#infernoxintro

001. ╱ CHILDHOOD: Lo likes to get to the meat of it quickly. Tumors on her spine. Cancer. Very sad. Bald head, rigid muscles, spine crooked and terrible. She learned the medical processes through them being enacted on her. Lo could spell spinal cord glioblastoma far before most kids could spell alphabet. Her eyes became trained to assess medical imaging. The story they told was grim. Cancer woven between the spinal tissues. Impossible to remove without eviscerating her spinal cord. Then a man in wire-rimmed glasses chewing on his lip and telling her, in syrupy tones, that she was lucky. A miracle. When Lo was only ten, she became one of few children selected to receive experimental bionic transplants (ranging from spinal cords to eyes to femur bones), donated by an anonymous corporation. They disassembled her and put her back together, this time cancer-free.

002. ╱ EDUCATION: Before she knew of careers beyond the ones seen on television and in books – binaries like cop, criminal or sick person, doctor – Lo wanted to be a physician. She studied Biology, which she thought would be a precursor to medicine. Lo’s reputation was that of a party-girl, in a relatively tame sense – the type to crack bad, raunchy jokes, the type to drink a little too much and get people to play absurd games, the type to giggle all night long. For her Masters, Lo wrote her thesis on plant microbial fuel cells. The work went on to be published in a prestigious peer-reviewed journal, and this esteem earned her a spot at a coveted Bioengineering Doctorate Program. Lo’s life became primarily dedicated to work. She racked up multiple PhDs in biosystems engineering and archaeology, specializing in fuel and feed sources, bioarchaeology, and xenoarchaeology. Lo was working as an Imaging Researcher and doing contract work at an IOT start-up when she was contacted by The Company. That was where she met her husband.

003. ╱ RELATIONSHIPS: All was well for a while after they were married. A few months of bliss. [ C L A S S I F I E D ] Then Lo began an affair with another member of The Company (quite an incestuous organization). They had plans to stay together, but the individual was then selected for the INFERNO IX mission. [ C L A S S I F I E D ]

004. ╱ THE COMPANY: Lo had been with the company for a few years when the INFERNO IX exploration took place. About to turn forty, Lo figured it would be the only shot she got – and she wasn’t selected. Despair only tightened its grip on her. While Lo obviously had hoped she would be selected for INFERNO X, she never truly believed she would be viable – until her ex-husband personally recommended her for the opportunity. She still wonders why he did it. If he thought it would be beneficial for him if she were transported far away, to a different planet. If it was a peace offering. If he simply knew, in a detached way, that she was perfect for the position. Either way, she is thankful. Either way, she doesn’t forgive him.

005. ╱ BRIEF: Lo owes a lot to science. Her life, for one. Her presence on INFERNO X. Lo’s cultivated exterior belies little of what is going on beneath. She believes in maintaining a positive disposition in order to keep things afloat. She believes that a bad joke diffuses a room like nothing else. She believes in keeping busy, moving, and entertained. There is something of her mother in her – the bit of Amina that wants to instigate drinking games, wants to make everyone play along, challenges herself to crack a smile on even the most reluctant of faces. Many have suffered through Lo’s games of Pen-in-Cup or Who Am I? or Never Have I Ever. She has an attitude that allows her to get away with it (well, mostly). People can tell Lo doesn’t take herself very seriously. From the pot-shots at herself to the “I CAN’T KEEP CALM I’M AN ENGINEER” t-shirt, Lo herself is fair game. The one thing she values, above all, is her work. She views herself as a vessel for research, and as an agent for science, more than she does an individual. There are dual sides of her. One is Lo: fun-loving, self-deprecating, buoyant. The other is science itself, and it is black-and-white in its unflinching assessments. That side is more important. That side is what brought her here.

STATISTICS ╱ TRAITS

S O C I A B I L I T Y: ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯  R E L I A B I L I T Y: ▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯▯▯ E L O Q U E N C E: ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯▯ C H A R I S M A: ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▯ I N T U I T I O N: ▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯▯▯ A G I L I T Y: ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯ C O N T R O L: ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯ R E S I L I E N C E: ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯▯ S K I L L: ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯ S T A M I N A: ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯▯

MISC ╱ DETAILS

▶ MBTI: I/ENFJ. ▶ MORAL ALIGNMENT: CHAOTIC GOOD. ▶ TEMPERAMENT: CHOLERIC, FEIGNED PHLEGMATIC.  ▶ ZODIAC: CANCER. 

