The Ferrari Files




Personal File: Agent Ferrari

Name: Agent Ferrari
Full Name: Ferrari 612 Mil


Notable Adversaries: The Vienna Gunner, Central Europe



In the early 1990's the Italian army was employing a high-end section of Ferrari R&D to develop a revolutionary new urban armored vehicle. The project was rated class A top-secret, and was situated in specially built army-owned underground facilities near Milan. Contact with the outside world was limited to a minimum, and there were often months between progress reports.

The project developed according to plans for the first few years. In the mid 90's, a new crime boss, The Vienna Gunner, was taking over all criminal activity in northern Italy. One of the Gunner's many schemes at the time was to poison the drinking water for a village and keep the antidote for a ransom. Without the antidote the whole village would become psychotic within a week. Ransom was paid and the antidote successfully distributed.

However, neither The Vienna Gunner, nor the local police, realized at the time that the same water basin was also supplying fresh water to the Ferrari underground research facilities. The gradual effects on the already eccentric scientists did not become apparent until they released their finished product several years later.

In spring 2000, Ferrari 612 Mil was showcased for the first time to a selected group of army commanders. Shocked, the military gave order that the Ferrari scientists were to immediately be taken into custody and put under psychological evaluation. Their conditions were in most cases irreversible, and many are still institutionalized.

Ferrari 612 Mil, a.k.a. Agent Ferrari, was classified as a sentient construct according to Italian law, and emancipated, with the appropriate licenses.

After having finally incarcerated The Vienna Gunner, and with the expiration of her Interpol contract, Agent Ferrari arrived in Paragon City on the New Year, 2003.



Agent Ferrari's body, although featuring the voluptuous curves of many of her predecessors, is covered with a nano-layered alloy that has so far defied analysis. Its specifications are lost in the tens of thousands of whimsical notes found at the underground research facilities at Milan. It exhibits a strength and a flexibility so far unknown in metallic compounds. High-tech ceramics make up most of the rest of her analyzable parts.

Agent Ferrari is not herself aware of all the details of her configuration, and there is no credible and complete documentation. Many features may be lying dormant, embedded under her impenetrable skin.

Ferrari speaks all major languages fluently, and is trained in all types of firearms and explosives. There are many anomalies in her AI, considering the mental condition of her programmers, but she seems stable. Here too, it's obvious that Ferrari is not fully aware of her capacity. New capabilities may be discovered over time.
Picture of Agent ferrari



Agent Ferrari Arrives In Paragon City!

PARAGON STAR -- 2003-01-01
by Camelia Carlson, staff writer

Fans were lining up to get a glimpse of the Italian crime fighter and celebrity press favorite, as she arrived this morning at Skyway International Airport. She dissapointed no one when she descended the airplane staircase wearing a black Armani suit, her red, high-polish features sparkling in the sunshine--and with none other than Georgio Armani himself by her side. She's been the most luminous star in southern Europe since her story broke only six months ago, with the expiration of her Interpol contract. Will she do as well in a city were brightly colored outfits and superpowers are a dime a dozen? This reporter says, Assolutamente!

After a few hectic but pleasant minutes with Ms. Ferrari in the airport press room, I understood that she is not the pet of the press in her home country because of her curvaceous exterior or impressive physical powers. It's all personality.

Although she speaks American English without accent--as well as BBC English, High German, and Imperial Japanese--she makes no secret of her love for her home country.

"Of course I'll try to find a place in the Italian part of the city. I need my ciabatta and my cappuccino in the morning, and my afternoon espresso. Well, unless I'm on assignment of course. I once spent three days staking out an underwater tunnel outside Sicily, and I swear, when we were done I had three cups of latte before I'd dried up." She lights a cigarette before continuing. "Actually, I'm not supposed to talk about work yet. I'm under confidentiality for the next 200 years. Oh, and this," she glances at her cigarette. "You shouldn't really be doing this unless you have double active-carbon filters. Please quote me on that."

