Born Sierra Michaela, Trigger grew up amidst the ruins of the Barrens with her older brother, Peter. While she was born to two troll parents, Trigger was born human. With the hope that she would goblinze properly at puberty on everyone's minds, they raised her as they would any of the other troll children, even if she was the runt of the litter, so to speak. Her parents were members of an all troll biker gang. The children grew up quickly, as is like to happen in the rough environment the Barrens offers, but there was no shortage of adults around to keep an eye on the youngsters and keep them from dying young, especially important for the thin skinned girl who was always getting bruised up. Her earliest play things were the discarded junk that found its way to the wastelands, things the children would usually fashion into weapons. Being unable to wield the things the other children could, Sierra's weapons were often small, but she became good with them none the less. They were given as much of a childhood as could be had, which is to say, not much of one. They had a lot of freedom to run and explore with the few others that had been born to the gang. They all grew up to become the next generation of bikers, all except Peter.
“I don’t know why you want to know about Peter. Why do you even give a fuck, anyway? Once, I had a brother. Now, I don’t. It’s pretty simple. Nothing to get your gun all jammed up about. I’m not the only one in this neighborhood to be missing a sibling or three. Mine just went missing. There was this one kid, watched his brother get murdered right in front of him. Better than you have asked. They don’t have the answers either. Just leave it. Really.”
Sierra was ten years old when the comet came, lighting up the blackened sky. She didn’t stop playing long enough to notice it trailing over their heads in the night, never having taken much interest in things like the stars. That would change for her shortly, would in fact become a lifelong obsession as she hunted for some sign, any sign, of her brother.
“You think you know what it feels like? I’ve looked into the faces of some of the nastiest critters that you would ever want to see. A lot of the things I hunt? They have no business being here. But the corporations, well, they do all kinds of work that they don’t want you to know about, hell, that you don’t want to know about. And when things go wrong, their precious pets get loose. And that’s where I come in. But nothing, none of the things I have ever stared down have come close to the sheer horror of what I remember from the night Peter disappeared. And to be honest, I don’t remember much. But what I do remember, was that feeling of darkness, that pit of black, like, it went on forever. There is nothing I have ever come in contact with that has scared me like that, created that sense of terror. Trust me. I’ve tried.”
The comet wasn’t the only thing that came that night. They came, screaming with a fury that left Sierra’s ears bleeding. Whether they came for Peter or whether he happened to be something they decided to pick up along the way, there’s really no way to know. Trigger has certainly spent enough nights starring up at the stars asking ceaseless unanswered questions. Either way, no amount of fighting to keep him solidly at her side would have been successful, but it didn’t stop the years of feeling like she had failed him. Perhaps if she had been bigger, stronger, better...perhaps if she had been a troll instead of a scrawny human girl.
She never stood a chance. No one does. Not when the Wild Hunt tears across the sky and takes what they choose, leaving only devastation in their wake.
“I picked up a bow for the first time shortly after that. I saw one. One of them. There was a bow. I figured… I thought, well, if I could use their weapons, I could get Peter back, right? Ten year old logic for you. But I was good with it. It was one of the weapons I could actually use, even back then, before I looked like this. And people started noticing. They found me better parts for bigger and better bows. It wasn’t long before I was wielding a pretty impressive bow for my size back then. And I started fighting, really fighting around that time, too. I demanded full rights when I was eleven. They said no, being as I was both too young and still human. I asked again at 12 and at 13. It wasn't until I became a troll shortly before my 14th birthday that they agreed to let me try. I was still too young to be officially jumped in, but I said fight me for it. So they did. And I won.”
Sierra earned her gang name, Thunder, from the sound that came when she fought. She insisted on using the bow instead of guns, but she proved herself good with it, gaining strength and accuracy with each year that passed. She stood out amongst the other gangers, first for being the only human girl in an all troll biker gang, and then for being a young female troll gang member who used a bow. Her goblinization was difficult, and without proper medical insurance, there was little that could be done to ease her transformation. She endured it best she could, sometimes simply crying, other times screaming as her body grew nearly two feet and she gained 200lbs of lean muscle. The horns were the worst though, the pain in her head nearly unbearable. She was confined during the process and lost touch with many of her friends outside the gang. Finally it was through and Thunder was completely unrecognizable from the girl she had been.
She became obsessed with getting her brother back. She did as much research as she could on the Wild Hunt. Problem was, no one could tell her much she didn’t already know. She searched the night sky every single night. But there was nothing, never a single sign of Peter or of those who had taken him. She grew stronger, and better, and solidified her reputation as someone that you didn’t fuck around with. She worked out constantly, putting on even more muscle and she honed her skill with her bow, the size of which had increased significantly. But behind it all, she searched for Peter.
“The hunting, it sort of started on accident. I killed things anyway, good way to pick up some extra nuyen and necessary to keep the area around our turf clear. Then people started coming to me. I earned a bit of a reputation for it, taking the jobs other people didn’t want to touch. It keeps me sharp. Bows are silent when they kill. Hunting people isn’t really any different. People tend to hold still longer. Bit of an advantage, actually. I have to keep my skills sharp. I have to be ready. For when they come back.”
