Mika Kitravitch

Solus Illa
Player: @Tranquil Dawn
Origin:	Natural
Archetype:	Stalker / Widow / Scrapper
Security Level:	22 / 45 / 2
Personal Data
Real Name:	Mika Josea Kitravitch
Known Aliases:	Red, Legs
Species:	Human
Age:	25
Height:	5'7"
Weight:	140 lbs.
Eye Color:	Blue
Hair Color:	Auburn dyed Candy Apple
Biographical Data
Nationality:	American
Occupation:	Freelance Artist, Independent Contractor
Place of Birth:	Sebring, FL
Base of Operations:	Confidential
Marital Status:	Unmarried
Known Relatives:	*Sergey Kitravitch [father], *Galya Kitravitch [mother], Arnold Stedan [adoptive father], Patricia Stedan [adoptive mother], Alison Stedan [adoptive sister]
Known Powers
-Withheld-
Known Abilities
-Withheld-
Equipment
A pair of graphene, heat generating, monomolecular claws "salvaged" from a Spartan Suit
* indicates the individual is deceased

In The Beginning: Envisioning

In the summer of 1985, a baby girl was delivered on the 4th floor of Hillsboro County Hospital to proud parents Patricia and Arnold Stedan. The three arrived at their ranch just outside of Sebring a scant 4 days later as a family. That little girl was to have everything she could desire handed to her on a silver platter.

Little pink swaddling clothes, complete with imported French lace. 24-carat gold scrollwork on a crib made of polished oak. The best schools. Every opportunity.

Life was good.

Situated partway out on the 70 acres belonging to the Stedan family stood a small cabin of wooden walls and sheet metal roofing. A cobblestone path leads from this cabin to the extensive stables and pastures responsible for keeping the Stedan Ranch on its gold-plated feet.

Within the cabin, there is a wailing. The bed pushed into one corner of the single-room had been clean this morning. The stench of copper and the abundance of dark blood ruins this quaint scene. As does the figure lying in the middle of this crimson-soaked pedestal.

This woman was lovely in her youth, but that had run out long ago and the dull gray hue to her skin did nothing to improve things. Her eyes stared blankly at the closest wall, unseeing.

The creak of the rocking chair accented the overwhelming silence. Sergey held the blanket-wrapped infant in his arms and rocked, tears streaming down his face to rejoice in the birth of his daughter and mourn the death of his wife, Galya.

Life was cruel.

Outlining

Despite the dark cloud that formed above the cabin, Sergey worked hard to continue providing for his daughter. No amount of hard labor, however, could give Mika a mother and the care she inevitably needed from such a figure.

It was with a heavy heart that her father approached Arnold Stedan about the prospect of fostering Mika to the couple. In the few days that had passed since her birth, she'd become listless, sickly. Even the mare milk that Sergey stole away with little guilt did nothing to improve Mika's situation. Very simply, she needed nourishment.

The Stedans were understandably hesitant to bring in another child, but could hardly refuse Sergey's desperate pleas when he thrust the swaddled infant at them the following morning.

Mika became a Stedan for the simple reason that the family that lived in their cabin were not in the country legally. The Stedans greased a few palms and arranged for a dual-birth to go on record, raising Mika with their own daughter, Alison, as twins. Mika began to flourish and grow right on track.

As the girls grew, Sergey faded from the picture. Mika was too young to remember the death of their ranch hand but would put flowers on his grave whenever she passed the marker on their land.

Shaping

Aside from the obvious lack of physical resemblance, Mika enjoyed the life she was handed as if it were her own, oblivious to her true heritage.

School went well enough. The Stedans encouraged both girls in their studies and extra activities. Never was there a drop of favor of one over the other.

While Alison enjoyed excellent grades in math and showed promise in scientific studies, Mika found herself drawn to more artistic talents like sculpting and painting. Patricia even asked Mika to paint a mural in her parlor room, much to the delight of the young girl and the women that came to visit.

In June of 1998, Alison and Mika both dug through the shelves and boxes for the inevitable baby book pictures. The plan was to find a photo of their birth to be enlarged and framed for their mother's birthday. The end result was only a tense discussion with their parents.

Mika was 13-years-old when she ran away from home the first time. It took 24 minutes to locate her in the dusty cabin.