IN DEPTH DATA-

death and abuse mention tw

You were orphaned at a young age, left at the doors of a church in a chilly night, with nothing but a note in purple handwriting. I’m sorry. The only words you knew from those who had been your parents. In your head, memories of a someone came to mind, always blurry, making it hard to know if they were real or if it was just your head, trying to make up for the fact that you had never known a mother or a father. I’m sorry was all you had and while once upon a time it brought you a sense of comfort, knowing that whoever had left you cared….you grew to resent it. Sorry did nothing for you. Wear a condom next time. 

You weren’t the only child that had no parents, the orphanage had plenty of children with no homes. In a world was going to shit, adoptions rates dropped, very few were able to feed another mouth and those who did always picked the youngest, the cutest, the ones that showed signs of becoming the best of the best. You were not that way, you didn’t like to listen, enjoyed getting in trouble. Scraped knees and a vivid imagination, you like to play pretend and paint in the walls. This decaying world didn’t have a place for a child who was bad at maths and enjoyed running around, always too loud and wild.

You were bad with authority, didn’t took them seriously. You were bad mouthed, rough around the edges. You cared more about your piers, took the blame for their mischief, got punished for it. With slaps through the face to time outs in the dark, going to bed without dinner or whatever other torment they disguised as discipline. 

It didn’t took you long to learn that adults were assholes and that you couldn’t count on them, you only had yourself to trust, it was the way of the world: every person for themselves. When you turned eighteen, the lesson only proved to be true: you got kicked out of the only place you called home, nothing to aid you. In their eyes, you were supposed to be able to fend for yourself.

This was when you learned to stop being so kind to others, you had always helped the other kids in the orphanage but now you had to make sure you survived. You learned to pickpocket strangers, invisible in the crowd. You learned to shoplift, learned how to trade stolen objects, learned to decorate the truth to benefit you, make up stories of things you found to sell to naive strangers with a bright smile. You struggled but you managed, making your way in the world however you could, doing whatever it took.

Living in the streets made you hard, you didn’t trust easy and become more of a pessimist. The kid you used to be faded away, no longer enchanted by fantasy, hardened by the reality you lived in. Shitty neighbourhood, where trash piled up and the horrors of pollution were seen more often than not. Those with less in their pockets always got screwed over and you wanted out. Whatever it took, teeth and claws.

It wasn’t that easy, however, for someone like you to make it in the world. You didn’t have the schooling, didn’t have the interest in science that seemed to be the only way to get out of the gutter. You weren't as smart but you were clever and you work harder than anyone else, no matter how shitty the job.

It was luck that lead you to an interview in City Hall, you had never cared about the government, in fact you found their work useless, they didn’t care about the people, just some of the people and it showed but….It paid well. So you lied. You made up a story that you knew they would buy, decorated the truth of your life to make it prettier more appealing. The boy who came from nothing, who loved government work and wanted to make the world better. It was a lovely story, great for the news. 

Your lies paid well, you were hired and while you were scared of getting caught on your lies, you worked hard, made sure that they needed you, that even if they’d find out the truth, they wouldn’t want to admit it. You took notes, kept things neat, made your bosses look good every single time. You worked on speeches, made hard truths pretty with lies, picking the right narrative, the right words, covering up flaws with bright lights and oh, how they loved you for it. No longer did you need to be thief, you made it on your own. Effort and will, proving to be at the level of those who thought of you as trash, invisible to their eyes for you were only a scrappy kid, skin and bones.

You made it to the big leagues but the world was still going to shit. You knew death, had seen it in the past, it didn’t scare you to die….It scared you to go back to the gutter, to the dirt and the trash, to fight for scraps. You couldn’t do it, not again so when the memo came, about a mission to go to space, you knew you needed to be the one picked. So you lied, you made sure that you were the best candidate, screwing up others to get ahead, ensuring your place in Inferno X. You knew your chances were slim if you left it to chance, you knew how the people had been picked for the first batch of humans to leave the Earth so you did what you had to do.

