping in during the second act isn’t all too bad either. She has an intense weakness for challenges too, and can’t stand being bored, especially if mundane people let her down and fail to fulfill her amusement quota. Sarcasm and sardonicism keep her entertained during lull periods. She doesn’t particularly need to see blood to be satisfied – hasn’t got much of an appetite for it, to be frank – but she will draw it to prove a point if need be. Vindictive, she can get childishly petty and vengeful when she doesn’t get her way. Needless to say, she is not the most mature, but she will do anything for her little sister Naomi.
History:

Riley was born in a rough neighbourhood on the more dingy side of town, to parents who may have loved each other in a previous life but must have ceased all affections somewhere after their honeymoon and before her birth. It was a crumbling union of two unfortunate souls too prideful to separate that Riley witnessed as a toddler, loathed as an child and overlooked as an adolescent. It helped matters none when her mother got pregnant again and Riley got herself a younger sister at nine. Of course, it was left to Riley to look after the thing right after it was weaned. It took all of six months for her to get attached to little Naomi, but once she began to feel warmth uncoiling in her stomach when looking at the ankle-biter’s rosy cheeks and guileless gummy smile, she was stupidly loyal to a baby. By then, she had gotten herself into a few scuffles, though nothing serious. She would return home with bloody knuckles and bruises blooming anywhere imaginable and her baby sister would brush her chubby grasp over the tender spots on Riley’s skin like a whisper. Their parents had never been big on gentle physical touch, and Riley absolutely lived for those moments. She never lost a fight, and came home daily to coo over Naomi as the dull aches slowly pulsed into faded muscle memory.
Their parents slowly spiraled further and further away, eventually becoming so detached and in need of remedy that the dining table was empty more often than not, as they spent their days languishing in numb, alcohol-induced limbos. That however didn’t bother Riley as much as how bone-dry Naomi’s bottle was getting, and when Naomi got a fever Riley was thrown into absolute panic. She considered it a miracle her sister hadn’t gotten sick earlier – the darkened flat hadn’t been feather-brushed in years, much less properly cleaned, and Riley’s cheeks were growing gaunt and hollow to keep Naomi’s plump but almost, it would seem, to no avail. Riley could see it all – the hunger, the pain – diminishing to naught as she perched owlishly by the crib, desperately clinging onto Naomi’s pudgy fist as she screamed and her face turned ruddy and her little voice choked on her own tears.
The next morning in school, a boy passed a mindless comment that sent Riley rocketing off her seat. She was sick with worry, and the boy was a brainy bespectacled thing who deserved all her resentment because he came from a house that wasn’t falling apart and parents with a love as deep as their wallets. He couldn’t even fight her off with his own fists. Instead, he begged her to stop and tried to sweeten the plea with money. Riley almost scoffed, until she realised what he was offering and plucked him off the ground. He meekly handed her five dollars, but a shaking of his shoulders and a snarl in his pasty face raised the sum to a princely fifteen. With that money, Riley was able to buy milk formula for Naomi. Given another two recesses and a whole playground full of potential victims with cushy families, Riley could pay for a trip to the doctor’s. She attracted strange stares in the waiting room, as she cradled a squalling baby in knobby arms and with cheeks smudged as dark as soot, but she glared at the receptionist and nurses and patients who were all just blockades between Naomi and the doctor until they tore their eyes to the ground.
Naomi got better, but Riley continued to bully the kids, until the pantry was stocked up again and Riley herself began to fill out. When she was twelve, upperclassmen who had seen her exploits during recess where the teachers couldn’t see invited her to play truant with them. She surveyed them warily at first, until they mentioned money. By the time Riley was thirteen, she had become a bully outside of the playground, and ran around with a gang of youths who were all older than her but headed in the same direction. Rogues had already started becoming an issue then, and these gangly adolescents with enough tar in their lungs to reline roads and tattoos snaking around their bodies like vices fantasised living lives of obscene wealth, play, and skullduggery.
They got up to mischief on a daily basis; Riley learnt from the smarter ones how to con and deceive and be wily, for the delayed gratification of whipping the carpet out from beneath the feet of the unsuspecting; the brutish ones with a relish for inflicting pain traded their more sadistic skills for Mathematics tuition; she was given a fair share of whatever profits they could loot. Even if the gang was majorly made up of dim bulbs and dull tools, Riley was saving up handsomely, and they made her laugh and lightened her heart even if they lived a story set against the most grim of backgrounds. Plus, her thick-as-thieves associates in malice would have gladly jumped a bullet for Naomi, now at four a cute rascal with a smile to melt even the ringleader’s heart and enough naivety to shame Riley, and she was grateful for any protection they could offer, now that she had gotten herself involved in risky business. But she lived every day laughing and playing with her sister, running around and wreaking havoc around town with teenagers as mad and starved for the intangible as her, and it was a good life to live.
But then it all went wrong when Riley turned seventeen, and had herself upgraded to an organisation which was bad news on a whole new scale. Naomi would ask why Riley didn’t go see their usual friends, and Riley would never tell her that those usual friends were absolutely paltry compared to her new ones. But her new affiliation offered so many more benefits – namely, an income, if she did her job.

