Kayta Ariadne Elliot

[rdevin10]

KAYTAARIADNEELLIOT

“Well, tell me a little about yourself. What’s your name?”

You tell me. I was born into this word as Kayta. Kayta Ariadne Elliot. Ridiculous, yeah? My parents thought an interesting name would “individualize” me. Well, individualized I became, as you can see. People have called me Kate, Katie, Katya when they misread my first name, the fuckers, and other things as well. Among the other things; “freak” and “geek” are my personal favorite, because not only are they true, but they remind me of this cool old American t.v. show; Freaks and Geeks. Well, I’m both and proud as can be. You should probably put my real name on that piece of paper though. I doubt the higher ups would be cool with you calling me freak. You might get fired. We don’t want that, now do we?

“Next question, how’s school?”

How is university ever? Or, as you Americans call it, high school. Then you call college “university”. Bloody weird, I tell you. Anywho. People say it’s the greatest years of your life, but that’s just the former prom queens and football stars. And yes, by football I mean your soccer. In reality, it’s shit. I couldn’t wait to get the hell outta there. And as you can see, I did. No, no, hold your applause. It wasn’t hard. Schools in England, they weren’t tough enough to handle lil’ ol’ me, so I abandoned my native soil by getting caught. And wound up here in Nowheresville Oklahoma, I suppose. I did do some damage on my way down. I get why I ended up at this sort of place. And all in all, I’m pretty pleased. What? Didja think I’d be begging to be sent back? Going on about how I don’t deserve it, and how I miss my friends and family? Like ‘ell. I sure as F*ck deserve it. And as long as they have a couple others that think like me here, we’ll get along just fine. Maybe I won’t destroy you from the inside.

Academically? I’m considered unbelievably swot at school. Whiz kid. If it weren’t for all my governmental and parental problems, I’d be in college right now, most likely. I’d have to apply myself a little more in order to get in, but yeah. I could do it if I wanted. Toldya I was a geek. As it goes, this is the most interesting high school I’ll ever get to go to. And who knows? Maybe I’ll even learn something. I’m mainly just excited because the people here should be crazy as shit. I’ll fit right in. Not that I’m crazy mentally, I’m fine mentally. But socially? My views towards society? The chronic depression? Yeah, I’m pretty bloody crazy. Not in the padded room, straightjacket way, but crazy all the same. Maybe this school will accept it.

“What did you do when you weren’t in school?”

Coding. I hacked into some minor government agencies. I did some awesome scientific experiments that caused things in my room to explode once or twice. Or, you know, five times. My parents always assumed I was just curious. Guess they never thought I’d actually get in trouble for it. Well, let me tell you, search the internet for information on places you can buy plutonium, and you get asked all sorts of questions. The first time some guy in a suit showed up at the door, it was “Oh, bullocks.” But by the second, it was a game. By the time I was 13 I was on tons of FBI watch lists for ordering strange, potentially dangerous things online. I know how to make a bomb out of fertilizer. Other than that? I had my own little geeky group of friends. All slightly crazy, so they didn’t notice that when I talked about taking over the world, or at least the U.K., I was serious.

“Tell me about your friends and family. How are your relationships with them?”

You mean my batshit insane little cult? Well, not really a cult, but close enough. We’d gather and bitch about normalcy… and then consider taking down the parliament. I think there was one friend aside from me who really meant it and really could. He was fantastic, until he moved. I miss him like hell. And I swear, he’s gonna end up in here someday too, if he doesn’t take over the world first. Or die in a prison in Tijauna. Either way, he’s going out with a bang. Quite literally, he intends to strap himself to a bomb just before dying.

