I can introduce myself, thank you very much.

About

Nickname: My friends call me Lucy. I do not have many friends. 

Species:Human as they come.

Weight: 155 lbs

Profession: Assassin

Personality:I am cold, professional and practical, hardboiled yet erudite. I am quite goal-oriented, and have little patience for frivolity. I dislike other "Fourth Wall Breakers", as well as anyone who strikes me as frivolous, childish or hedonistic.

I do not share the secret of my power if I cannot help it, as I wish to curb the spread of the madness it inevitably brings with it. In fact, I will dispose of any others aware of this final secret of existence free of charge, as long as it does not interfere with my current mission.

Abilities: I am aware of the false nature of this world, with all the abilities that implies. I am, to use the popular term able to break the "Fourth Wall" and make use of non-diagetic or extracanonical aspects of stories I inhabit, such as stepping out of the panels in a comic or hearing the soundtrack to a movie. 

Unlike most of my ilk, I see this final secret of reality as the accursed knowledge it is, a secret that grants power at the cost of sanity. Unlike them, I do not surrender to the madness this knowledge brings.

Unlike them, I have not surrendered my connections to this world, false though it may be, in favor of ridiculous and pointless antics.

I do my job, and I stand against what other fourth wall breakers represent.

I also know quite well the patterns of stories, in the ordinary hanging-of-lampshades way, as well as as a serious area of study. I exist within stories, I may as well know how they work.

But the Greatest Secret is not the only tool I have available to me. I am well trained in a great many styles of combat, being, among other things, an expert markswoman and master of the knife. I tend to bring a great many tools of my trade (guns, bullets, knives, garrotes, and so forth) with me wherever I go.

Some jobs are special. Guns and knives and other traditional weapons are not going to be particularly useful against, say, an Author-Demiurge with no physical form. Those jobs needs special tools.

And I have just the tools for them.

Caliburn, the Sharpest Quill:

When they say the pen is mightier than the sword, this is the pen they mean. It is one of the more dangerous weapons in the universe, capable of killing just about anything its point touches. It was hell to get a hold of.

But I can't make much use of it outside of such missions. Don't want any omnipresent types knowing I have this on me for anything more than the last second or so of their lives.

Abyssal Ink:

A gift from an old employer. A pen needs ink. A god killing weapon needs ammo. You aren't gonna get much better on either front than this.

Stuff's volatile as all get-out though. You REALLY don't want to get any on your skin.

Weaknesses:

Well for one I'm a normal human with a normal body. A lot of things can kill me.

I'm also not the best at faking friendliness or emotional connection. I can still sometimes get people to do what I want, but it's usually by walking them through a logical set of reasons why our objectives appear to coincide. I can also be somewhat impaired by my extreme dislike for anyone who plays the game of life as if there's nothing at stake.

I suppose one could say that I am "No fun"

Backstory:

A long time ago, a bounty hunter was trying to track down a gang. A gang of clowns. 

These Harlequin Hooligans had abilities that made no sense and didn't seem to take anything seriously. Not the law, not the lives or dignity of the people around them, and certainly not their huntress. They taunted me, as though our chase was nothing but a game to them. 

One of them even shared their Final Secret with me. The world was false, a stage production, a pantomime of digital ink. Perhaps they thought it would break me, as it had them. Perhaps they thought I wouldn't believe them. Perhaps, like everything else, they simply did not consider that their actions could have consequences.

Regardless, that day was the day when the Harlequin Hooligans died.

And the day when Lucid Glass was born.