Sister Silicon Prime
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| Sister Silicon Prime | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Player: @KWRussell | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
[[Image: |300px|]]
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| Character Build | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Class Focus: | Ranged Tank | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Power Level: | 40 | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Research & Development: | Science/Inventions | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Biographical Data | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Real Name: | Siobhan Mullins | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Known Aliases: | Sis, Si2', Moira, [REDACTED] | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Gender: | Female | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Species: | Synthetic | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Ethnicity: | Irish-American | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Place of Birth: | Pittsburgh, PA / [REDACTED] | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Base of Operations: | Millennium City | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Relatives: | Parents: Seamus and Catherine Mullins [STATUS REDACTED] | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Characteristics | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Age: | 33 / 4 yrs | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Height: | 6' 4" | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Weight: | 475 lbs | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Eyes: | Green | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Hair: | Red | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Complexion: | Ginger | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Physical Build: | Hourglass | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Physical Features: | Artificial skin, auto-tuned voice (chromatic scale) | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Status | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Alignment: |
Neutral Good | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Reputation: |
Big-time | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Identity: | Known | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Years Active: | 9 / 4 | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Citizenship: | United States | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Occupation: | Cybernetic Engineer / Entrepreneur | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Education: | BS Mechanical Engineering, [REDACTED] Tech, MS Cybernetics, University of Michigan | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Marital Status: | Single | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Known Powers and Abilities | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Near-Field Kinetic Barrier Matrix, Plasma Beam Projectors, Vectored Graviton Propulsion | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Equipment and Paraphernalia | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| None | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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| ReldinBox Template | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
UNTIL SECURITY NOTICE
Portions of this document have been redacted in accordance with Trans-Universal Quarantine Protocol UN-SEC-42.6
ACCESS TO FULL DOCUMENT REQUIRES LEVEL OMICRON CLEARANCE
I amaze myself.
Wait, that was horribly narcissistic. Let me start over.
I am amazed by how I have been transformed, and what I am capable of becoming.
I really wish I could tell you everything there is to say about my past. The five years I spent as a superhero before coming to Millennium City have provided me with some remarkable experiences. Unfortunately, my duty to two universes demands that a UN bureaucrat take a figurative black Sharpie to that part of my life. At least I can tell you where it began.
Contents
Born, Not Made
I’m a first-generation American, and a third-generation geek. I was born Moira Catherine Mullins in Pittsburgh, PA on 17 July 1980, the only child of Seamus and Catherine Mullins. (If you ever wondered why my colors are black and gold, there you go.) My parents were originally from Belfast, but moved from Northern Ireland to the States when Dad received a research grant from a joint venture between Carnegie Mellon University and [REDACTED] Corporation.
Both of my grandfathers were scientists, Dad’s an engineer, and Mum’s a high school physics teacher, so I was immersed in science and technology my whole life. I probably would have been the class nerd if it wasn’t for two things: I was a head taller than everybody in my class for almost my entire childhood, and I could shoot the lights out on a basketball court. I was a starting guard on the girls basketball team at Taylor Alderdice High School from my freshman year. I graduated in 1998, but I wasn’t recruited by any major college programs.
Dad obviously wanted me to go to CMU, but I had dreams of playing for a major program, even if it meant walking on. [REDACTED] Tech was a perennial tournament team and a well-respected engineering school, so I took that chance and moved to [REDACTED].
Just in time for [REDACTED] Tech’s recruiting class to include a glut of guards. Including two future WNBA MVPs.
Good thing I had a little bit of brains to fall back on. In the end, it worked out, because a basketball player’s schedule probably would have caused me to wash out of the mechanical engineering track by spring of my freshman year. There’s an old joke at [REDACTED] Tech School of Engineering: The biggest problem sophomores face isn’t the “freshman twenty”, it’s survivor’s guilt.
Failing to make the basketball team also meant I had more time to hang out with Mikael Sorensen. Mikael was as close to a modern Viking as you could find: A handsome, chiseled face, broad-shouldered, a rugby player, a teller of tales, a drinker of beers, and a lover of tall, athletic redheads. We started dating as freshmen, and stayed together all through school.
After receiving our BS degrees in 2002, Dad pulled a string or two to find me a junior position at [REDACTED] Corp’s [REDACTED] headquarters, while Mikael started working on his post-grad thesis. We found an apartment in the newly-gentrified north end of [REDACTED], and after we had a few months to settle in, Mikael proposed to me. We scheduled the wedding for August 2003.
The Accident, or Where All the Good Parts Go Missing
It was 21 March 2003, a Friday night, and Mikael and me were headed to [REDACTED] to blow off some steam, one pint at a time. I was already home when Mikael pulled up in his old beater Honda. He parked so he could run upstairs and change clothes. We jumped into the car, Mikael started it, and as soon as he shifted into first, the car shot forward like it was launching from an aircraft carrier. The last thing I remember seeing was the [REDACTED] at the end of the block, the distance closing far too fast.
When I woke up from the coma a month later, my parents were there to tell me that Mikael was declared dead at the scene. The doctors were there to tell me that I suffered a major spinal cord injury at the C3 vertebra, causing complete paralysis from the neck down.
The car had been sabotaged by the [LARGE SECTION REDACTED]
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipisicing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Excepteur sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipisicing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Excepteur sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum.
