Your name is Rachel Torres, age 27. You had long, flowing black hair, usually braided, dark brown eyes and an athletic, yet voluptuous figure. You were a reasonably friendly, easygoing and cool-headed young woman, though you did have a somewhat aggressive and rebellious attitude, and was also a bit of a tomboy at heart, yet was also cold, hardened and fearless. You were also smart, tough, bold, daring, headstrong, ambitious and wasn't afraid to take on a challenge or get your hands dirty. You were also streetwise and knew how to handle yourself. You were also a rather gifted mechanic and a natural behind the wheel, and was also an ace markswoman and an expert in hand-to-hand combat. You grew up in Chicago, Illinois with your parents. You owned a black 1967 Chevy Camaro.
Unfortunately, you had a difficult upbringing. As a kid, you were frequently bullied in school, and would often pick fights with some of the other students, which would usually get you into trouble. You discovered your passion for cars when you were 14, along with your talent as a mechanic, and eventually fell in with some car enthusiasts' in high school. At age 15, your parents convinced you to join the high school swim team, and you turned out to be quite a talented swimmer.
However, during your senior year at age 17, you wound up getting kicked off the swim team after being falsely accused of using steroids. After investigating the matter, you discovered that the most popular girl in school, Stacy Wells, had started the rumor to set you up out of spite. When you confronted her, you wound up savagely beating her to within an inch of her life. Though you narrowly avoided being charged, the incident did result in you getting expelled from school.
Your parents, desperate to keep you from falling in with the wrong crowd, decided to enlist you in the US Marines when you turned 18. You wound up thriving in the Marines, serving as a combat specialist and munitions expert, and received multiple commendations. After serving in the Corps for 9 years, you were eventually discharged at age 26.
Unfortunately, things had been hard for you since you left the Marines. You were living in a run-down apartment, and had been working a dead-end job as a mechanic at a local body shop, though your boss was an absolute jerk who paid you next to nothing, and often treated you like dirt, much to your frustration. You eventually began participating in the local drag races as a way to supplement your income, but was often cheated out of your winnings. Deciding that you needed a fresh start, you packed your bags and hit the road.
After spending a couple of weeks on the road, you eventually wound up in Los Angeles, California. You drove through the streets of Santa Monica, taking in the sights. You were wearing a black leather jacket over a dark grey tank top, a pair of dark green camouflage cargo pants and a pair of white sneakers, along with your military dog tags around your neck. You had some spare clothes and a few personal belongings packed in your old Marine-issued duffel bag, which was stowed away in the trunk of your Camaro. After cruising through Santa Monica for a little over an hour, you eventually came across,