Joy Souris, born in Paris, France - distant cousin to Lait Souris.

As a young woman, she had a rebellious streak a metric mile long. Everything she did was to spite those around here, not the least of which were her parents. In college, studying mechanical engineering, she got involved with a rough crowd. This crowd was so rough, in fact, that they maintained a solid market on hard drugs - heroine being the big one. They had money and control over a certain niche of the student body, and Joy found she fit right in taking advantage of other people's bad habits.

Her crowd was found out, raided, arrested. When her parents saw her mug shot, it was the final nail in her coffin. Kicked out of her house and barred from her parents' income, she was forced out of college and onto the streets of gay old Paris. Love was an industry thriving in the old French country, and so she took to a bordello - as a rather striking young lady of generous hip proportion, she was rather popular and comfortable.

She stayed in that warm, sisterly environment for some years, never speaking to her family again. It was going well until some big shot came in and decided to forcibly take ownership of the place - the den mother was murdered and some hot-shot crime boss took over instead. Joy had the unfortunate pleasure of catching the cruel man's eye, and she was more or less forced into staying by his side indefinitely.

Of course, "indefinite" is simply a measurement of time imposed on one by someone else more often than not. Joy grew tired of the man's "love" quickly, to say nothing of the bruises and injuries suffered by his big, sadistic hands. She continued to play the part of his arm-candy, but began putting forth elaborate machinations by a conniving mind to bring that man down.Suddenly, rivals were getting his information - finances, tips on drug shipments, locations of arms warehouses. Joy sabotaged pick-ups and drop-offs, delayed important meetings, and caused havoc in her little corner of the European criminal underworld; and like a true mouse she went mostly unnoticed for a time.

One mistake and "Big Boss" caught on to her. She'd seen too much of his life, and so he decided her eyes were forfeit.

At that point, Joy cared rather little for what happened to her body - nothing was worse than what disgusting corrupt government officials and the lowest of the low scum of Paris had done fondling her and having her do some of the most depraved acts even by Asian standards. It hardly mattered, as she'd set into place all the pieces she needed to create a job opening right where her so-called boss and lover sat.

She was the one to put the gun in his mouth and decorate his den with the inside contents of his skull. She loved every second of it. The moment that happened, a large number of his assets became hers. She was rich and powerful in an instant. She opened the gates of Hell on those who once wronged her. When she decided they had suffered enough, she killed them herself.

She took things in a new direction. Sex and drugs were one thing, but wars were soon to be fought over petty differences. The real money was going to be in black market arms dealing and weapon development. Her newly gained empire shifted, and now operates less with flesh and herb, and more with assault helicopters and laser rifles.

Joy Souris was dead, as far as most records are concerned. Mère Morte, the Dead Mother, is the cold, cruel, cybernetically enhanced shell of what remains.

Art by Norithics