Profile
"..."
Hardly one to mince words, Maya is the type to get straight to the point - running over some sensitive hearts if they must. They dislike wasting time on things they consider "unnecessary" (such as discretion) and act mainly for their own benefit. more than anything, Maya despises the feeling of being controlled. They distrust most people in positions of power, people whose jobs are to appear charismatic - anyone that might be skilled with manipulation. A lifetime of hardships have left them mostly keeping to themself, and considerably hostile to any attempts at pulling them into any trouble.
Affections are very hard-won, loyalties even harder. They refuse to (outwardly) soften up for the few peers they have, putting up a front of begrudging tolerance and pushing them to their high standards. That being said, those that manage to earn their trust may see their affections manifest in very, very subtle ways.
Details
Likes
- Vintage tech
- Tactile work
- Mako
- Peace and quiet.
Dislikes
- Firecrackers, loud sudden noises
- Smog
- Group work
- Politicians
Personality
Gruff
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Efficient
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Jaded
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Pessimistic
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Vigilant
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Single-minded
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History
Memories of life before the War are blurred around the edges, the fine details forgotten. Maya was 11 when the the declaration was announced, but it's hard for them to envision the world they'd known in their childhood. Pre-Shattered America - a place of old stories. Birds soaring across a deep blue sky, lush green forest trails. An earth free of poison.
It all sounds so foreign to them now.
Born to a Navy lieutenant father and computer programmer mother, Maya lived as an only child in the city previously known as Brooklyn for a good portion of their life. It was only shortly before the War when their family moved to Silicon Valley - their father had been transferred to the West Coast to adjust their forces in preparation for potential conflict due to rising international tensions. Both their parents busy now that the War demanded their work, Maya was raised to be independent and taught how to fend for herself during times of duress. Their parents generated a decent income, so Maya was never in squalor. However, with not many people to talk to in their free time, Maya did not socialize very well. They handled boredom terribly, barely focusing in class unless their lessons were tactile-based. They developed a knack for hands-on projects, especially (perhaps due to their parents) when it came to technology and machinery.
Their grades were mediocre enough to land them in college for a certificate program in tech eng. They were trained to work with a variety technology important during the War: firearms, prosthetics, radars, before specializing in automotive mechanics. Much unlike high school, their abilities could flourish here and their academics climbed. They found it easier to socialize with like-minded people, became a bit more extroverted and relaxed. Looking back on it, Maya figures this part of their life must have been when they were at their best.
But after the high must come the fall.
Multiple airstrikes had hit that day, targeting populous areas and military bases. The attack on campus came with no warning. A ground-shaking explosion had thrown them back, shattering glass and tearing them from the engine they were repairing. They remember a loud ringing sound, then silence as the world whited-out. If the injury wasn't bad enough, the chemicals in the explosive were. Maya had been far enough from the impact site that they'd escaped mostly intact, but their left arm had to be amputated at the elbow. They woke in a hospital room with half of their arm gone and the news that their father's base had been hit, too. He hadn't made it out.
It took a while for Maya to get back on their feet, both physically and mentally. While they got through physio well enough, their injury and their father's death shook them hard enough that they found themselves unable to return to their studies. Their mother, always a brisk woman, fell into a depression that kept her unable to work as well. Most of their remaining money had gone to Maya's medical funds, and now the two were left to fend for themselves. Without a complete degree or arm, work in their field was hard to come by. Maya made do with odd-jobs here and there for pocket change. They still had their skill, and they were going to work with what they had.
They eventually landed a job with an automobile shop, where mostly rich patrons with private automobiles seek their services. Maya's still adjusting to their new, less cutting-edge life, but has returned to their usual cocky self. They've moved out into their own room once both Maya and their mother were stable enough. Nowadays, they spend most of their time in the garage with music blaring loud enough to drown out any complainers.
Miscellaneous
Trivia
- Fluent in Russian.
- Previously an auto mechanic; very good with cars, especially classics. Owns a 1970 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am and a 1990 Harley Davidson Fat Boy.
- Their prosthetic is myoelectric, giving them a fair amount of dexterity (finger mobility, grip, pronation/supination, etc).
- They have dimples. No one ever sees them because they very rarely smile.
- Holds an airline transport pilot certificate, sheds the 'a' from their last name and goes by Captain Petrov professionally.
Family
- Mother: Ruth Petrova (née Black) (58). Computer programmer.
- Father: Alexander "Sasha" Petrov† (aged 48). Navy lieutenant. KIA.
- Pet: Mako Petrov (4). Siberian husky. Good boy.
Clio
[ wife ]
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Character
[ relationship ]
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Character
[ relationship ]
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