My name is Tobias Christopher, but my friends call me TC. Well, if I had friends.
You see, I've never been what's known as a team player. I've always been alone for as long as I can remember.
It all started when my mom left me and my dad when I was five. Dad was always working, he was a police officer, and never spent any time at home, which pretty much left me to raise myself. Luckily I was born with a metagene. I guess we lived near a toxic wasted dump before I was born, or my mom stood too close to the microwave while she was pregnant. Either way, I was able to do things faster than anyone I ever knew, which was cool.
Then, when I was twelve, my dad died. I never knew how or why it happened. Having no one to take care of me, and not wanting to go to a foster home, I ran away. I was on the streets for two years, supporting myself by using my speed to take what I needed, like clothes and food.
Then one day I was caught swiping some fruit. I would have gotten away if I hadn't twisted my ankle tripping over an alley cat.
I was sent to a juvenile detention center until my eighteenth birthday. As luck would have that, that damn cat was waiting for me. Everytime I looked, he was right there, following me. He still follows me to this day. I call him "Li'l Jo".
Anyway, I took a job at the local diner, which pays for my cheap little motel room. But at least it's a home. I haven't decided wether or not to ever use my speed again, but one thing's for sure: No more crime. From now on, this kid's playing it straight.
