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Jacqueline āJackā Devereux (FC: Astrid Berges-Frisbey)
Pronouns: She/Her
Rank: Apollo
Skill Set Strengths: Gymnastics and Acrobatics, Art and General Counterfeiting, Linguistics, Surveillance, Long Cons
Areas of Opportunity: Smuggling, Operational Organization, and History
Weaknesses: Marksmanship, Hand-to-Hand Combat, and Technological Aptitude
Positive Traits: Disciplined, Calculated, Careful, Balanced, and Intelligent
Negative Traits: Cold, Frigid, Impersonal, Disloyal, and Snobbish
Timeline
Born October 22nd, 1988 in Nice, France to well-to-do French/Spanish aristocracy on the verge of financial ruin
Child of mixed trades - a passion for fine arts, but a talent for gymnastics
Begins competing as a gymnast, earnings gold and silver trophies. Nearly qualified for the Olympics, before an injury and growing dependence on pain killers disqualify her from competition (Age 19)
Earns a scholarship at The Royal College of Art in London, England and emerges with a Fine Arts Degree (Age 23)
Employed as a junior, art restorer for the National Gallery when she catches a counterfeit art piece - catching the attention of Pantheonās ranks
Joins Pantheon and is placed as an Apollo (Age 27)
The Pantheonās go-to for art counterfeiting and cons requiring steady hands and athletic flexibility
Life is not without its share of disappointments, and Jack is exposed to the tumultuous nature of her parentsā marriage. At a young age, the cracks began to appear over the polished glass of the couple. Her fatherās taste for champagne, caviar, and excess slowly but surely diminished their financial status. A man of privilege, who never knew a dayās work in his life, placed the blame on his partner. An art career that once showed promise, proved fruitless in the years to come. Year after year, her popularity dwindled. And with it, the financial prosperity of the young family. In the cold, imposing ancestral home - Jack lived in relative solitude. When the marble halls werenāt shaking with her fatherās wrath and her motherās cool resentment, it rang a hollow silence. Something cold and imposing, in all that surrounded her. A cold state of being, as it turned out, made for survival. Jack managed through the toxicity of her family, by virtue of numbness. The singular source of emotional expression, brought by a paint brush and a canvas.
It was the first of many things that her father would take away from her. In its place, is the rigor of gymnastics. What began as a six-year-oldās hobby, evolved into a vocation. Sure, Jack was a tried and true natural - likely inherited from athletes from her fatherās side. Something special in her bones, that made her pliable and agile. And sometimes, it was enjoyable. Nothing to be disliked about being excellent, and earning her hyper-critical fatherās approval. Still, she would search for a canvas when the night light turns off. By day, she is her fatherās trophy. But at night, she is her motherās daughter. Hers was a technical talent, lacking in her motherās artistry - you needed a soul to put humanity on the tip of a paintbrush, and stroke genius. One ought not to be fooled by the liveliness of the Jimenezās home - there is not a soul to be found. As the years trudged on, the unhappiness and instability of her parentsā marriage clung onto the slimmest of threads - Jackās athletic success. Itās not long before gold and silver medals line their home. The accolades prove to be a commercial success, drawing benefactors and sponsors alike. A cash cow, a champion, a winner - itās who Jack Devereux-Jimenez is destined to become.
At only twelve-years-old, she began her career as a professional athlete. By nineteen-years-old, it comes to a screeching end. All before ever making it onto the Olympic arena, no less. The mounting pressure, combined with a slow-recovering injury push Jack to performance enhancing drugs. Orange pill bottles smuggled in her leather satchel, pried open after each intensive session. A minor crutch, she argues, that would dissipate when the true competition began. Jack is a winner, but even winners need a push up the hilt. But when it comes to light, she is disbarred from competition. A name that verged on grandeur, blacklisted and forgotten. The sponsors and accolades follow, and so too does her loveless father. Her parentsā marriage is undone, and Marianne and Jack are thrust onto the world on their own. A great many disappointments come from the unraveling, but in some ways, Jack feels relief. She is free - from her father, the Jimenez name, and the volatility of their home. An estate that is sold to settle the familyās debts.
