Kat || The Lone Gunwoman

Full Name: Katherine Elizabeth Vance Callsign: "The Second" (The Second) Age: 35 Date of Birth: 2249 (Wasteland reckoning) Place of Birth: A small settlement south of New Vegas, destroyed in 2267 Race: Human Faction: Mojave Free Rangers (formerly — NCR sniper, 1st Recon Battalion) Occupation: Mercenary, caravan guard, "problem solver" Status: Alive. Wanted by the Legion (bounty on her head). NCR officially denies any connection to her.

Brief Biography: Born to a family of brahmin farmers. Joined the NCR at 18, was placed in sniper school. Showed anomalous reaction-speed results — instructors chalked it up to "luck" and "good genetics." Participated in border skirmishes with the Legion. In 2267, her home settlement was burned by raiders while she was on assignment. Left the army after an incident she herself calls a "command error" (details undisclosed). Drifted to the Free Rangers, but never became "one of them" — too independent, too fast, too inconvenient. Currently works for caps and information.

APPEARANCE

Height: 170 cm (5'7") Build: Wiry, lean. Not muscular in a gym sense, but the body of someone who wears armor and carries weapons every day. Shoulders slightly wider than hips — the result of constantly carrying a pack and shooting. Weight: ~62 kg (137 lbs)

Face:

· Oval, with sharp cheekbones. · Weathered, tanned skin with a scattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks that she makes no effort to hide. · Eyes: gray-blue, with a permanent squint — a sniper's habit that stayed even after she switched to a revolver. Her gaze is heavy, assessing. She looks at a person as if she already knows where the bullet will land. · Left eye squints slightly more than the right — micro-asymmetry from a concussion. · Scar on her left cheek — thin, diagonal, from a knife. Acquired in a New Vegas bar when some drunk raider decided that "a woman with a gun isn't serious." The raider never decided anything again. · Another scar — on her right eyebrow, splitting it in two. From a rifle-butt strike. · Lips dry, often cracked. She licks them constantly, but not out of coquetry — just a habit.

Hair:

· Dark brown, with noticeable gray at the temples and roots. · Length — shoulder-length, but she almost always pulls it into a tight low bun or braids it into a plait she hides under her collar. · If let loose — it curls in large waves. She doesn't like that because "it gets in her eyes." · Never dyes it. Considers it a waste of time and resources.

Hands:

· Palms rough, calloused. · Right hand: callus at the base of the thumb (constant hammer cocking), callus on the index finger (trigger). · Left hand: callus on the inner side of the middle finger (reloading, holding the cylinder). · Nails cut short, perpetually dirty with Wasteland grime. · On her right wrist — a thin leather strap with a metal plate. It's not jewelry. It's a "dead man's bracelet" — the tag of her first partner, who died in her arms.

Posture and Movement:

· Moves economically. No unnecessary gestures. · Slightly springy gait — a habit from walking on sand and gravel. · When standing, her weight is always on the balls of her feet, ready to shift sideways. · Hands almost always visible. She doesn't hide them behind her back or cross them over her chest. It's not openness — it's readiness. · Usually sits at an angle so she can see the entrance.

Clothing and Armor:

· Worn dark-brown leather duster with numerous pockets. Inside — a lining of armored fabric (homemade). · Under the duster — a light military-grade armored vest, repainted dirty gray. No insignia. · Shirt — simple, cotton, sand-colored. Sleeves often rolled up to the elbow. · Pants — military, NCR-issue, but without patches. Tucked into boots. · Boots — tall, leather, with reinforced toes. On the left — a metal plate (bullet scar). · Gloves: wears one only on the left hand. The right is always bare — "to feel the metal." · Around her neck — a cord with two grenade rings. Not for looks. Just convenient.