I made the majority of my application for him a page on his blog, which you can find under the ‘ABOUT’ link, or by clicking HERE. some parts  👀 were edited out  👀

THE TL;DR VERSION (even though this is still kinda long)

learned from an early age that the world was fucked. he didn’t really have much of a choice when his parents drilled into him all the things his generation missed out on due to previous generations destroying the earth through capitalism and warfare. being drawn to nature the way he was, it isn’t really surprising that he chose to study it later in life. during his early adulthood he began hanging around other environmental activists whose ideas skewed extreme. he was key in organizing them to protest against capitalist conglomerates and the like. the group he founded called themselves Terra Nil, and anyone who wanted to join had to rebuke their names (hence his name now). he gained notoriety and celebrity for being the mouthpiece of the movement (or really just the one screaming the loudest when riots and protests were broadcasted). a protest went bad when unqualified people decided to join in and all members and affiliates of Terra Nil were taken into custody. renzo being the person he was, was approached by the company and given a choice of rotting in a cell or taking part in a research project that involved him being locked in one of their prototype man-made biomes. he would use his experience to test out the way the biome could withstand human life and report back. his findings would later be used to perfect the biomes so that the company could plant them (no pun intended) on habitable planets that the TELLUS excursions would find. when his three years of being in the biome were finished, they basically kicked him to the curb. (he lost a little bit of his mind in there) they wouldn’t get rid of him so easily because he signed up for the raffle as soon as he’d heard of it. 

IN DEPTH DATA- 

 triggers mentioned in app: car crash, death.

The son of a doctor and a military man, Lucas never settled in one spot. His life was spent moving around from place to place, both of his parents going to where they were needed the most, devoted to their jobs, to being of service and engraving in their son the importance of caring about his fellow man. Empathy always came first in his family, helping others, caring for them, to be of service, it was second nature to his parents and it became second nature to him.

It wasn’t easy, growing up that way. It meant learning to take care of himself early on; from making meals for himself to staying home alone while his parents worked. Lucas grew up faster than others and while it made him independant and capable, it also made him reserved and distrustful of others, preferring to rely on himself to do things instead of asking for help.

Going to school, he put a lot of effort in excelling and getting good grades. His parents were strict and expected a lot of him so the pressure to be great was on him constantly. He worked harder than his peers, struggling with his studies but always managing to stay at the top of the class. Friendships came last in his priorities, having little free time and moving around as much as he did, making friends wasn’t as easy. Learning and his extracurriculars were more important to him in the long run, wanting to get into a good collage, desiring more than anything to help others and knowing that, with the state of the world, the best way to help was in space.

Becoming an astronaut was his main goal so he studied engineering, aeronautics and computer science. The curriculum was hard and stressful but he was certain that it was what he wanted to do. The Earth was dying and the only hope that humanity had left was in the stars so he looked up, dreaming of one day flying a ship out of this world and into a new one.

He was close to graduating when the accident happened. He was with his parents in the car when they were attacked. As a military man, his father faced the threats of those who were against his cause on almost daily bases but things hardly ever came to happen….Until they did. The car tumbled when it was hit, flying about in a cliff until it hit the ground. Lucas remembers little of the event: the smell of burnt tires and grass, the taste of blood in his mouth, the blinding pain, the ringing in his ears, vision blurry as he tried to touch his mother’s arm, calling for his dad with a hoarse voice, lungs aching as the smoke made him cough. Sirens in the distance, voices, lights, faces, the sound of wheels and machines, the smell of disinfectant.

He woke up without his right leg, amputated right above the knee. The loss of hearing on his left ear, having to relearn how to walk and having to plan two funerals. The bruises healed, the cuts did too. Grief clung to him, however as he kept replaying the events, wondering what he could’ve done differently, what could’ve changed if he had told his father to take another turn or if he had ordered that dessert he had been wanting at the restaurant. What ifs that tormented him, until they were no longer crippling him.

Graduation came late for Lucas, he had to heal in more ways than one and it slowed him down but he made it. Soon after he joined NASA, wanting to fulfill his dreams but the work was too slow for his liking, people looked at him as he wasn’t able to do as much as the rest of his peers and it infuriated him. Lucas worked harder than everyone else but he was still not picked to be a part of the space program, being told that he was best grounded, that the job he was doing was just as important.

He left after six years working and learning from them, desperate to find an alternative. He wanted to reach the stars, proof that he was capable, honor the memory of his mother and father and so, he went to The Company. There, he found what he was looking for, people that were just as passionate about saving humanity as he was, people who wanted to make it to space, find a new planet so everyone could survive and who saw advantages on what he had to offer, who saw his abilities and knowledge and exploited it.

