Helena Losa
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Nature: | Gambler | Demeanor: | Rebel |
House: | Scourge | Faction: | Luciferian |
Willpower: | 6 |
Faith: | 4 | Perm. Torment: | 3 | Temp. Torment: | 0 |
Conscience: | 3 | Conviction: | 1 | Courage: | 2 |
ATTRIBUTES
Strength: | 2 | Charisma: | 3 | Perception: | 3 |
Dexterity: | 2 | Manipulation: | 2 | Intelligence: | 4 |
Stamina: | 2 | Appearance | 3 | Wits: | 4 |
ABILITIES | |||||
Alertness: | 2 | Animal Ken: | 0 | Academics: | 2 |
Athletics: | 1 | Crafts: | 0 | Computer: | 3 |
Awareness: | 3 | Demolitions: | 0 | Finance: | 0 |
Brawl: | 1 | Drive: | 1 | Investigation: | 2 |
Dodge: | 1 | Etiquette: | 0 | Law: | 1 |
Empathy: | 0 | Firearms: | 0 | Linguistics: | 1 |
Expression: | 0 | Melee: | 1 | Medicine: | 2 |
Intimidation: | 0 | Performance: | 0 | Occult: | 0 |
Intuition: | 0 | Security: | 1 | Politics: | 0 |
Leadership: | 0 | Stealth: | 2 | Religion: | 1 |
Streetwise: | 0 | Survival: | 2 | Research: | 1 |
Subterfuge: | 1 | Technology: | 2 | Science: | 0 |
LORES | |||||
Winds: | 3 | Awakening: | 1 | Fundament: | 1 |
APOCALYPTIC FORM | |||||
Supernatural Vision | HT: Claws | ||||
Wings | HT: Extra Actions | ||||
Perfect Balance | HT: Quills | ||||
Immune to Falling Damage | HT: Caustic Bite |
BACKGROUNDS | |||||||
Contacts: | 2 | Legacy: | 1 | Pacts: | 1 | ||
Resources: | 2 |
OTHER TRAITS | |||||
Merits | Flaws |
Bundle of Energy | Criminal Record |
Early Adopter | Phobia: Illness |
Infamy |
Specialties:
Intelligence: Brilliant
Wits: Quick-Thinking
Criminal Record: Helena has a criminal record of five counts of
computer crimes, all low-level non-violent felonies. As a result, she cannot
legally own firearms or vote.
Infamy: Zophiel has a bad reputation among the Fallen, due to his
work as a spy that was never truly revealed by Lucifer or Belial to be fact.
Most assume that he was a member of the Host who did something wrong and got
kicked out late into the War, or that he was a spy for the Host who simply
got banished with the rest of them.
Phobia: Illness: Due to Helena's wasting death from pneumonia, she is
deathly afraid of illness. Even though she is immune when she has Faith, she
is still irrationally afraid.
Contacts: Her contacts are sources within the hacking world that she
can get information from.
Pacts: Her pact is with Julian Ackerman, a young hacker who she spent
several months getting herself wormed around. She has granted him increased
Intelligence and Charisma, and taken some Faith for herself.
Description:
Host Form
Short and slim, the Latino woman in front of you could be considered cute,
though not beautiful. She stands a bit less then five and a half feet, her body
dressed in a simple olive-colored T-Shirt that clings close to her body and
cargo pants, and occasionally a denim jacket over it. She has a short, slightly
upturned nose and a quick smile below dark eyes, though the smile doesn't
totally reach them. Dark brown hair goes down to between her shoulder blades, and
both earlobes are multiple-pierced along the lower ridge, with a dangling set at
the bottom. She has a backpack slung over a shoulder, and occasionally
sunglasses to complete the look.
Low Torment
Tall and lithe, the ephemeral being before you stands a good six and a half
feet tall, with a set of owl's wings spreading out two feet from it's
shoulder in either direction. Large, grey eyes stare out from a face
obscured by the winds that swirl around him, the gust ebbing and flowing
with his shifting emotions. It has a sanctified look about it, the haunted
compassion in its eyes adding a softer touch to the awe-inspiring sense that
pervades it.
