"Most people think Marv is crazy. He just had the rotten luck of being born in the wrong century. He'd be right at home on some ancient battlefield swinging an axe into somebody's face. Or in a Roman arena, taking his sword to other gladiators like him. They woulda tossed him girls like Nancy back then."
--Dwight, Sin City
If you ever asked Jake straight out, he'd blame the meth. For the violence, for the rages, for the way he made his foster parents and his girlfriends terrified of him. He'd blame the meth, because every time he took it he became the kind of person his gang brothers wanted to see...and no one else did. He started at thirteen, a few months after his first girlfriend was gunned down in front of him. He kicked the habit nineteen months ago.
It was two weeks of writhing, screaming, puking, blinding headaches, even more horrible rages, deep depressions and cravings, cravings, cravings. He did it on his own, locked in a room with a couple of buckets and some Gatorade. It was Hell. He hoped that the pain he went through, and the struggle afterward, would make up for everything he did while the monkey was on his back.
He was wrong.
So he went to Afghanistan. It was a shitty war in a shitty country and his generation's best equivalent of the French Foreign Legion. He figured he'd lose his past in those dusty canyons. Instead, he found out that he likes to kill. He enjoys destroying an enemy. He likes to kill religious nuts especially. For either side. In war, as in the boxing ring at HQ, he found a sort of inner peace. The peace of the apex predator.
Now, he is back home in the States, with a stack of money and no idea what to do with himself. He doesn't actually know about his superhuman ability; he just figures that he's tougher, meaner and harder to kill than average. Boy is he in for a surprise....
****** Power: Old-School Berzerker Jake is superhumanly tough, and his toughness and strength increase proportionally to the amount of adrenaline in his system. At rest, he's a big, strong guy who can take a serious beating and keep coming. But the angrier he gets, the stronger, faster, more invulnerable (and meaner) he gets. A true outrage will send him into an old-school berzerker frenzy; aside from telling friend from foe he becomes almost blind with rage, won't even notice the bullets flattening on his hide, and will keep pounding his enemy until he or she stops moving or flees. When in full frenzy, Jake can bend a railroad tie double--even if he has trouble remembering doing it afterward.