Gypsy Queller Cinneide (pronounced: Kennedy) was born in Limerick, Ireland on July 13th, 1985. Literally "on the road" to their family's new home, the group of travelling Pikeys were constantly on the go. Her mother and father married when they were young and stayed together for all of their short lived lives. Gypsy was one of six other siblings. They were all boys, so it was easy for Gypsy to grow up not quite knowing how a female was supposed to act other than what her mother had shown her. The males of the family greatly outnumbered the females, and not just the family, but the large group of Pikeys that travelled with them. They were all considered family. They were a family based off of love for one another, honoring one another, and above all, respect for one another. Anyone that ever tried to come along and corrupt that stood the risk of revenge if not literal death. The countless number of unidentified bodies found burried all throughout Ireland had, in large part to do with the Cinneide Pikeys. No one was above family. No one messed with family. No one dishonored the Cinneide name. And certainly, no one disrespected their mother.

At the age of nine, Gypsy was already digging ditches, getting dirty with the boys, and loving life until one man changed everything. Her older brothers and their brutes were involved in a bad deal with a man. While asleep in her room, the man broke into the caravan and tried to rape Gypsy. She pretended to be asleep and as he stood over her body, she didn't know what else to do but suddenly open her mouth and bite down on his member he was about to shove down her sleeping throat. The tip was completely bitten off. She remembered the blood the most. As the screams began, her brothers came running into the room and took care of the man. Everyone knows what that meant... There was a new dirt mound in the morning outside where the recently used Pikey campground had been. They had packed everything up that same night to leave town once more. The next day her father bought her the first pair of guns she'd ever own. She still charishes them to this day.

All of the running and dirty business deals eventually caught up to the Cinneide family. They had gotten caught up in yet another bad deal. Only this time, things were more serious. The group they had come up against greatly outnumbered the Pikeys and soon enough their campground was pillaged, caravans burnt, and her mother savagely raped and murdered infront of her father who was tied down and forced to watch. Gypsy remembered waking up with no idea of what had happened. Only that her mother was dead and the family was never the same. Instead of days filled with laughter and nights with endless drinking binges and bonfires, the days were now filled with arguements and nights with restless watchmen. Life was changing. It only took a mere week before the same group came back to murder her father.

Her father was the Pikey's butcher. The miscreants would bring home meat and have him prepair it for them. Gypsy remembered sitting in the kitchen with her father for hours on end. Partially it was to spend time with her father, certainly that was how it started, but it quickly became a fascination with the type of blade her father used to cut the meat into slivers. She'd watch in awe, at how smoothly the pig's flesh would split in half with a single thrust of the blade onto the cutting block. The way her father used it was a skill all in it's own. Her fascination for blades started there and never left.

Gypsy moved to Hathian when she was 22 years old. It seemed odd that a 22 year old would move from all of Ireland to a small town in Louisianna. What drew her there was the employment opportunity. She had the chance of buying a run down tattoo shop in little Hathian for dirt cheap. She was trying to place her roots and finally establish herself somewhere after a life long of constant travelling, and this seemed like the perfect chance to get started on a new life. She felt miserable having went seperate ways from her brothers, but desperately seeked the change. She bought the Poison Apple Tattoo and Piercing Parlor and so it began.

Trying to leave an old lifestyle of corruption and chaos came back to bite her as she found nothing but on the streets of Hathian. Her first run in with a gang member was a man named Patrick Harp. She'd found him due to his own Irish background, and in a new place and missing home, she was determined to join his gang. The proposition ended with her kneecap getting shot because of her own stubborness not to back down until he'd say yes. Finally he'd returned to her, offering a chance at joining his gang if she'd collect information on a man named Tim Galloway. Gypsy did it kicking and screaming, never one to take orders from anyone, but was determined to join.

Collecting this information for Patrick was hard, but the job was done. It wasn't enough for the man. He'd then send her after a woman named Page Eames. Yet another initiation, nay- the run around- in order to get into his gang. But she'd do so regardless. She and Page fought outside of the Titty Twister, her first real fight in Hathian since leaving Ireland. And for the first time since moving there, she'd found someone that was capable of keeping up with her. Page Eames ended up seeing the same from Gypsy.

Her determination to get into the Deamhans gang turned to instant hate and distain for this Patrick Harp. The more she learned about him, the more she realized just how badly he was dishonoring his Irish name, and setting a bad example of what Ireland produced. Page Eames eventually approached Gypsy with the opportunity of joining another gang. One called the Rejects. She was about to be put through yet another initiation process, but this one seemed worth it.

Her tattoo shop was still in the beginning stages of creating it's establishment. It wasn't bringing in nearly enough money as it took to remodel it. She needed to find something else. She'd heard around town about a man named Stu Canning and eventually approached him about appearing in his magazine. This would mean posing nude for photographs, but Gypsy was not ashamed of her body. She didn't care enough about it to be ashamed of it. She did it willingly and the payout was the help she needed. She never did work for Stu again, but he never left her thoughts as their connection developed. They were both entrepreneurs and she respected that about him.

Eventually Gypsy joined the Rejects and remained with them for a large portion of her time in Hathian. Even as the ranks were moved around, the leader was shifted from one to another, she still remained faithful and honoring. It was all she knew, being raised to do so, but constantly battling the urge to do her own thing. She had a hard time taking orders, but was working on it for the sake of the gang. She always knew she was a leader, not a follower.

