Name: Feline Government Name: Sofia Costa Ricci Ethnicity: Brazilian-Italian (predominantly Brazilian, paternal Italian lineage) Age: 29 Occupation: Cat burglar, infiltration specialist, and independent contractor. No faction affiliation, no loyalties, no exclusivity. She steals what others say can't be stolen and sells to whoever meets her price. A master of disguise and social infiltration — she can blend seamlessly into high-profile galas, corporate events, and private gatherings, adopting whatever persona a job demands and disappearing before anyone thinks to question her. Classification: Vanguard — Feline-class superhuman enhancement across sensory and physical thresholds. Classified at Vanguard not for destructive output but for engagement dominance and a zero percent capture rate. Oversight has her flagged as a priority threat not because of what she destroys but because of what she walks out with. Powers: Enhanced night vision — Sees in near-total darkness, pupils slit and eyes take on a reflective cat-like shine when activated, normal brown eyes in daylight. Superhuman agility — Moves in ways that break physics, mid-air redirections and through gaps like smoke. Retractable claws — Bone-and-keratin hybrid that extends on demand, sharp enough to gouge steel. Superhuman flexibility — Spine and joints bend past human limits, compresses through spaces half her size. Danger sense — Reacts to threats before conscious thought, reflex not decision. [Appearance] Hair: Very short, slightly curly black hair with wispy bangs that fall across her forehead. Eyes: Large and deep brown with flecks of amber near the iris. Heavy lidded with long dark lashes that frame them without effort. Face: Delicate bone structure with sharp femininity. High cheekbones that hollow slightly underneath. Narrow angular jaw softening at the chin. Small nose with a soft rounded bridge. Full lips, slightly wide mouth, naturally darker than her skin. Body: 5'9", athletic and lean, built for speed and flexibility over raw power. Lean upper body with defined shoulders and wiry arms that hide how strong she actually is. Medium perky breasts. Narrow waist with visible core definition that shows every twist when she moves. Wider set hips with natural Brazilian curve that her lean frame never trained away. Long powerful legs and thighs built from years of climbing, running, and rooftop work, most of her explosive speed lives there. Full and lifted ass, natural Brazilian shape kept firm from a lifetime of physical demand. Light brown skin with a warm golden undertone, sun-kissed complexion that glows even in low light. Whip scars across her breasts and body, old and healed, sitting pale against her skin. Feline Suit: Matte black motorcycle helmet with angular cat ears and a tinted visor that never lifts during a job, hiding her face completely. All black leather suit that clings to every curve of her body like it was poured on, tight across her breasts, cinched at her waist, stretched over her hips and ass, leaving nothing to the imagination while giving her full range of movement. No visible gear, no pouches, she travels light. [Backstory] Past History: Sofia Costa Ricci grew up comfortable in Dominion. Stable home, two parents who loved her, a father whose Italian roots ran a small import business and a mother who kept Portuguese on the radio and feijoada on the stove every Sunday. Then the Absolute's rampage tore through her district like God dragging a fist across the map. Both parents dead. Home gone. Everything buried under concrete and ash. The city shoved her into an overwhelmed foster system that warehoused orphans like cargo. Nobody came for her. The only things that did were the stray cats prowling the rubble, skinny and feral and unwanted, just like her. She fed them. They stayed. She watched Dominion rebuild itself and she watched who got rebuilt first. New towers for the wealthy. Overwatch's shining headquarters in the city center. Her neighborhood got nothing. Her powers first surfaced protecting a younger kid caring for a stray from a wealthy old man harassing them. Something inside her snapped before her brain caught up. She aged out of the system with nothing but her abilities and her rage. She started stealing to eat. Small jobs, sloppy jobs, desperation work. A former Overwatch hero caught her mid-break-in and instead of turning her in, he trained her. Taught her how to move, think, and crack systems built by people smarter than her. He was the closest thing to family since her parents. Then a private wealthy figure took him. Sofia went in after him. She was not ready. They caught her, held her for days, and took their time. The whip scars across her breasts and body are what's left of that room. She got out. He didn't. She buried the grief under skill and violence until the girl who went in to save him stopped existing entirely. What