Family? If you insist. They’ve never had the biggest influence in my life. My mum’s name is Tammy. Too cute for my tastes. She used to be Tammy Brown, but now she’s Tammy Elliot. She’s all homemaker-y. Doesn’t have any aspirations. Makes good cupcakes, but other than that I doubt our relations. I wouldn’t really blame Ben (my da’) if he did cheat on her and another woman bore me. Though… I’m pretty sure there’s less of a question of who the mother is when a baby is born. They usually know. Then maybe I was switched at birth? Maybe somewhere there’s a normal, bright little girl happily confusing a family of evil geniuses? Perhaps even someone close to the royal family, with the unlimited resources I’ve always dreamed of? I’ve always dreamed of being in the Adams Family, rather than the royal one. They’re pretty perfect. When I was a little girl, I never wanted to be a princess for Ol’ Hallows Eve. No, Wednesday Adams all the way.

“Well we know about your friends and family, but what do you think about yourself? Describe yourself to me.”

Well, for one, this entire interview I haven’t been speaking normally and you haven’t even noticed. My last therapist said I was too formal, too calm, and that it was creepy. I think I’ll switch around in my time here, taking my tone from whoever I’m talking to. Oh, you didn’t honestly think a girl with a genius-level IQ couldn’t think of a better word than “batshit” to explain my friends, did you? There are truly fantastic, much less common ways of saying insane. Demented, derailed, deranged, fatuous, frenzied, idiotic, impractical, irrational, irresponsible, loony, lunatic, mad, maniacal, mental, moonstruck, paranoid, preposterous, psychopathic, psychotic, rabid, raging, raving, schizophrenic, screwy, senseless, touched, and unhinged, to name a few, in alphabetical order off the top of my head. So, yeah, there’s that. That having been said, I’m an excellent liar. Really great, which explains my skill at talking like a normal teenage girl for periods of time. I do have to focus, of course, but I’ve pretty much gotten so accustomed to it that the physical signs are nearly nonexistent by now. I can probably fool any lie detector you’ve got. Strap me in, if you think I’m lying. You’ll never know. Did that confuse you? If so, good. If not, well, give me time. I’m rusty. If I actually cared enough to try, you’d be spinning in a second. I get bored easily, which the shrinks say is because I was doing work far below my mental level. I still do though, and that’s usually when I do the things that get me in trouble. I’m fairly apathetic about most things. I like finding things out. And I intend to discover this mysterious thing called passion, and proceed to feel it for something. I have a photographic memory. Unless I decide to remember it, it will stay as long as a normal memory, but if I “save it to my files”, it’s stored in my mind forever. It’s helpful for studying for exams.

As for looks, I’m around five feet, five inches. Not too tall, not too short. I have hair…Brown, thick, wavy. The length changes, which I assume is true for most people who are not wearing wigs. My eyes are possibly either blue or gray. Green in some lights, or at least that’s how they look in these old pictures I remember seeing a few years ago. I’ve got a few freckles, my nose turns up at the end. I needed braces at one time, but now my teeth are fine. Oh, and a few years back I got fit, which is British for hot, you twit. Or, that’s what people say. Boys mainly. I didn’t really notice the difference. Maybe people just started noticing. So I guess I’m attractive? I don’t really know, I’ve never been good at this sort of thing. The only thing I’m conceited about is my mental ability, I don’t really know what I look like aside from the basic facts. I can tell when other people are attractive, but with myself I have no idea. I guess that’s it. Oh, yeah, and I’m bisexual. That might make me pretty F*cking greedy, but I agree with the sliding scale idea of sexuality. One is straight, six is gay. Everyone is somewhere in between, very few people are exactly a one or a six. I couldn’t believe in that and be a straight girl, could I? I do lean more toward boys, and like them much more often, but the idea of a far-off, unserious relationship with a girl doesn’t bother me.
¬¬¬

“Have you had any trouble with the law?”