Two weeks later, she left for good. Carrying a small fortune in her messenger bag, Mika has not been back to Florida since.

Etching

Assuming the last name she should have had, Mika traveled side roads and interstates alike. She purchased a few dollars in gas here and there when she needed to hitchhike.

Anyone that thought a young thing like her could be good for entertainment soon found that a simple steak knife could be a formidable method of execution.

To this day, she still cannot understand how the trail of bodies she left in her wake, though sparse, never brought the police to her eventual doorstep.

While she moved from state to state, locating small bouts of work, she took up the hobby of salvaging soft pieces of wood from the garbage and carving them in her spare time with a nail file or any scrap of metal she could get her hands on. Eventually, she was able to sell these 'knick knacks' to tourists that fully believed they were supporting a small town in the purchase.

Mika was just shy of her 17th birthday and backpacking through the wooded mountains of Tennessee when the lights began appearing throughout the world. The emergency sirens just outside of Huntsville carried through the air, echoing in the valleys, and alerted the young woman that she needed shelter.

For the longest time, she thought it was a tornado ripping through, but the weather had never been milder. Mika eventually decided that it must be a foreign attack, war.

Though she was much closer to the truth, it did nothing to prepare her.

If someone were to ask her now how she dealt with the Rikti’s initial invasion of Earth, Mika would only recall that she had tucked away into a natural cave built into a Tennessee mountain. And it would be the truth, as best she can remember.

The violent, gory, details that accompanied this story were and continue to be suppressed. She remembers nothing of her first look at the alien creatures. Nor does she recall the fight for her life. She also does not have memory of coming out on top, impossibly so, or how she achieved that survival all by herself.

Carving

The continual traveling was Mika's life until the eve of her 21st birthday, when she stepped off of a Greyhound bus to the metal forest that was Steel Canyon.

The money she’d stolen from her adoptive parents had long ago run dry. It hadn’t been nearly enough to last the girl through seven years of traveling, food, and shelter. The young woman that took her first steps into Paragon City was nevertheless clean and well-dressed.

Mika’s first order of business was to grab a bite at the local fast food joint before seeking out the closest pool hall or bar.

In walked a snug tank top, equally snug jeans, and hair the color of candied apples framing big blue eyes. She attracted enough attention in the dark, smoky, establishments to make it easy pickings. It would only take a couple rounds of drinks to infiltrate a game of darts and get the bets rolling.

The stakes were always higher when she’d switch it up to throwing knives. Not once did Mika miss her target. To draw blood was to draw unwanted attention.

Money wasn’t everything, though. Despite the wad of cash tucked away in her patched messenger bag, Mika was no closer to having identification that would allow her to either sign for an apartment or even put herself into a hotel for the night.

That was when Mika met Christopher.

Detailing

Christopher Caddock was a tall fella fresh out of a dishonorable discharge from the US Navy. Dark hair and soft chocolate brown eyes, fit as anyone in the military should be. He was the only person at the bar that gave Mika a real challenge, despite the fact that she still won every match that they put together.

The real lure was an off-the-cuff remark by Caddock that shone light onto his 'hobby' of sorts. It couldn't be pure chance that she'd run into him, not in Mika's thinking. There had to be a little fairy of luck sitting on her shoulder tonight. With minimal effort, she could get this to work in her favor.

A couple of games, a few more rounds, and Caddock was prepared to create the false documents and identification she would need to settle down roots in Paragon. Waking up amongst tangled bedsheets in his apartment didn't much faze the redhead. Her life was going to elevate soon enough and this would be just another bump in the road.

Not everything went as smoothly as Mika could have hoped.

As much as she would’ve liked to be immune to the power of honeyed-words and a tender touch, she wasn’t, and Caddock had her under his thumb in no time flat.

It was never Mika’s intention to become dependent on anyone else, but the lack of companionship over so many years had certainly taken its toll on the girl. It could be worse than attention from a good looking guy willing to take her in. Unfortunately, it would get worse.

Insert the typical story about a control freak and the woman too cowed to do anything about it. Mika knew she needed Caddock’s skills if she was going to get out on her own, but there were delays at every turn, making it near impossible for her to escape.

In the end, Mika grew a backbone and fled from the psycho when his loose ties to the Vanguard pulled him away during the second invasion of the Rikti.