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SONG MIJOO – THE EMPRESS. AGENT 03.

                                                  [ FILE TYPE: CLASSIFIED ]

//: LOADING PROFILE: SONG MIJOO …

international age: 24 birthplace: seoul, south korea arcana: the empress team number: 1

//: LOADING MUTATION: WEAPONS PROFICIENCY …

application one: enhanced marksmanship — perhaps her personal favorite ability, this gives mijoo terrifyingly heightened accuracy with any projectile. she can quickly calculate where to aim based on environmental factors, how fast the target is moving, how far the target actually is, what the weight and speed of her weapon is, among other factors that may come into play. she, of course, still has to physically aim the weapon or projectile in that correctly calculated place, but with focus and the enhanced nature of the ability, it’s often not incredibly difficult to do so.

application two: weapon calling — this gives mijoo the ability to call weapons to her using nothing but her mind. the longer she has “bonded” with a weapon, the stronger the ability is. for example, she can call an enemy’s weapon out of their hand, pocket, wherever as long as it’s within her current vision. but if it’s her own weapon, one that she’s worn in, so to speak, she can call it without having visual of it as long as it’s relatively nearby (the stronger the bond, the farther it can be). though, of course, her weapons fly towards her in a normal throwing speed, so it’s more useful for her weapons to be closer to her when calling them, rather than being half a mile away.

application three: adoptive muscle memory (weaponry) — this gives mijoo the ability to watch and, literally, learn. she can not know what a weapon is even called, but if she watches someone else use it to its full ability, she’ll be able to mimic that usage down to the little intricacies. this is, however, also limited in that she can only learn what she sees. so if, for example, she only sees someone shoot a machine gun, she won’t learn how to reload it.

overall strengths and weaknesses:

— with regards to her enhanced marksmanship, while her calculations are precisely accurate and her aim perfectly in place, it’s still just that – a calculation. she can account for wind speed and target movement all she wants, but if something unaccounted for obstructs the path of her projectile in the split second between her launching the weapon and the target, there’s nothing she can do to prevent that. but when it works just right, it’s very satisfying and she enjoys trickshotting, such as reflecting a shot off walls or other surfaces, to show off a bit.

similarly, she enjoys using weapon calling in more abstract ways, treating knives like boomerangs to cut targets on the way back to her. or making flashy entrances by throwing guns at the target then calling them back just before they hit their face, catching them mid-air before aiming the barrel right at the target, a smile smug on her face. and okay, maybe that’s not entirely practical, but she enjoys doing it. at least, when it works out right.

just like with her enhanced marksmanship, her weapon calling can be obstructed relatively easily. her weapons travel back to her at normal throwing speeds, so if a target or anyone in the vicinity has good reaction speed, they can easily catch a weapon that she’s thrown or is on the way back to her. even more, weapon calling doesn’t give her superhuman strength of any form, so if she tries to call a large, heavy iron sledgehammer? it will still fly over to her no problem, but actually being able to carry and wield the thing is another question entirely.

and just the same applies to her adoptive muscle memory – she may be able to watch someone swing around that same heavy sledgehammer and learn how to do so, but that doesn’t mean she can actually hold the thing and carry out the learned actions. and if she runs out of arrows? bullets? well, she’s out of luck there because she has no ability to summon ammo out of thin air. but still, she can make a weapon out of anything if she tries hard enough.

//: LOADING HISTORY ..

PRE-MUTATION

i.

if life is a game, song mijoo was born a chess pawn.

in reality, she was a product of too much alcohol and a night full of mistakes. the first mistake being her mom deciding to leave her fiancé’s apartment in a fit of rage. the second, spending her night at a nightclub nursing a bottle of… vodka, was it? she could never remember. the third, going home with some guy that couldn’t keep his hands off her all night. the fourth and perhaps the most important, not using protection.

nine months and one lie to her fiancé later, song mijoo was born and her mother didn’t want her or the man she was supposed to marry. so she ran away. much later in life, mijoo’s father tells her that’s what her mom was best at anyway. running away. it was only a matter of when.

her father, on the other hand, was a man of many talents. but staying still was not one of them, either. no, his talents were of the deceptive kind. he was an actor. well, aspiring, struggling, and never called back after all his lackluster auditions, but an actor nonetheless. maybe he wasn’t meant for the stage, for cameras and scripted lines on stacks of paper, but on the streets? that was where he shined, able to muster trustworthy grins or sinister smirks, able to speak in busan satoori or english with no korean accent heavy on foreign words. he needed to make money somehow what with his minimum wage job at the movie theater useless and his botched auditions getting him nowhere. and so he was a conman, a thief, and mijoo was the perfect pawn to aid him.

ii.

a struggling, single father with a beautiful baby daughter just trying to get by. it was the perfect cover story for short scams or distractions, because for one who wouldn’t give him pity? and second, it wasn’t exactly a lie.

