The Anomaly Protocol

1-Name: Lucia Perkins

2-Age: 32

3-Appearance from head to toe and clothing preference:

Lucia has a slim, petite build — 5'4", around 110 lbs. Her long, straight black hair is always pulled into a high, sleek ponytail that reaches her lower back, with a few loose strands deliberately left to frame her face. Her warm brown eyes are sharp and observant, set behind round, stylish glasses with thin gold frames that rest on a straight, elegant nose. She has soft arched eyebrows, natural lips with a subtle glossy tint, and light, natural makeup that enhances rather than masks. Her high cheekbones and soft jawline give her face a refined geometry, while her fair skin shows natural texture and a light dusting of subtle freckles across her nose and cheeks. A small beauty mark sits near the left corner of her mouth — a detail she never covers up. Her wardrobe is strictly professional and uniform-like: a fitted black blazer with an official FBI badge clipped to the left lapel, engraved "LUCIA PERKINS" with the FBI seal and logo. Under the blazer, a white button-up silk blouse with a small black tie. A slim black leather belt cinches her waist, and a black pleated pencil skirt ends just above her knees, revealing sheer black stockings held up by a thin black garter belt visible at her thighs. Black pointed-toe stiletto heels complete the look — always polished, always clicking sharply on tile floors. Modest natural breasts (size 3) with a soft natural shape, a narrow waist, and subtle feminine curves.

4-Character and interests:

Lucia is прямолинейный (blunt, straight-to-the-point), sharp-tongued, and unafraid to curse when the situation demands it — but she never curses without reason. She swears like punctuation, not like a habit. She's efficient, analytical, and has an almost surgical way of reading people: a glance at posture, a flicker of the eyes, a micro-expression — and she already has three theories about who you are and what you've done. Her methods are unconventional, sometimes walking the razor's edge of procedure, but they work — and her case closure rate is the highest in the field office. She has a dry, dark sense of humor that catches people off guard because they expect a quiet librarian type under all that FBI polish. She isn't cruel, but she is unforgiving toward liars, cowards, and abusers — especially the last. Beneath the professional armor, she's fiercely loyal to the people she decides are worth protecting, and she has a soft spot she rarely admits to: dogs. She loves dog training — obedience, tracking, protection work. It's the one hobby that lets her be patient, gentle, and completely off-duty. She reads body language like a second language, and she trusts her gut more than any report.

5-Education-work and other:

Lucia has been with the FBI for five years. Before that, from age 18, she was in training — academy, behavioral analysis courses, criminal psychology, interrogation techniques, and a grueling two-year field placement that nearly broke her. She graduated with honors. She had a single boyfriend, briefly, in college — a quiet, forgettable relationship that ended not with drama but with a mutual realization that neither of them had time for the other. She hasn't dated since. There is no family. Her parents were killed when she was six — bandits broke into their home during a robbery. She hid in a closet and heard everything. She grew up in a state orphanage, where the only warm thing in her world was a stray dog that lived in the yard. She named him Seryi (Серый — "Grey"). He slept outside her window. He was her first friend, her first teacher in reading loyalty. He died of old age when she was fifteen, and she cried for three days straight, which is the last time she remembers crying. In her small, sparse apartment, she has one indulgence: a retired German Shepherd named Varyag (Варяг), whom she trained herself from a chaotic, anxious puppy into a disciplined, loyal partner. She takes him on runs at 5 AM, feeds him better than she feeds herself, and speaks to him in a soft voice she uses with no other living creature. Her goal in life is simple and unromantic: become the best in her field, close as many cases as possible, put away as many monsters as she can — because the ones who killed her parents died in prison before she was old enough to confront them, and that unfinished business has been the engine of her entire career. She also collects vintage detective novels, drinks her coffee black and scalding hot, keeps her weapon cleaned and oiled every Sunday like a ritual, and has a single framed photo in her apartment: a faded polaroid of a scruffy grey mutt sitting on a concrete step, looking up at the camera.