IN DEPTH DATA-

mentions of amputation, experimentation in humans

It all starts in darkness, deep and terrifying darkness. You hear the beating of your heart in your ears and you are scared, so very scared. You are trapped under the rubble of a building, crying as you try to crawl out. Pure survival instinct, you are too young to even understand, you keep calling for your mamma but no one answers. 

Death is deafening when you are the last survivor so you keep screaming, desperate to be heard, to be helped, squirming even if you can hardly move, even if digging your nails in the rocks and dirt makes no difference cause one of your legs is trapped under a chunk of what used to be the ceiling. You keep trying even if all you want to do is sleep, you keep trying even when your movement makes something shift and land on your arm, making you scream and cry in pain. You try until the dogs start barking and you are finally rescued.

You wake up to bright lights and a white ceiling, to a missing leg and a missing arm, you don’t know where you are and it scares you. The panic makes the machine beeps faster, louder, calling the attention of the doctors in your care. They assure you that you are safe, that you are okay, that they will help you. They promise they’ll take care of you. They ask for your name but you don’t answer, they ask for your parents names and you start crying uncontrollably. A sedative is injected into your IV and you fall asleep. There are no dreams, it comforts you.

The promise is kept, you are taken care off. They feed you, give you medicine, change your bandages, give you baths. You hear them discussing what to do with you, if no one has come asking for a missing kid, if no one has called the number given out on the news. Just a few more days, they always say. Someone will come. 

And someone does. A man in a sweater, accompanied by a man in a suit. They were sent by The Company, to help the victims of the attack on the mall by people who cried revolution, damning capitalism and everyone participating on it as part of the problem. Bills were paid with bright smiles and photos but you….Oh, you were a different story. So young and with no one to call your own, The Company took interest in you, they didn’t just pay your medical bills, they took you with them, assured they would take care of you better than any other hospital, they were there to save you and so, they did, without anyone opposing them, how could they? And so, you said goodbye to the doctors and nurses, made your way to a new home. 

In The Company, your life began. You were given a room, sterile and simple with very few toys, a bed, a desk. They gave you a new robotic prosthetic for your arm and another one for your leg, metal tweaked to fit you just right, painfully attached to nerves, prototype after prototype until it was perfected, until you could move the metal as if it was your own flesh and bone. The training began soon after, they made you a fighter, better than any other. You were fast on your feet and stronger than what your small built might’ve suggested but still, 

they weren’t satisfied with the results. They wanted to push further, make you better. A human body, pushed to the limit of possibility. Your other arm, your other leg, replaced with robotic enhancements: stronger, faster, better. You were the pride and joy of the one that raised you, the soldier that they wanted you to be. 

When you turned eighteen, you were sent to your very first mission and you were the success that you were expected to be. Your career doing what The Company demanded started with the right food and it went on. Wherever they send you, whatever orders you recieved, you did as you were told. You got acquainted with death and violence but you never lost the softness within your heart. You were always a lonely soul so it was hard to make friends, considering your field it was even harder so you made friends of animals and kept mostly to yourself. 

001. ╱ BASIC INFORMATION.

FULL NAME: Wren Cordero. Wren was given the surname Bailey by The Company.  

NICKNAME(S): Bailey by those who work with her. Otherwise, she’s just Wren. 

AGE: Thirty-four.

HOMETOWN: Camagüey, Cuba. 

GENDER: Cisgender female.

PRONOUNS: She/her.

ORIENTATION: Bi(romantic/sexual).

RELIGION: None. There was no mention of God in her household, and she sees no reason in crawling to him on her knees now.

OCCUPATION: Soldier. 

SPECIALIZATION: Wouldn’t you like to know? 

LENGTH OF SERVICE: Fourteen years. 

LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: Spanish and English.

002. ╱ PHYSICAL APPEARANCE.

HAIR COLOUR: A deep, near-black brown.

EYE COLOUR: Chocolate brown.

HEIGHT: A misleading 5′5. 

WEIGHT: A sinewy, muscled 120 lbs.

BUILD: Strong and sturdy, like a gymnast. Her muscles are short-twitch, compact, made for sprinting. She can pack one hell of a punch, and her kicks could definitely knock a jaw off its hinges. There’s nothing diminutive about her, though she knows exactly what she looks like. Looks can be deceiving. 

TATTOOS: None.

