As far as Nikola knew until recently, he was born in 2233 in late October, to a bland middle-class family. Third of four children, he spent his childhood getting into trouble, learning to get places he shouldn’t have been and generally making a pest of himself to distinguish himself from his athletic older sister and bookworm older brother. This seemed to change once he hit high school, outwardly reforming into a model student and studying hard to graduate, while maintaining his antics late at night to become a very minor urban legend in his sector of the city, his behavior attributed to a small gang of young thugs.
He flushed out of the testing to go to a proper university, and managed to convince a friend of a friend that his talent for getting other youths to cause trouble could be wrapped around to keep troublemakers under control, landing him a job at Siffid as a low-end project manager for Wielding research – something he’d previously had no interest in. It wasn’t long before he started to realize exactly how useful Wielding could be to a sneaky burglar, and so he started filching copies of research material and studying in his off time, until the day about five years ago when he managed to create a spark of electrical energy that destroyed a cheap paper cup. He kept practicing in secret, worried that someone would catch him and out him as a Wielder to the phobic public, while slowly implementing his theory of using Wielding to aid his midnight excursions – baffling cameras with darkness to let him slip past to rob small businesses with poor security.
He kept it up for a few years, careful to keep his strikes spread out and fairly infrequent to keep from being caught, when Atrevan showed up in his project listing. Clearly more than a little bonkers, he hit it off with Nik fairly readily, as both of them thought Wielding could do a lot more in the world than it did at present. Nik carefully shaved funds from his other projects to channel to Atrevan’s use, never quite aware of the strange methods and ideas the other man was putting to use until the day it quite literally blew up in their faces; on September 9, 2260, the two made an escape from New Denver while the laboratory they were assigned to burned itself out in a raging white-hot fire; Atrevan with little but the clothes on his back, Nik carrying both funds looted from Siffid and some of the high-tech gear he’d carefully pieced together for his late night excursions.
The fact that most of these memories, if not all of them, are completely false has made him more than a little edgy, these days.