The name's , better known to this city as Boost.
About a year ago, after getting out of the military (where you'd spent four years as a SEAL), your lust for adventure could not be contained via regular methods. Fortunately for you, you'd heard about techniques that'd improve your already impressive combat skills.
And so you underwent the "Booster" process. A blend of nanomachines and chemical augmentation amplified your natural abilities, improving your strength, resistance to injury, agility, reaction time, speed and healing abilities tenfold. Given a "Flex-Plate" suit (consisting of lightweight black leather with metal plating over the shins and vital areas) as part of the project. The suit's great: temperature-controlled, it feels like sand mixed with Jello, but protects like a stack of phone books. Some people have mentioned it looks like Colonial Marine armor from Aliens. In addition, you like to wear a black bandana and utility belt for stylish purposes. To preserve your identity, black-and-white facepaint (you like different designs; today, it's a Darth Maul-like circuitboard pattern) is utilized.
Nowadays, you see the world the way a fly does: everything and everybody seems to move at a much slower pace for you. Sadly, it wasn't until the project had successfully transformed you that the doctors revealed the truth: the Booster process has a tendency to shorten the individual's lifespans. Based on their estimations, you, , had only about six years to live.
So you've decided to make the best of your remaining years, offering your services as a hero and occasional mercenary. Sure, your time is short, but your corpse will be great-looking. Though you usually carry a couple of weapons with you on patrol (usually a spike-knuckle knife, throwing blades, and a grappling gun), Boost is known for his ability to use virtually any object around him as a weapon. Despite the weapons being deadly, doesn't like to rely on lethal methods unless their's no other option; sometimes, if a thug sees the weapon, he'll surrender peacefully.
As your motorcycle drives up to the tryouts, you decide to wait with all these hopeful heroes.
"Yo, Boost, whassup, pal!" A familiar voice comes from behind you. |