Mivuli

Closed

<Snipped quote by Mivuli>

That's not very prison-like. Any armament would be in one place, securely away from prison cell blocks. Especially considering it is an all robot prison.

@Pirouette

Hm, true. Guess I'll change it then. Thanks for the opinion!

Closed

I took a few liberties with the emergency weaponry in the walkway. I hope that's okay?

Closed

When Riley was first brought into the correctional facility the scientists had been fascinated. This was after all an unextraordinary girl whose fingers spurt fire, seemingly at her will. They’d poked and prodded, conducted experiments, trying to find where the smoke and mirrors and gasoline was coming from. And then it had become understood that Riley’s fibers were simply made of different stuff from them, and they desisted, leaving her alone to languish away in a cuboid cell so dizzyingly white and patterned that it made Riley’s head swim with headaches, caught in a game of dice while she was rolled around in it.

Not to mention, the authorities had probably grown weary of Riley impassively setting fire to their receding hairlines when they made a threat to a Naomi Pielwood one too many times, while she lay strapped bored to an examination table with her vitals beeping beside her head.

In the cell and lying on her back with one arm raised to cushion her head, Riley laughed, a lone knee jutting out from the ground. The sound echoed in the hollow room, reverberated in the silence. Once, Riley might have been sparingly abashed at such an obnoxious noise. But that was before she had come to know only quiet, and to relish her own voice. “Ah,” she said fondly, with a dying chuckle and a smile to herself. “Good times.”

Riley hadn’t seen another soul in ages, but that didn’t mean she was alone. There was a tingling sense in the back of her neck, a feeling impossible to place that hinted she was being watched. Cameras weren’t too difficult to install, and the sheer omnipotence of whoever observed her day and night was just too obvious. This had to be how the religious felt, as they snuggled in their cocoons of blankets, mattress moulding obediently to their every curve and tangent, and settled in for a good night’s sleep, transferring all worries and woes and security to a being they trusted would be there to watch them wake.

But Riley was one of the faithless, and she didn’t quite envision her captors as gray bearded men armed with a crooked staff of righteousness residing in the clouds. Still, she would give anything to hear the crackle of her own fire. She did so miss the powers she had just acquired, if only to bring some warmth into this godforsaken cage.

An internal clock rang the alarm and Riley’s eyes flickered to the door, just in time to watch her food tray being slotted in through the opening in the door. With a deep sigh of someone who’s life had been reduced to pure monotony, Riley heavily got to her feet, one hand ruffling up her cropped hair. Meals were no grand affair, but they were a splash of colour – green peas and mahogany ribs if it was a lucky day – in the monochrome cell. As Riley neared it however, she stopped short, catching sight of an envelope lying on her plate.

Disgruntled, she bent to pick up the tray, her right hand hammering dully on the door. “Oi!” she called, knowing that even if the sound didn’t travel through the walls, some camera or microphone within would pick it up. “You know if you want me to cook for myself you’re going to have to give me my fire!” Riley rattled her tray for emphasis, the envelope cluttering suspiciously noisily. She pounded the door one last time, before letting up and turning away.

“And actual ingredients,” she added, fingers picking up the envelope and playing with the fine corners. Riley opened it, to find a gadget lying inside of it. A frown deepened her brow, before smoothing into a look of impassivity. She flung the tray absent-mindedly, and kneeled down facing a corner, back hunched over this new treasure.

The pads of her fingers played over the contours of the PDA, and finding a button Riley pressed it, only to be plunged immediately into darkness. The PDA slipped from her hands, landing screen-down as Riley cursed and snapped her fingers. “A black-out? Now?” she muttered, knowing full well it was the furthest thing from a power trip. “Come on…now would be a great time to reenact the whole let there be light shindig.”

Then, seeing the PDA backlit by light from its screen, she reached out to cautiously cradle it in her hands as a voice filled the cell. Riley worked through her shock as she listened to the message, to the alleged Mr Sinister. She tsked over the booming words. “Mr Sinister. A child could have chosen better.”

“…you don't have any other choice. Think about it, what if you had a group to call upon when you need some bailing out, or when you are planning a great heist?” Riley’s eyes narrowed at the vivid sun on the PDA screen. “Or an idiot to land you in a jail.” To take her away from a good thing going, to rip her apart from her sister… Riley didn’t find group work very droll business.

