Clare Hartford
From Unofficial Handbook of the Virtue Universe
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| Clare Hartford | |
| Player: | |
| Origin: | Natural |
|---|---|
| Archetype: | Blaster |
| Security Level: | 37 |
| Personal Data | |
| Real Name: | Clare Hartford |
| Known Aliases: | NA |
| Species: | Human |
| Age: | 25 |
| Height: | 5' 7" |
| Weight: | ' |
| Eye Color: | Blue |
| Hair Color: | Blond |
| Biographical Data | |
| Nationality: | Caucasian |
| Occupation: | Scientist/Technition |
| Place of Birth: | Unknown |
| Base of Operations: | Unknown |
| Marital Status: | ' |
| Known Relatives: | NA |
| Known Powers | |
| ' | |
| Known Abilities | |
| ' | |
| Equipment | |
| Hi-tech armor suit, advanced assault rifle | |
| ' | |
Contents |
Newspaper Articles
DISASTER STRIKES, HARTFORD SURVIVES MIRACULOUSLY
Clare Hartford was a top technition and leading scientist for Crey Industries. She was assigned to a number of top-secret experiments and research projects. In the late 90's, suspicion of illegal activities launched investigations on Crey Industries and halted Hartford's progress for two years. Despite controversial drug testing tehniques used, there was not enough evidence for any legal action to be taken. Hartford was immediately removed from her current studies and assigned to a mysterious new project; The creation of a mechanical biosuit in order to supply to the military's finest soldiers. The project took 8 years to near completion and billions of dollars in research and materials. 5 prototype suits were created. Little is known regarding the tragic incident that left the Crey facility in ruins, and highly praised military weapons missing.
Upon a brief interview with survivor of the explosion, Clare hartford, she had this to say, "They blew up my lab! They tried to kill me! Crey won't get away with this!" Crey Industries has since refuted any part in the incident, and dismissed Clare's statement as "A paranoia induced rant and an obvious indication of post traumatic stress." Crey has taken the liberty to admit Ms. Hartford into the inpatient Port Oakes Psychiatric Clinic for further observation. All attempts by Crey Industries to locate, or otherwise salvage the military weapons have been suspended under the grounds that it would be more cost effective to drop the project altogether. No Investigations have surfaced regarding Crey's involvement in the explosion.
-Paragon Daily News: 12/06/02
FORMER CREY SCIENTIST ESCAPES MENTAL FACILITY
In December 2002, a former scientist working for Crey Industries was admitted to a mental clinic in Port Oakes after an explosion decimated her laboratory and left her with PTS. Crey has since broken any affiliation with Clare Hartford, deeming her "a suspect, and a dangerous individual." Yesterday, a guard taking the morning inventory found that Hartford was not in her cell. She could have escaped sometime between midnight and 4 AM this morning. She is considered mentally unstable and potentially dangerous. If you have any information regarding her whereabouts, you are encouraged to contact the PPD immediately. Representatives from Crey Industries also had this to add, "Crey Industries is deeply sorry for any damage Ms. Hartford may or might have already caused. She was admitted into the hospital in her best interest, and since her escape, we cannot help but feel somewhat responsible for her actions. That is why we are personally offering a large sum of money for her safe return. This entire incident is just unfortunate."
-Paragon Daily News: 09/12/04
Through my eyes
"My Name is Clare Hartford. I worked for Crey Industries as one of their leading experts in Science and technology. I used to consider myself a vital, if not valuable asset. That is- Before the night they took away my life.
I arrived on scene at 11:00 PM on December 5th, 2002. I was losing sleep over the Valkyrie Project, and had decided to stay overnight to ensure we met with the USMAP's strict deadline. I had never before heard of The United States Military Armor Program until Crey placed me on the Valkyrie Project, but I couldn't refuse the obscene paycheck they offered. My key-card was being rejected, and the staff database was rejecting my log-in. I had resorted to using a bypass I had developed strictly for my late-night work sessions. Upon entering my lab, it was evident immediately that my workstation was disarray. All of my files were missing, and my hard-drive had been completely wiped.
Frantic, I bolted to the armor encasement chambers to check on the 5 prototypes. All 5 were missing, and the systems were apparently activated only hours before. When I had made an attempt to leave, the re-enforced steel door slammed shut and locked in place. After the alarm sounded, I heard an unmistakable beeping sound coming from beneath my desk. Upon further examination, I noticed it to be a C4 Plastic explosive time bomb. I wasn't in the state of mind to estimate a blast radius or admire it's construction. In a fit of desperation and pure survival instinct, I encased myself within one of the protective chambers meant to simply display the armor. As the timer reached zero, all I could think about was how grateful I was for my obsessive compulsive nature, and making the display cases blast-proof.