She is not a hard person to interview, our newest hero. Another interesting fact about her is that although her broad-shouldered, 6'4 frame leaves no doubt that she's a 12-cylinder model, she is all girl. It may be her smooth feminine voice, or her unaffected manners, in either case she's the kind of woman you instantly want to become best friends with.

Which led me directly to the most important question I had in my note pad. Is there by any chance a man in her life at this time?

"Oh yes!" She barely conceals a giggle. "You must have seen Arturo, he's more famous than me!" Ms. Ferrari was of course referring to her Brittany pup, who has been on the cover of every major weekly in Italy over the last months.
"So far, he's the only one who's been able to keep up with me." I believe her. Interpol clocked her to 65 mph on a speed circuit in September, and she wasn't even pushing.

There have been rumors that several high-profile--some would say posh--super groups have unofficially expressed an interest in Agent Ferrari. She claims to know nothing about it.
"I haven't recieved any serious invitations and I haven't spoken to any groups. My contacts are more of a government or intra-government nature. But I'm not impossible." She smiles and brushes some cookie crumbs off the cuff of her silk shirt.

I'm about to ask where she plans to sleep tonight--and she reads my confusion.
"I need downtime, but only a few times per month. If I don't get my sleep I get lethargic. I need to defragment and optimize. But most of all I like to sleep, preferably late, and my morning frappe always tastes better when I have.

With that my time with the Automotive Amazon is up. I follow her out through the back door to the parking lot where her driver is waiting. He is on loan from the city. She carries her own luggage however. This is one lady who doesn't need help with the bags.

I'm sure we'll see more of you Ms. Ferrari, till then, corse felici!



From the case journal of Sef Smith, a.k.a. The Slave, leader of Last Defense.

I was getting my shackles on when she showed up at Atlas Park headquarters. She was wearing black slacks with suspenders and a shoulder holster, and a short-sleeved white dress shirt with a black tie. Looked Armanish. Leave it to an Italian superhero to make the rest of us look like dorks.

I haven't figured out yet why she decided to join Last Defense. She seems pretty uptown, and anyway, for what I hear she could take on some of the really powerful threats. But here she is. I told her we were going down to a shelter in Kings Row. They've had visits from Skulls the last week, and their clientèle has been afraid to come there since. Which means they're hanging out in alleys and backyards and doorways, which isn't helping any. Usually we show up in force, people see us and the shelters are left alone for a while. I told her it'd be a good way for her to see the areas we operate in and get a feel for how we do things. I can't stop thinking of her Armani outfit down there in the slum. I hope she's not afraid to get it wrinkled. But beggars can't be choosers, and with just the three of us, we sure as hell can use her on the team.

Walking toward the shelter, a big, red sedan passed us, honking, and clipping a trash can on the sidewalk. Skulls. Laura looked at me but I shook my head.
"They know we're here. They won't make any more trouble." I glanced over at Ferrari, walking in front of me, but she was talking to Bjorn, like nothing had happened.

Something was funny down by the shelter. Instead of the usual group of people smoking and chattering in front of the doors, there were two punks in leather jackets and Skull masks guarding them. They watched us calmly as we approached. Much too calmly. Before I had time to say anything, one of them spoke.
"This is the wrong day for you to come visiting, pops. Just go back home." His smile was much too big.
"Yes? Why is this the wrong day? You better not have hurt any of the people in there."
"As the man says, just leave, or there'll be trouble," he scoffed.
I grabbed his collar with one hand and lifted him toward me. His friend backed up and disappeared through the shelter doors.
"Now I think you're right. There will be trouble." I'd been waiting for that knife since I came up to him. I stopped it with my chain, put my hands together and swung it, hitting him on the chin and throwing him back against the wall. Then I wrapped the chain around his arm and yanked just enough to hear the wrist snap, the knife falling to the ground. We can't let ourselves be threatened by punks down here, or we'll be useless. I grabbed him around the throat.
"Now you will tell me why this is the wrong day for us to visit, or I will make you uglier than you are. What the hell is going on? Where are the people who live here?" I wrapped the chain around my fist and lifted it over his face. Warm metal closed around my arm.
"No." It was Ferrari.
"No? No what?" I snapped. "You have no idea how things work here. We don't deal with white-collar crime. We're not fighting some international crime syndicate! We're fighting the very grime and misery of this city. You just have no idea!"
"I know one thing." She looked at me calmly with those white, fluorescent eyes. "All I see around here is victims."
She was right of course. This kid's parents, if they are alive, probably live in some other shelter close by. Even the apartments aren't much better in this neighborhood. I pushed him away.
"I guess we'll have to find out for ourselves," I said as I kicked the door open.