High Torment
Tall and lithe, the ephemeral being before you would stand a good six and a
half feet tall, with a set of ragged, torn owl's wings stretching out two
feet from it's shoulder in either direction. Stooped as it is, it's closer
to just under six feet. Enormous, unblinking charcoal eyes stare out from a
narrow, hatchet-like face obscured by the winds that swirl around him, the
gust ebbing and flowing with his shifting emotions. It has a haunted,
malevolent look about it, the haunted pain in its eyes adding a sinister
touch to the awe-inspiring sense of fear that pervades it. It seems to be
always moving, swaying back and forth, as if it can't stay still.
Weapons:
Switchblade (Hidden in pocket)
Equipment:
High-End Laptop with Wireless Connection
Cellular Camera Phone
Apartment in Harlem
Low-End Motorcycle
History:
Acceptance was something Helena Losa was not destined to find in her life.
Born to a Honduran family in Miami in 1981, she was the third of six children in
a low-income family. Thus, she found herself from a very young age striving to
be noticed and accepted. Her parents weren’t bad parents, per se…they were just
so busy with keeping the family together that there wasn’t time for everyone to
get any individual attention. Helena being one of the middle children, she was
often lost in the shuffle.
The young girl, seeing how her parents struggled for prosperity and how she
herself struggled to even be recognized, developed a strong desire early on to
climb out of the position she was in. She wasn’t incredibly athletic, and she
wasn’t beautiful. She was an awkward kid, as many are, and would remain somewhat
awkward throughout her teens. She did manage to find a calling, though. She was
the smart one, particularly developing a talent for computers. The public grade
school she attended had a few old, battered computers, and she took to them
immediately. Some people are just born with a talent, and Helena’s was a
technical one. She whizzed through classes, acing year after year, and spent all
of her free time learning the ins and outs of the Commodore 64’s, Apple II’s,
and eventually IBM PC’s she learned on. It wasn’t a talent that earned her a lot
of popularity, as she was developing a reputation as “one of the smart kids,”
and her ethnic traits didn’t help. She found herself isolated from all sides…but
to her, the final answer to this problem would be success. And she searched for
it with a passion.
High school came and went, and it was more of the same, except that Helena was
developing physically. While she learned more and more complex processes and
began to get into the quickly-expanding internet culture, she was starting to
get attention from the boys she did computer labs with. For her, though, it was
the wrong kind of attention—her older sisters were popular simply because they’d
sleep with almost anyone. Helena didn’t want to be used like that, even if she
was essentially using herself. She tried to be friends with the boys, but they
didn’t want to be friends, they wanted to get into her pants. And that was
somewhere they weren’t getting…not unless she met someone she had a real
interest in. So her status as an outsider, even within her own subculture,
continued, and she become more and more enamored with the internet. Here was a
place where she could talk with people and find friends…people who weren’t
interested in her as a sex object—or at least less were interested in that way,
and if she found some pervert looking for high-school pussy, she could block
them or, if she felt vindictive, shut down their systems. Yes, Helena developed
some skills at hacking, but they came about mostly as a result of understanding
programming systems, and she certainly had no desire to be “elite” if it meant
pointless cyberterrorism like bringing down Microsoft’s website. She had better
things to do.
Upon graduation in 1999, her ethnic background finally worked in her factor, as
she got several scholarship offers thanks for the joys of affirmative action.
After sorting through offers, she decided on the Courant Institute of
Mathematical Sciences, the computer science undergraduate school division of New
York University. Her parents disapproved of her being so far away, and there
were many fights over it. In the end, Helena defied her parents and headed to
New York.
