I'm a dude who liked punching things. Very evil things. I was in Russia, brawling it up, deciding I'd go play with the mafia's toys. And by toys, I mean hired goons. One thing led to another, I ended up with a shotgun in my chest, and the rest is history. Then, I woke up, god knows how much later. Some stupid little robot was telling me I'm a "Guardian" or some garbage now. I thought it was cool. And then big evil aliens started showing up! AND I PUNCHED THEM IN THE FACE SO HARD I KNOCKED THEIR HEADS OFF I realized my true calling. Running around the galaxy, destroying anything that was against the remains of humanity in the most brutal, satisfying way possible: with my knuckles. My gift has served me well.