The blast sent debris flying in all directions and completely obliterated my lab. It was powerful enough to dislodge the casing I occupied from the wall and send it crashing through several other offices, rendering me unconscious. When I had awoken and stumbled from my would be tomb, I heard faint muffled ringing sound. After a moment, it was evident that the sound was of the first responders to the incident. The Paragon Police, and Fire Department. Oddly enough, there wasn't a single ambulance. Climbing from the wreckage, I was met with stares of astonishment by other members of the faculty who observing the ruins of their former workplace. I don't think I was intended to survive that blast.
Before I could even register in full the sheer destructive force of the explosion, I was covered in a blanket and escorted to a law enforcement vehicle. There were flashes of cameras, and reporters trying to "get a word" from me. I think it was then that I finally realized the emphasis of what had happened. Crey had stolen my research, the prototypes, and tried to cover it up with an "accidental" explosion. I had become a victim of what would seem like a negligent slip up. I swore revenge on Crey, to the presses, to the paparazzi, to the world.
Crey disregarded my comments entirely, and made ridiculous claims that I was a suspect and possibly stole the prototypes. They were kind enough to send me off to a Psychological facility meant to harbor the delusional, babbling masses of mentally unstable denizens of the Etoile Islands, where I was a prisoner for two mind numbing years. At the end of which, I was supposed to be transported to the Ziggursky Prison in Paragon City to live out a permanent sentence. I was swept under the rug, and had become another statistic in their convoluted cover-ups. They institutionalized the wrong woman.
I observed the security, the management, everyone who thought they were observing me. When I had finally managed to mentally chart the routines of every staff member, and constructed a bomb from materials they just left laying about, I made my escape. It went off without a hitch, and I had stolen a staff uniform that had recently been sterilized and placed in a personal locker. It was almost terrifying how easy it was to escape.
I spent the next 5 years on the firing range. I had become more than competent with a sniper rifle, and an arsenal I had designed personally. To make money, I took on jobs as a mercenary or even a hit man. With my developing skills with a firearm, I made a killing (Obvious pun intended). It was only a matter of time before the moral questions came into play, and I wondered how long I could keep up this job. It was always the same. Change identity, study the target, eliminate the target, conceal evidence, pack up and skip town, change identity, and so on. It doesn't take long to lose yourself in a job where you're everyone you say you are, with the exception of yourself.
Eventually, I had earned enough money to finish my own own prototype, the Valkyrie STIGMA. It possessed a lighter, more versatile frame, along with an advanced array of weaponry and attachments. Despite it's lighter structure, it was absurdly durable, and could survive any blast it could dish out. STIGMA was superior to the original 5 prototypes in every way, but I needed a way to test it. I decided I would use it in a way that would prove it's worth in battle, and go towards a good cause. One by one, I infiltrated and destroyed Crey facilities. As I suspected, they began sending renditions of the original prototypes to secure the facilities. They were dispatched easily enough, to inspire me to destroy every last one of them. I tracked down the first 4 in a matter of months, yet the 5th remained elusive. They never sent it to combat me, and I eventually came to the conclusion that it was no longer within the Etoil Islands."
The Struggle (TS)
"A military force established by deception of sense that you decieve enemies; so that they do not know your real condition, and that they can establish supremacy. It is mobilized by a game, in a sense that it goes into action when it sees an advantage. Dividing and recombining is done to confuse opponents and observe how they react to you, so that they adapt and situate and seize victory. Therefore, when it moves swiftly, it is like the ramp. When it goes slowly, it is like the force. It is rapacious as fire and immovable as mountains. And as swift as the wind, in that it goes without a trace and withdraws like lightning. And it is like a force in that it's whirling and is rapacious as fire across a plain; not leaving a single blade of grass. But as immovable as a mountain, and it is dark all around. It is hard to know, as the dark ends up killing thunder. To ponder a locality to line up your troupes. To expand your territory, divide the spoils. The rule for military operations is to feed off the enemy as much as possible. However, the localities where people do not have very much, it is necessary to divide up the troupes into smaller groups to take what they need here and there. For when and there, there will be enough.
Welcome to the Universe."
Clare Hartford's Friends and Allies
((feel free to add your name I will fill in the rest))
