Victoria Graves

Roman, an American soldier, and Ana, a mexican woman, had been through a tumultuous relationship for years before conceiving a child. Roman had been shot during services and had retired from the Army. Frustrated, he had started hitting his wife, believing he felt that way because of her. Unable to run away due to financial struggles, Ana had gotten deeper into alcoholism, drinking even during the pregnancy. Vicky was lucky to be born at all, and she spent her first months of life between clinics as she constantly got infections. "A precarious immune system", they said, but the only thing her parents heard was "more money to pay". Roman started hitting her when she barely knew how to walk, and Ana was drunk enough to be unable to do anything about it.

So Vicky grew alone. Not fully alone, but she didn't rely on her parents. As soon as she started school, she began to spend more time with those on the streets than at home. Nothing good was waiting for her at home, so why shold she go back? She made friends with other children and spent hours playing with neiughbours and strangers alike. Little Vicky wasn't at home when Ana passed out drinking and chocked with her own vomit. At the young age of 9, she had lost her mother. Roman blamed her. "You should've been at home", "You never take care of anything", and "You don't deserve anything" became popular phrases at home. So Vicky spent less time at home. Once she grew enough, she barely even slept at home. There were plenty of people happy to spend time with her, so she just went to friends' houses or roamed through empty streets at night.

She was 12 when she first got into drugs. A guy offering her some booze and a cigarette in a weird corner. Her older friends agreed, so she did too. She spent the following 5 years of her life hooked to alcohol, cigarettes, weed and coke. A bit of everything. She almost died a few times, and the nurses in Louisville's Hospital emergency room knew her by name.

But she didn't have money to pay for them, so she started selling some. At first it was just weed to the people at the high school, but then deliveries started to get bigger. A block of coke to a guy waiting on a gas station, or an used gun for the lady next door. As Vicky grew older, she started to deal more and consume less. She stopped everything but her sweet, sweet alcohol, and sold everything she didn't take.

At 19, Vicky left her father at Rosewood and moved to an aparment on Louisville. Small, cramped, but her own. And she gave it a good use. Other dealers came to her to get some gigs and drugs to sell, and she always paid well. She worked alongside gangs, the italian mafia and biker groups, and everyone seemed to be happy with her management. Life was easy, and relaxing when the police wasn't after her. She received cargo from some contacts, distributed it and profited from it. Easy!

That's when she met Derek. He was a writer, and a bad one, that worked for a middle-sized news chain. He had a beautiful smile, and he felt in love with Vicky when writing about some car accident on the streets of Kentucky. He approached Vicky, and despite her best efforts, he seduced her. It took months, but she finally allowed him into her heart at the age of 26. Vicky decided to stop smuggling, dealing and robbing. She wanted a better life. A life with Derek.

Life is a bitch, however. A few years in the past, she had assaulted a lawyer. It had been a big case, but no one had found any clear evidence, so she had been lucky and managed to escape prison. Whoever, as she was willing to stop crime, the case got reopened and an investigator found clues linking her to the crime. Five years in prison, just 3 months away from her wedding.

So they waited. Vicky reunited with some old friends in prison and spent the years bored to death, training in the gym and reading a few books when they didn't allow her to train. She got visits from Derek, who got promoted during her captive years and had now a very good salary. He promised her everything, and she trusted his words.

After 5 years in prison, at 31 years old, she was released, and they decided to celebrate the wedding immediately. It was August 26. Everything was going great, with the guests having fun and everyone already seated. The pastor was reading the vows. And then, someone bit someone on the neck. Blood. Shouting. Everyone ran away, and chaos soon followed, Vicky and Derek fled with some friends, leaving both Louisville and Knox county altogether. They spent days on the road, fleeing rioters and bandits, until the unexpected happened.

On September 9, they ran out of food. They approached some soldier by the street. They turned around and started firing. No one knew about Operation Cobalt, and all of them were blasted. Vicky survived, a bullet almost hitting her in the side. Next to her, bleeding out, her friends and family.

And Derek.

Vicky then managed to flee the scene, carrying with her only her grievance and rage. Someone found her and dragged her to a ship in the middle of the river. The Zenith, or so she was told.