Collective Fist

Group: Young Champions

Server: Pinnacle

Rank: Tovarich

Security Level: 26

Online Name: Collective Fist

Country of Origin: China

Origin of Powers: Natural

Archetype: Scrapper

Powers: Martial Arts / Regeneration

Battle Cry: Fear the Power of the Collective

Movement: Super Leap

Favored Attack: Various Kicks and Punches

Favored Defense: Integration and Fast Healing

Hated Nemesis:

In the beginning there was mystery. Of course there was mystery, after all , all good stories must have their origin in the mysterious. And in order to be of value as a story, they must also reveal a confession, and indeed, I am confessing here, because my past is not quite like it seems. So I have fulfilled at least parts of the criteria of a good story.

However, my origins, the origins of Collective Fist, are , if at all mysterious, mysteriously mediocre at best. Second Son to a mandarin whose power was even in its best day akin to that of what you Americans call “middle management” , there was little in my life that I could have been described as exciting. Knowing that I could not never compare to my older brother, who styles himself these days as communistic superhero gone C-Pop-Idol, (imagine that) what was there to do but study the ancient teachings and the little red book that provided me with much comfort through the years. The story of equality, something that I had striven for ever since I can remember, was a constant in the writings of Confucius as well as in the writings of Mao. And both seemed so much more urgent and enlightened then the petty quarrels of my family, who bowed to doctrine with the same stoicism that most people bow their head to the remnants of Christianity.

Working in the party however was as much doomed to failure as my attempts to gain my fathers approval. Given our “burgoise” history, I was tainted with the stink of our imperialist past and hence unfit for any meaningful membership.

So a few month ago I decided to flee this dull existence and visit the decadent west itself. Unwise maybe to expose myself to this cesspool of capitalist wastefulness, but admittedly much more exciting then the dead-end life of my old existence. I was surprised to find that in Paragon City, my first stop on my journey through the West, great reverence was paid to people with extraordinary powers. And even more peculiar, even those that did not have them but still engaged in fighting crime.

Of course I was by no means an expert on the ancient teachings, but they seemed to be sufficient to battle the common street thug. And as I came across more and more of them, I found myself learning quickly. I may not be blessed with extraordinary powers, but my will was and is strong, and my feet nimble.

The biggest surprise however was my discovery of like-minded heroes, who believed like me in equality and who were free from the constant strive for attention that seemed to unite my brother and so many other “supposed” heroes in this town. And, I must be honest here, they also did not question my heritage or my social standing. How suprising to find comrades who had never heard of my father of my brother, for whom I was not a construct of my history but merely another brave fighter of the revolution and for whom I could gain esteem through my skill alone. I have not told them yet of my lackluster origins, although my lie through omission still burdens me heavily. So forgive me if I do not wish to talk of my past, for my darkest and most terrible secret is , that I do not have any.