You wanna know my story? What you don't think all us models are the same? Busty bimbo bombshells, beautiful from birth, but born brainless? I'm not stupid: If you're trying to get me to talk just so you can zone out and stare at my body; I will hit you... and trust me, you'll be recovering for months if I hit you. Alright, alright... fine, I'll start from the beginning: I was born Lauren Marshall, ta my mother; Sonia Threndle, and my father; Jacob Marshall. They were high-school sweethearts; a cheerleader and a jock. They started dating, got elected prom king n' queen, and nine months after the crowning ceremony -- I was born. When I was two, mother kicked my father outta our lives. Why? Because she was forcing her dreams of becoming a Hollywood star on me, and he tried to stop her. So, ever since I was young mother demanded one thing from me: beauty. You know those creepy child beauty pageants? She signed me up fer several. She dominated my life; I wasn't allowed friends, I wasn't allowed fun, I wasn't allowed anything other than fashion, beauty, and make up. Not that when I tried ta please her she was ever satisfied. It was always something... "You're too tall!" "You're too fat!" "Your face doesn't look enough like mine!" The only time I can ever remember her praising me was when I was thirteen and was measured for my first size D bra... The reason she was happy? Because I looked more like herself. Which came full circle when I finally outgrew her in the chest department and suddenly was a "freak with cow udders on her chest." By the time I was sixteen she had me working at a number of different modeling jobs, hoping in vain that some talent-agent would spot me and drag us off ta be in the movies. She controlled me until I finally turned eighteen and received a very unlikely call: It was my father, unable to contact me until then due to the restraining order mother filed against him long ago. Because I was of legal age though, I could leave if I choose ta, and when I asked to move in with him he happily agreed and sent me a plane ticket fer Angel City. I left home without even saying goodbye to mother. Something I don't regret doing, not even ta this day. I moved ta Angel City with barely the clothes on my back. But I was so happy, I mean for the first time I was finally free! Dad meet me at the airport and we spent most of the day talking; he asked me about what happened in my life, and when I told him the things mother did ta me... he actually started crying, he begged me ta forgive him for not fighting harder to take me away from her in the beginning. Instead of having me live with him in his big-ol-house, he ended up giving me a studio loft; one he had just finished preparing to put on the market, he said that after all the hell I went through I should have my own home. I gotta tell ya; it is really nice living there. I can't tell you how nice it is to just... walk around in sweats pants n' t-shirt whenever I feel like, to say; screw fashion and wear what's conferrable. My father's a great guy; very kind... we try to meet up once a week and he's very proud of me and my job. Hmm... I suppose I should get ta that. Let's get something clear first: when it came to super humans I was completely clueless. I had never picked up a comic, never played a video game, and rarely watched TV. Ta me super-heroes were just fiction, and mother wouldn't let me read anything that would "rot my brain." When the news began streaming reports of "meta-humans" I actually ignored them at first. But when I began noticing oddities about myself, I paid a bit more attention. The first oddity I noticed was when I was bowling with father one day; for some reason I kept rolling the ball into the gutter; it was too light, so whenever I put any spin it zoomed almost completely out of control. That's when dad pointed out I was using an eighteen pound ball. Another oddity; when I was working out at my home, I couldn't feel any weight in the ten pound dumbbells; so, at first just thinking I had gotten a little stronger without noticing I switched to a heavier pair. Only those didn't have any weight to them either, so I kept moving up the weight, till I was at the heaviest ones; about fifty pounds and ALL of them felt weightless... Hell, I could pick both up in one hand, toss them around, catch them, I could practically juggle them like they were no more than beanbags. Needless to say; I realized that something was odd. It was about then I started listening to the news reports, and reading up on meta-humans. In particular the news seemed obsessed with reporting the activities of a vigilante who'd apparently made it his mission to stop crimes and bring down gangs. The "First Superhero" Prometheus. For a while I became obsessed with him; watching news reels of him throwing fire-balls around like... some sort of magician, I was mesmerized; thought somehow all the answers I was looking for would be in him. Part of me couldn't quite understand what he was doing: he was out there risking his life for others, with out any reward, without any one telling him to do so, despite that it was illegal and that the media loved to hate him. Yet... part of me was moved. In one impromptu interview he had, he admitted that he felt that he was given a gift. That he felt obligated ta use his powers fer the benefit of mankind, and ta defend the helpless against others who would abuse these gifts. I hated to admit, but he was right. I didn't ask for my strength, just like I'm sure he didn't ask for his fire. But we had them... and try as I liked to hide it, I couldn't remove my power. When the government started up the Meta-Human Task Group, a way to give meta-humans a legal way to fight crime as sort of specialist police-officers who handle super-human threats, I was one of the first to sign up. I was inspired by Prometheus. I wanted to do good just like he does. In honor of him I chose my code-name from mythology as well. I, am Reginleif. Reporting for duty!