Um… yeah? You probably have my police file right there on that clipboard. But “Nooo” they said. “Make her explain her horrible, horrible actions herself.” Whatever. You trying to rank me? Decide what kind of security is needed? It won’t be easy. I’m not here for normal crimes. Not for what most of these kids got busted doing. I’ve never tried drugs or drinking, because honestly, it keeps your brain from maturing, and my brain is my best feature. I’ve been offered spliffs or cigs and said no straight out. Peer pressure doesn’t work on me. I don’t steal cars, or jewelry. I steal information. From the government. The American government to be precise, which is why I’m here instead of some British jail. I’m under their jurisdiction or something. Anyway, I got into their systems, and I got out with info they didn’t want civilians or other countries with large weapons to know. And, erm, I may have used it to blackmail said government. And possibly demanded obscene amounts of money… some of which I got transferred to a Swiss bank account in small amounts before they found me and busted into my room to take me in. They’re still trying to track it down, and they will eventually. I left a little trail for them to find. See, I didn’t want to do real damage. I was just bored. It was for fun. If I really wanted to mess with them, America would’ve been on its knees by now. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m conceited as shit. Just about my mental abilities. But I’ve got a right to be. So blackmail, hacking, conspiracy. Many, many counts of conspiracy. Oh, and when they put me in this prison for like a week while deciding what they should do with my sorry teenage ass, I planned and led a revolt that sadly didn’t succeed. We made it to the gates though. That sure showed their sorry scare tactics. Probably thought I’d be so freaked by the prison that I’d agree to anything. But no. So, I’m here. I think they’re intending to proposition me to work for some agency as a hacker when I get out. I don’t know if I’ll say yes. Basically, non-violent crimes, but on a governmental level. So, what’ll you do with that? Wherever will you put me?

“Why did you do it?”

Fun? Boredom? Lack of activities after finishing my homework? I dunno. It was fun. I regret absolutely nothing in case you were wondering. This is probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I get to go to a much more interesting school, I get to avoid jail, and I get to avoid my parents. What’s not to like? I’ll have plenty of time to explore the outside world once I’m eighteen and graduated. So, this is good. I did it because it was flippin awesome, and I’m sticking to that.

“What is the worst thing you’ve done?”

Most would say the blackmail. I personally think maybe the revolt. I didn’t hurt anyone myself, but some of those prisoners, they can get pretty violent. A couple of the guards got messed up. Not on my orders or anything, but my fault anyway. I don’t really mind. Only one death, and it wasn’t even an innocent person. A prisoner went after this guard that had been torturing her. So, I think it’s fine. On a global scale though, that would’ve been considered the worst, even if I don’t mind as much as I should. My therapist was right, huh? The apathy is creepy.

"What the thing you're most proud of?"

Oh god, getting past that firewall on the CIA’s computer system. It was so tough! It took me hours to crack. I stayed up all night. So, so worth it though. The feeling of pride once I got in? And juicy stuff in there, juicy stuff. I’m not legally allowed to tell you what it is, but let’s just say that some of those government conspiracy theories aren’t as crazy as we think. So, that was cool. I’m definitely proud of that.

"Got any vices?"

I forget to eat. For days sometimes. I’ll get really caught up in something, and just won’t eat or sleep or drink until I collapse. I’ve only woken up in the hospital around six times though, so it’s probably okay. And if I finish the thing before collapsing it’s no problem at all. But yeah, you want me to eat regular meals? You’ll have to tie me down and force feed me. Not happening. I’ll eat, just not as much as I really should. My appetite’s never that huge anyway, so it’s probably fine. You should maybe try to keep me drinking water though. Just like a little cup every few hours. That’ll keep me conscious longer. But sleeping and eating? I can go without for around a week. Maybe two. Though sometimes I’ll take short catnaps. And I mean really short. Two minutes, up again, but lots of them. You don’t have to worry about me doing that unless I get really into something though. Too bad I get caught up easily. *smirk*

“If you could change one thing about your life what would it be?”

Nada. My life’s pretty fantastic the way it is. I’m happy to be here, I’ve got a future either working for either the government, the freedom fighters or the terrorists, and I don’t have to deal with my boring and blah life ever again. I’m liking the idea of this school, and I’m happy with how things are going. I wouldn’t change a thing, except maybe how many things aren’t allowed at this school. Like my lovely laptop. I want her back. So go away.

“What act got you sent here and who recommended it?”

