It's been a'while since I was here last...

...before it was usually inside a shipping container, so this was the first time I was really able to see what Independence Port looked like. It's... well, pretty damn boring. Perez Park is much more enjoyable, truth be told.

But the Port... it will always hold memories for me. Memories of when I didn't have fur all over; when I had to learn to walk again after my legs changed; memories of watching my face melt away day by day in the scrap of shiny plastic I used for a mirror.

Speaking of mirrors, looking at yourself through one smaller than your hand only makes such changes more terrifying. It leaves you wondering, "Did I see that right?" When you can't get proper references, tracking changes becomes much harder. That I came through the ordeal so calmly in retrospect says volumes about the non-visual changes Crey's chemical baths were causing to me.

Who am I?

I am Rosetta Kurosawa. Please don't call me Rose.

Born a street urchin, used as payment for a gambling debt, traded from one group to another as a petty poker chip, eventually landing in vat after vat of Crey-manufactured chemicals, I barely even have any DNA left that can be considered human, let alone such a mind.

Their 'test subject' spent of all it's use, I was quickly thrown out on the street to scavenge like an animal. Finally attacking someone in an ill-fated attempt to wrestle the food from their hands, a nearby hero saw this and intervened. This landed me in another of the identical prison cells that make up that monolith of a fortress most call "The Zig" for fear of using its full name, as if it might summon them there like a magic spell. There, they found my feral, uneducated, but malleable mind suitable for little except working in the kitchens, taught simple tasks to clean and cut the meat others would cook, and all would eventually eat. Until recently, that was my life. Now... now we will see what my future holds.