About
Dallas Thayer was born with a gene disorder. It rendered him immune to pain ((A real disease, I'll assure you. Saw it while my mom watched a show like Oprah or something)) His mother had died in child birth and his dad, John Thayer was in a state of grief. He blamed Dallas for his wife's death and wasn't afraid to let the boy know it. John figured that since the boy felt no pain that it was alright to physically abuse him-- and he did, every chance he got. Dallas was subject to hideous and brutal whoopings, random smacks, and constant verbal abuse. Never once had John told his son that he had a gene disorder. He let the poor boy think he was really a freak.Throughout his school career, he was ridiculed and attacked. He was called plenty of things, like "freak" and "mutant" but the one insult that stuck with him was "unfeeling monster." He soon began to believe them, thinking that his numbness affected his emotional pain and pleasure too. Once he graduated, he fled to Gotham.
In the city, Dallas became a stuntman for movies. He felt he was putting his curse to good use. But one day, after finishing a film and getting off work, he was stopped on the street.
"Hands up," demanded a hoarse voice muffled by a ski mask. A handgun was pointed at him sharply, at an awkward angle. Time stopped. Slowly, Dallas's head shook as the word "N-no" came out of his quivering lips. It was as if nothing was real. The gun recoiled silently and the bullet dove into the poor man's stomach. Only after he fell on the ground did he realize what had happened.
Effortlessly, he stood up. He felt a numbness in his gut, like you get in your mouth after going to the dentist. There was a crowd around him, gasping. One old man stepped forward. He reminded Dallas of his father.
"You all right there, kid?!" he asked hoarsely.
"Yeah."
"You took a hard shot there."
"I guess so."
"You got a bullet proof vest or somethin'?"
Silence.
Dallas stood dumbfounded.
"Uhh... Y-Yeah."
A curious man stepped forward then, unbuttoned Dallas's shirt boldly. No vest, as Dallas had known. He was bleeding something awful. After a stop at the Gotham hospital, he discovered his disorder, not sure if this made him more or less a beast than before. All he knew was it made him mad. And aparently, it made the city mad. Another mutant freak running around.
Dallas turned to crime-- petty crime, but crime all the same. I mean, why shouldn't he? There was nothing that could stop him. ((Or so he thought. He still gets injured, he just can't feel it.)) He worked as a merc whenever he could and when he couldn't he commited random crimes, hate crimes. It was as if he was trying to inflict the pain he never felt all over Gotham.
He was the perfect tool for a plotting diabolical mind to step in and manipulate.
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Thank you, by the way.