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Michael Pearson had an… interesting childhood. Early in his life he’d been the apple of his parents’ eyes. He aced every test and surpassed records in every area of study he was exposed to. He and his older sister Danielle were the perfect children, and their parents couldn't have been more proud. That was not to last, for either of them. Michael's father, Otto was a real estate tycoon of incredible wealth, and one of the blue blood aristocrats of Golden Gate City. When he was ten years old, his father returned from one of his frequent trips to one of the other Earths (whether for business or pleasure, he never understood) with a small child in tow. Apparently it was his with some woman he’d been seeing during his trips. His name was Titus. His arrival had about the expected effect on Michael’s mother, and though they stayed together “for his sake” the home became a much colder place to be from then on.

At age 8, his father began his intensive training to continue his legacy in as a brilliant CEO. Well it would've been more accurate to say that he had the help begin Michael's training. In addition to his rigorous studies in more traditional areas, and his noble pursuits such as fencing, horseback riding, falconry, etc. Otto contracted a high ranking veteran of Black Gate to "make a man" out of his son. Michael took to it very well for the most part. He set records at pretty much every firing range in GGC with every kind of firearm imaginable. He was even better at gun maintenance and repair. He also excelled in his “classes” on strategy and tactics, learning almost everything there was to know about modern urban combat. Where Michael struggled, and where cracks began to show in his relationship with father, were the more physical pursuits. He was passable as a martial artist, but passable wasn’t anywhere near good enough for his teacher, who exploded at any mistake or sign of imperfection. This would then be mirrored in the icy disappointment of his father. Additionally, though Michael had a lot of endurance, he was not all that fast a sprinter, and this was also unacceptable to his father.

As Michael grew up, he discovered an exceptional talent and love for art. Painting, drawing, sculpting, any form of creation was a great joy to him. He particularly enjoyed fantastical beasts and monsters for his subject matter, deriving great satisfaction from creating beautiful or terrifying creatures. His father, however saw it as a useless skill and a distraction, which further drove the wedge between the two, as well as between his parents when his mother weakly tried to defend his right to choose his own path. Given how passive his mother was in essentially everything, it was not a hard fought battle, but Michael had to grasp at any sign of affection he could find. The only exception to Michael's solitude was his sister. They had been cordial but not especially close growing up, but now that their father's true colors were coming to light, they found common ground in commiseration and disdain for the man. In fact, Dani's early teenage rebellions served as a beacon for Michael, showing him that it was possible to live out from under his father's thumb. He had always looked up to her as one does with older siblings, but it was that which would cement his respect and devotion to the girl.

Things came to a head when Michael was fourteen and his younger half-brother began his own training regimen. He took to it like a fish to water, and rapidly became his father’s favorite, causing significant distress for Michael, his sister, and his mother. He thought of a plan to help out though: he proposed that he be sent to New Brockton for high school, so there would be less conflict. Seeing it as a chance to protect his younger son from corruption by the habits of his elder, Otto readily accepted the plan, and sent Michael away. It was devastating to leave his mother, nearly more than he could bear to leave his sister, and surprisingly difficult to leave his younger half brother as well (they had somehow become very close despite the problems they faced), but Michael was confident that it would turn out better for everyone involved.

He also had another reason for wanting to leave: his school days were not happy ones, being the son of the wealthy arms dealer already isolated him from his peers, and his interest in art coupled with its focus on fantasy settings and subjects served as a perfect excuse to ostracize him. He was the victim of nearly every example of bullying one could think of, from the cliched to the inspired, but Michael was able to live with it because he had his art to immerse himself in, and his mother or half brother to talk to. He hoped to escape that by moving. It was a naive and vain hope. His problems with bullying only increased dramatically in his new environment, and he no longer had any family to lean upon, afraid that any contact with his younger brother would be seen as corrupting him, and contact with his older sister as being corrupted by her. It was safer for himself, and his family for him to stay away. He therefore took refuge entirely in his art, throwing himself into it with abandon. He managed to keep himself functional, if not entirely sane by personifying his many paintings, giving them each personalities and goals, and discussing his days with them instead of with his family.