Of course, like most people, the city chewed her up and spit her out; in
Helena’s case, it was in near-record time. Her semester spent at Courant was
absolute hell. She faced discrimination, both because of her race and her sex,
from her fellows and her teachers. Women and Hispanics have not traditionally
been an accepted part of the IT industry, and being both made acceptance
especially hard for Helena. After an incident in which she was sexually harassed
by her professor, Kyle Smith, who implied that if she didn’t submit to it, he
could have her scholarship taken away, she reported it. The school covered it
up, and Helena found her scholarship voided. She had been destroyed by virtue of
simply being what she was.
Helena found a job working as a tech support rep for a low-end internet service
provider. She hated it, but she had to do something to pay the bills, and she
was too proud to go home. Embittered over the fucking-over she got at Courant
and unable to pay the bills with her meager job, she started accepting jobs to
do computer work that was…well, less then legal. However, she stood strong to
her moral stance, and refused to do jobs that were purely malicious without
reason, or that violated her own moral code. Still, she was a good hacker,
operating under the handle of “h3li0s,” and the money she made allowed her to
keep her apartment and even afford to go out from time to time. Things were
starting to look up.
Which, of course, is when everything came crashing down.
Helena had a habit of occasionally performing personal jobs…hitting people who
wronged her. It was petty, yes, but she didn’t do it out of the blue or for
minor things. Only people who had really crossed her badly earned her wrath. She
had held off from hitting her former professor, because…well, one just doesn’t
hack a guy who teaches computer programming and works on the side as a developer
for security software. However, when she heard rumors that he had raped a young
Latino woman on-campus, and that the school was again covering it up, she lost
it, and decided that she had to get even, both for her and his victim. She
hacked into Kyle’s computer, getting boatloads of private information…not to
mention a veritable stash of kiddie porn and emails showing that the school was
knowingly covering up his crimes. She downloaded it to an external hard drive,
and went to bed, ready to spread it all over the web and bury both Kyle and
Courant.
The sound of pounding at the door woke her up. She had barely gotten out of bed
before the police broke down her door. It seems that Kyle had caught onto her
crime and had alerted the police—just after he got into her system and wiped it
free of any incriminating evidence of his. Helena’s computer was seized, and she
was charged with 7 counts of computer crimes based on what was found in there.
She was well and truly screwed now, having no defense and not enough money for a
decent lawyer. Convicted of five of the seven charges in July of 2000, she was
sentenced to 5-10 years in Riker’s Island Correctional Facility.
Helena was determined to do her time, keep her head down, and get out. She
really, really wanted that, and for the first three years, she did okay. Life in
prison was hard, of course, and once again, she was lonely—she would have
nothing to do with the ethnic gangs that saturated the prison culture. Then, in
April of 2003, she ran afoul of a white supremacist gang. They noticed that she
kept to herself and stayed out of the Hispanic gangs…and thus, she was easy
pickings. And pick they did. They made her life a constant living hell for six
months, constantly surprising her and beating her down. Finally, in October, was
coming back from lunch to her cell, and came face-to-face with one of the
supremacists, a crazy little bitch named Josie who was her most common
tormentor. Josie pushed her against the wall…and this time, something finally
snapped in Helena. She fought back—or tried to for about five minutes, until her
back exploded in pain. One of Josie’s compadres had snuck up and jammed a shiv
directly into her back. Josie and her friend ran off as Helena called for help.
The two racist bitches did a week in solitary and had six months added to their
sentences for the incident. For Helena, it was to be a death sentence, slowly
drug out.
After three weeks of sub-standard medical care, Helena was released back to her
cell. Her last two years in prison went uneventful, unless you count the
constant pain she was in from her back, which had become infected and never
healed properly. The pain left her addicted to the weak painkillers the prison
provided her. Finally, in December of 2005, she was released back into the
world, a total wreck of a person.
Helena had nowhere left to go. She was in a halfway house for three months until
being able to get a shitty apartment. The first thing she did was violate her
parole and get a computer. She needed money, and the best way to do that was to
start performing jobs. Her morals quickly vanished with her need for money so
she could get a hold of painkillers, and she ended up doing weaker and weaker
jobs. Everything was a downhill spiral from there, and an immune system weakened
from addiction and a new infection of her back, coupled with a complete lack of
will to live, left her sick. On March 13th, 2006, Helena Losa died of
pneumonia…or mostly did. Zophiel did the rest.