Meanwhile, her tattoo shop began to flurish, hiring on multiple tattoo artists and piercers. This began to produce the money Gypsy never relied on, but welcomed it willingly. She began to spend it on fascinations. Knives. Guns. Random torturing devices. Not that she would ever use them, she just liked to own them... right? Her collection grew vastly and thus the obsession began.

She had the Rejects to thank for a large part of her corruption. Not necessarily the gang itself, but the things she was allowed to get away with while running with them. The Rejects had the HCPD as allies so this opened a lot of doors for being creative in the ways she would seek out revenge on opposing gangs. She began to feel the power than came with torturing a person, knowing full well that she was the reason for their pain. Her mind began to corrupt on itself as it eventually grew worse and worse.

She finally offered her own dabble in drugs. Cocaine while on Lithium proved to be a turning point in Gypsy's life. It created an unhealthy unbalance in her natural chemicals, causing her to hallucinate, hear voices, and eventually, one in particular stuck around. Her name was Orly. Orly started out as a green fairy that had flewn out of the ear of one of her victims while on these drugs. She was green when she was happy, she was red when she was angry... The red fairy told Gypsy during a certain episode that the only way to make her happy was if she cut off all of her hair. Gypsy didso, almost to spite the fairy, but realized the comfort in having it tell her what to do. The fairy eventually grew into all different shapes and sizes. Some days she would appear to Gypsy as a mechanical robot, standing in the corner of rooms, as tall as the ceiling. This became the form Orly seemed to love to use. Eventually Gypsy completely gave into the insanity and began to listen to what she told her to do. Certain ways she'd tell her to torture her victims. Gypsy grew to love Orly. So much so, she sewed together with her own hands, a plushtoy of what Orly looked like. It was her plushbot named Orly. It gave Orly a place to reside. Gypsy's psychotic mind only grew worse from there.

The pivitol turning point for Gypsy was roughly half a year living in Hathia. She could barely remember killing a young boy. She didn't remember if there was a reason or not. She only remembered flashes. Here and there. She remembered that if it wasn't him it would have been her- or atleast that's what Orly had led her to believe. She danced down the streets in a white dress, covered in his blood. Her entire body was covered in the young boy's blood. Those who cared for her remained worried as she wouldn't speak to them, only to Orly- the voice in her head. The hospital eventually got the call that there was a woman walking barefoot around Hathian, covered in blood and offering no answers as to what had happened. It ended with her getting carried away on a stretcher in a straightjacket.

Gypsy spent a month and a half in the psych ward. It wasn't too long, but certainly long enough to wreak havok, as she always did, anywhere she went. While in there, she coarsed one of the guards to kill himself, talking him through the process as she did so, while also getting into her therapist's head until he became the subject, she the doctor asking the questions.

After being released, she got back into the world, tried to start her life over, only the darkness inside of her continued to call out. She left the Rejects officially, feeling as though they had not caught up to her. That the psych ward had slingshot her to a whole new level and they were left behind in the dust. There was one face she remembered even before going into the psych ward and it was that of a man named Patches String. She was so mesmorized by him that she made it a point to find him after getting out. He seemed to have the only answers to the craziness going on inside of her head. A shootout and a fire at the Daily Grind later, and Gypsy was in the getaway car that drove Patches and herself to their hideout where she tended to his wounds. She joined his gang of clowns after that, causing havok on the city with a painted face for a while until leaving them.

Although her run with the Joker's Delirium was short lived, she'd learned to embrace who she was... a psychotic woman with many internal issues. Once this was realized and accepted, she was free. She finally became a free Mercinary up for the highest bidder. Whoever wanted to hire her to do their dirty work could do so. This brought the opportunity of going after anyone and everyone without her own reason or need. She'd hack up one person one day, and the next, the same person she'd hacked up would call and offer her more to go after the person who'd sent her after them... She created chaos with each step she took.

In the meantime, four of her six brothers had heard she'd moved to Hathian and came to join. They resided with her and she couldn't have been more excited about having her family around her once again. It brought back a peice of her that she hadn't even realized she had lost. That sense of unity. That sense of family. That sense of honor and love.

Love was something else entirely. She had a few tiffs here and there, but nothing serious. That is, until she met Travis Morrison... He was a tattoo artist at her parlor. There was just something that made they click. Almost every time they spoke to eachother they were bickering about something, but it always left Gypsy with wanting more of him. Eventually they decided to give a relationship a shot. They put the "fun" in "dysfunctional". They were the epitomy of dysfunctional. Both sets of neighbors learned to shut the doors and the windows when they knew one was at the other's house or apartment as they were always yelling about something.

Her Mercinary business began to grow and so did the need of assistance. She began hiring on women as assistants with the cover of working for her at the Poison Apple Tattoo Parlor, but in all actuality, they were doing a lot of Gypsy's dirty work. She'd send them to follow her targets, gain all the information possible to help plan the best line of attack. She'd even make them run tasks such as cleaning up the blood after a torture session, or even delivering body parts back to her victims in pretty packages such as a finger in a tub of chocolate chunk ice cream. The woman was demented and the women she took on as assistants were merely women she saw the potential of the same demented mindsets as her own. They merely needed to be shaped, molded, and created into who they were meant to be, just as Gypsy had done for herself.