Michael did wind up with one other surprising source of support during this time: the Undersiders. He’d started his secret association with them as a sort of rebellion against his father’s aristocratic plans for him and the structured Black Gate training sessions, but quickly found himself enjoying his time as one of their henchmen. His father’s arranged training, which he continued with other Black Gate operatives in New Brockton, ensured that he was more skilled than most of the adult henchman, and the fact that he was a child meant that he often had the element of surprise, in addition to fitting in better with the mostly adolescent capes in the organization. He also found an interesting new way to stretch his artistic muscles while with the group: graffiti. Though for the Undersiders he mostly just tagged buildings with their mark for whatever reason (not usually shared with him, but that was fine, safer that way), but he would apply it to his usual subject matter as well in his spare time, and out of Undersider territory. His fellow Undersiders served as an excellent source of desperately needed emotional support and human interaction… while it lasted. Unfortunately, as he neared graduation from high school, he was forced to cut his ties with them in anticipation of his father calling him back to Golden Gate City to further his formal and illicit educations, and eventually employ him in the family business. To use him as a trophy to the other bigwigs, "look at how wonderful my son is, and realize my greatness." Disgusting.

Losing His friends in the Undersiders dealt a serious blow to Michael's emotional well-being, but it would not be the last or the worst blow he would receive during that time. Already stretched to the breaking point at nineteen, a few days before his high school graduation he would receive word that his mother had committed suicide and in the wake, Dani had been institutionalized for some sort of mental disorder. It was strongly implied to him that the shame from watching Titus surpass him in all of his educational and illicit pursuits and in the yes of his father had been what pushed his mother over the edge, and in turn his sister. The intense guilt he felt from this kept him from trying to hard to go and see his sister, and even from attending the funeral. This wound up being the straw that broke the camel’s back, and Michael canceled his trip home, instead accepting an art scholarship to a college in New Brockton. He had effectively run away from everything in his old life, even the Undersiders. It left him again with only his art as a refuge from the world which so often hurt him. He went even deeper down the rabbit hole with regard to his creations, now seeing himself almost as a parent or god, he saw so much reality in the personifications of the creatures he made. He finally felt like he had his life (such as it was) on track, about to graduate from college with an impressive triple major in art and graphic design, childhood psychology, and physics. He planned to take a job as a counselor at Mercy High School and try to help kids like him, being the support system he’d been largely unable to find.

For the second time, he would be hit the hardest only a few days before a graduation. Michael accidentally discovered the truth: his sister had not snapped, at least not nearly enough to have been sent away as she was, in reality his father had payed off the doctors to commit her as a punishment for her rebellion and so that he would have an easier time controlling Michael and Titus. Additionally, He had continued his relationship with Titus’ mother for years more than he had let on, only stopping when she died… giving birth to her second son. These discoveries were the greatest betrayals that Michael had ever felt. Additionally, he had to contend with the terrible guilt of having left before he could stop it, or even notice it until now. Reeling from the betrayal and his guilt and without anywhere else to turn, he literally sprinted to his studio, feeling his grip on reality slipping with every step. By the time he arrived, the line between what was real and what wasn’t had almost completely disappeared. He now truly saw his art as his children, and himself as their father-god. His children would console him.

Throwing open the door, he arrived to find it utterly destroyed. In the latest escalation of the campaign of atrocities his peers committed against him, they had ruined all of the art in his studio, and destroyed all of his supplies as well. This swept out from under him the last vestiges of his support system. Someone had found the camel crushed under that steel girder and had lit it on fire then chucked it into a wood-chipper. He was utterly and truly alone, standing among the desecrated corpses of his last remaining friends and family. Unable to cope, something within Michael's mind snapped. He began to weep openly. His thoughts raced, as his eyes passed over each of his ruined paintings, sculptures, and sketches; his murdered children. As he clutched the remains of one of his youngest to his chest and sobbed into it, the last sliver of brain which was rational thought about how much different things would be if they were as real to others as they were to him. They were all strong, confident, powerful. They’d be able to stand up to his tormentors, and to his father. As his brain worked itself into overdrive, he had some sort of vision or fever dream of two fantastical beings greater than anything he’d ever created, so much grander in scale that he knew the inspiration couldn’t have come only from within himself. Still, his last thoughts before he lost consciousness were almost hopeful. The fact that his brain could conceive of even part of such a thing meant that he must be able to think of many more things to paint, draw, and sculpt. He was more inspired than he’d been in years, he’d be able to create many more children to replace the ones so cruelly taken from him.