Adam Craft

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"Never bring a gun to a fistfight..."
Adam Roy Craft
Player: @jbayles
Origin: Natural
Archetype: Brute
Threat Level: 50 +IO's -Accolades +treachery
Personal Data
Real Name: Adam Roy Craft
Known Aliases: "Craft, Mr. Craft"
Species: Human
Age: 42(?)
Height: 6'6
Weight: 275
Eye Color: Black
Hair Color: Black
Biographical Data
Nationality: Peruvian
Occupation: Mandate Soldier, Mercenary, Professional Soldier, Man about town.
Place of Birth: Peru, then Hungary, then again in France.
Base of Operations: New York, NY.
Marital Status: Single
Known Relatives: Unknown
Known Powers
See description.
Known Abilities
Razor sharp wit, lethal sarcasm, heavy puns, dark irony.


Silver Spoons

Born Roy Cliff in 1922, our man of interest lead an affluent and comfortable existence during a time when wine and cheer where scarce. A decorated USAF test pilot Adam Craft was a shoe in for a spot on the Mercury program. He left for Astronaut training at Langely but never made it to the capsule. There where other programs at Langely, secret programs. Roy joined "The Skunk Works", a term later adopted by the aironautics industry when they put together the SR-71 in the early 60's, but he never saw the cockpit. In 1961, during the heightened tensions with the U.S.S.R following the Bay of Pigs, Roy Cliff was erased from public record and ceased to exist.

The Running Man

The name Ralph Howell first surfaced in Europe in very tight circles. Gun runner, pilot, and mercenary for hire. When the G-men went to round up their ward, he was already in North Africa, working his way East. They caught up with him in Beirut and a deal was struck. The deal didn't last long. Ralph made a break for it on an op in Munich '72, the men in black too pre-occupied with dead Athletes to chase. They wouldn't see him again for a while.

Weird Science

Adam Craft is a collection of some of the most radical and ill conceived ideas in super soldier technology, for the 1960's. Slim profile, nitrogen charged pnuematics with solid state controllers and micro-nuclear reactor powering the whole rig, all installed and laced into the muscles and sinew of a human male. For its time it was an innovative achievement in human augmentation and miniaturization, but that time is long passed.

Tin from the soldier, broken down by enzymes in his body, poisons his blood stream. Pneumatics shattering bones internally as the fire, the recharge system siphoning air from his lungs making him light headed and dizzy. And then theres the reactor. A looming time bomb, powerful enough to blow the roofs of a city block if it goes critical...the lead shielding doing little to keep this thoughts clear. And you thought changing your oil four times a year was a drag.

Ides of March

They caught up with a man calling himself Adam Craft in Nicaragua, two years before the news broke the story, but Craft was already broken. Paralyzed from massive fractures all over his skeleton, struggling to maintain a survivable body temperature, they found him soaking in a bathtub of ice. No deals this time, the G-men took him out of the bath of ice and threw him into a vault of liquid nitrogen, deep in the Oobliettes of Langely Air Force Base. They'd sort out the approaching reactor meltdown some other time, when the tech was ready, when the time was right. When they could finally assert some control over the slippery Mr. Craft.

That day never came, but Arachnos did. With bigger fish to fry, the G-men forgot about Craft, locked away in his frozen prison. He would have stayed there excepting one little row in a database, somewhere in the city of Grandville, in a place called "The Rogue Isles".

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