But then, thoughts of Naomi she had suppressed out of pain dovetailed with the proposition that had just been made, and Riley froze, contemplations to scoff at the offer and cast the PDA aside screeching to a stop. Naomi, now probably going onto seven, who had gone three birthdays without her big sister. Naomi, who was still waiting for Riley. Getting out would mean returning to her.

“Oh, god damn you,” she snarled at the PDA, one finger vehemently punching the screen. The prison floor plan filled the screen, and Riley listened to the instructions and information rattled at her. Pressing the screen as requested, she tucked the PDA away into her pocket, and on a belated thought folded the envelope in as well.

She would need to get word to Naomi somehow to start expecting her sister.

A few rounds of mindless pacing later, the power flickered in the cell, before the door to her cell flung open, creaking with misuse. Hope surged in Riley’s chest, but she refused to allow it to add a spring in her steps toward the exit, even over the cacophony of other prisoners finding their release. So she wasn’t the only one who had been propositioned. Simply fantastic.

Her feet carried her across the threshold. Riley raised a hand to her eyes, breath bated, as she snapped her fingers. Click. A flame burst to life before her, quivering in the rush of air Riley exhaled in surprise. The smile she hadn’t permitted cracked across her face, and an astonished laugh tore its way from her chest. The flame wavered violently, swaying alarmingly. But it burned on, as stubbornly inextinguishable as ever.

"Right, mates, let's fucking do this!" Riley looked up, to see an inmate with a newly-bared chest, a curiously-proportioned figure who had declared a conquest of the Earth, and a girl who had just neutralised a robot. Riley smiled an impish smile, dropping her hand to put out the flame, and turning to face the rest of the Rogues who shared her ticket out. “I think you’re getting ahead of yourselves, boys,” she said with a mischievous lilt in her voice. “Let’s focus on showing ourselves the way out first without getting caught, shall we?” And hopefully find a kitchen somewhere, she thought with a small grumble of hunger to get her hands on a dagger after those couple of years eating with a plastic spork.

Riley glanced over at the girl with long black locks and an air of irritability, and gave her a once-over. An expression of slight amusement quirked at her lips and brows. "Impressive. Think you can do that to all the bots that come our way?" she said, eyes lighting on the now faulty machine, and threw in a small well-meaning jaunt of the lips for good measure. "Liven up a little."

Closed

@Mugin Ehh, now I'm excited. Do we meet each other the moment we get out of the cells, and have to work together to take down the robots and Warden? Or do we just make a post detailing our escape from the cells all the way to the dome?

Closed

@Cuccoruler Oh, best I tread with caution then. All right, do your worst if the moment ever comes, and teach Riley not to mess with Rose

Closed

@Cuccoruler Oh my that sounds like fun XD But rather I was thinking Riley, being Riley, would be an arse and just spontaneously light small candles around Rose when she enters a room, or walk up to her and snap her fingers under her nose to create a spark.

Ink On Your Soul

@Silent Observer I would say go ahead and post. I'll get one up myself in a while!
Mia's theme songs could probably be anything from Oh Wonder

Closed

Riley Pielwood

[Please disregard the tattoos in the picture] Standing at 170 centimeters tall, and of average build, she is relatively pale, with grey-green eyes, arched eyebrows, ear piercings, and cropped pitch-black hair. She has the occasional jagged scar bolting its way across her skin of course, but who doesn’t in this world?

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:

Original

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.

Abridged

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.

Original

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.

Abridged

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.

Tree-House

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.

Closed

@Mugin Hahah, thank you! And noted about the powers thing.
@Cuccoruler Having Rose and Riley meet would be interesting, especially if she can be burnt.

Closed

Aye, I see! Well, I hope it's fine if I just throw in this CS. Thanks for reading, anyway!

Riley Pielwood

[Please disregard the tattoos in the picture] Standing at 170 centimeters tall, and of average build, she is relatively pale, with grey-green eyes, arched eyebrows, ear piercings, and cropped pitch-black hair. She has the occasional jagged scar bolting its way across her skin of course, but who doesn’t in this world?

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:

Original

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.

Abridged

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.

Original

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.

Abridged

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. 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.

Tree-House

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.