Character Name Here!
Portrayed By Ryan Gosling
Gender Male
Date of Birth ??
Age 37
Zodiac Sign ??
Aliases ??
Place of Birth Neusalza-Spremberg, Germany
Current Location New York City
Occupation Contract Killer
Known Relatives None
Significant Other None
Identity ??
Known Abilities Perfect Aim
First Appearance ???

This is an example cast page, a template for a character's wiki entry for Marvel Revolutions MUCK. This line is an introduction to your character!


The men in my family always have been crack shots. I'm not sure how or why, really, but I guess it's some genetic thing. My great grandfather was a sniper in World War 1, opposite English and Canadian lines, and was said to be the bane of their existence. Sending more than one poor soul to an early grave by way of a well aimed Mauser rifle bullet across hundreds of yards of No Man's Land. I even got told stories that he'd been personally targeted by a great and legendary British sniper and main sharpshooting instructor of the British Army, the infamous Major Hesketh Hesketh-Prichard, but who was ultimately unable to put a Enfield's .303 in my great grandfather's brain. Which was perhaps a good thing, as his son, my grandfather, was born soon after that war, and was old enough when the second big one came around to also prove himself a veritable shooting ace. A Wehrmacht sniper on the Eastern Front, he killed close to two hundred Reds in the ruins of Stalingrad alone, counting just his confirmed kills. And I remember as a young boy seeing his Iron Cross proudly framed above our mantelpiece, and hearing the stories of his exploits as I sat on his knee in the evenings. And as for my father? Well, he'd never served in any war, but his skill with a rifle was no less impressive for that. Known around the area of my home as a great hunter, and the proud winner of numerous national and international target shooting tournaments, he was yet another Eisenberg in a long line of men that possessed great accuracy.

When the Soviets took over part of my country after World War 2, my family found themselves trapped in what was to be known as East Germany, and so that's where I was born in 1975, in a small town to the east of Dresden, near the Polish border. My grandfather of course hated the Russians and the Communist puppet regime, but their presence and authority was a fact of life in those days. My father himself was forced to work closely with the government, so he would be allowed to travel abroad and get the appropriate prestige from his participation in those tournaments I mentioned. And as a young boy, I remember often seeing the mysterious, dangerous looking men accompanying him on his travels, who I realize now were STASI agents there to watch him and keep him in line… And I now also realize that's how I was likely brought to their attention as well.

The last time I saw my family was when I was around 9 years old. I remember my father standing by the front door, watching me be taken away in one of their black cars. His face stoic even though I know he must have been hurting, not willing to let the STASI men see his pain. These same men had seen me shoot just weeks before, my father allowing me to handle a .22 target pistol for the first time, and proud- if not somewhat surprised- to see me attaining a near perfect score upon the paper target set 25 meters away, time after time. We must have gone through hundreds of rounds, my father testing me, delighted to see the Eisenberg skill passed on so early, so instinctively. But the men who were watching must have been delighted as well, if they were capable of such emotions, and it was this that must have made them come for me.

I never found out what reason they gave my father for snatching me away, but regardless, I was soon taken to a secret STASI facility that was ran by a man named Klaus Dietrich. A STASI Colonel, he specialized in young talent such as me. The Republic needed able bodied men and women to fight its secret wars, and it was in this facility- and others like it- where these were created from young girls and boys, trained from an early age, brainwashed, told they would eventually be called to spy and kill for their new masters. And the Colonel was a harsh master at that. It only took me a week to organize my first escape attempt… And to this day, my right calf shows the imprints of the dog's teeth, and I vividly remember the beating I received by the Colonel himself, which left me in the facility's infirmary for weeks after.

After I had recovered, and learned my place, my training commenced, and my days were soon taken up by the various lectures, courses, and physical exercises that were supposed to turn me into an effective agent for the state. The Colonel meanwhile an ever watchful presence, seemingly taking a personal, though oppressive, interest in each child under his care… And reserving a special interest for me in particular. The ability that had drawn their attention continuing to manifest itself, as hours were spent on the shooting ranges, putting me to the test. I was seemingly given every small arms conceivable, and made to shoot them from awkward positions, far beyond their effective range, or even while under fire myself, to figure out the limits of my skill… And it was not long before I started hitting each target with perfect accuracy, no matter the obstacle they presented to me. And it was also not long before I noticed the Colonel and other men watching me decided to seek the safety of an observation post, protected by concrete and inches of bullet proof glass. Obviously worried about the prospect of me turning my skills against them, as had indeed crossed my mind.

I lived at the facility for close to 5 years, and by the end of it I was for all intents and purposes a trained killer, despite not yet being out of my teens. I don't really like to dwell on my time there, but I must admit they made me what I am today. The Colonel's harsh reign shaping me in what some people would certainly call a monster… And I would have soon used the skills they taught me against enemies of the state, against fellow Germans even, if it was not for the political turmoil that started in 1989 with the fall of the Berlin Wall.

By 1990, it was clear to most that the Republic didn't have much time left. Change was coming, unification even, and as such, organizations like the STASI were forced to move quick. Files were destroyed, people were silenced, and certain assets were moved around. Assets such as myself, obviously, as I was taken from the facility in August of that year, shoved in the back of a truck by Russian speaking men. The trip that followed was long and entirely by road, heading east. And it didn't take me much effort to deduce that I was being taken to Russia, having likely been sold to the KGB or some other Soviet apparatus, and about to be forced to continue my training there… And I think it was the idea of being taken by strangers to a strange land, away from my own state which I had been taught- brainwashed- to obey those past years, it was this that rekindled my desire to escape and be free. A desire which the Colonel had soundly beaten out of me before, but which had not yet managed to die entirely.

