My name's Johnny. I've got a secret. Or I had one, anyway. See, my mom passed along some really weird genes to me, and passed away not too long after. It figures. I feel like if she were here she might be able to answer the thousand and one questions I have. My dad sure isn't any help. Sorry, don't mean to be bitter. Besides, I'm getting off-track.
They've got a word for people like me. Starts with an "M." I don't wanna start with an "M." I don't like the fear in people's eyes when they know I'm different. Being called a freak or worse sucks. So I kept my powers hid for a long, long time.
What are my powers? I don't like bringing it up much, but what the hey. I can jump really high, hit stuff with perfect aim, react almost before something happens, and I can sense danger--it's like this weird electric tingle in the back of my head. Nothing really impressive but they've come in handy now and again.
A few years back, an oldhead who used to be called the Black Marvel, a superhero back in the '40s, gave me a costume and an offer. To be part of a new team of super-powered types. I'm still not sure why I said yes. Maybe I wanted to make a difference with the "gifts" Mom gave me, instead of hiding and bottling up all that shame.
It went great for a while, but eventually the whole operation fell apart. I don't like talking about it. I drifted for a while, until I fell in with the group Excelsior. Being with them showed me that the hero gig just wasn't for me, not anymore. I hung up the suit for good then. Some nights I still get this itch to put it on, go thwart evil and all that. But I got a normal life, and I'm happy with it. I have to keep telling myself that.
That's the abridged version of my life, the parts worth telling. I didn't mean to go on a tangent like that. I guess it's been a while since I had anyone listen to what I have to say.
