[attr="class","explorerstats"]▸ Female

[attr="class","explorerstats"]▸ Twenty-Six

[attr="class","explorerstats"]▸ Earth

[attr="class","explorerstats"]▸ Human

[attr="class","explorerstats"]▸ Concerta

[attr="class","explorerstats"]▸ Good Bargains, Intelligence, Wealthy

[attr="class","explorerstats"]▸ One-Use Space Pod x1

[attr="class","explorerstats"]▸ Balanced

[attr="class","explorerstats"]▸ N/A

[attr="class","explorerstats"]▸ Bisexual

[attr="class","explorerheader"]▸ APPEARANCE ◂

[attr="class","explorerbox"][break][break]

[attr="class","explorerheader"]▸ PERSONALITY ◂

[attr="class","explorerbox"]Not much can be said about Katrina, as not much is known about her. Those who employ her only hear her voice, and her victims never see her at all; or at least, they don’t live long enough to tell anyone else. A glimmer of blue, a flash of gold or red, and then nothing; that’s all the victims see. She hides her true emotions and expressions behind a false veneer of stoicness and sarcasm. No living person has yet pierced the mask she wears, a blank canvas in which she draws any emotion she thinks is appropriate at the time.
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That’s not to say she has no emotions; on the contrary, she is full of emotions, damn near overflowing with them. Rather, she has become a master at controlling them and stamping them down, refusing to let her emotions rule her life. This often means they come boiling out at unexpected times. When she isn’t forced to play the part of an emotionless assassin, Katrina is quite a level-headed girl, with a penchant for crafts and creation that goes beyond the ordinary. Were one to find the records, they would even find the degree she had; an Archeology/Business Major dual major, she graduated Summa Cum Laude from North City University. This intelligence is by no means an accident or a fluke; Katrina is quite bright and uses this to craft plans and plots multitudinous steps beyond her allies and victims.
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She takes no pleasure in taking lives, despite it being her job; as a mercenary specializing in the silent, artful kill, she has to take many lives. It’s part of the job. But she never causes undue suffering; and though she can be quite vengeful, she does not believe in killing for killing sakes. Violence solves little that diplomacy would not, and the gun should only be held in the clenched fist when the open palm has failed. However, violence is also an expected side-effect of diplomacy; if promises and dreams have no grounding in violence, they will have no grounding reality.
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Katrina provides that service.
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It's a necessary evil, in her mind, but one that she eventually wishes can be put to bed. One day, she will hang up the gun, hang up the cloak, hang up her murderous attitude; when she is no longer needed, she will fade happily into the night. Katrina doesn’t like her job, even though she is good at it; she sees herself as a necessary evil, the only way diplomacy - and the world - can function. When the time comes, she will retire and wear pretty dresses and play with her stuffed animals, but until then, she will do what she feels she must.
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For the greater good.

[attr="class","explorerheader"]▸ HISTORY ◂

[attr="class","explorerbox"]Katrina was born into privilege. The child of two high-ranking individuals within the USD, she was immediately slated for their ranks at birth. Perhaps because of this, she was born with an innate sense of justice and a strong sense of right and wrong. As a child, she was oft told about the great injustices of the world and how the USD is there to fix them, right the failings of the past and bring harmony to the world. For a time, she believed them; her parents were heroes in her eyes, and very little could be done to change that.
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Like all good girls her age, she went to school, where she excelled, as was expected of her. Her drive for justice even had her as a bit of a hero to the younger kids, her self-defense training and natural aptitude for learning and gymnastics lending her a step above the bullies that plagued the private academies she attended. Though she excelled academically, her disciplinary record was less than stellar, leading her to struggle with scholarships in school; it was only when her daddy donated heavily to North City University that she was accepted.
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Once in college, an entire academic world opened up to her. No longer surrounded by individuals to whom education is a swear word, she was free to pursue her educational dreams. It was in college she found what she thought was her calling; a fixation with the past and the relics they left behind soon presented themselves, throwing herself wholeheartedly into her passion with a relish that had previously been absent. Of course, her father - paying for the entire experience - had his own demands; he wanted her to have a future, get a degree worth cashing out on, so she did, with the stipulation that she also be capable of pursuing her dreams.
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He agreed.
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And so she excelled.
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But a fairy tail life was not hers to have. College has the advantage of opening many doors, but an open door lets loose trapped secrets. It was her senior year that her bubble of security and safety, her heroes, failed those closest to her, and she realized that good and mercy and sweetness does not get one far in the world. Or maybe it was a realization that had been creeping up on her for a while; after all, despite the USD’s power and reach, there was still war, death, and famine across the universe. They were not all powerful; despite their much-lauded diplomacy, they still resorted to violence to solve their problems, when their honeyed words failed them.
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And so Katrina, taking her diploma in hand, began to chart a new path for herself, one on the path of blood. Her father had always told her she was destined for greatness; trained her in the art of the blade and the bullet. It was all starting to make sense now; this is what she was born for. Despite many propositions from her father’s holdings - his retirement from the military had made him a “security expert” of sorts, highly sought after by the elite - she elected instead to fade into the shadows, disappearing into obscurity despite her promising life.
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But she wasn’t gone from the world; far from it. Those in the know, who frequent the dark underbelly of the world, know how to summon the Golden Phoenix. She had adopted the name, having come to love the legends; a beautiful creature representing renewal and rebirth through the fiery act of immolation. It fit her. She was an assassin when she needed to be, a mercenary, a sword without honor. And always leaving nothing but the glimmer of her Ki.

