Hurt sneaked through the the prototype labs of Post-human Defense Industries. Well, "sneaked" is a strong word. True, he was on his tippy toes but he'd made a lot of noise getting in. He was turning over a new leaf so he hadn't killed the guards or even maimed them permanently but they had no such compunction. Hurt had been shot a few times. Well, "a few" might be a bit of a weak word choice. It maxes out a seven, right? It was more than that. Automatic weapons are like that. He would definitely need a new shirt.
After knocking in a few doors, Hurt finally found what he was looking for. New weapons. Magnetic acceleration guns that sent small bits of metal hurtling so fat that they hit like truck. Blades with a monomolecular edge that cut through anything like...really sharp knives.
"Freeze! City PD! And why the hell are you narrating? We could hear you down the hall."
Hurt turned around slowly to face the four police officers. "Was I saying all that out loud? That's embarrassing. I just got off a binge that lasted the better part of a decade. I'm not sure I'm totally back to normal. But that's not the point. I'm a hero. You guys don't need to worry."
For some reason, they didn't lower their guns. "Newsflash, pal, heroes don't rob weapons labs. Hands behind your head. Kneel on the ground."
Hurt didn't move to obey.
"You're narrating again."
"Sorry. Look, I'm turning over a new leaf here but I'm outa dough and I really need some gear to fight crime with! A regular pistol was good enough to kidnap my new pet hacker nerd but I need something better to fight guys with superpowers. PS, the internet is awesome. Not only is it chock full of porn, but these nerds can find out anything with it. That's how I knew these were here."
"Wait, who did you kidnap?"
"Some guy. I keep him locked up and he finds out things for me to be heroic with. That's the plan anyway. I'll release him back into the wild in a few months and grab another. The plan is foolproof. It is a foolproof plan. Look this has been fun, but I really need to bolt before someone that can actually stop me gets here. Feel free to shoot me. No hard feelings."
With that, Hurt dashes through the door clutching his bounty of new toys. Taking him up on the offer, the cops shoot him but he'll heal. The next group of cops has a taser, which hurts and makes him pee a little but he keeps moving. He's soon out into the night. Shot all to hell but free.
---
This was not my best work but it's ok. My take on Hurt is that he was a mercenary for quite a bit of time and amassed some wealth. But something he did in the early nineties pushed him over the edge. He bought a metric butt load of C4 and made took it out with him to the Nevada desert and blew himself up. And about a week later, he woke up again, naked and sore but whole. With suicide apparently off the table he spent the next decade drinking and taking drugs at a rate even his regenerative abilities couldn't cope with. He only recently awoke from this stupor to find himself in a filthy alley in Emerald City, festooned with needles like a messed up porcupine. Finally at the rockiest of rock bottoms, with no one to turn to and nothing left to spend on oblivion, he just stared into the sun, the glare burning his retinas which would heal and the process would continue. Then someone blocked the sun. A figure in a cape. The cheers from the street proved the caped figure to be a hero of some sort. And the people cheered for him. He was liked, maybe even loved. And he probably never did something that made him decide to make a tracksuit out of explosives and wear it out in the desert. So that's where Hurt is at. Old hand at killing, new at the hero gig. Either the binge or the explosion damaged his memory so he can't really remember what happened before. He knows he did something horrible. He knows he lived a while before that. He vaguely remembers a horse and a sixshooter. But its all hazy.
