The idea was that the character would have super strength that’d only be activated by music, and hed be kind of a comical character like Deadpool. This is pretty old so it’s probably pretty bad.
The doors to my soundproof cell opened for the first time in years. A tall, stocky man came in with two armed guards carrying assault rifles. The door closed back and I found myself with three things to look at; the barrels of two M4 Carbines, or the steel glare of General Steven Philips. He handed me a folder and I looked over the papers in it. One was a sheet with a long block of text about illegal experimentation on human subjects, and below that some stuff about stopping said experimentation. There were also a couple photos, both, unbeknownst to the General, with very familiar subjects. One was what looked like an abandoned apartment building, and one was a scar faced scientist. It was the lab and head scientist that gave me my abilities. They made me a killer. A specially trained assassin that they thought they could control by making my strength only activate when I heard the right combination of rhythm and tempo and all that fancy music stuff I never cared to learn, though it seemed the more I liked a type of music the more powerful I became. I knew what Stevie wanted. He wanted me to lead a team to blow crap up, and kill the head scientist at the lab. I saw another small piece of card stock in the folder. It was an orange card with a picture of a mustached man flying out of a bird cage. It read, “get out of jail free”.
“I’m gonna need some equipment first, Stevie,” I told the General. “Like what?”
“Some round frame shades, a mask equipped with those fancy Bluetooth headphones that just came out, body armor, a hoodie, a fat iTunes gift card, an OtterBox, two desert eagles, and whatever the newest iPhone is,”
“Of course,” the General said. He turned to leave and one last thing came to mind.
“Oh! And a burrito,”