In the beginning days of Creation,
the Second House were charged with the all-important task of carrying the Breath
of Life to every plant, every animal, and then humanity itself. Among those in
the Second House was Zophiel. Zophiel was, like his brethren within the House of
the Firmament, singularly devoted to this task, and flew on swift wings to
perform the responsibility entrusted to him. This singular dedication to his
task earned him the title of The Swiftest Wing, one that would stay with him
throughout time, but would eventually be eclipsed by another, less benevolent
title.
Zophiel, like many of his House, found opportunity to indulge every protective
and loving instinct humanity inspired, and he found perfect bliss in doing so.
There was no purpose to him but the well-being of those within his care. Thus,
when God’s command came down, that no angel was to reveal themselves to
humanity, it struck him deeply. It was unbelievably difficult to reconcile his
fathomless caring for and emotional closeness to his charges with the idea that
he and his brethren would never be known by those same creatures they loved.
Worse still was watching humans go through their own pain, as well as
unconsciously trying and failing miserably to reach the heights that they had
been given the potential to reach. It tore at Zophiel to know he could help, but
couldn’t by the Creator’s decree. How could he reconcile the idea of God’s will
with the seeming negligence of his duties, as he left mankind to suffer as they
were? It was a no-win situation for him.
The role defined for him as one of the House of the Firmament, that of guardian
and protector, made his eventual choice in the Fall inevitable. That did not
make it any easier. He spoke with Lailah, the member of his House who was
present at the beginning of the Great Debate, about his feelings. Lailah argued
as she did during the Great Debate, that the Creator would never condemn His
creation to destruction. She pointed out the risks involved, and how it was
important for them to trust in the Lord. Zophiel thanked her for her time and
sought out the Morningstar himself.
Lucifer listened as Zophiel described his torn feelings on the matter. The
Swiftest Wing told the Morningstar about Lailah’s comments on the matter, and
then explained that, tormented as he was by the idea of thwarting God’s decree,
he couldn’t help wanting to let mankind know their creators, and to be able to
be more closely and directly protected by them. Lucifer nodded a little bit and
asked him a simple question: “What would you give, Zophiel, to help those you
gave the Breath of Life to know a world as perfect as you have?” To Zophiel, the
answer was simple: “Anything.” The Morningstar smiled at that, and said that he
had a task for Zophiel, if he truly wanted to help. He may have to truly give
everything, but that, should they succeed, it would all be worthwhile.
Emboldened by Lucifer’s words, Zophiel listened as the highest agent of the
highest House outlined what he had in store for Zophiel.
It was risky, that was truth. Zophiel would remain behind as Lucifer and the
rebels plunged toward Earth, in case the worst came about. Someone would need to
remain behind, in order to see that the catastrophe that the Fourth House had
seen could be avoided in another way. Zophiel and a small handful of others
would do so, and should they be needed in the future, then so be it. Zophiel,
after much thought, agreed. He ascended with Lailah, Usiel, and the others who
had decided against the Morningstar, and watched as the rebels descended to
reveal themselves. Half of him was glad to not be there...the other half ached
to be among them.
When Michael gathered his angels to confront Lucifer and the rebels on the
morning after the Fall, Zophiel was standing among the vanguard of the Host,
next to Lailah. He looked out among the rebels as Michael proclaimed the
All-Maker’s proclamation, and winced inwardly, both in concern for the fate of
those who his heart truly stood by, and though he would not admit it to himself,
relief that he was not in danger of thus yet. He watches Michael and Lucifer
battle, and felt lifted by the righteousness of his decision when the Seraph of
the Flaming Sword yielded. He was further lifted by the decision of the
Allfather and Allmother to stand by the rebels, even if one of their sons
defected. And that lifting only made the crushing blow all the worse as Michael
cursed all of the rebels, and then God Himself set the worlds asunder with his
slightest touch. Zophiel was devastated. Lailah, knowing her fellow angel’s
mixed feelings, told Zophiel to trust in the Creator, and he told her he did.
