Veronica was born in Laguna Niguel, California in 1982 to loving and affluent parents, renowned neurologist Keith Sawyer and his wife, Alma, a professor of geology at a local university. Not surprisingly, Veronica was a precociously bright child who did exceedingly well in school. Most of their family friends assumed that she would go into the sciences like her parents, and for a while, it seemed following in her parents' footsteps was her intent.
In high school, Veronica was the "it" girl — popular, pretty, bright, and perhaps surprisingly, a genuinely nice person. Veronica, despite being the girl everyone wanted to be like and dress like, was kind to most people. She was a firm believer in her father's philosophies on life — and one of those beliefs was that people who were lucky enough to be born with talents or unnatural beauty or charisma should never take them for granted, or look down on those without the same special gifts. "It's not," he told his daughter, the first time she had said something unkind about a classmate, "like you had to work for what you have. So he has to work a little harder. Don't make fun of his efforts." The gentle reprimand molded the little girl into being the young woman he hoped she would be, rather than the spoiled and elitist snob he feared she might become.
Everything seemed to be going her way — socially, personally, academically. She was loved by her fellow students, earning such popularity awards as ASB President and Homecoming Queen without even campaigning. The yearbook gave her the nickname "Female Ferris Bueller, but with Perfect Attendance." By the middle of her senior year, she had already been accepted to her father's alma mater, UC Berkeley, where she hoped to study biochemistry. But that was when all that she had planned for, all that her parents had worked for, came crashing to the ground.
Veronica knew something was wrong immediately when the principal himself came to pull her out of class — she'd never been picked up early a single day in her life. He walked with her to the office, where her uncle was waiting to take her home. Her father had been killed in some freak attack at the hospital. One of his neurology patients had apparently pushed him out the window of his office on the eighth floor.
Her mother was devastated, and turned to drinking and prescription drugs to deal with the pain. Without her father (and for all practical purposes, her mother) Veronica lost interest in science and medicine: Part of the excitement in pursuing a career in the sciences were the medical ethics debates they would have over dinner. Her happy home had turned into a mausoleum, haunted by the memories of the life they once had.
Several long months passed, and at last it was time to escape to college. Without discussing it with her mother, Veronica changed her major from biochemistry to double major in criminal justice and psychology with a minor in Spanish. Berkeley was a welcome change, and she only visited her mother at Thanksgiving and Spring breaks. She took intercession classes when she could, and graduated magna cum laude. The bright girl who could have been a great doctor was on the list of headhunters all over the country — every law enforcement agency with an opening wanted an interview with the once-more "It Girl." FBI? CIA? She apparently was going to have her choice.
Living off of guilt money given to her by her "absentee mother," Veronica spent the summer in Berkeley in no particular hurry to join the real world. After all, the world was her oyster; she could take her time to take the best offer, get the best possible position for the most money — though granted, money was never going to be much of an issue for her. Her father had made sure of that. One day, she received a phone message for yet another interview. Ambiguous, it didn't give the name of the agency, but simply gave a public place to meet and "talk about the opportunity." Veronica was intrigued and curious, and headed off to meet up with stranger at the time and place indicated: a park bench in the park.
There, she was approached by a strange man who only gave his name as "Agent Moore," who handed her a file. Inside was evidence alleging that Veronica's father had been killed by a man with telekinesis. The man's wife, a Mrs. Sheryl Biard, was being treated by Dr. Sawyer for a brain tumor. The Biards had been told that the tumor was inoperable and terminal. In anger, Biard threw Sawyer out the window. The Biards had fled before being caught. Montgomery Biard was still at large, though a death certificate for his wife, Sheryl, was filed a year after Sawyer's death.
For the first time, Veronica became aware of the existence of Evolved humans — and in her mind, they were dangerous. Agent Moore, unbeknownst to her, was also Evolved — he had the power of suggestion, so every word, every aphorism he spoke about the Company rang true in her mind. She was necessary for the safety of good citizens who needed her help. That these people needed to be studied for their own good. That she would be doing what was best for all humanity. That if she didn't join them, more good people like her beloved father could be killed.
She joined — shocking everyone who expected her to be a CIA or FBI agent, but instead taking a job with a company seemingly unworthy of her talents: Primatech Paper. The cover job was that she was a supervisor of plant security; her own story for her friends and family was that she simply couldn't go to Quantico or elsewhere in the nation when her mother needed her nearby.
