Michael was bald, bearded, fair skinned, middle aged and abnormal. A genetic deforming accident left him faster and stronger than the average athlete who stood five feet and ten inches tall. He could hit much harder than most men who weighed 175 pounds. He wasn’t invincible by any means, but he was far from helpless.

Training further enhanced this. Shooting academies, martial arts programs and various cross training opportunities during his military career enhanced him before he could retire and travel the world to bring death to bad people.

Germany was a place he liked when not living in his place of origin in Western Washington State. In Germany, though his anonymity was greater, there was a great deal more criminality due to his collection of firearms being entirely illegal. While gun control had been nearly quashed in the United States, it had effectively worsened in most of Europe.

However, with michaels logic, as long as the verdammten polizei stayed away, and he never gave them a reason to snoop near his home, he could maintain some operational freedom.

At home, a glock was his everyday first choice for carry. Here, it was anything he could get. Makarov? USP? When unarmed an old Webley was better than nothing because he knew he could use it to get a better gun.

He wasn’t always so fast, strong or smart. His early years saw him barely passing army physical fitness tests. As a child, he was easily shoved about by bullies and when he wasn’t being tormented by his classmates, he was either being judged and falsely disciplined by teachers or shamed and misunderstood by his family.

Much to the disdain of society, Michael survived and endured the less fortunate points in his life. Much of his past he tried to black out. Some of his memories were smothered by the same accident that made him so powerful today.

That day, was not a memory he’d be able to bury.