But from that moment forward, he was dedicated to the Morningstar. God’s Wrath
had driven him away.
As the Legions formed on the rebel’s side and the Host moved on them, the Silent
Wars began. Zophiel was in a unique position as what may truly be called the
first spy. He fought with the Host, acting as a messenger between the forces;
meanwhile, he found ways to secretly funnel information learned of the Host’s
plans to Belial in the Crimson Legion. None of the rebels knew of this besides
Belial and the Morningstar—the risk of Zophiel being discovered was too high.
And certainly, none of the Host knew. The information provided the rebels with
early victories that seemed surprising, and certainly, Zophiel knew the
importance of his role in the War. Still, he often found himself a target of the
rebels, particularly after the horrors of the Third Mortal’s act of hatred and
the coming of the Age of Atrocities. The Malhim and the Ebon Legion descended on
each other in a mad frenzy of bloodlust, and the worst of all worlds was coming
out. Zophiel was in a panic; to show anything less then the same savagery that
his “fellows” within the Host showed would possibly reveal his role, yet at the
same time, these were his fellows he would be attacking. He sent a secret
message to Belial, asking for guidance. The simple response back was, “Act as
you must.”
With that simple yet vague commandant, Zophiel interpreted it to mean that he
should act as he had to in order to maintain the fight; surely if Lucifer had
wanted him to do otherwise, then it would not be Zophiel acting as he had to,
but as he wished to. He joined with the Malhim when he absolutely had to, and
continued his work. Unfortunately, this became his undoing in the role he held,
as the Malhim were not trusting as the original Host forces were. One day,
Zophiel found himself face to face with a Hahaziah, a general of the Host who
had uncovered his duplicity.
The spy was, to his credit, defiant to the end. He stood calmly in front of
Hahaziah and declared that it was God’s Hand which smote the world, and he would
stand by humanity and help them grow however he could. He told Hahaziah that he
was ready to face his judgment and be unmade. Hahaziah sneered and said it was
not his judgment to pass, but another’s. Zophiel was stunned when the general
stepped aside to reveal Lailah, who had advised him to stay with the Host and
had trusted him. The two had maintained a close friendship, which might be
called intimate if not for the fact that they were constantly apart. The
betrayal and pain in Lailah’s eyes struck deep in Zophiel, but still he stood
tall, ready to be sent into nothingness.
Why he was cast down, he still doesn’t understand to this day. Sometimes, he’s
thought that Lailah couldn’t bring herself to destroy him; other times, he’s
thought that she knew it would be a far worse punishment then simple unmaking.
Whatever the reason, he found himself cast out of Heaven and the Host, an Asharu
like those that he had watched be condemned, that he had fought against and
secretly aided. In his heart, it was both a torture to know he had been forced
out of Heaven and away from Lailah and the All-Maker, as well as a relief that
he could finally stand by the side of those he had secretly wished to. He picked
himself up and started to make his way to Genhinnom.
The first group he encountered on the way to the city almost proved his undoing.
They recognized Zophiel, knew him as a member of the Host, and when the Asharu
called out to them, they charged to attack. Only quick thinking and sudden
flight spared the Swiftest Wing’s life. From that point on, he made his way
around the fringes of the paths inward, avoiding the rebel patrols as long as he
could. He had the gates of the great city in sight when he was finally set upon
by a group. Luckily for Zophiel, the group did not hail from the Ebon Legion,
but the Crimson. They captured Zophiel and brought him into the city. The
commander of the Crimson Legion patrol went to speak to Belial; Zophiel stood
proudly, expecting his accomplishments to be declared so he could take his place
in the Crimson Legion. Instead, Lucifer’s chief lieutenant simply looked Zophiel
over impassively and said “Let him go. He is cast out of the Host, and thus his
fate lies with us, for better or worse. Whatever he may have done before matters
not.”
