The Mad Tinkerer
Alias: Thunderbolt
Age: 33
Gender: Male
Height: 1.80 m
Weight: 82 kg
Marcus is an undeniably average-looking caucasian man, the type you'd see working a 9-to-5 with a constant dead stare plastered on his face, complete with disheveled hair and stubble, the one distinguishable characteristic - if one were to even call it as such - is the constant bandages and bandaids often covering his hands and arms every other day. Most of the time you can also distinguish his presence by the distinctive blend of nicotine, booze and cologne that oozes from his civilian presence. Although not entirely his fault, the scent that pervades him is mostly due to the ambient of his job - bartending.
While under his Thunderbolt persona, Marcus presents himself with a certain poise befitting a costumed character. The black-and-blue suit is retrofitted with kevlar, insulation against electricity and moderately high and low temperatures, night and heat vision lenses that double as cameras, voice modulator and a pair of voltaic gauntlets. His remaining gear often changes according to what he has been tinkering with, some mainstays being grappling hooks and electric batons that may combine into a quarterstaff.
Marcus is a socially recluse person, fueled by an early unhealthy obsession with machinery that had plagued his life from as long as he can remember, and had him utterly ostracized by kids his age - a fate he never truly recovered from. It was unbeknownst to him and his parents then, but those were the very early signs of his metahuman abilities.
It wouldn't be until the young Longley reached his teenage years that he slowly begun to comprehend how this "freakish" side of his had more to it than mere interest, when he could instinctively disassemble and reassemble house appliances without any kind previous knowledge, as well as improve them in many different ways when he simply put his mind to it. Almost like the parts spoke to him, showed the next steps of the puzzle. This quite literal impulsive expertise with tinkering only grew the more he fostered it, pulling late all-nighters on his garage making insane contraptions his brain could not explain.
It was then that a small little idea was planted on his brain, seeing the reinaissance of the vigilante era, the rise of super crooks, the ascension of superpowered mercenaries, they would all require the best gear in the business, gadgets not a single soul could create other than him. All he needed was a persona, a masked one, able to sell his products for heroes and villains alike. A few close run-ins while building his web of connections had him improving over his ever-evolving costume, adding means of self-defence, protective pads and so on and so forth.
Now, somewhat established, the word has begun to get out there.
A man that will make your wildest blueprints come true, no questions asked.
All you have to do? Go to the Downpour Paradise, sit on the counter and ask for a "thunder mojito".
Thunderbolt will reach out to you within five business days.
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