In June of 1994 I was involved in a work-related accident that left me almost completely immobile for close to 2 years. Afterwards, the time I spent in an underground laboratory deep beneath the earth’s crust was one of the most excruciating times of my life. However, following a series of brilliant and daring experiments performed by my close friend Dr. William Van Magnassun Jr., I was able to reclaim my life with the assistance of a specially made exoskeleton. This device or “supersuit” is a close-knit lattice work of polymer fibers and high impact titanium alloy grafted onto a centimeter thick organic membrane. Its elasticity and inspired mechanics allow me to perform feats of superhuman strength and dexterity without sacrificing the essential human component of sensitivity. Unfortunately, once I donned this “supersuit” a repressed personality disorder that we had mistakenly thought was in remission, re-asserted itself creating within my already fragile psyche a compulsive need to right social wrongs, protect the weak, and bring the evil to justice. Thank god for therapy. Starting in late 1999 following a psychotic episode where I almost threw my arch-nemesis Fashionista into a vat of boiling Tupperwear I finally quite my job and entered therapy under Dr. Louis Armstrong. To make a long story short, through his guidance I’ve gone through some pretty amazing changes and we both feel that it is time that I finally got back into the dating scene.
A little bit about me; physically I am chiseled perfection. I’m about 6’3”, broad shoulders tapering down to a slim waist. I’ve been compared several times to the man with the big S on his chest, but I consider myself more of a paragon of the 90’s and not the 50’s from which he was born. I have sleek brown hair that tumbles boyishly over my brow even when I’m defeating evil, which is a considerable feat in and of itself as I go through a variety of violent physical gyrations on almost a daily basis. (I do use some hair gel but not enough to make it crusty). Sadly, the superhuman ridges of my six-pack are a direct result of my “supersuit” and not due to any sort of marketable training regimen. Not to worry, after a high voltage accident that took place in a duel with my mortal enemy, Vasectamor, my suit has been permanently grafted to my body so that you won’t even know the difference.
I like battling crime (of course) but I also have other hobbies. I enjoy practicing my clarinet as well as painting. I have a large genetically modified Pug that I like riding through Central Park. I also have a lifetime membership to the MTV Malibu Beach house which is cool because I can just head there and kick it on the weekends if I want to.
You should be a non-smoking, professional female (journalists and detectives are a plus) with a truly unreal set of hooters and a tiny waist. Luxurious red hair and a doctorate in nuclear physics is always great, but I don’t want to be unrealistic. You should like having fun and enjoy just sitting around injecting super-saliniated exo-plasma into your spinal cord.