Scrapper

Real Name: Thomas Rivers
Hero Name: Scrapper
Title: N/A
Alignment: Neutral Good
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Race: White
Hair: Red
Eyes: Brown
Height: 6'1"
Weight: 190 lbs.
Blood type: B-



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Thoughtful and cautious, sometimes to a fault.

Thomas Rivers didn't have much growing up.  Although bright, and eager to help his fellow man, Thomas often didn't have the means to do so.  In a bid to make something of himself and leave his small town to try and help his fellow man, Thomas enlisted with the United States Navy and served for four years as a nuclear engineer.  The service instilled a sense of discipline, caution and meticulousness in the young man, which he carries to this day.  After eight years of service, Thomas went to college and pursued a degree in mechanical engineering.

But fate, as ever, was a fickle thing.  Unable to secure a job despite his skills and qualifications, Thomas was forced to move back to the small town he was so desperate to leave and take work at the local scrapyard.  It took Thomas about a week to decide, as he closed the scrapyard that night, that he was fed up with his lot.  He had been destined to help his fellow man.  He had been trained to achieve what he thought was impossible.  He had been entrusted as a young man materials and equipment that would make the equipment in the scrapyard look like toys by comparison.  All of that was not going to go to waste in a small town, flyover state scrapyard.

Over the course of two months, Thomas secretly cobbled together materials - up to and including a small-scale plutonium core - to forge the suit of armor he would take into the world.  If he couldn't make a difference, then by God he would help those that could.  The "Scrapper", as he called it, is Thomas's attempt at a cheap, powerful tool to protect law enforcement and military personnel in the field.  And while it's most certainly a work in progress, no product is complete without a field test...

1. Endurance
2. Strength
3. Reaction
4. Agility



- Super-intelligence

- Overly cautious: Thomas is meticulous and careful to a fault, and this often prevents him from taking risks or using the Scrapper to its fullest potential.

- Work in progress: In its current configuration, the Scrapper armor is not especially powerful by super hero standards. It is slow, cumbersome, and (relatively) easily damaged by higher-tier power.

- Radiation therapy: Despite Thomas's best efforts, the plutonium core that powers the armor is prone to leaking, and has already started to affect Thomas physically, making him weaker than usual if in the suit for prolonged engagements.

- Consumer-grade: The concussive blaster on the Scrapper's left gauntlet is capable of immense damage, but using it at maximum power will almost certainly damage the armor (as well as the poor soul whose arm was in the blast zone).

The Scrapper (v 1.0):
- While built largely out of scrap metal, the appropriately-named Scrapper armor gives the wearer superhuman strength and significantly increases their endurance.  In its current configuration, its only weapon is a concussive energy blaster mounted on the left gauntlet, capable of blasting all but the heaviest foes clear off their feet.  A built-in radio is connected to Thomas's phone, and various apps allow him to listen to every unsecured communication that the suit's antenna picks up.

- Thomas only carries his phone, wallet, and the keys to a beat-up pickup.





Two targets. One on the right holding a hostage at knifepoint. One on the right has a small-caliber pistol.

Okay.

"Let the woman go," the metal behemoth lurching down the dark alley groaned, "or you'll have problems a few dollars and a Gucci bag can't fix."

While he didn't voice it, Thomas could scarcely believe how cheesy his threat sounded. That was something you'd have heard out of a comic book or an old movie. For what it was worth, it seemed to do the trick, at least partially; the man with the gun was quivering and on the verge of running down the alley. But the goon with the woman was less moved by Scrapper's stirring speech. He slowly moved backward, taking the still-screaming woman with him. Thomas would have to be fast. If he could take out the hostage-taker, the gunman would likely cut his losses and run like hell. And with no immediately apparent weapon on the walking scrapyard, the hostage-taker would think he had the advantage. Thomas kept moving, using his lumbering gait to hide the charging sound of the concussive blast he was readying for the criminal's face.

With no apparent weapon, the goon was keeping his head exposed. This was good. The concussive blaster, while devastating at this range, was not subtle. If aimed improperly, the blast could hurt the bystander as well as the intended target. And if he lunged forward suddenly, he could count on the hostage getting a blade across the neck. Thomas needed to keep the guy's eyes and concentration on the cast-iron monstrosity before him (not that it was proving difficult).

"I won't say it again," the metal hulk uttered again, "let. Her. Go."

The criminal, not liking the challenge, reared his head to shout something. He got about three words in before an invisible blast violently rocked his head to the side, visibly dislodging his jaw and dropping him like a sack of potatoes. The screaming woman fell silent before taking off down the alley, passing the rusting metal statue from hell without a second glance. Thomas grinned under the helmet as he turned to see the woman run to safety. Sure she was safe, he turned his attention back to the alley.

As predicted, the gunman was gone.