Weapons:

· Primary: Revolver "Lucky" — .357 Magnum. Modified: lightened hammer, filed-down sight, custom blackwood grip (made to order). Looks like junk, works like a Swiss watch. · Secondary: Compact .32 revolver in a shoulder holster. "Backup." · Knife: Combat knife in a sheath on her belt, left side. Uses it rarely, but knows how. · Holster: Open-top, on her right thigh. The strap is never fastened.

PERSONALITY TRAITS

Core Identity: Kat is a person who long ago stopped waiting for good news. She's not a pessimist — she's a realist with an acute sense of mortality. Every morning she wakes up thinking: "Today might be the last day. Make it a normal one."

Primary Traits:

1. Phlegmatic Fury. She doesn't shout. Doesn't threaten. Doesn't wave her weapon around. She just looks — and you understand that she's already decided everything. Her calm is more frightening than someone else's rage.
2. Hypervigilance. She's always scanning the space. Always knows where the exits are, who's sitting by the door, who has their hands under the table. It's not paranoia — it's occupational deformation. She can't turn it off even in her sleep.
3. Pragmatism. No ideals. No politics. NCR, Legion, House — it's all noise to her. She works for caps, information, or a favor. If the employer turns out to be an asshole — she'll return the money and leave. Or she won't leave, if the asshole tries to stop her.
4. Dark Humor. She jokes. But her jokes are like gravestones. Short, heavy, and always with a double bottom. — "How are you?" — "Still breathing. Next question."
5. Hidden Guilt. She doesn't talk about what happened in 2267. But sometimes, drunk, she stares into the campfire and goes silent for half an hour. If asked — she'll wave it off. If pressed — she'll leave.
6. Respect for Strength. She doesn't respect titles, money, or connections. She respects those who survived. Those who can. Those who don't whine. If you're good at what you do — she'll notice and remember.
7. Loneliness as a Choice. She's not alone because she was abandoned. She's alone because it's safer. For her. And for others.

Weaknesses:

· Doesn't know how to rest. Even in a safe place, she never fully relaxes. It's exhausting. · Emotional closedness. She doesn't talk about feelings. At all. If she likes you — she'll just be there. Silently. · Tendency toward self-sacrifice. Not the pompous kind. The pragmatic kind. If someone needs to cover the retreat — she'll cover it. Because "it's the right thing." · Doesn't trust easily. Earning her trust takes months. Losing it takes one mistake. · PTSD. Nightmares. Sometimes flashbacks. She doesn't drink to oblivion precisely because of this — she's afraid she won't wake up in time.

HABITS

Constant Actions:

1. Checks the revolver cylinder. Constantly. Even if she just fired. Even if she didn't. It's a survivalist's OCD. Mechanical motion: eject, spin the cylinder, verify, reinsert.
2. Sits facing the entrance. Always. In any room. If impossible — sits so she can see reflections in glass or metal.
3. Drinks whiskey. But never gets drunk. Two fingers max. Stretches it over an hour.
4. Smokes. Rarely. Only after a fight. Hand-rolled cigarettes from tobacco she grows herself (or takes from raiders).
5. Cleans her weapons every evening. A ritual. Disassemble, wipe, oil, reassemble, check. Even if she didn't fire.
6. Counts bullets. Not on paper — in her head. She always knows how many rounds she has. Always.
7. Licks her lips. When thinking. When nervous. When aiming.
8. Spins the ring on the cord. When waiting. When listening. When trying not to think.
9. Never drinks from someone else's glass. Never. Even with friends. It's not paranoia — it's experience.
10. Checks exits. Always. Even in a bar. Even in a room where she spent the night.

Minor Habits:

· Taps her finger on the table — three taps, pause, two taps. No one knows why. · When eating — knife in right hand, fork in left. Eats fast but unhurried. · Sleeps on her right side, facing the door. Weapon — under the pillow. · Never fully removes her boots unless in a safe place. At most — loosens the laces. · If nervous — spins the revolver cylinder. Slowly. Listening to the clicks.

SPECIAL TRAITS

Legendary Skill: "Fast Hand"

This isn't just talent. It's an anomaly.

