This is Buster.
|Sensitive, single grey male...|
He thinks its a stupid name too. Someone would name a dog Buster. One could name a board game Buster. Hell, it could even be a brand of condom.
Sometimes its little things like names that change a man's life. Sticks and stones and all that.
|...looking for someone who likes cooking...|
Perhaps, if he'd been called Johnny, or Kev, or even Nigel, things would've worked out okay. The kids at school wouldn't have picked on him so much. He wouldn't have had to internalise so much shame. So much anger.
|...and long walks on the beach...|
Unlike many outcast kids at school, providence was with young Buster. He was one of those kids that puberty hit like a freight train overloaded with concrete screaming down a seventy degree incline.
One day, a knock-kneed, gawky kid with a stutter.
|...and keeping fit - I do a lot of boxing myself...|
The next, a tall, straight-backed powerhouse. None of the other kids saw it coming. It must have taken Buster two or three months to realise that he was suddenly bigger than his counterparts.
Having one's confidence stripped away from one makes it hard for one to believe in oneself. That sort of thing takes time.
But one day, he finally got it. And then they got it.
All of them.
|...and Origami. Man, I loves me some origami...|
Who'd have thought young Buster had a memory like an elephant? Photographic. It's, like, a medical thing. Never forgets anything.
He never actually killed any of the kids at school - he ain't a monster. But he made sure that every antagonist he ever encountered recalled the wrongs they did to him.
Especially Hargreaves. His parents couldn't afford bionics, so he's on crutches for the rest of his life.
Punchard too. He only whispers now. Turns out voiceboxes don't grow back the same. At least he doesn't need the machine to breath anymore.
|...and distortion pedals. Ain't music if there ain't a distortion pedal...|
Last I heard, he works on a freighter now. Local, small hops only. No warp travel or anything unusual. He ain't the skipper of the operation, but sounds like he's doing okay. The crew likes having him around. He's good with engines, cooking and guns, it turns out.
I'll tell him you were looking for him the next time he's in town...