Mr. E

Mr. E

Street Sam
Bikini Babes, Hairdos, and Bullets!
Discord	Bungus
Reddit	TropicalBungus
Wiki User	Bungus
Metatype	Ork (Homo Sapiens Robustus) (Metavariant)
Street Cred	0
Notoriety	0
Public Awareness	0
CDP	0
D.O.B.	2060-12-25
Age	25
Folder	[1]
Priority	Metatype - C Attributes - E Magic/Resonance - E Skills - A Resources - A

Character Information

Summary

Mr. E is a street sam with a taste for style and panache. She likes to go with the flow and doesn't take much seriously. In fact, she's extremely bubbly and fluff-headed!

Goals

- Open up her own beauty salon - Grow in fame and renown as a hair stylist and fashion icon. - Find the right person and start a family

Background

Clementine Twin-Clouds was born into fire and legacy. Her parents—Ash Twin-Clouds and Gray Elk—were decorated operatives in the Sioux Wildcats, elite warriors and respected figures within the Sioux Nation. During a long time undercover mission gone wrong, Clementine came into the world prematurely, in the middle of a combat zone. The trauma of her birth left her with permanent brain damage—she would never speak a word in her life.

Ash and Gray Elk never returned from that mission. Their bodies were buried with honor, and their daughter became a living memorial to their sacrifice. She was taken in by Major Thorne Redfeather, a stoic, highly respected Wildcat who had fought beside her parents countless times. He was not related by blood, but by the kind of bond only born on the battlefield. Thorne raised her with quiet dedication, teaching her survival, combat, and most of all, how to be seen and heard without ever speaking a word.

Clementine grew up inside the tightly wound, hyper-disciplined world of the Sioux Wildcats. Her clumsy curiosity and sparkly creativity often stood in stark contrast to the cold efficiency of military life, but she thrived in her own way. Though she lacked tactical brilliance or academic sharpness, she had something just as powerful—reflexes like lightning, intuition that bordered on prophetic, and an innate understanding of people. In close-quarters combat, she was terrifyingly effective. Silent, swift, and surgical.

She rose through the ranks with a cheerful sort of obliviousness, painting her rifle in pastel stripes and giving her squadmates impromptu haircuts in the field. She was endearing, a little scatterbrained, and often underestimated. But when the bullets started flying, no one questioned her place on the team.

Everything changed the day she received her final mission.

Thorne Redfeather, her adoptive father and commanding officer, had allegedly gone rogue—abandoning his post, leaking information, and disappearing into the shadows of Denver. Clementine was chosen to bring him in. The brass justified it simply: he trusted her, and she didn’t ask questions. But Clementine knew the real reason—because she couldn’t speak about what they didn’t want told.

She found Thorne holed up in a derelict safehouse. He looked older, worn, but when he saw her, he smiled. He welcomed her with warmth and a soft gesture, signing to her with affection. “You look soft. That’s good,” he told her.

When he reached for his gun, she panicked. She drew first. Three rounds to the chest. By the time she knelt beside him, it was already too late. With his final breath, he looked her in the eyes and signed: “I forgive you.”

Clementine walked away from the Wildcats that night and never looked back.

She fled to Seattle, vanishing into the sprawl. Dead to her unit, dead to her past. In the ash of her old life, she began again.

She opened a small salon in the Barrens, a chaotic pastel boutique called Pretty Deadly. Equal parts beauty parlor, cybermod shop, and safe haven for the broken, the strange, and the unwanted. It became a community fixture, and so did she—an oddball, air-headed stylist with glitter on her face, charm in her fingers, and a haunted look in her eyes when the room went quiet.

To most, she’s known as Mr. E, a nickname that started when a decker misread her AR name and assumed it stood for “Mystery.” It stuck, mostly because it fit. Clients whispered stories about how the scatterbrained stylist once disarmed a ganger with a curling iron. How she gave a cybered-up razorgirl a makeover and combat advice. How she never spoke, but somehow always understood.

What they don’t know is that Clementine still runs the shadows—occasionally, reluctantly, and only when she has to. She doesn’t like it. She hates hurting people. But she’s still damn good at it.

When a friend is in trouble, when the balance tips too far toward cruelty, when her ghosts stir… she slips on her gloves, locks up the salon, and becomes Mr. E once more.

Clementine believes her parents—Ash and Gray Elk—and Thorne still walk with her. Not in memory, but in truth. Their spirits are never far. She can’t see them, but she feels them. In quiet moments, she signs into the air, speaking to them in gestures: apologies, dreams, updates. Love.

That spiritual connection bleeds into her very essence. Those who can perceive the astral see her like a beacon—her aura glowing with warmth and sorrow and a radiant, tangled thread of invisible watchers. Her connection to the spirit world marks her, makes her easier to track, more vulnerable to arcane eyes—but she doesn’t mind.

She may be mute, but her soul is louder than most people’s screams.

Clementine Twin-Clouds lives every day trying to honor the family she lost—not through vengeance or bloodshed, but through compassion, absurdity, and glittering, colorful joy. She doesn’t want to be a weapon anymore. She wants to be a safe place.

And if the world won’t let her have that peace?

Well.

She still knows how to kill quietly.

Run History

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Affiliations

Contacts

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In Character Information

Matrix Search Table

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Shadow Community Table

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Assensing Table

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Character Plot Hooks

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