"Hard to place." High Risk." "Attachment Disorder." "Multiple Placements"

Fourteen foster homes by the time you're eleven. End of the line is a group home where the big kids bully you and the staff hold you down when you finally fight back.

So, you build a bomb. Which blows a hole the size of a truck in the baseball field. Nobody was hurt, you aren't an idiot.

You're sent to the Children's Ward, State Mental Hospital. A shrink does tests, turns out you're a genius, right off the scale. Suddenly, everything's okay.

You learn to play the game. Go to school, say the right things. At sixteen, you're at MIT and graduating. Working for Livermore Laboratories.

You have lots of ideas, and like fuck you're going to share them. Security is better than you thought there, and you get busted again. Land on your feet, just like a cat.

You go to work for the Organization.

You've worked your way up through the ranks. Apprenticed to some of the best.There's only one guy smart enough to interest you.

Working with him is the short-term goal.

Having his job is the long-term plan.

You're pretty good at getting your way.

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