Tyche Spiros
Real Name: Tyche Elene Spiros
Age: 16
Identity: Public
Birthplace: Santa Monica, CA
Date of Birth: 29 August 1994
Known Relatives: Marchios Spiros (Father), Carry Helena-Spiros (Mother)
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 120 lbs
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Brown
Grade: Freshman
Dorm: Rider Hall

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Once outgoing and self-confident, Tyche's time spent in psychiatric hospitals has left her confidence shaken. She is still friendly and caring, but allows herself to second-guess her decisions and actions. Tyche maintains a reasonably extroverted personality, with the occasional need for personal space that interjects her life at random intervals. She lacks the normal curiosity a girl her age might normally have, although not for a lack of creativity: she simply prefers drawing to asking questions. For all that she might avoid too-close attachments, Tyche cares deeply about all living beings, and will go out of her way to help someone in need.

Tyche does not have sole control of her mental state, however. The soul-meld which triggered her own latent mutation also left another mind partially within her own. She is inhabited by the spectre of a woman who no longer remembers her own name or where she is. This spectre is selfish and defensive, and attempts to influence Tyche's actions toward the negative. Usually, Tyche ignores the spectre, but sometimes the Spectre takes control.

RP Hooks

  • Tyche is the only child of a famous Rock Star! See the Silver Bullets tab for more information.
  • Tyche loves to draw. She can frequently be found just about anywhere on campus, curled up with either a sketchpad or her iPad, drawing or looking at art.
  • Tyche drives a sexy car. You know you want to beg her for a ride into town.
  • Tyche lives in Rider Hall! Do you?
  • Tyche is fairly rich, and while she's frugal with her own spending, she's generous with gifts for her friends. You could be her friend, too!


Go ahead, tell me I'm a spoiled brat. It's okay, I've heard it before, and it doesn't bother me to hear it again. I'm not sure whether the brat part is true, but I've certainly grown up in the lap of luxury, as it were. With bands like Led Zeppelin and Aerosmith still popular years after their decline, and Metallica at the height of their stardom, Rock was extremely popular in the late eighties and early nineties. And that is the world I was born into. Marchios Spiros was the lead singer for the Silver Bullets; another band that everyone said would make it to the top. And sure enough, they did. By 1992, they had already released their second album, and three songs had made the top of the charts.

I don't know exactly where my mother came into the picture. It's not that they hid it; it's just a topic that never really came up in conversation. I do know that in 1994, she had been working as his makeup artist for two years — a side job to pay the bills while she worked on her real artistic passion: photography. Oddly enough for a lead singer, Marchios married Carry when he found out she was pregnant, and in late August 1994, I came into the picture. By that point, Marchios Spiros and his Silver Bullets were world-famous. They toured in two countries a year — not including their US Tour — and left more money at home to their wives-slash-groupies than they could ever hope to spend in a year. And yet still most of those wives spent the money; but not Carry Spiros.

I suppose, then, it is to my mother that I can accredit my practicality and frugality. I mean of course I wear hip and trendy clothes, buy Armani sunglasses, and drive a BMW, but I've never been big on gaudy jewelry, I don't have to have every new gadget that comes out, and I certainly don't have a butler. I can do my own laundry, and even cook my own food — astounding, I know. But that's the only reason why Marchios Spiros remains a rich public figure, while the rest of his bandmates are retired and just making do.

But you wanted to know about me, and I keep talking about my parents. I'm sorry; I'll try to come back on track. I guess I just don't find my life all that interesting, really. The late nineties, I was too young to remember. The early two thousands, though, I spent most of my time in private schools, learning to read and write just like every other American kid. I suppose what really made me different is that my father was always off on some tour or another, and I got to stay home with mom and "help" her with her paintings. I guess I didn't help her much back then, but as I grew and learned, I became an artist myself. I learned to love drawing, painting, sculpting Play-doh — anything I could do with my hands that would let me create.

By the time I'd hit Middle School, I was no longer a little girl. I'd grown from being one of America's children of the rich, to one of America's teenage models. I had been contacted by a modelling agency about the time I'd started puberty, and they wanted to use me in commercials, magazines, and other venues. I never got to be a covergirl, but my face was in a lot more places than most covergirls ever manage. Between 'work' and school, though, my time was limited. I found myself longing for some time for myself.

So colour me surprised when my father announced he was taking me on tour with him late in 2008. It was to be the final tour for Silver Bullet, but as a fourteen year old girl, it was a novel and wonderful experience for me. And it wasn't a tour of the states, either. Daddy took me to Europe, where the band was doing a Tour through Spain, France, Italy, Greece, Turkey, and Georgia. It wasn't expected to be a high-gains tour; it was mostly just an excuse to relax and take a vacation, and for me that's exactly what it was. I hadn't spent a whole lot of time with my father throughout the years, so this tour was doubly a special trip for me. For six months, I was tutored privately throughout southern Europe, with no commercials, no magazines, and no fuss. I got to be a girl again.

But we were in Georgia when they decided to retake South Ossetia. We were near the conflict; near enough that I watched a woman get hit in the crossfire. She bled to death in my arms, as I tried to stanch the flow of blood. While she bled, I heard her voice in my head. She was panicky and afraid, and she reached out with her latent mutation to communicate with me without realising it. Worse, when she died, her mind was still in mind, and the trauma of that incident fused our souls.

Having another voice in your head takes some getting used to. Most people who find themselves mutated get that time. I was not so lucky. When I returned to our hotel, my father saw the blood on my shirt and flipped out. I tried to explain what had happened, but it only made matters worse. After all, only crazy people hear voices, right? Nevermind that metahumans have existed for a long time; that didn't matter to Marchios Spiros. The tour was called short, for me. He went on to finish it, and I got to go visit the family psychiatrist with a note from daddy.

The Psychiatrist was convinced that metahumans were going to destroy society. Thus, 'voices in my head' and 'special powers' meant 'we need to keep you a few days to run some tests'. I'm not quite sure how two years qualifies as a few days, but somehow it did where I was concerned. I remained in a mental hospital under constant supervision and anti-psychotic drugs until my mother finally intervened.

I was to be sent to Maryland, to some school I had never heard of, to learn to use my powers. My doctor convinced her I should still be on the medicine, but at least I was going to be allowed some free reign. I'd already lost my modelling career, now they were going to ship me off to the middle of nowhere, where I couldn't disgrace the family anymore. Go figure, I'd gone from popular and famous to the black sheep. And I get to start as a Freshman, since I missed two years of school. Just great!

But you know, this place doesn't seem so bad. Sure it's middle-of-nowhere, sure it's old and lacks a good shopping mall. But at least I can go to the bathroom without being watched. Maybe I can get away with not taking my medicine. Maybe I can try to figure out what's in my head.

But you know what I miss most? In'n'Out. Someone please send me a Double-Double?


(Interactive Muse)

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