Spotless
Her first memory was of riding down the freeway on her cycle. She didn't know where she had come from. She didn't know where she was going. The longer she thought about it, the more afraid she became. Reaching for a fixture on her motorcycle, she pulled it out, attaching it to a slot in her skill. She didn't know how she knew to do this, but she knew other things too. How to fight. How to drive. How to survive. The only thing she didn't know was who she was.
Hello, said her motorcycle as her device created the link to it.
Who am I?
I cannot answer that. It seems all of your memories have been scrubbed, as has all of my stored data concerning you. I only know that I am your friend, and I shall be your steel horse.
And so from there, she began anew. She searched for echoes of her past to no avail. She searched for allies with a little more luck. The emptiness inside her was kept a guarded secret, for she knew it was a weakness. She couldn't let people take advantage of her or blame her for a past she knew nothing of. All she had was her guns, her motorcycle, and a hole where everything should be. She was spotless.