Art by Christina Cartwright

Birth Name

Dinah Geof-Craigs

Born

February 12, Year Unknown

Died

April 3, 2009

Abilities

The full nature of this Dynamistress’s abilities are unknown. Like her namesake, she generates considerable energy, which is released as plasma bursts, with an electrical aspect. She also allegedly has the ability to teleport others, although this was never verified.

Affiliations

None known.

Biography

Dinah was from a parallel Earth discovered during what is known as “The Nevada Incident” or “Project Echo.” Like her namesake, her abilities were jump-started by her own genetic manipulation. She later embedded a sort of “circuitry” into her flesh, to better channel the energies for her use. She became addicted to painkillers as a result of this surgery. She contracted a form of cryptococcal meningitis from a creature in her world. That creature had been destroyed, so she was unable to successfully develop a cure from its genetic material. She was able to treat it to some degree with other medications of her own creation.

Personality

The predominant trait of her personality was, in fact, the result of her meningitis, which affected her mind. She had bouts of “madness,” where she would hallucinate, become paranoid, and otherwise take leave of her senses. Sinta, however, was able to see past this and became quite close to the woman.

Excerpt from Redemption

I emerged on the other side of the portal, my arm cocked and surging with power, ready to send flying anyone or anything that might be waiting. But there was no threat to greet me.

It was as I remembered it – the book cases, the computer desk. But it wasn’t exactly the same. For one thing, the computer monitor was active. A screen-saver scrolled a string of letters – G O B A G – across the monitor’s face. Paperwork lay scattered across the desk, in the form of spiral-bound notebooks, sticky notes, and scraps of various sizes. Several empty mugs sat near the keyboard, and the stench of coffee dregs was acrid in the air. On the floor near the desk was a large duffel bag, zippered shut.

I looked back at the portal, frowning at its noise. It was thrumming and knocking like an MRI, much louder than its counterpart on the other side, in my world.

“You get used to it,” came a voice from behind me, sending a chill down my spine. I spun, energy flooding into my forearms, ready to blast forth with a thought. But I held it in check.

My other-self stood calmly in the doorway at the far end of the room, leaning casually against the door jamb, a steaming cup in her hand. I took in the image, letting the energy subside from my hands. This was the first time I’d seen “myself” in person. And it wasn’t a pretty sight.

It wasn’t the spiky, shag haircut, which I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing. It wasn’t the searing white tendrils of energy that flickered from her eye sockets, obscuring her eyes. Rather, it was the circuitry embedded in her flesh. It was in her face, and I could see it trailing down her neck, disappearing under the red blouse she wore. It ran up her arms from her hands, vanishing under the sleeves.

My feelings must have shown, because she nodded and said, “Yes, it was very painful.” She took a sip from her cup. “And no,” she continued, “it wasn’t worth it.” She gave a grim smile. “But it does work,” she said. “Once the surgery was complete, my ability to control my energy flow increased dramatically. Recovery times were halved.” She shook her head. “But still not worth it.” She nodded toward me. “Nice outfit. It looks good on us.”