Zophiel couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Not only was Belial not
congratulating him for his work up to this point, but he was making it seem like
Zophiel was being graciously pardoned without reason for his actions against the
rebels. Believing that this was punishment for having eventually failed in his
role, Zophiel joined with the Crimson Legion as he planned, but on the very
bottom rungs. His associates didn’t trust him, and even accused him, ironically,
of being a spy for the Host. The name “God’s Spy” stuck to Zophiel, and while he
was never officially charged as being such, he felt the scorn of all those
around him at every turn.
Babel came and went; working as a lowly messenger among the legions carrying
insignificant communiqués, Zophiel was barely aware of it. The Grand Experiment
fell from internal corruption; and indeed, some looked to Zophiel as one of
those who sabotaged it, though he certainly wasn’t involved. The Shattering
broke the back of the rebellion, and as the ophanim came down, Michael and the
Host came with them. Zophiel saw, standing among the Host, Lailah, staring at
him. He’s never been able to tell if the tears on her otherwise stoic face were
of despair at seeing him being cast into Hell, or if they were tears of relief
at the same thing and knowing he was being properly punished.
Hell was a pain like nothing Zophiel had ever experienced. He was hated during
the War, but none ever actually attacked him. When everything fell apart in
their eternal prison, hordes of Fallen ripped into him, still believing him to
have been a traitor. They told him he deserved this, that they would make his
fate a thousand times worse then theirs. Zophiel, in his current Host, is quite
glad that he remembers little of this time. All he remembers strongly is pain
and torture, and eon after eon of the same, broken up by brief reprieves. For
him, Hell was not only the pain of feeling mankind suffer above, but the agony
of being punished for all the rebel’s sins, again and again and again.
Eventually, after an eternity of eternities, the Sixth Maelstrom hit, of course.
The gates of Hell cracked open, and Fallen made their escape. Zophiel finally
knew a bit of relief, as his tormentors left for the world above. He then, after
ensuring that this wasn’t a trap laid for him by his tormentors, made his way
up. The pass through to the world above was excruciating, yes…but Zophiel had
suffered nearly as bad at the hands of his fellows for the last 8 millennia.
Coming out, he found himself drawn toward this woman, a spy in her own right,
albeit without purpose anymore. Some spark connected with the Swiftest Wing’s
purpose, and he inhabited her. Helena Losa was no more; she had become Zophiel.
Once she had rebuilt her body, Helena quickly set herself to re-establishing her
reputation. She quickly got herself off the pain-killers and set herself to
work. She’s maintained a low profile in the hacking world; high-profile gets you
caught, and she has no desire to spend her new existence in jail again. No,
she’s had quite enough of that, thank you very much. She established a bond with
a few local talents, real up-and-comers in the world of cyber-terrorism, and has
guided their hand toward a more moral ground. One of them, a young man with
remarkable self-esteem issues and feelings of social ostracism named Julian
Ackerman (or, by his handle, “s4ns3i” which means “Acid” in Japanese), quickly
developed a very close relationship with her. Helena made Julian feel special,
made him feel loved. She made sure never to take it to an intimate level, though
she did string the boy’s emotions along. After several months, she finally
revealed her true self to him and offered him a chance to become great like he
never dreamed of, to become important to her and her work. Julian agreed, and a
pact was struck between them. She enhanced his intelligence and charisma,
turning him from a social misfit until someone who, if not the life of the
party, could at least be part of the party.
Helena has, to date, been somewhat reluctant to seek out other Fallen,
considering her less-then-stellar reputation. Still, her desire to be accepted,
coupled with Helena’s constant struggle for the same, has made it inevitable.
And here, in the opening years of 2007, she finds herself wanted to find others
of her kind, to make a new contribution to those she helped and was punished
for, eons ago.