(Okay, this is another character, who rocks in my opinion, who didn't quite get enough limelight. Seriously, bikers kick BUTT!)
The boy dug in the trash can in an alleyway, searching for anything even remotely edible. He looked to be about ten, and he was different.
His skin was a light gray color. Another hobo threw a rock at him, yelling, "Get outta there, freak!" The boy scrambled away, back into the rainy outdoors of Steel City. He yelped as something hit his ankle and he hit the cement.
He slowly took in air and stood up, walking through the streets. He looked hungrily in at a restaurant and smelled the delicious fragrance. But one glare from the chef and the boy continued walking on.
He glanced at a red bucket on a street corner, and one of those people ringing bells, begging for offerings to the poor. The boy slowly walked past, then at the last second grabbed the bucket and ran. He had done this before, and he managed to get some food from it. After all, it was money for the poor. And he was as poor as they came. No parents, no relatives, and no one wanted to take in a kid with weird skin.
The ringer gasped and yelled, "Kid, get back here!" The boy didn't listen, running across the street. He tripped again, and looked up to see blinding lights...
"Its amazing the kid's alive. Several broken bones, cracked ribs, a punctured lung. And plus the fact that he was obviously malnourished..." The boy slowly opened his eyes and looked around the clean white room. The doctor was talking in a monotone voice to another doctor who looked a bit younger. "Look, he's awake." The younger doctor, in his late twenties, leaned down by the bed. "What's your name, kid?"
The boy slowly winced and mumbled, "Johnny." Then he slipped back into unconsciousness. For the next week, he was fed well, and the doctors were shocked to find out that his bones healed at a naturally faster rate then the rest of him. Then another shocker came.
The head of the hospital took one glance at Johnny and sniffed. "Throw him out." The younger doctor, who's name was Dr. Watson, stood up and said, "What!" The head straightened some papers and said, "The kid has no home. The foster agents claimed he has ran away over ten times, and his bones are healed. Just drop him off at the local homeless shelter." Dr. Watson shook his head and said, "That's outrageous! He's just a child!" The head just glared and said, "If you want a place at this hospital, Dr. Watson, you will follow my orders. And he probably isn't human anyway." Johnny just sat there in mute horror.
Dr. Watson's shoulders sagged and he said, "Just... let me change his bandages one more time." He shrugged and said, "As long as he is out of here by tonight."
Dr. Watson finished doing what he had to do, and dropped him off. Johnny just sat there for two weeks, at the front door, going in only to eat and sleep. He didn't like it inside, it felt like he was trapped.
Johnny didn't stay there for not even much longer than two weeks, however. The foster agents came again, talking about 'what a nice home he'll have' and 'you'll love it here'. Bull. Shit. Johnny scowled at them all and glared. In addition to his gray skin, he now had two horizontal parallel scars on his right arm, due to a bad infection that should've been avoided. And he didn't stay too long there, either.
Before long, he ran off, this time hopping a bus to the other side of the country. For the next six years, he was dodging foster care and cops, doing crimes.
Then he found it.
At first, it was just an abandoned laboratory, full of junk. But Johnny decided to search for scrap metal and found the real it. It was a motorcycle, filled with guns, boosters, and other gadgets. It fascinated him to no end. He knew how to ride a motorcycle- it was almost second nature. Fixing it up slightly, he rode it across the country- twice.
It was amazing, it felt like he was flying when he rode. On his bike, no one could catch him, not even the best cops with helicopters and anything. But then he found out that the doctor who refused treating him after his bones healed had moved to Jump City. He then felt one emotion. Fury. Pure fury. Johnny decided that a bit of revenge was in order.
Then he got a rather clever idea. Using some of his savings, he went into a tattoo parlor, and came out with tattoos on both his arms, one side covering his scars, the other just to match and look awesome.
Then he went on a killing spree, shooting up the street the doctor lived on. He found that a greater thrill came from when he heard screams of people and the explosion of buildings. It was even better when the screams suddenly cut off. The previous thrill that came from outrunning cops almost seemed like nothing compared to this. He felt like god, in a sick way.
When he had finally found the doctor that had refused treatment, he shot him through the skull. The girl who lived with him (he assumed it was his daughter) screamed and said, "Who are you!" Johnny looked up at her and grinned. "I'm Johnny Rancid."
He was possibly the most vile thing on earth. Rancid was the perfect word for him.
(Argh, I love the one shot villains that the cartoon made up... they just rock! I'm planning on writing a story dedicated to Punk Rocket later. And yes, I do believe that Johnny Rancid is a psychopath.)