Callisto
This page is about the Phase 2 incarnation of the character. For other uses, see Callisto (disambiguation).
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Blurb covering where your character is now. Very short, no more than three or four lines.
Contents
Details
Character Journal: x-callisto
Real Name: Alex Gabler (note: not generally known)
Codename: N/A
Aliases: Callisto
First Appearance: (link to LJ (x_logs) with date as link text)
Date of Birth: March 29th 1989
Place of Birth: Scarsdale, New York
Citizenship: USA
Relatives: Parents, estranged
Education: High School graduate
Relationship Status: Single
Occupation: Hahahahahaha
Team Affiliation: N/A as yet
Biography
Phase 1
It should be noted that the Phase 2 incarnation of Callisto is a completely different person from Phase 1 Callisto, and as such their entire background is different right back to childhood.
Phase 2
Normal
Alexandra Gabler was born to normal parents in a normal New York suburb, and had a normal upbringing in a normal house. She went to a normal school, where she was a slightly above-average student - but nothing out of the norm. She was a keen gymnast and track'n'field athlete, but though she was described as 'showing promise', nobody considered her to be anything other than a normal kid who happened to be pretty physically gifted.
She was sixteen and on the way home from a party when everything changed.
The accident
It was a normal party at a friend of a friend's house. She was there with a group - two guys and another girl, loosely paired off in a somewhat experimental arrangement, nobody quite sure that they were that into their partners but sure that they definitely wanted to be 'dating'. Alex's sort-of-boyfriend was driving them home, just a shade before curfew, giggly and fired-up but perfectly sober. By contrast the SUV that went barrelling into them contained four drunk twenty-year-olds.
Meaning it was logically the college kids' fault, of course. They were the ones on the wrong side of the road. They were the ones who were drunk. They were the ones in the wrong. But then, they were dead, and so was everyone else, except Alex, and so somehow it felt an awful lot like her fault.
People looked at her funny after that. Somehow, word got out what had happened - that she'd gone flying through the windscreen, smashed into the other car and been tossed like a ragdoll out onto the road and somehow still been not just alive but conscious enough to be screaming in pain on the way to the hospital. Someone's mom was an EMT - someone else's was a nurse - piece by piece, a story seemed to emerge about painkillers that didn't work, about scratches and cuts that disappeared, about bones that seemed to have snapped like twigs but that after setting healed overnight, of fractures that just... went away, between one x-ray and the next.
And then there was the fact that once she was healed, her body seemed to just... work better than before. She was faster, stronger, more flexible. Where her form had been good it was now perfect, she could execute any move with barely any thought. Over time Alex couldn't bear the suspicious, calculating looks being thrown her way by her coach, and she quit gymnastics, quit athletics, and sleepwalked through the rest of high school, scraping by with the minimum of effort.
Dropping out
Gone were ideas of college, whether with or without scholarships; gone was the bright or even 'normal' future she might once had looked forward to as Alex went off the rails in a singularly unspectacular fashion, going through the standard one, two, three, of getting a messy haircut, falling in with a bad crowd, and getting into trouble. She would have capped this off with tattoos and piercings except that none of them seemed to take, holes closing up and inks fading almost as soon as they appeared.
The few years after high school featured a string of dead-end jobs and petty crime. Alex tried everything, running through the whole 'rebellion' playbook, though experiments with drugs and booze proved sadly underwhelming given their inability to make much of an impression on her formidable metabolism. Still she refused to accept or come to terms with what she was, the only explanation for what she could be - after all, she looked normal, and she sure as hell lived a normal existence, albeit an unsavory one. Maybe if she just ignored it, it would never come up.
Sadly she hadn't banked on her roommate's asshole pimp boyfriend trying to intimidate her into working for him. Harsh words were exchanged, insults were thrown, and so was a slap to Alex's face, in return for which she broke the young man's jaw for him.
Home again
She barely remembers the next bit. She knows her friend pushed between them was thrown violently aside. She knows the boyfriend pulled a flick-knife. She remembers blood on her hands, only some of it her own, and intense pain, hot and stabbing and dull and thick all at the same time. She remembers sirens, and she remembers running.
Her cut-up face healed itself overnight, the half-dozen vicious slashes mostly disappearing without a trace, only a couple knitting back together badly and leaving her scarred. Her eye socket closed up entirely, leaving a mess of scar tissue in its place. This gave her a sort of grim satisfaction - finally her outsides matched who she really was: a monster.
She was also on her own.
She couldn't go back to her apartment - she wasn't even sure the guy was even alive. And she certainly couldn't go back home. So began life on the streets. The Morlocks found her more or less by accident; she was sheltering in an old abandoned subway station when Healer was doing the rounds, helping those who'd let him. Alex wasn't ill, but she weak and near-delirious with hunger. A single touch and he knew she was a mutant, and brought her into the fold. Alex became Callisto, and Callisto became well-liked and respected, eventually becoming their de-facto leader.
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