[attr="class","explorerheader"]▸ TECHNIQUES/TRANSFORMATIONS ◂

[attr="class","explorerbox"][OT1] First Dance Phoenix - Upwards Wing: An upwards slash of her blade, infused with Ki. This technique is quick and precise enough to cut through bone and sinew in a moment. It is her signature technique and one that has earned her fame and the title “Golden Phoenix”, due to its unique appearance. When used, a blooming golden arch spreads from her blade like the wing of a flaming bird, often the only thing her victim sees.
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[P1OT1] First Dance Phoenix - Piercing Talon: A technique she developed all unique to herself, this technique allows Katrina to infuse her Ki into the bullets of a gun, usually her favorite revolver. The resulting effect is a bullet shrouded in Ki, much more powerful than either one individually.
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[ST1] Ki Movement: Katrina has trained her body to the absolute pinnacle, and when that was not enough, learned to harness her Ki to increase it further. Through focus, she can increase her agility and the flexibility of her body, allowing her to pull off impossible and frankly superhuman feats, such as running up a wall or balancing on the edge of the opponent's blade without injury.
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[ST1] Ki-Enhanced Stealth: An ability developed by her years as an assassin. Through intense focus, she can become like a feather; any sound made by her movement or weapons are completely suppressed, and her features are dulled, unable to be focused on or remembered. Actively concentrating on this ability makes her eyes glow gold.
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[ST1] Returning Weapon: Any weapon Katrina uses is irrevocably marked as hers, her Ki staining it forevermore. She can harness this ability with her own Ki, forcing any weapon of hers to return to her hand. It moves equivalent to her Power Level; if it is blocked by any barrier, such as a wall or building, she will have to manually retrieve it.
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Hyper Focus: [Starting Transformation][break]
By entering a state of complete and total awareness, Katrina greatly enhances her physical and spiritual abilities. The world seems to slow around her, her reaction times sky-rocketing, and energy swirling through her body, enhancing her combat potential.[break]
[x5]
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First Act: Ruby Rhapsody [100,000 PL required][break]
Defined by the tell-tale aura of red that covers her body, the First Dance is a measure of skill and power only capable of being achieved by skilled swordsmen; more than skill, however, power is required, and dedication, training beyond what is normally achieved. The cutting potential and damage capability of Katrina is multiplied extremely, coating her clothing, armor, and weapons in a fine red aura, highlighted by a burst of wing-like ki with every movement.
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Second Act: Crimson Concerta [200,000 PL required][break]
Strength, power, and beauty compound in this transformation, turning Katrina into a Valkyrie of death. The red aura created by the First Act is more pronounced, surrounding her like a cloak, forming the constant shape of a large bird. Equal parts skill and sheer power, her ki surging forth and enhancing every aspect of her power. Despite its power, the second dance is graceful, earning its name in the fluid motions and dance-like attacks exemplified in this transformation.
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Third Act: Silent Sonata [275,000 PL required][break]
The red aura that has detailed the Dances so far disappears in a flash of black, silhouetting her against the brightness of the world. Like a raven, a black phoenix surrounds her, the only color in the backdrop of onyx two bright, golden eyes. Katrina’s skill and power are at a pinnacle at this point, capable of holding her own against truly brutal monsters. Perhaps most terrifying, every action she does is completely silent; her footsteps, gunshots, her ki blasts and sword strikes all make no noise, as if disappearing into an endless void.
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Fourth Act: Astral Aria [350,000 PL required][break]
Truly devastating power meets silent grace, like the tapestry of stars written in the sky. Theblack void grows, surrounding her, enhancing her body with power. Pinpricks of light, like distant golden stars, blanket the aura of ink. Her skill has truly been honed here, all of her skill and experience coming to a head to create the ultimate swordswoman. Every attack leaves a trail of glittering golden stars, a herald to the destruction that is to come. To see this form is to be witness to the pinnacle of swordsmanship.
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Fifth Act: Auric Opera [600,000 PL required][break]
An improvement to perfection, but not in skill. The black is eclipsed by the golden stars, a phoenix rising behind her. A sound, like an angelic opera, follows her, hailing from the tightly-compressed ki around her body, surrounds her, filling the ears of anyone within miles with beautiful music. Pure power fills her veins as her Ki becomes almost visible in an aura around her skin, pouring off of her like fire. Every action of hers is highlighted and amplified by her aura of flame. A Goddess of Fury and Destruction.
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Final Act: Hypernova Harmony [750,000 PL and God Ki required][break]
Where to go when one crests the mountaintop? Beyond mere power, beyond mere skill, the Final Dance is a display of expertise and death so masterfully crafted, one would think they were witnessing the end of the Earth. As graceful as the movement of the stars and with all the fury to match, Hypernova Harmony increases the beat of the eternal Opera played when she transforms. But now, it is a discordant melody, a song of war, drum beats and hard-rock guitar. A flood of color - black and red and gold, all mingled into a visual cacophony - pours from her, a flame that crashes against everything around her, like an exploding star.
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[attr="class","explorerheader"]▸ ROLEPLAY SAMPLE◂

