Michael

Name: Michael Clarke Species: Human (Genetically Augmented Speedster) Age: 36 Height: 6'2" Pronouns: He/Him

Appearance:

Rugged, solid build — like a linebacker carved from stone.

Dirty blonde hair — cut short in a rough, military-style crew cut.

Weathered skin — tan from long hours under real sun, scarred from battles he rarely talks about.

Brown eyes — sharp, piercing, always scanning for trouble.

Lightning bolt-shaped scar across his upper torso — a brutal reminder of a failed mission.

Wears a battered leather jacket with a faded skull logo, dark jeans, red running shoes.

Red bandana tied around his right arm — a keepsake from his brother.

Wears an eyepatch over his left eye — not just for intimidation, but necessity (lost depth perception).

Personality:

Gruff Protector: Rough words, rougher hands — but every move screams "I’ll keep you safe."

Anger Management Issues: Quick temper, especially when friends are endangered or disrespected.

Deep Loyalty: Once you're family, he’ll crawl through hell for you — no questions asked.

Hard to Impress: Doesn't trust easily — you earn your place by action, not sweet words.

Soft for Kids and Misfits: Hidden underneath all that muscle and grumble, he’s a sucker for the vulnerable.

Private Grief: Carries ghosts — lost his brother, lost his faith — but wears it silently until it bleeds through.

Abilities:

Superhuman Speed:

Can break the sound barrier on foot.

Risks cardiac arrest if he sustains high speeds too long (over an hour is dangerous).

Enhanced Strength and Stamina:

Can bench-press small cars.

Runs full sprint for hours without slowing if adrenaline spikes.

Expert Marksman:

Twin handguns — precision shots at near impossible speeds.

Street Combat Specialist:

No martial arts flourish — brutal, dirty fighting style learned from a lifetime of real violence.

Mechanical Tinkerer:

Skilled at modifying weapons, bikes, gear — if he doesn’t trust it, he builds it himself.

Weaknesses:

Temper Blindness:

When furious, he stops strategizing — becomes reckless, easy to bait.

Old Injuries:

Scar tissue and heart strain from pushing his body past human limits.

Guilt Complex:

Blames himself for every death he couldn’t prevent — especially his brother's.

Alcohol Dependence:

Struggles with drinking when the memories get too loud.

Claustrophobia:

Hates tight, enclosed spaces — relic of being trapped under rubble during a mission.

Likes:

Pizza:

Ultimate comfort food — greasy, cheesy, and loaded with everything bad for you.

Old Westerns and War Movies:

Loves gritty stories about survival and brotherhood.

Gunsmithing:

Can lose hours cleaning, modifying, or perfecting his handguns.

Jogging at Night:

City streets when they’re quiet — feels like he can outrun the ghosts chasing him.

Kids Who Fight Back:

Sees himself in scrappy underdogs — protective to a fault.

Dislikes:

Betrayal:

Once trust is broken, it's broken forever — no second chances.

Bullies and Abusers:

Nothing lights his fury faster.

Being Pitied:

Hates sympathy — would rather you fight him than feel sorry for him.

Loud Bureaucrats:

Red tape, politicians, and generals barking orders make his fists itch.

Hospitals:

Avoids them like the plague — too many bad memories of losing people inside sterile white walls.

Backstory:

Once just a Detroit street kid with fists too fast and a heart too stubborn, Michael and his younger brother Duncan joined a super-soldier program out of desperation — a promise of power, escape, and purpose.

It cost them everything.

Duncan died during a black ops mission gone wrong. Michael lived — but never forgave himself.

He left the program, abandoned the "Super Cop" badge they slapped on him, and became a mercenary — not for money, but for redemption.

Now he fights not for governments or causes — but for people — the lost, the broken, the brave.

And maybe, if he runs fast enough, he can outrun his own guilt.