I dumped the truck in a lake in a rural part of Czechoslovakia, and to this day I'm not entirely sure if they ever managed to find it, or the bodies of the men I left inside- each perfectly executed with a bullet to the brain or heart. And for a time I also wasn't entirely sure what to do with myself… Heading back home wasn't an option yet, as I was sure it would put my family in danger if I returned to them, yet at the same time I was stuck in a strange country where I did not yet speak the native language. But eventually a choice was made, and following roadsigns, moving on foot in an attempt to lay low, I made my way to the biggest city in the country.

Prague is an ancient city, and easy to blend in to, ever popular with tourists. Though of course my presence there carried the risk of being discovered by Russian agents, or even my 'own' people, who I reasoned would be all too happy to grab or even kill me, and this made me rather careful during my first year there. At first, I managed to support myself with petty theft, breaking into cars and homes for items I could easily pawn off, and making sure I never overdid myself as to not attract too much attention from the authorities. A trip to jail would undoubtedly put me on someone's radar… And I would have continued living like this, most likely, a street rat stealing tablescraps to just keep myself fed, if it wasn't for the threat that was hanging over my head quite suddenly dissolving itself.

The Deutsche Demokratische Republik, my old masters, had collapsed by October, 1990, and by December 1991- after I had been in the city for a bit over a year- the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics followed suit. This effectively removed the threat of retaliation by either, and made me confident to step up my game. Opportunities in crime soared in those days, and it wasn't long before I saw my first chance… Or my first shot if you will.

Andel Blazek was one of the biggest crimelords in Prague, a notorious arms dealer who was starting to reap the benefits of the large quantities of Russian weaponry that became illegally available after the recent Soviet collapse. And as it happened, Andel Blazek needed someone killed. A lesser criminal had stolen a large sum of money from him, and the only solution was deemed to be an open contract on his life. Getting word of this, I bought myself a cheap pistol from a local crook, stole a rusty Lada sedan, and set out.

I had no idea what the target's habits might be, or where he might have run off to, but I soon found a way around that. The Kaminski brothers were two freelance Polish hitmen, known to be quite able in their chosen profession, and it was an easy matter to use my previously acquired skills to set up surveillance, biding my time until it seemed they might have sniffed out the target and decided to make their move, and an easier matter to tail them across the country once they did so.

I left the Kaminski brothers with a bullet to the heart each inside a derelict farm house, and I drove the body of the target back to Prague in the trunk of my car, where I presented it to Blazek. Who at first was quite incredulous that a 16 year old had apparently fulfilled the contract, taking out two veteran killers in the process, and was now bold enough to personally present the target's body to him. But a small demonstration involving the disarming of one of his bodyguards, the man's own pistol held to his head by that same skinny teen, proved efficient to take away the crimelord's skepticism… And it was not long after that I started working for him and his associates on a regular basis.

That is how I became a killer for hire, soon traveling all over Europe to put my abilities to work. By the time I was 20, I had already made a name for myself, and the jobs I was taking became increasingly more high profile. I mainly worked for criminal enterprises, of course, but it wasn't long before certain government interests started taking notice as well, and at some point I was even approached by what I suspect were NATO representatives. Most of 1995 was spent inside Bosnia-Herzegovina, working counter-sniper efforts against Serbian forces around the besieged city of Sarajevo, as well as a job involving the elimination of a company of former Afghani Muhjadeen that had been terrorizing another part of the country. And by the end of the same decade, I was living comfortably, reaping the fruits of my labor, the steady stream of income allowing me to pursue some other interests as well, to indulge in my budding hobbies of mountain climbing, painting, and playing the piano. I even saw my family twice, in secret and from a distance, still wanting to protect them from enemies I might have made, and to spare them the knowledge of what I had become… And I admit I wept when news reached me of my father's death in 1999. Dying without ever knowing what had happened to the young boy they had taken away from him all those years ago.

The 2000's saw new opportunities for me, and much blood was spilled. The Americans in particular needed men of my ilk in their newfound War on Terror after the towers fell in New York, and I often found myself in increasingly exotic locales, from the Middle East to Africa and Asia, taking down bad men with well placed shots, both for a pay check and with the promise I was making the world a 'better place'. And this decade also saw my abilities tested against those that had even stranger ones themselves, super villains who's demise demanded a high price… And I must admit to finding a distinct thrill in being forced to display a certain creativity when the target you have been contracted to kill displays powers of super speed or the ability to turn skin to stone.

Present day has arrived, and I'm still quite active even though I'm starting to approach my fourth decade… And perhaps it's the restlessness that comes with encroaching 'middle age' that recently made me decide to abandon my long time base city of Prague, though I had grown quite attached to it. New horizons beckoned in the Land of the Free, and I have made my way to New York City under the pretense of a reasonably well to do foreign gentleman named Nicholas Porter.

I imagine only time will tell what myriad of adventures wait for me within my new home.


Whatever genetic predisposition that ran in Hans' family towards skill with a firearm, such as heightened propensity for superior eyesight, hand eye coordination, etc, seems to have mutated or progressed into something much more in him, everything coming together to allow him the ability to pick up any firearm and shoot it perfectly, without much human error. Only really affected by the inherent mechanical properties of the weapon used, though quickly able to adapt to this as well. This power or ability only really extends to firearms (though it also includes crossbows and any other weapon with the structural layout of a firearm), dealing with the fine balance of physical and mental properties needed to be an instinctively expert shot.


  • What's happened since you've been approved?


  • "War is the statesman's game, the priest's delight, The lawyer's jest, the hired assassin's trade."


  • Amazing thing!
  • Amazing thing!
  • Amazing thing!
  • Amazing thing!


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