Nightingale had a good life in Praque until the day she was approached by a shady stranger who offered her an absurd amount of money to get herself hired at a company, infiltrate their ranks, and steal their trade secrets. She was young then, and didn't have the smarts or the foresight to be suspicious of the offer; it merely seemed like a lucrative, if unusual, way to get a few extra ziskas in her pocket. The job itself went off without a hitch -- she had the help of one other person, hired for the same purpose -- but once the dust settled afterward, nobody would hire her: her face had gotten out, caught on security footage, and now nobody would trust her again. Even the one who hired her in the first place would have nothing to do with her: they knew she had a price. What was there to say she wouldn't sell out to someone else, steal more?

Bitter and out of options, Nightingale left Praque and started wandering the Wastes, familiarizing herself with the many communities across the desert. She does odd jobs and trades for a living, and while life is much harder than it was in Praque, with all that money at her disposal, it means a lot more out here. She means a lot more. In the Wastes, people have no reason to mistrust her, and she has no reason to betray them. It's a new start. A second chance at life. She doesn't plan to waste it.