My name is Michelle McPearson, and ever since growing up on Gran Canaria I have always hated that name. I was the youngest of five kids; four brothers and me. Fours older brothers... You can imagine how I did growing up among them. But on the other hand having 4 brothers taught me things, things that that proven to be crucial for the later growth.
In school all I made is trouble; swearing, fighting, smoking. I was expelled from 2 schools. Few years have passed and I simply quit school. I did not feel the school was for me. I wanted to become a mechanic during that period of time. Moving things, moving parts. With the help of my father, I started working in local workshop few years as a assistant, but soon after I was doing things on my own; fixing fighters and bombers of all those mercs and freelancers that use to come there. Quickly I've became skilled in my trade.
The guys soon learned not to hit on me. I am not the girl to be messed around. We became good friends and they learned to respect me. Every friday afternoon we would test fly the fighters before they were to be sold or handed back to the owners. So I guess I could say that my fighter-piloting skills developed in that period as well. The life was interesting but something lacked my personality.
By the time I was around twenty I had given up on trying to get into the Navy. It seemed that, as a female, I was looked over by the big wigs and men who were nowhere near my skill level. It seemed that I fit nowhere thus I started freelancing, doing all kind of jobs for people who weren't able to do it for themselves.
Shortly after I've even became well known in Colorado, where I use to operate. My reputation boosted. Everything was going just fine until...
One day I attacked a wing of three idiots that had bounty on their heads. I already killed one of them when the Navy arrived and started shooting on everyone there. Navy boys were insane. Simply didn't care who was or wasn't a bad guy. Quickly I got hit by heavy LABC fire. I had to eject, barely escaping in time. I was heavily injured, bleeding all over the pod when... When the group of four, five ships came into the area. There's no need for me to describe what happened soon after. They massacred the group of Navies.
It seemed that they really enjoyed fighting, killing, creating hell of a mess. Although chaotic, there was a tangible pattern there. That well known madman, the Joker, seemed very interesting to me. Attractive but in that kind of way. Simply put, his ways seemed interesting to me.
After his thugs treated my wounds I simply started flying along with them. The Joker didn't even ask me if I wanted to. It almost seemed as he knew that I had nothing else to do. Somehow he knew that my life was boring in one way or another.
Was boring. It was boring never again, I'll tell you that.
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