But because the one above was too long, I added in this summarised version, because I can understand it would be a pain to read through the whole thing.

Riley was born in a rough neighbourhood on the more dingy side of town, to parents who may have loved each other in a previous life but must have ceased all affections somewhere after their honeymoon and before her birth. She later had a little sister by the name of Naomi at the age of nine, who came to care intensely for. She would often get into fights in school, but always came home to Naomi and for that she was grateful.
Their parents then stopped providing for them, and it worried Riley that Naomi was getting less and less fed. When Naomi got a fever Riley was worried sick, and after beating up a rich boy in school realised she could extort money from her classmates, using what she unjustly earned to buy milk formula for Naomi, pay for her health, and feed the family again.
When she was twelve, she became involved with a gang of youths who were all older than her but filled to the brim in the head with fantasies of being rogues. Riley learnt from the smarter ones how to con and deceive and be wily, for the delayed gratification of whipping the carpet out from beneath the feet of the unsuspecting; the brutish ones with a relish for inflicting pain traded their more sadistic skills for Mathematics tuition; she was given a fair share of whatever profits they could loot. She stayed on because she was earning and learning, and running amok with these people lifted her spirits.
But then it all went wrong when Riley turned seventeen, and had herself upgraded to an organisation which was bad news on a whole new scale. Naomi would ask why Riley didn’t go see their usual friends, and Riley would never tell her that those usual friends were absolutely paltry compared to her new ones. But her new affiliation offered so many more benefits – namely, an income, if she did her job.

What Got You Famous:
The same problem happened; I'm so sorry.

And she did. She did do her job, got herself paid and told to rest on her laurels until something else came along and they called on her duty again. She did her job several times over, and did it well even if it would make her stomach turn. But she overcame her squeamishness quickly enough, and only pursed her lips when she did her job. But somebody else didn’t. Somebody else screwed up, and Riley was awakened one night by Naomi’s screaming, her parents’ shouting, and the door to her room being kicked down.
She was seventeen. A seventeen-year-old girl caught in her bed in nothing but boxers and a singlet, eyes still bleary from sleep and squinting into the spotlight shone on her, as her little sister cried at the doorway, held back by parents who now gave their undivided attention. Perhaps she wasn’t exactly what the ARGO team had been expecting when they crashed into her house on an overnight mission to round-up members of a rogue organisation they had just dismantled, because there was a beat of absolute silence from the officers – armed with impressive weaponry and decked out in bulletproof vests and suits which all looked overdone now – before they started to order her to the ground, voices ricocheting in the cramped room.
When Riley failed to comply, one of them reached forward to roughly drag her off the bed. But it had been a long time since Riley had slept, sure of her safety. Before the officer could even blink, she had dragged the serrated edge of the dagger she kept beneath her pillow into the flesh of his underarm.
Howling, he let her go, falling back and failing his arm so that blood flew everywhere. Pandemonium peaked, and Pandora’s box opened in that room itself as voices exploded and rifles were whipped into the hunter’s crouch, aimed right at her heart. Another soldier tried to advance, and the hand holding the dagger twitched to right beside her ear, ready to be thrown.
Caught in this stalemate, everyone became motionless, except for Naomi who broke free of her parents’ hold to push against the back of an officer’s legs, desperate to get through, crying for Riley even though her entire front was splattered with another man’s blood. The officer turned sharply then, every instinct lit and every nerve strung high, and swung the barrel of his rifle down as he peered at Naomi.
It was aimed right at her sister.
I cannot lose her. With a flick of her wrist that was too easy – so familiar, so simple – Riley threw the dagger. It embedded itself deeply in the chink of armour that had been revealed as the soldier craned his neck downwards. In a spray of blood from the back of his neck, the soldier gave a last sputter and fell.
A body was flung at her, pinning her at once against the floor. Riley landed on her back, the breath flattened out of her. She started to wrestle with the man, scratching at his face and knocking his visor askew, all the while hearing the high-pitched shrieks of Naomi. She made a claw-like shape with her hand, whipping it forth to rake her nails down the man’s face. Unexpectedly, the man yowled anew when tongues of flame licked his face.
His comrades who had scrambled to save the fallen life whirled around to find Riley struggling to her feet, gazing in awe at her right hand now swallowed in fire. She looked up, to see soldiers with eyes full of intent to bring her down, and waved her arm around, a torch that roared with life as she yelled, “Stand back!”
Obstinately, the team advanced, and she flung her hand at them. Fire sprung to life behind a man’s ears, and he scrambled to beat it out. But try as he might he continued to burn. New screams filled the room, and hesitantly the team began to recoil.
There was a window just paces away from where Riley stood. She was just about to leap for it, when she heard Naomi – all screams now dead – whimper, “Make it stop.”
It was enough to strike Riley dumb; that pause was enough for what remained of the force to bring her down and innovatively bag and handcuff her hands. But she remained limp, lifeless, beneath them, hearing on endless repeat Naomi’s plea. Once she was hauled upright to be taken away, Riley bent to Naomi’s level long enough to say goodbye, before she was heaved into an armoured truck; before she could say – hypocritically – stay out of trouble, be good; before she could hear her sister burst into tears again.
Riley’s story gained renown. After all, a girl whose hand spontaneously combusts into flame is never conventional. Reporters craving a juicy story martyred her when word got out how subdued she became once she heard her little sister call out for her. The efforts to make her a saint only intensified when a journalist shallowly researched her background to hit upon the sheer depth of Riley’s care for Naomi. But it was all useless, because Riley was labeled a rogue dangerous to society, locked away somewhere by officials who made threats wily-nily to Naomi’s life knowing it would control Riley enough for them to poke and prod her to their hearts’ content, and no amount of media press was ever going to get her out.