In the aftermath, the mother-and-daughter find their way to Paris, where Marianneās expertise earns her a coveted spot as a curator for the Louvre. In the simplicity of their two bedroom apartment, Jack heals in the arms of her lost love - putting paint to canvas. A therapeutic act that allows her crutches to become awash. But Jack is not one for keeping still, for just getting by. She is flexible, malleable - and her thirst for excellence can be foregone, for more subdued passions. She builds a portfolio, leveraging her familiar name and inherent talent to earn her place in Londonās coveted Royal College of Art. A welcome reprieve, too. The space between Jack and her mother felt smaller and smaller, as resentment simmers just below the velveteen words. Jack leaves for London, and four years later, accomplishes a Fine Arts Degree. The name, Jacqueline Devereux, embossed on the degree. It is a new moniker, for a new Jack.
At first, The National Gallery is the perfect fit. As an art restorer, she is surrounded by fantastical works that spoke to her cold heart. But Jack was never made for ordinary life, or the straight-and-narrow. She is made to win, to see the world, and to bring her own grandeur to life. When a āWoman With a Parasol; by Monet is brought to her for restoration, it takes all of five minutes for her studied eye to catch the misnomers. The subtle changes in stroke, the off hue in red, and the tightness in the lines. It was a counterfeit. An impressive one, but a counterfeit nonetheless. But it passes through chains of authentication, caught only by a junior art restorer in the basement of The National Gallery. When the falsity of the piece is brought to the committeeās attention, an investigation takes shape. Never mind the loss of history, the millions in loss it represented caught headlines. And Jack, centered at the eye of the storm. As she makes her leave from the studio in the late hour, footsteps follow her through Londonās sleepy streets. They chased her down, nipping at her heels. She believed them to be the perpetrators, offended by Jackās ability to catch them in the middle of their con. Instead, the mysterious and hooded figures claim their loyalties to Pantheon. Their arrival is not judgement, but the promise of heaven itself - a place where her staunch eye, careful hands, and athleticism could find value.
The swift but calculated decision comes easily, almost too easily. Her workplace comrades, apartment leases, and social media presence is abandoned within the month. She vanishes from her life, but she is not missed. And itās that ingenuity, that malleability that prompts the committee to decide instinctively. Apollo, a āJackā of All Trades. A perfect fit for a woman that simultaneously blends in and stands out. She is young, willing, and bountiful with potential. So, they build her up by breaking her down. They dismantle her skills to their bare bones; from starting off on a beam, to drawing shapes instead of restoring images. She is patient through the process, trusting in this new mold. Keen and willing, as her abilities evolve throughout the years. But itās always been in her, deep as poison. It only needs to be drawn out.
In Jack, there is a light touch and a cold-cut sensibility. She lacks harsh lines or impassioned stances. Her motives for joining Pantheon are simple - Jack is a winner. At what, and against whom? Those were all just details. Nowhere else could pull together her expertise, and draw out the sleeping champion. Nowhere else would value the cold, vacant stare or the way attachment is rootless. She sees that - and she commits. Her specialized skill set, acting as transferable and valuable to each crew. In the years that follow, Jack evolves each of her skills. Her gymnastics turned invaluable in espionage and stealth - lithe form allowing her to blend seamlessly and without notice. No area too guarded, that her physicality cannot navigate through. Jackās ability with a paintbrush and canvas make her a skilled counterfeiter, forging dummies for the Pantheonās missions. And even her background of aristocracy proved beneficial. A number of learned languages, combined with her ability to mislead quickly cement her as the quintessential Apollo. She grows, until she is the grand beast that her father could only dream of. In seven years, her reputation within Pantheonās ranks is one of cold disposition, married with a competitive venom. Itās perhaps the only time that those around her could scratch the surface - when one proved to gnaw at the insecure young girl behind the skilled woman. Despite her divisive attitude, she is adaptable and flexible to the nth degree. Poetically called Agent Monet, she is old world whimsy in a seemingly forgettable scene. A known pragmatist that leaves things as she finds it, as if she was never there at all.