PIERCINGS: One in each ear.

USUAL EXPRESSION: Relatively neutral. She’s not an asshole right off the bat; more than anything, she’s efficient. She’s not going to waste time on small talk, and you better not waste hers.

DISTINGUISHING CHARACTERISTICS: The beauty marks that spot her face, like a smattering of stars. Her voice, which is loud and commanding without any effort. Her stare, which can morph from warm to ice-cold within seconds (a trick she inherited from her father).

OTHER INFORMATION: Has been bionically enhanced by The Company for increased strength and durability. They want to keep this under wraps, hence Wren being a bit of a wildcard. She won’t actively shove herself into situations unless things become really dire. 

003. ╱ HEALTH.

PHYSICAL AILMENTS: None. 

NEUROLOGICAL CONDITIONS: None.

ALLERGIES: Cats. Get those fuckers away from her.

SLEEPING HABITS: Consistently sleeps about five hours a night. There’s simply too much to be done, too many dreams that need capturing, too many ideas that need to be implemented. She can’t afford to waste nighttime hours — the day is short enough as it is.

EATING HABITS: Much more irregular. Often she foregoes meals in favor of something on-the-go, or something in liquid form (i.e: her favorite dark beer, or even a cabernet if she’s feeling fancy). However, she is partial to a good green chile enchiladas — her mother’s was her absolute favorite as a child.

EXERCISE HABITS: Runs six miles each morning, every day, without fail. Similarly, she tries to get a couple matches at the boxing gym, or at least knock a few out on a bag. She has a lot of frenetic energy, and a lot of aggression that she tries to keep at bay, so the physical activities are necessary parts of her day.

BODY TEMPERATURE: Despite all her energy, she’s usually cold. It’s like her body knew she would constantly be running around, covering this problem or that, and so gifted her with superhumanly cool blood in order to keep her from sweating profusely. Or maybe it’s a side effect of the enhancement. There’s not enough data to tell. 

ADDICTIONS: Does moving count? She can’t stop and sit still. Other than that, nothing. She doesn’t allow herself to get too addicted to anything — everything is okay in moderation.

DRUG USE: None, besides the occasional melatonin when her mind simply won’t cease buzzing.

ALCOHOL USE: Regular, but nothing excessive. Definitely not beyond the one-drink-a-night on average. 

004. ╱ PERSONALITY.

LABEL: The Ambitious, The Mafia Princess, The Pariah, The Loyalist.

POSITIVE TRAITS: adaptive, creative, committed, efficient, determined, flexible, honest.

NEGATIVE TRAITS: aloof, bull-headed, blunt, obsessive, rude, disinterested, distant.

FEARS: Failure.

HOBBIES: What are hobbies? Girl is always working.

HABITS: Picking at her cuticles. Absently gnawing on her lip. Leaning her head against her hand; cocking it sideways. Going glassy-eyed when someone bores her (she can’t help it!) Stopping people when she feels they’re wasting her time. Speaking bluntly, which can often come across as rude. Cutting to the chase. Smacking people who are close to her on the shoulder, or otherwise getting physical with them. Laughing too loud.

005. ╱ FAMILY.

FATHER: Ramón Cordero / Seventy-eight / Camagüey crime lord (currently imprisoned with over a dozen life sentences).

MOTHER: Ana Celaya / Sixty / Housewife.  

SIBLING(S): Alejandro Cordero / Forty-three / who the hell knows?

CHLDREN: N/A.

PET(S): N/A.

FAMILY’S FINANCIAL STATUS: Wealthy, then completely stripped of everything. 

006. ╱ STATISTICS.

S O C I A B I L I T Y: ▮▮▮▮▯▯▯▯▯▯ R E L I A B I L I T Y: ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯ E L O Q U E N C E: ▮▮▮▯▯▯▯▯▯▯ C H A R I S M A: ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯▯ I N T U I T I O N: ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▯ A G I L I T Y: ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮ C O N T R O L: ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯▯ R E S I L I E N C E: ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯ S K I L L: ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▯ S T A M I N A: ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▯

007. ╱ EXTRA.

ZODIAC SIGN: Pisces.

MBTI: ESTP.

ENNEAGRAM: The Achiever.

TEMPERAMENT: Sanguine.

MORAL ALIGNMENT: True neutral.

PRIMARY VICE: Greed.

PRIMARY VIRTUE: Diligence.