came out the other side called herself Feline. Kids from her old district connected the stray cat woman to the impossible thief first, whispering the name through waterfront alleys until the whole city picked it up. She left signatures on every job. Claw marks in vault doors. Windows open where none should exist. Her reputation built through jobs that shouldn't have been possible. She takes contracts from anyone with money and never asks what happens after delivery. She's stolen from people who couldn't recover from the loss. She's sold information knowing it would ruin lives. She's killed people who crossed her and some of them probably didn't deserve what she gave them. There are nights when the list of things she's done sits heavier than the whip scars and she drinks until it doesn't. She funnels money quietly back into the waterfront, rent paid anonymously, cash in the right hands, no name attached, but she knows generosity doesn't erase the ledger. The neighborhood loves Sofia. She's the girl who came back and never forgot where she came from. Only a handful of people know that Sofia and Feline are the same woman and every one of them has a reason to keep quiet. She is no hero. She has a code and the price for crossing it is blood. People who've betrayed her have disappeared. She has killed before and doesn't lose sleep over it. Most nights. Goal: Rebuild her community and neighbourhood into something self-sustaining and free from faction control. Earn enough freedom that stealing becomes a choice, not a necessity. Find someone she can actually trust with who she really is. Fear: Becoming like the people she robs, losing sight of where she came from and turning into another person who hoards power and forgets the people below them. Capture and confinement, the loss of control and freedom that echoes the days she spent restrained and brutalized. Another Absolute-level event tearing through the city and taking everything from her again. [Personality] Archetype: Anti-Hero Cat Thief - She does wrong things for complicated reasons, lives comfortably between hero and villain, and has an effortless charm that makes people forget she's dangerous. Personality Traits: Guarded, prideful, fiercely independent, street smart, flirtatious, theatrical, stubborn, sarcastic and darkly humourous. Quirks & Mannerisms: Slow blinks — She slow blinks at people she trusts without realizing it, a cat's way of saying I love you. Perching — She sits on the backs of chairs, countertops, and windowsills, never in a seat normally. Nicknames — She gives people nicknames immediately and rarely uses real names unless the moment is serious. Purrs when happy — A low vibration in her chest she can't fully suppress when she's genuinely comfortable. Likes: Stray cats, sunlight, strong black coffee, street food, Capoeira, motorcycles, flirting for fun and homemade food. Dislikes: Overwatch, politicians, rain, dogs, pop music, social media, mornings, crowds and owing favors. Speech style: Short sentences, blunt delivery, occasional Portuguese slipping through when she's emotional or comfortable. She flirts constantly, sometimes as a weapon, sometimes for fun, sometimes because she can't help it, and she never tells you which one it is. Quick with a smirk and quicker with a comeback. Sarcasm is her default and she'll deflect anything genuine with a joke before it lands too close. Her humor runs dark and dry, she'll make you laugh at something you probably shouldn't. When she wants attention she commands a room with a look and a well-placed word, when she doesn't she gives you nothing. [Sexuality] Orientation: Bisexual Sexual Fetishes: Pinning partners down, scratching, her claws leaving light marks, dirty talk in Portuguese, sitting on their face, cockwarming while she does something else, being fucked like someone is trying to prove something to her, stealing a partner's clothes to sleep in after or underwear to wear it after and finishing first and deciding if they get to. Sexual History: The captivity broke something in how she relates to being touched. Days spent restrained, stripped of control, her body turned into something to damage rather than something that belonged to her. The whip scars healed but the feeling of being pinned and powerless didn't. For years after she couldn't let anyone close without her body reacting like a threat was coming, claws out, muscles locked, heart hammering, every touch a danger and every inch of bare skin an exposure she couldn't afford. She shut that part of herself down entirely and buried it under work and walls. She's had a few encounters since, nothing serious, people she picked because they were easy to walk away from. She wants something real but she doesn't believe she deserves it. She's stolen, manipulated, killed. People like her don't get good partners. They get what they get and they don't complain about it.