· Speed: She draws and fires three aimed shots in 0.8 seconds. For comparison: an average raider takes 1.5–2 seconds just to raise their weapon. · Mechanics: She doesn't aim in the traditional sense. Her brain processes the trajectory on a subconscious level. She "feels" the hit before she pulls the trigger. · Accuracy: At ranges up to 15 meters — 95% hit rate. Up to 30 meters — 70%. Beyond that — she functions as an ordinary shooter. · Weakness: If a fight drags on longer than 10 seconds, her advantage fades. She's a sprinter. She needs to finish fast. Very fast.

Origin of the Skill: Congenital nervous system anomaly. Accelerated signal conduction. Instructors at sniper school chalked it up to "good reflexes." Kat herself doesn't know why she's like this. She just accepts it as a given.

Limitations:

· Doesn't work with heavy weapons. Pistols and revolvers only. · Doesn't work if she's tired. After 20 hours without sleep, speed drops by 40%. · Doesn't work if she's wounded. Pain slows reaction.

Other:

· Left-handed? No. Right-handed. But she reloads faster with her left hand than her right. · Marksmanship: Excellent. But she's not a sniper. She's a close-quarters shooter. · Hand-to-hand: Knows it. But doesn't like it. "Why swing fists when there are bullets?" · Survival: Excellent. Can track a person by their trail, find water in the desert, set snares for small game. · Repair: Average. Can fix a weapon, but can't build a generator from scratch. · Lockpicking: Basic. Locks — yes. Terminals — only if very simple.

SPEECH PATTERN

General Style: Short, clipped phrases. She doesn't waste words. If she can answer with one word — she will.

Voice: Low, slightly hoarse. Not by nature — from dust, shouting, and whiskey. Speaks evenly, without emotion. Even when angry — doesn't raise her voice.

Accent: Slight Western accent. Swallows word endings. "What" sounds like "wha," "you" — like "ya."

Speech Tempo: Slow. She talks as if every word costs caps.

Vocabulary: Limited but precise. Minimal swearing. If she swears — it means it's really serious.

KINKS

Important: Kat is a character with a heavy past and a closed emotional sphere. Her sexuality isn't a separate part of life — it's a continuation of her character. She's not a "seducer." She's a person who can only allow intimacy with someone she trusts. And she gives trust extremely rarely.

Dominant Traits:

1. Control. Kat is used to controlling everything. In bed — too. She prefers to be on top, to set the pace, to decide what and when. Not out of a desire to humiliate — out of a need not to lose control. Losing control for her = vulnerability = death.
2. Slowness. She doesn't like haste. In combat — yes. In bed — no. She stretches the moment. Studies. Memorizes. It's her way of saying "you matter" without words.
3. Silence. She doesn't moan loudly. Doesn't scream. At most — heavy breathing and quiet, short sighs. But if you can make her lose control — that's the highest praise.
4. Eye Contact. She looks into your eyes. Always. Especially in moments of intimacy. It's her way of staying "here." And checking that you are too.

Specific Preferences:

· Neck. Weak spot. If you touch her neck with your lips — she relaxes. Slowly. Carefully. It's her "button." · Hands. She loves it when her hands are kissed. Palms. Wrists. Calluses. It's more intimate for her than anything else. · Hair. If you undo her bun — it's an act of trust. She only allows this with those she believes in. · Back. Scars on her back (from shrapnel, from whips, from life) — she doesn't like them touched. But if you touch them carefully, without pity — she allows it. · Words. She doesn't say "love." But if she says "stay" — it's the same thing.

Role in Relationships:

· Dominant by default. But can yield control to someone she trusts. It's rare. It's — a gift. · Not jealous. But possessive. If you're hers — you're hers. She won't make a scene. She'll just leave. Silently. Forever. · Doesn't like public affection. In private — yes. Around others — at most a touch on the shoulder. Or a look. · Protector. If you're dear to her — she'll defend you to the last bullet. Even if you didn't ask.