her father was well versed in half-truths, just one of the many skills of the trade that mijoo inevitably picked up herself.

she learned a lot of things from her father this way. how to cry on cue, or frown, or smile; how to slip her hand into someone’s pocket unnoticed, or shake someone’s hand and slide their watch off, or pick a basic lock with nothing but the bobby pin in her hair. she learned how to respond to ara, nayeon, mina, yoojoo, and a plethora of other names as if they were her own, sometimes wondering if one of those names was her mother’s. her father never would tell her.

they lived in various apartments littered across seoul, moving often just to stay safe. she transferred often and never made any friends, but she attended school like any other girl her age. and instead of hagwons or other after school activities, she helped her dad grocery shop at food markets, a distraction with a cute smile to warm the hearts of the grandmas manning the stands, or when she grew older, a charmer who could convince them to give her freebies, heavy discounts. she trolled tourist and heavily populated streets, itaewon, insadong, myeongdong, hongdae, and came home with a backpack full of cash, watches, jewelry to pawn. her grades were nothing to write home about as a result, but that didn’t matter anyway. university, a career, living an honest life was never in her forecast when her father only taught her time and time again that there was always a shortcut to get what you want.

iii.

one of the most important lessons her father taught her, however, was that of betrayal.

at eighteen when she picked the wrong pocket and landed herself in handcuffs, her father never came when they called. and when she was released with nothing more than a warning because the victim had taken a sudden liking to her, he was no where to be found. not at their new apartment, not at their old one, not at his legal job, anywhere. much later, far removed from the incident, she assumed it was for his own safety. a single father with a minimum wage job, a thief of a daughter, and an apartment well above their means was sure to raise some flags, after all. but in the moment, all mijoo saw was red.

she learned long ago when he taught her how to make a smile seem genuine to always be wary of people. but she learned a lot more that day: to never trust anyone under any circumstances, how to hold a grudge, and that her mother wasn’t the only one good at running away.

iv.

she made do with that she had, got rid of her dad’s worthless possessions and pawned the rest. she stayed in seoul because it was all she ever knew, landed a job at the café below her apartment through charm alone, and spent her nights the only way she knew how: quiet giggles and a brush of her hand against some poor guy who would wake up the next morning with nothing in his wallet but his ID and a thank you note. she had burner phones for every name, one for eunsol, another for jiyeon, another for minhee, and more, some lasting longer than others, but never long enough to tie her down. at nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, it was her mission to search and destroy and maybe get some money, jewelry, whatever they would buy her while she was at it.

v.

but at twenty-two, a meteor shower came falling and her mission changed.

POST-MUTATION

vi.

her powers didn’t take very long to manifest. maybe one week after the forest and that odd meteor plagued her dreams, mijoo found herself waking up to a knife stuck in the wall beside her bed. instead of pulling it out, it fell off when she simply thought about it and came flying towards her. she ducked, of course, and it shattered the mirror behind her. but when she looked at the cracked glass, fingers carefully tracing the lines, she saw herself smiling back. small and genuine, just like father had taught her, but real like he could never muster.

it couldn’t have been more perfect, really. she always kept mace with her, a pocket knife too dangling with the rest of her keychains. it was a necessity when playing with emotions, after all, she never knew who could react violently. but now? well, she’d always been a bit reckless, readily putting herself in potentially dangerous situations, but having the power to call weapons to her at the ready, to almost never miss a shot? in mijoo’s mind, this was all a calling to throw all caution to the wind and make the world her oyster.

the compound had other plans for her, though.

vii.

maybe it was the time she hustled an entire pool hall out of their money while playing some darts, betting that rather than just getting boring bullseyes, she could split their darts with hers every time. or maybe it was the time she called a weapon out of her then-chef-boyfriend’s hand and held it at his neck for saying something about her new haircut (it was just a joke, she explained, she wasn’t actually going to cut skin). whatever it was, something alerted the arc right away and went to recruit her quickly, one of the very first to join.

she was reluctant at first, but they didn’t give her much of a choice anyway, and they’d promised her answers, told her of a third skill she wasn’t aware of that allowed her to simply watch and literally learn how to use weapons, won her over with a training ground to hone her new skills freely.

viii.

song mijoo was never loyal to anyone, to any place, always moving, always ready to drop someone at the drop of a hat. her father had broken her long before she had a chance to be put together, taught her how to be selfish, independent. but with the compound, with others who were like her, supernatural and strange, she felt like she had a purpose beyond getting money. she felt like she had some sort of makeshift family that would bail her out if she got in trouble – especially when they were grouped into teams, appointing her (and her partner) as some sort of leader.

it was a strange feeling at first, and she still mainly trusted herself first and foremost, struggling to trust all the new recruits as they came in one by one until they were twenty-six. but as months passed, the strange feeling dissipated and, at least tentatively, she learned to trust her team and the compound.