I probably could have adapted to a life of power wheelchairs and ventilators in time, but I knew what my father’s project was, and we both knew I was an ideal candidate for the upcoming field trials for the next version. The only difference between Dad and I was his trepidation and my determination. Don’t get me wrong. The process was daunting: An induced coma of at least two months as my brain was transplanted into a life support capsule, followed by two more months of virtual reality training, all to attune the capsule’s neural interface for integration with a robot body. It doesn’t sound bad on paper, but it was really a gauntlet of disorientation and pain, with no going back.
Then came what the technicians affectionately call the “marionette” phase. I reentered the physical world through a simplified trainer body, but my brain capsule wasn’t installed inside. It was actually in a box hanging from a track in the ceiling, while cables ran down to the trainer’s back. It was here that I learned how to operate and maintain myself as a Full-Body-Replacement cyborg. Having studied this very field in college, I had an advantage over the other five participants in the program, so I was untethered and installed directly in my trainer body two weeks ahead of them.
The techs probably regretted that decision, because I spent the extra time nebbing around their shop as they worked on my final body.
You could understand why I was eager to move things along. The trainers were vaguely-gendered grey plastic bodies with generic, natural looking heads. There was one other woman in the program, and you could only tell us apart by our wigs. Meanwhile, on the table in the shop, there was a half-assembled FBR body that was me. A slightly idealized me, really, as I was getting a narrower waist and daintier hands. I hadn’t met the others before starting the conversion, so I wondered how much different the others would be.
Not a Bug, But a Feature
I should note here that nothing about this process was designed to make me into a super-powered being. The goal was for the six of us to reintegrate into society more independently and productively than we could have before. Quality-of-life upgrades were part of the deal, but this was strictly civilian-grade hardware. It was my fast progress that sidetracked those plans, at least for me.
One of the new features in our version of the FBR platform was induction charging. Instead of plugging in a power cable to recharge as we slept, a special mattress would allow us to charge simply by lying on the bed. Since I was two weeks ahead of schedule, I was the first to test the system. They set me up in my final body in marionette mode, took me to an electrically shielded test room (as soon as I stopped preening in the mirror), had me stand on an induction mat, and activated the system.
There was a wiring fault. A totally awesome wiring fault. The induction coils in my hands were wired to discharge, causing arcs of electricity to shoot from them as soon as the induction charging system was turned on. Thank God the safety protocols called for me to be alone in the room, or else I might have electrocuted somebody. Dad and the other engineers were appalled, but I wouldn’t let them into the room. I thought this was the coolest thing ever, and I was determined to figure out how to control it before they moved me back to the trainer and fixed the wiring.
While the other five bodies got work orders to double-check their wiring harnesses, I got into an argument with Dad about becoming a hero. I saw this as an opportunity to protect others from being victims of [REDACTED] as I was. And what better place than [REDACTED]? The city was full of other heroes, and it was [REDACTED]’s world headquarters, so I’d have plenty of support.
Finally, after a few hours of debate, favors from other [REDACTED] departments, and Dad knowing that [REDACTED]’s competition with [REDACTED] would push the VP of R&D’s buttons, we came to an agreement. The FBR-X program was born, with my father as director, and myself as the first subject and chief engineer!
While I went back to my trainer body and explained things to the other FBR participants, the techs went to work packing up my FBR body to ship from Pittsburgh to [REDACTED], where the security-grade FBR-X lab would be set up. After a week, we were hard at work installing communication, sensor, and tactical hardware. I figured out a better control system for the electric induction/emitter coils while the techs replaced synth-skin with flexalloy armor.
They didn’t get a chance to finish the arms. The [REDACTED] had invaded again.
Public Beta Test
In hindsight, it was probably a huge mistake. I started out with the brilliant tactic of "See alien, zap alien," but that quickly turned into "See alien, zap alien, run and hide behind muscle-bound guy with ram's horns and a flaming sword." (Flexalloy was, shall we say, less than adequate against [REDACTED] weapons.) I didn't feel any better when he started encouraging me to keep that up. It was over the deafening roar of battle that he taught me my first lesson in superhero combat tactics.
When the dust had settled, Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipisicing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Excepteur sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum.
[REDACTED]
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipisicing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Excepteur sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipisicing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Excepteur sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipisicing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Excepteur sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum.
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipisicing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Excepteur sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipisicing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Excepteur sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum.
I've Been Everywhere and Nowhere
It's just as well things didn't work out with Kenji, because my new job was going to require quite a bit of travel, so to speak. After five years as a hero-at-large, I managed to get one of the best gigs in the business: Field Agent for [REDACTED]. Trans-universal portal technology, exploring alternate realities and divergent timelines. High risk, to be sure, but often enlightening and fascinating as well.
In most worlds, me and my fellow agents could see the major divergence point from our own timeline. Our home universe is what we call a nexus universe. We are the trunk, the other worlds in close "proximity" are branches. (Just don't ask me what "proximity" means in this sense unless you already have an advanced degree in quantum mechanics. My neural network still doesn't completely grasp it, and there are no experts in this universe, so I'd just be reciting the Cliff's Notes I learned back home.)
What they never briefed us on, though, are bridge universes: Worlds that link one nexus to another.
I was sent to one of these bridges, although we didn't know it was one at the time. This particular one has had problems with trans-universal invasions in the past, and was well-defended against one random cyborg popping out of a portal.
One Woman Enters, Two Women Leave
I remember nothing from the time I crossed the event horizon of the portal until I...
This is hard to describe, unless you have the same frame of reference as me. Which you don't.
[to be continued...]
Sightings
Vitality,Sister Silicon Prime and Mus Sicarius. Artwork by Artwork by AgentCanada (@BobbyBlaze)
