Dishes best served cold
Name: Richard Valentine Blaze
AKA: The Black Bolt
Ethnicity: Irish/Native American
Occupation: Driver, Guitarist (DeadBUGS), Smuggler
Hometown: Chicago, Il
Parents: Fox Arthur Blaze (Deceased) Sioux Bludhaven (Deceased)
Criminal Record: Grand Theft, Exhibition of speed, Wreckless driving, Destruction of private property, Arson, D.U.I., Evading arrest, Resisting arrest, Indecent exposure within a moving police vehicle
Criminal Associates: Tom Nishido (Ex sumo wrestler, Leader of The True Chicagoans and self proclamed Yakuza boss.) Shinji Nishido (Long time friend and racing rival) Interstate I294 Go-gangers The Ramblers
Status: Benchwarrent for arrest
Updating_Current_Location:……Current Location Unknown.
At one time the hottest prospect in the underground racing circuits, hotheaded racing phenom Ricky Blaze has vanished in his trademark puff of burnout smoke. Shortly after a most exciting win at the Chicago City Speedway The currently undefeated Black Bolt sped off without warning, followed by what appeared to be two Yakuza enforcer sedans in hot pursuit. Speculation by the fans and writers of the sport seem to suggest foul play. The circuts sole financial contribute, Tom Nishido, has been unavailable for comment.
After getting his start as an enforcer for The Ramblers and a rather brief, but some would say memorable, stint in the vintage punk band DeadBUGS, Ricky exploded onto the race scene with an upset win over the highly favorited Gmork Grindrider, ending the long and bloody reign of the local semipro champion. Since then the domonant performances by the young black clad speedster have earned him a perfect race record of 12-0.
Born in Chicago’s Westside on Febuary 18 2049, Ricky’s life began in the loving arms of his parents Fox and Sioux Blaze. His father, a decorated pilot with the Federal UCAS Government, was stationed at the O’Hare International Aerospaceport as part of an initiative to tighten security only one year before the birth of his son having moved from Denver with wife Sioux, an awakened with the power to heal the sick and wounded.
Ricky had a happy life, friends at school, and lived as carefree as only a child can in this day in age.
Then on August 23rd 2053, everything changed.
Rickys father Fox had sent an urgent encoded message to Sioux warning of a UCAS strike on the city of Chicago. An Ares firewatch team had just breached the Universal Brotherhood chapterhouse in the downtown area, releasing a plague of insect spirits onto the city streets. The first and worst in a series of global outbreakes. The reaction of the UCAS government was to send in an air strike to raze the affected area. Knowing his family was in the very same affected area, Fox relayed the message to his wife, suited up and proceeded to his jet. Once airborn, Fox began to rain war and hellfire on his fellow squadron in a surprise attack. Like a mad demon he took on the whole fleet who were slow to react but still dangerous. 13 UCAS air craft went down that day, Fox’s being the last. His engines silent as the day they were made. Ground control had finally reacted, cutting off power to his jet. Had he not stopped the majority of bombers that day the attack plan would have left the city of Chicago a smoldering pit, through his actions the bombs that did manage to land effectively were in a peremiter around the new Bug city, creating a noose and containing the outbreak, saving countless lives.
When the bombs fell, Sioux and Ricky were in their car, stuck in the traffic and chaos of a city quickly being eaten alive by bug spirits. The blast, only a block away sent safety glass exploding into the side of Rickys face, splitting his cheek in a ragged wicked grin. The car, in a deadly roll down the side of an overpass came to a sudden thud upside down. When he came to, Ricky’s mother was holding him close, a few feet from the car chanting and singing in her native tongue, willing all the power her weak body could muster in order to save her gravely wounded son. As the last breath passed her lips and one single tear fell down her cheek she smiled to her son, touched his face and then she was gone.
He came to 3 weeks later at an orphanage outside the CZ (containment zone). Those were dark times for the young boy, he learned quickly after joining the rest of the orphans that life was going to be a lot different here. Daily fights and beatings from overwhelmed orphanage staff were a constant reminder to Ricky that he had to get out of there. When he was 13 that day came when he managed to steal and hack a service workers car. The chase the followed between Ricky and The USAF police force was the thing of legend. Over the course of 11 hours and 1.35 megamiles Ricky Blazed a trail of wanton destruction and wrath across 3 state lines before his car was stopped and the boy apprehended.
Ricky got his wish, he was no longer a resident of the hated orphanage. He was now Member#23641 of the Youth Correctional Facility. Out of the frying pan and into the fire they say. Only now Ricky had a plan. He knew why he was caught the first time he tried to escape the clutches of the system. The car, he needed a faster car.
June 12th 2065, After years of planning, Ricky had checked every outcome, planned every move, and made his decision. It would have to be The Wardens car. The sonofabitch was driving a Ford Spiral 115Ti, Ricky was sure that vehicle couldnt get past 150mph with that fat ass weighing it down. No, but for Ricky’s money he could already visualize the handling, gauge the turn reaction and feel the torque in the machine. Driving it in his mind over and over as he sat motionless in his cell. The day came, The Warden, fat behind that stupid desk. He never saw it coming. Like a flash Ricky was over the desk, a lazer cutter from the plate shop in his sleeve. Holding The Warden hostage, Ricky negotiated his terms and made it to the outside. There he downloaded the OS from the Wardens PAD to his own and hacked into the cars network. It handled just like he had imagined, tight on the corners, quick off the line and great mpg. It was love at first sight.
Enter The Ramblers. On his way out of the Youth Correctional Facility Ricky was taking the I294 south when he ran into the Go-Gangers. When he refused to stop and barter as was the way it worked out there in Rambler territory, they became inraged and sent out their best drivers to extract the toll manually. Outnumbered, outgunned but not outmatched Ricky drove every single one of the gangs best wheelmen into submission. Slowing finally to a stop, he flagged the leaders car summoning him like a airtaxi and leaned into his window, wild eyed with a half Cheshire grin he asked the stunned troll for a job.