Heroes Unlimited Noir
A stage magician of unmatched wit and skill.
Known by his stage name, The Fox.
Instead of super powers, he has a wide variety of tricks, gadgets, and special techniques.
As a boy in Bukrow, the capital city of Eastern Europa, Felix followed his father, a small-time street performer, from gig to gig. The old man performed no magic tricks, as they had been deemed unholy, instead bartering with ballads and tall tales. Felix learned to work a crowd by watching him. As the boy grew, however, he became increasingly interested in sleight of hand, performing card and coin tricks on the street with no regard for who might be watching.
Not long after, the old man awoke Felix in the dead of night, a lantern in one hand and a pistol in the other. They left through the back door and plunged into the pitch black alleys of Bukrow.
Eventually the two approached a well-lit street — the end of their concealing shadows. Felix noticed the smell of fish and sea salt just before his father’s hand clutched him by the cloak. The other hand whipped forward, releasing a small, round object, which went clattering into the street. Smoke erupted from it.
“Do not let go of me.” It was the last thing Felix heard before a cacophony of shoes on stone, on steel, on wood. And then a few loud pops. When his eyes stopped burning, he saw an enormous canvas sail. But his father was gone. Felix turned and found the old man knealing in a pool of scarlet on the pier.
“Go!” his father shouted, shuffling closer and forcing a scrap of paper into his hand. “Onto the ship, my Felix!”
The boy could not think, so he fled. Moments later, he was headed to a place that was not home, and he was going there alone.
Weeks passed, and when land finally came into view, a sailor told him it was Americus. After they docked, Felix followed the instructions that were his only keepsake from his father. He sought out a man named Mister Weisz.
Weisz was jovial at first, but when he saw the old man’s handwriting, he disappeared in a flash. Felix, however, had trained his eyes to catch quick movements. Circling the desk, he picked up a letter opener and hurled it at the lumpiest of the room’s three curtains. It pierced the cloth and splintered wood. Once Weisz found a clean pair of pants, he agreed to instruct the boy in the art of illusion.
The training, however, delved far deeper than simple prestidigitation. The young man developed the ability to go unseen in rooms filled with people searching for him. His skills with small arms and hand-to-hand combat were surpassed only by his knack with a knife, which came to him as naturally as flicking his wrist. After a decade with Mister Weisz, Felix Faustus had become a shadow with a stinger.
In his 20s, he left that house and found a stage. On it he calls himself The Fox, performing feats so miraculous even his peers are baffled by them. But he has not forgetten young Felix, nor what happened to him on that pier in Bukrow.