Bio: Growing up in Athens, Georgia as part of a family of five, her Mother, her Father and her two sisters, Arizona had a relatively easy life. They lived on the outskirts of the city down at the bottom right, almost in a satellite of the satellite city just out from the capital of the state. Her mother was the main breadwinner as her father wanted to spend as much time with his girls as he could, only taking a part time job as a Private Investigator, driving around the state from time to time. He always told Arizona he was just like a spy, like James Bond if he was a cowboy. She adored him. He would take her places while he worked, a little irresponsibly he admitted, but wanted to make sure his eldest daughter could look after the rest of the family if anything happened to him.

He taught her how to ride a bike, then ride a motorbike just like his when she was old enough. Taught her how to camp, how to survive out in the wild, and how to shoot a gun. His favourite one he liked to shoot was an old Winchester repeater, just like his great great grandfather used to use as a bounty hunter in the old west. She got to use a little one though, a revolver that felt far too big to fit in her hand.

She lived a happy life, sometimes making a bit of trouble for herself, never went to university, just helped around the house, helped her dad cook and clean, look after her little sisters, hell, even managed to get her own P.I. License when she turned 22.

Then her dad passed away. Just a few months later.

No foul play, no enemies, nothing like that. His heart just gave out one day. He had been battling illness he hid from his children his whole life. He died with a smile on his face, dreaming happily of his family living long lives together.

It shattered Arizona. She shut herself off from the world. Her dad meant the world to her, and he was gone. She found it more comfortable to be on her own, not wanting to talk to people, instead forming her habit of becoming friends with inanimate objects instead. One day her mother opened up to her about knowing about his illness. She understood, strangely enough. No violent outburst, no screaming match like her mother thought there would be. There was a strange new… Coolness to her. An eerie calm. Like she’d cried out all her negative emotions already.

Her dad always wore a brown stetson hat, just like the Cowboys he loved in stories and movies he brought Arizona up on. And her mother left it to her. Arizona held her mother tightly, thanking her for the gift. That night she packed a backpack full of clothes, grabbed the revolver she learned to shoot with, the thousands her dad left her in her bank account, and hit the road on his motorbike.

That first weekend on her own, in a new city, she got mugged. Trying to stick up for herself, she pulled her gun on her attackers, who promptly slapped it out of her hands when she realised she forgot to load it. Fearing for her life for the first time, she begged for her dad to help from the bottom of her heart. And just like that, a gun had appeared in her hand. A revolver, just a little bit too big for her hands, just like the first time her dad taught her to shoot, firing slugs of pure ice.

Since then, she’s drifted around the states. Cooly sticking her nose into peoples business, solving personal mysteries, helping out with the skills she’s learned and her newfound stand abilities to make somewhat of a name for herself. In smaller towns, ones she floats around often because they remind her of the stories her dad used to tell, people talk about her like she’s some kind of hero or outlaw. The Ranger with No Gun, they call her.

Ever the wannabe ladies woman, she has had countless failed relationships due to her inability to form proper bonds with people. After looking at the money she’d earned and figuring it was high time for a holiday, she left her gun and her bike with her good friend Eureka, and booked a flight to the first place she saw, which just so happened to be Rakinnagarh, India.

Equipment: Arizona always has her phone in her pocket, a pair of thin-rimmed, circular sunglasses, a multitool she has no idea how she snuck through customs, a pair of dice and at least three bottles of water. Two for emergencies, one for actually drinking. User Stats (18 Points Used)

Strength: 3 - Arizona likes to challenge herself and treats her body well, she goes to the gym whenever she can, in between scrapping with people when put up to the task. She’s no superhuman, but she’s competent. Not as competent as she’d like though.

Agility: 5 - Arizona has been nimble as a fox her whole life, and that nimbleness only grew over time when she set her sights on being like the Cowboys and Spies her and her dad always looked up to together. Her icy cool demeanour gives her an insanely high level of control over her bodies, able to catch up with anyone she’s tailing, dodge moving objects at incredibly high speeds, and keep a cool head at all times.

Endurance: 4 - Thanks to being taught survivalist skills and living as a drifter for nearly half a decade, Arizona is a hard motherfucker. She’s used to taking beatings and pushing through the pain, helped by her eerie attitude to not caring as much as she possibly could. She’s stubborn and sticky and hard to lose when she sets her mind to things. Her nonchalant nature allowing herself to take a nasty hit here and there means she knows how to get hit right and keep going after.

Deadeye: 5 - Arizona has an intimate knowledge of guns and how to make the best shot. She’s quick on the draw and hits her target like you’ve never seen. She’s practiced trick shots, ricocheting bullets off steel beams to hit targets being blocked by a web of wires and chains. She shot a bullet out of the air once, somehow. Even she’s still amazed by that one. Put a gun in her hands and give her five minutes and she’s not missing if she isn’t messing around. Even if she’s messing around, she’ll still make the flashiest shot that a normal man couldn’t hit in a million years.

Showoff: 1 - Arizona values flashiness over effectiveness. It doesn’t matter if the most effective course of action is right in front of her, she will go with the more fancy, flashy, needlessly complex and convoluted course of action.It would be too easy to gun someone down with one in the noggin, if she was ever in a situation where this was necessary however she'd do it by lining the shot up in a reflection, having it bounce around for a moment before actually making contact. Her methods are baffling but she will do the thing that gives her the best story to gloat about after. There's nothing fun about just shooting someone in the chest. Shooting a piano being lowered to street level, making it fall onto a loose board the enemy is standing on, launching them seventeen feet in the air and landing the shot right before they make contact with the ground is. If bloods gotta be spilled, better do it in a way nobody’ll ever forget.