[attr="class","explorerbox"]Katrina liked to pray before a mission.

Not to any particular god or being, she wasn’t religious; but she found putting it out into the universe, confessing the violence she must commit and the blood she must spill, helped her; it eased the weight of guilt pressing on her shoulders, like an invisible, lead blanket. It never went away though; never. From the moment her finger first pulled the trigger, she had borne the weight of guilt for taking a life; remorse for what she had to do. She was picky about her assignments, you see; she did not protect petty warlords or evil CEO’s. Those were her targets; normal people, ignored by law, forgotten by the USD.
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Helping the little people.
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Most people misunderstand how much effort goes into her work. To kill someone, particularly someone protected by armies and walls and guns, you had to be stealthy, you had to be smart, and most importantly, you had to be prepared. Charts lay out before her, maps pinned to the wall, pictures highlighted with incomprehensible red sprawling; to anyone who didn’t know her and what she did, it was the cave of a madwoman. But to her, it was the information that mattered; names, dates, locations. A blueprint to death.
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Some of the stereotypes had it right; do it at night so it’s harder to be seen. Shadows were her friend over the years, hiding her in their embrace, and tonight was no difference. The walls of the fortress loomed over her; they would be imposing to someone without her skill, but she scaled them without a second thought. The guards didn’t see her; they never did. They never expect an assault to come beneath them.
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He was an evil man, her target; guilty of more crimes than most people can name. It helped to ruminate on them, assuage the guilt from taking a life. There was always guilt, like a spreading poison in her gut. After every kill, though, the guilt lessened, a fact that terrified the hell out of her. To kill without guilt and mercy was to become like the targets she was hunting, and she would kill herself before that ever happened.
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Getting into his inner sanctum - a mid-century office veneer with reinforced concrete walls and titanium doors - was harder than getting over the walls. There were no obvious openings, the guard was always changed with a buddy, and the security was always switched out in pairs. It took careful engineering, but she managed to slip after a well-timed distraction that mainly consisted of copious amounts of smoke and flash powder. It opened up just enough time for her to slip past the doors.

He was a powerful, imposing man; many people quelled under his wrath, his many-tentacled reach like a spiderweb, touching too many lives. That would end today. She approached him from the front, his face a mask of stone as he stared down the slight woman. In one hand, she held a gun, the other her mask; she owed her victims to see their face, and they would not live to tell anyone her identity. Her footsteps were silent on the faux-wooden floor, the only sound the ticking of the wall clock. Tick. Tick. Tick. A subtle reminder of the passing time. Unmolested, she approached the man until she stood right in front of him, as if unstoppable. For a moment, seconds stretched into infinity, blue eyes boring into brown, daring, wanting him to protest, but like he knew he deserved it, he did not say a thing. Her finger tightened, and-
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Katrina woke from a cold sweat.
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’That damn dream again …’
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It was a memory, exaggerated and blown out of proportion by the dreamscape. One of her first kills, before she realized that she had to eat and highlighting the black hair of the woman, sitting bolt upright in bed. Sweat beaded her forehead; she could still feel the weight of the gun in her hand and hear the bullet tearing through flesh and bone. A shiver ran down her spine; she would never get used to it, and really … she didn’t want to. Her dreams are mostly dull, half-remembered fantasies, but the emotions were so vivid in this one … she could feel the roaring monster of guilt eating at her insides.
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Her lips set in a thin line, she got out of bed, bare feet pressing against the cool wooden floor of her apartment. The curtains were drawn back, sun illuminating her form; clad only in a thin tank top - anything else was far too restrictive - she stood, posed, against the morning sunrise, her view of North City nothing if not spectacular. It always settled her nerves, the knowledge that her work ensured life would continue. The knot in her stomach slowly loosening, her lips losing their strictness, she allowed herself a small smile before drawing the curtains close again.
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Time to get to work.