Obviously, they were waiting for us, fingers on shotgun triggers. I leaped behind a desk. It wouldn't last long in this barrage. I peaked over the edge and looked around. Laura was nowhere to be seen. Good. A second later, one of the shooters was hit in the face with his own rifle. Bjorn was staring down the gunfire, trying to decide who to take on first. I waved to Ferrari who was efficiently putting bullets in non-lethal but painful places.
"Are these Skulls?" she asked, frowning.
"Don't look it to me," I yelled back. "Too neat, too good with the guns. Damn, we came here to make an interview, not fight the battle for Paragon City!"
"Yeah...Let's take a closer look at the back rooms. You ready?" I glared at her.
"Miss, I could be your great-great-great-great-great-great... whatever."
"I know, I heard. Let's go."
That's when the far wall came crashing down. There was a whirring of servo engines, and a shadow in front of us almost filling the hole in the wall.
"What the hell is that?" Laura shouted from somewhere in the room.
"Armed and armored hydraulic exo-skeleton, modified army standard issue." Ferrari reciting the manual.
"We can take it," Bjorn growled, throwing an unconscious shooter down among the trash.
"Are you fire proof?" Ferrari asked. "Those are flame throwers." The remaining hoodlums were scrambling for their weapons and scurrying out through windows and back doors.
"Not too good with fire," Bjorn said and backed away.
"Just get out of here." Ferrari flicked away her cigarette and put her revolver back in the holster. "Get out right now!" I hesitated for a second, until I noticed the machine's flame throwers turn in our direction. The last thing I saw before leaping through the door was Agent Ferrari walking toward the exo-skeleton, and whoever was in it. As I hit the ground outside, the windows shattered above me and glass shards and flames filled the air. When I looked up I realized the gangsters had us surrounded. Bjorn was mowing through them like there was no tomorrow. I had had enough of lying down for one day and joined the fray. As long as I stayed up close, they didn't have a chance. Behind us we could hear explosions and heavy gunfire, and the building was in flames.

A few minutes later the mobsters were all down. Laura was back among the visible and Bjorn was sitting down on the curb. We still heard the odd shot from inside the burning building. Then Ferrari appeared in the door frame. She was covered in soot and her clothes were hanging in smoking pieces from her body. She had an old man under her arm.
"Help me! There are people in the back!" Fire truck sirens filled the air.

The bad guys had been booked and taken away. The people from the shelter were being looked over. They would live, it seemed. Ferrari had somehow managed to keep the fire out of that one room. It was under control now, though the shelter would have to move. But they were used to that. Agent Ferrari was talking in a communications device.
"Just lucky. I would never have thought I'd find him this fast. Yes, I'm sure it's him. I'm sure. Don't worry about it. Yes, see you later." She put the device back in her belt. She smiled at me sheepishly while tearing off the charred remains of her clothes, just leaving some sort of fireproof training suit.
"I guess you won't be coming back with us to headquarters," I said.
"I'm afraid not." She sighed. "You know, got international crime syndicates to fight..."
"I know." I looked away.
"I'm sorry. If I'd suspected I'd find him this fast, I'd given you a heads up. I couldn't tell you..."
"I know. We really should be going."
"Sef." I looked at her, and her white, fluorescent eyes looked back at me. "If you ever need help, with anything, you just give me a call, okay? I'm serious."
"I know you are, Ferrari." I shook her hand.