Bonecrusher doesn't dignify most (attempted) interactions with a response unless entirely necessary. She keeps her business to herself most of the time, and is otherwise entirely silent- definitely more the type to observe from the sidelines than jump headfirst into a situation. Watching other people tear each other apart is just fine when she can involve herself in the meat of the situation later. It makes her job much, much easier.

Her relationships are few and far between, but those she does take a shine to are on the receiving end of one of the most obnoxious, strangely-pushy people they could ever imagine interacting with. She's a roiling ball of terrible ideas that she's just itching to execute as soon as possible, by any means possible. Most things she does, she does just because she thought they'd be funny, or she was curious as to what would happen- not much else behind her decision making process in most situations. Despite her oftentimes bad choices, she's not the type to pin the blame on anyone else- at least, not genuinely. She's got a sick sense of humor, but she knows when she's fucked up.

Pyrokinesis

Talent honed from birth. Any given part of her body can be superheated or used to project jets of flame. Mostly just uses this to make minute rice in 30 seconds. (it's incredibly easy to tell when she's holding back laughter. smoke starts coming out of her nose.)

Illusion

Moves objects on an axis that can't normally be perceived in order to keep them out of sight. Technically magic, but BC's a bigger fan of the 4D explanation.

Shapeshifting

Capable of temporarily morphing into... just about anything, really. Lazy bastard just uses it to scrub off her fingerprints. Used to shapeshift her legs into more humanoid ones, but now she couldn't give less of a shit.

A formed gifted kid with a serious case of burnout, leaving home was Joan's first priority (with maintaining her collection of D&D SRD books coming in at a close second.) Eager to escape both her past reputation and her responsibilities, she cast off all but her name in search of newer, more exciting prospects.

Illegal motorcycle racing was as good of an idea as any.

ii.

Some might consider her upbringing unconventional. Moving between the hands of an MMA-trainer-turned-housewife Dainty mother and overworked desk-jockey demon father, her time not spent flitting between the planes of reality was instead spent as a dedicated straight-a honor roll student with a noted talent for essay writing and debate. Seemingly, her only passion outside of school was Dungeons and Dragons, her status as a DM or a player alternating with each campaign. The very picture of a Hollywood nerd, with all of the twitchy nervousness and enthusiasm for the strangest topics.

Unfortunately, with that perfectly-apt label came all the harassment it entailed. "That one kid from 4th period" quickly became the go-to for last-minute essays, half-finished homework, and anything else one might have to pawn off on someone more equipped came to her. If she didn't cave, she'd risk becoming a social outcast. More of one than she already was, really. With all of her focus on others' work, her grades (and her passion for life in general) took a steep decline- and as soon as she could get as far away from it all as possible, she did.

Across the country, actually. Using a past passion for reverse engineering and a brief stint taking up Craigslist personals from locals with broken-down cars, she got herself an apartment on the outskirts of town and opened up a garage full-time. It was stable, sure, but living in an entirely new state with no relationships outside of work got boring. Like any sane person, though, she turned to the internet for answers- and answers she found.

The Knights of the Round were a clandestine operation spanning the country, with the meat of the action conveniently smack dab in the center of her new haunt. Sporadic events "organized" at the whims of some otherwise-unnamed "Delphyne" cropped up anywhere from weekly to monthly, with prize pools nothing to scoff at if you could make it out alive. Racing had always seemed appealing, if not a bit too dangerous- but that was the old her, and the new her was determined to get an adrenaline rush in any way possible.

What started as a hobby turned into more of a secondary career, more lucrative and far more thrilling than her day job. Her presence was a guarantee at any given race, as was blood soaking into the pavement, flames licking the sky, and the eerie silence of death over a street that just hours ago had been bustling with life. A modern grim reaper, faceless harbinger of doom, an indiscriminate killer with a perfect win-loss streak.

The moniker of "Sir Bonecrusher" seems almost playful compared to her real work.

She's been raising shrimp for years. All of them have names.

Speaks English, Latin, and Infernal fluently.

Draws. A lot. Nothing but old stonework fortresses, though. Only uses ballpoint pen.

Nicknames weird her out.

Bit of a horror buff. Likes urban legends.

Thinks Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood is where music peaked.