Naomi worked with the organisation for a while, fully aware that it was nasty business but getting over her qualms about it for the money she and Naomi were dependent on. But then somebody made a mistake, and an ARGO team came to round up members of the rogue organisation they managed to dismantle. They kicked down their way into her room before the eyes of her parents and Naomi. They woke her up abruptly, and when one of them tried to roughly drag her off the bed, she cut him with the dagger she slept beneath her pillow.
Both parties conscious that the other was dangerous, everyone became motionless, except for Naomi who pushed against the back of an officer’s legs, trying to get to Riley. The officer turned at the push, and swung his rifle in such a way that the barrel was aimed at Naomi. Afraid at once of losing her sister, Riley threw the dagger and it cut into the back of the soldier’s neck.
One of the men pinned her to the floor, and while trying to fight him off, Riley’s hand burst into flame, causing him to yowl and fly back. Riley used her hand now aflame to ward them off, and set a man’s ears on fire from a distance. This gave the rest of the team cause to pause, and while Riley thought about jumping out the window as the men all burned at her feet, she heard Naomi whimper, “Make it stop.”
The fight left Riley then, and she was immediately hauled away. Her story gained renown, for the sheer shock factor of Riley’s inflammatory powers, and the selling point that was her love for her sister. Riley however was labeled a rogue dangerous to society, and locked away by officials who made threats wily-nily to Naomi’s life knowing it would control Riley enough for them to poke and prod her to their hearts’ content.

Equipment: Daggers. Lots and lots of daggers. She has a belt to carry rows of them like teeth, but she lost it when she was taken into custody from her home. But she has plans to fashion a new one from scratch if need be.
Powers/Abilities: Knife-handling. Riley can severely injure anyone with a blade in hand, and even out of hand. Her daggers always fly in the trajectory she wants.
She can control flame as well. Fire will burst to life in her palms, or fingertips, or a flammmable object at a reasonable distance - Riley enjoys being able to light candles without having to get up. She can put out a fire if she wills it, and adds in a little of her own fire as well. Her brand of flame is very difficult to put out too. Riley likes to joke that pouring milk over it helps, though the actual trick is to deprive it of oxygen. On a large-scale however that would prove problematic. She can also increase the temperature of her skin to an alarming pitch, so as to scald and give first-degree burns to anyone who tries to grab her. But she can’t sustain too high a temperature for too long; Riley has enzymes too that she doesn’t want denaturing.
Weakness: Mention harm to Naomi, and if she thinks you can make good on that promise, she will suppress herself. (If not, it will only enrage her) Drenching her with water would work well to stop her from committing more arson too, I guess.
Secret Hideout: Old, and rustic, the tree-house stands in the tree-tops, desolate and away from traffic. It used to be an old haunt for vagabonds and the way-less, and it's just right for Riley if she wants to be alone to think, or if she wants to kip a night.



Relationships: None so far with rogues or heroes, but she loves her sister Naomi dearly. She knows a few rogues who carved some names for themselves but ever since being locked away she hasn't heard from them. She has contacts, but they're all far away in her hometown, and distant from the years apart.