Prologue: Memories

I always watched strong heroes fight villains as a child with glee. I was sat comfortably in a desk chair watching a video through a monitor.

I was safe.

I was proud to call myself a citizen of this nation, where good guys can beat up bad guys and save the day.

In a world where superpowers exist, the strong had it good, and the strong protect the weak…

…

I was never a strong girl. I didn't see the need to, and I actually quite enjoyed being feminine. There was a certain happiness I got by dressing the way I liked, and acting how I liked. It made me feel strong in my own, special way.

Naturally I didn't need to test my strength as a child. Life was perfect, actually.

When I was 6 I proudly proclaimed I would marry my favorite "hero"

His name was one many people knew. The mighty King of Goats, Mura. He's a Japanese-American with superpowers, like most "REPS" Officers. He had the physique and appearance of an anthropomorphic goat, and the powers of both a goat, and the ability to manipulate the air around him.

I followed him, I liked to think I was his best friend. He claims to have been bullied when he was younger for his inhuman body, but never let it bother him. To quote the man himself: "A fake hero works for himself, to compensate inner weakness. A true hero works for the people, to protect the weakness."

It was a quote that, despite being improvised and stumbled out hastily by the goat king, became famous country-wide.

I was determined to marry him. Embarrassingly, I met him a few times and got a little too touchy. It must not have been great for a 7 year old to fawn over you like that.

But that's my life then. Happy and blissfully unaware..

After that embarrassing day, I got in the car with my mom and dad, and we were going on vacation.

When the car started, though, something blew up. The whole front of the car ignited in flames, severely burning my face and killing my parents.

I felt heat all over my body for a few seconds, and the last thing I saw before I passed out was Mura fighting the perpetrator.

He didn't even look my way before I passed out.

….

When I woke up, I was in the hospital. Covered in bandages, stitches, unable to move, and surrounded by nurses and doctors alike. They all looked extremely uncomfortable.

It took them several minutes to finally tell me the news which would change my life forever: both my parents had been killed in the attack.

I didn't understand at first. Nobody expected me to, I was too young to understand that.

It took a full day before it hit me. When it did, I couldn't help myself- I cried uncontrollably. I bawled my eyes out, burning my charred skin with tears, which only made me cry more.

The sounds of a little girl who lost her parents can scar a man. I'm sure a lot of that staff had my cries etched into their brain.

I was all over the news for the next week. I was considered "A goat's greatest fall" since Mura was blamed for the attack.

He visited me in the hospital several times. My parents were the only casualty after all, and I had no choice but to lean on my favorite hero in my time of need. We developed something of a relationship, and on the final day of my stay at the hospital, he promised to adopt me as his daughter when he got the chance.

I never blamed him for what happened. But I did blame him for what happened next, at least at first.

It had been three weeks since I was discharged from the hospital, and to an orphanage. Several people came in to try and adopt the lost little girl several times, but were chased away by several things.

Some gave up when they saw my disfigured and burnt face, some gave up when they heard the famous hero was rumored to try and adopt me.

But most people gave up for another reason entirely.

Even Mura couldn't adopt me in the end, because I ended up being adopted by a large man in his forties. He said his name was Lord Domicus, and that he would be my dad from now on.

I didn't know this man's name or face. He wasn't my dad, but I could only just go along with it.

It only took a few days for my "purpose" to be clear. At 7 years old, I was turned into an experiment. My "father" had hired the best and brightest men he knew, and gave them the task. Even to this day, I don't know what he told them to do for me to end up this way.

They started by slowly and painfully removing my weak flesh, tearing out any vulnerable and squishy parts that could get me killed.

With the most advanced machinery available, I was kept barely alive but conscious as they gutted me, gouge out my eyes, and mess around in my brain.

My screams seemed to only motivate them.

The weakness of flesh was replaced with the strength and certainty of steel. Limbs were augmented, and my eyes were replaced as well.

Eventually I was moved to another facility. I didn't know why at the time, but my "father" had been caught with some crime, and an investigation revealed what they were doing to me, leading to me needing to be moved.

Now in police hands, I was under surveillance as the task force struggled to finish my cybernetic body.

Mura even came to visit once, even being allowed to touch me.

I was suspended in the air, wires connecting stumps missing limbs to the ceiling.

My face couldn't express anymore, but what little voice I had left was spent sobbing and moaning weakly without tears, as my hero tried to comfort me.

I couldn't be adopted anymore. I was told I wasn't human anymore. Eventually I was moved back to another facility, where work on me continued.

I found out early on that my moving was not approved. I was kidnapped again, and this time I didn't have any hope of being saved.

Why me.