ecker, RACHEL
born: jan 1, 1945 (76 years old) appears: 45 years old zodiac: capricorn hometown: Manhattan, NY ability: rapid regeneration
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bio – tw: torture
Rachel’s parents escaped Copenhagen right at the start of the war, coming to American with connections from an uncle who’d moved a handful of years prior.
They were considered lucky, by all accounts, despite the fact most of their family perished in Denmark, having been taken to camps.
New York was as good a place to settle as any and the Eckers began their family 5 years after moving to the states.
Rachel was born on a cold winter night, in the early hours of a new year and for a while, things were good. Sure, her father had been a respected banker before now relegated to working in a local shop and even if her mother had been a housewife before, she didn’t mind her new job as a seamstress.
It was a simple life, but Rachel was brought up with care and love and the knowledge that her parents had narrowly escaped a very different fate.
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The first signs of change came when Rachel was eight years old. She and some other children were playing on the sidewalk, chasing a ball when it went into the streets and Rachel dove after it. She didn’t see the car, and the car didn’t see her.
She was like a rag doll, flying through the air. The pain was immense and hope was slim. Her parents came running, on their way to rush her to the hospital when they noticed her arm wasn’t quite bent the wrong way anymore...and her broken nose didn’t look as crooked as before...the blood was lessening, her collar bone straightening, her knees mending and her breathing evening ou.
To say it terrified them was an understatement as the first real signs of Rachel’s ability showed themselves.
They said it was a miracle, that God had saved their daughter the way he’d saved them. There’d been too many witnesses to deny it had happened but, thankfully, no witnesses to see their daughter’s body heal itself. Their local doctor, a family friend, had no explanation apart from a miracle as well and so...they believed it.
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As years went on, however, it was clear that Rachel was not normal and as more things began to show themselves, the stricter her parents became. They were terrified of what might happen if someone were to see what she could do –– how she healed, and so they did everything they could to protect her from harm.
She wasn’t allowed to play with other kids anymore, wasn’t allowed to do anything that might remotely cause injury (biking, running, swimming). They kept a tight leash out of fear and eventually, it pulled too tight.
Rachel rebelled and it cost her more than she knew.
She was sixteen and went sledding with friends late one night, past her curfew, and certainly not approved by her parents.
So when she was sent flying off the sled, into a light post, the secret was out. Her arm had broken in two places but was setting itself right within minutes and the deep cut on her head stopped bleeding far too fast as it knit itself together.
Rachel begged her friends not to say anything, trying to explain that her injuries only looked worse than they’d been.
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The whispers started shortly thereafter. It was only a mater of time before people came and when they did, there was nothing to be done to stop them.
Rachel remembers waking up to her father’s voice shouting at someone to stop before a hand went over her mouth and darkness filled her vision.
When she woke up, it was on a cold table in a sterile room that became home for the next four years.
Even she can’t recall everything that went on, what she went through. Still, memories come to her in dreams, the glint of a blade before it was lowered, cutting from her sternum down to her naval. The sensation of ribcages being cracked open, of organs being poked and prodded, all while they kept her awake. Sedated but aware. Blinded by pain, but unable to succumb to it.
For four years this went on and her spirits broke, along with the others there. Mutants. Abominations. Spawn of Satan. Words that weren’t so different from those spoke overseas not so long ago.
There didn’t seem to be an end in sight until one day she was on the table when the tools began shaking, when the lights started to flicker and anything metal went flying.
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Rescue seemed a foreign concept –– a distant dream that would never actually happen so when it did...Rachel wasn’t sure how to process it. She and the others rescued from the government facility were told of a way to make things right, an organization that would care for them and fight for them so long as they fought for it.
Her parents had been killed the night they came for her. She didn’t have anyone else and despite not knowing where she fit in...Rachel knew that peace was a lie. Her family had exchanged one horror for another in America. The promise of freedom hadn’t been made to them and she didn’t think it ever would. So she joined, having no where else to go.
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headcanons
She speaks English, Danish and German primarily growing up. Over the years she’s learned Hebrew, French and Spanish.
Rachel began noticing her aging, or lack thereof, when she was thirty, still looking like she was in her early 20s.
She’s filled many roles for the Brotherhood over the years, first as a recruiter, later as a fighter. It turns out that her inability to be mortally wounded (and succumb) made her an ideal candidate to go on certain, more dangerous missions.
She changed her name upon joining the Brotherhood to Rachel Howell and 15 years later took on Rachel Ecker again.
Rachel was never able to bury her parents but was able to reclaim some of their items through a third party from their landlord who’d kept several of their belongings. Their deaths had been ruled as part of a home invasion, with Rachel presumed kidnapped.
She feels most at peace outside, having dreamt about freedom those first years she’d been a lab rat and she still doesn’t keep any door completely shut.
She “left” the Brotherhood in a formal capacity in 2000, but still supports their cause in other ways.