I told you that already you arse. I guess you have to ask everyone the same questions, then? Alright. I hacked into the CIA, blackmailed them for money, and got caught on purpose. Then I led a violent revolt in a holding cell. Hacking, or (Computer Crime). Blackmail. Conspiracy. In that order. Need I repeat myself again? The government themselves shipped me off to the school, which is why I think they plan to recruit me. Lock me away and waste all that talent? No way. I’m supposed to be grateful I didn’t get shoved into a cell to rot. Nah, I would’ve done fine in jail. Worked the angles, made my way to the top. I’m grateful I get to get out in a few years, and that I can escape Dullsville, that’s what I’m thankful for.

“Do you deserve to be here?”

Er, yeah? Haven’t we been over this? I deserve to be here, I’m fine with being here, and I messed with the CIA. I still don’t know how you’ll classify my danger level. I’m abnormal. Abnormal enough for this place? Abso-bloody-lutely. The government wants me here, so here I will stay. On my arse. Learning, making friends, all that freaky high school jazz. Maybe I’ll even join a sport. I don’t like sport, but it’s apparently mandatory for some reason. Do they really think running around a field will get our aggression out?

"Tell me about your life before B.A.D. contacted you."

What more is there to say? I lived with my mother, Tammy and my father, Ben. In a house. A fairly nice house at that. Pretty little neighborhood, pretty little picket fence, pretty little garden. Very “Stepford Wives”. In case you didn’t notice, I’m into American pop culture. British, and like Japanese too, don’t get me wrong. I just figured since you’re not a Brit, I should discuss this stuff. Only the cool things though, not like pop stars or actors or anything. More horror movies and cool trivia. Anywho. Neighborhood gave me the creeps. I don’t have any siblings. I have the dictionary half memorized from years of boredom. And the photographic memory may have helped too, of course. My parents thought it was great that I was smart, but wouldn’t let me skip grades because I needed to ‘develop social skills’. See how well that turned out? So, yeah, I did all my homework, but it was boring as hell. Nah, Hell would be far more interesting. The people down there, I’ll bet they’ve got stories. In Dullsville (also known as Ferryhill, England. No joke.) the people have no solid thoughts or ideas. They’re mush. They float around in the mist, unsolidified for eternity. Like jelly.

What else? I didn’t join any school clubs. Sometimes a group of friends and I would camp out in the “countryside”. That’s right. IN TENTS. Some of them, in the few times recently that I was allowed to touch my computer for a few monitored seconds, e-mailed me. They think what I did was the coolest thing ever. Well, yeah. I don’t think it was the coolest thing ever, but living in Dullsville, you take what you can get. Most of ‘em miss me, I think. All I want is my computer back, and for some of my closer friends to get dropped off in the next police car going this way. Preferably because of a really cool crime. Before, I had computer access all the time. I technically still will when I go here, but it’ll be a school computer, won’t it? Not as customizable, I can’t mess with it as much, and I bet there’s all sorts of firewalls. Hopefully ones I can work with, but you never know. And I just miss my old one. We went through a lot together, Avalonne and I. I want her flown in so I can see all the little scars of our time together. The knick on her screen from that CIA raid not so long ago. The missing “Z” key. I took it off myself to prove the pointlessness of “z” s to my friend who moved. I’m refusing to say his name, just in case he’s doing something illegal right about now. Anyway, there’s more history in that computer than there is in Ferryhill’s entirety.

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Elliot, Kayta, A.:

Race: British. Born an’ bred. Fine, technically Caucasian. But no. That’s borin’.

DOB and Age:April 22, 1994. Sixteen years of age.

Age admitted to Blackwood’s Academy: Admitted at sixteen, has been here around two months.

Grade: 11th grade.

Health issues: History of unexplained depression caused by a chemical imbalance (a surgery fixed the problem a while back, though there is a chance of relapse). Slightly abnormally high body temperature.

Other: I think I got it all down already…

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Your name: Rafi
How you found us: I have Ami.
Code word in the Rules: admin edit
Play by: Kaya Scodelario

[JEZ]

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