Strength: 65 Sn/ 75 Sp damage
Agility: 50 Am
Endurance: 50 Am
Fighting: 60 Sn/ Sp
Reason: 10 Gd
Intuition: 20 Ex
Psyche: 40 In
Appearance: 10 Gd
Iron will: 70 Sn
True Flight: 50 Am
Linguistics: 50 Am
Water Freedom and Breathing: 30 Rm
Law Enforcement: 3
First Aid: 2
Martial Arts: B and D
Self-Repairing Body Armor: 20 Ex
Adamantium Body Armor: 30 Rm/ Gauntlets: 70 Mn
Wrist Artificial Intelligence: E.V.I
Abilities- True Memory: 30 Rm
Hero Name: Autopsy
Actual Name: Ralph Containe
Birthday: 18 Sept. 1981
Blood Type: O-
Height: 6’ 2 1/2"
Hometown: John Day, Oregon
Family: 11, 9 siblings- Garret, younger brother, mutant: Hyper invention, regeneration
The thoughts of Ralph Containe on his life events thus far:
“I had a good childhood. I was born in Idaho to two young parents, Claire and Leonard Containe. We lived in the state until I was 3. My father obtained a job as a bread truck driver in the town of John Day, Oregon, where my 9 siblings were born and still live to this day. My mother and father raised and educated us together, giving us a very stable, loving, and supportive living environment. Both my parents are Christians and felt it was very important that we be raised and taught in their beliefs, something I am infinitely grateful for.
At the age of 14 I decided I wanted to be a police officer and at the age of 18 I enrolled in the Police Academy. After graduation, I decided I needed to have a broader, more comprehensive understanding of America, so requested that I be stationed in a larger city. I was given a post in Gulfport, Mississippi, a city of 71,000. It was a large adjustment, and demanded much of me as an officer, a man, and a Christian. I was still stationed in the city when it was struck by Hurricane Katrina in 2005. It was during this crisis and the subsequent recovery process that I encountered my first superhero. I was attempting to save a 13 year old boy from underneath a flipped car as the water level was rising. Despite all my efforts, the car would not move. The young mans’s legs were pinned and he was crying. I prayed for God to save him as I strained one more time. It was then that I heard a voice behind my shoulder say, “How about a hand, son?” I turned to see Captain America. I told him, quite shakily, that a boy was trapped and I could not free him on my own, to which he replied, that, together, we could. I feel that he was lying when he said that, because as we lifted the car, I had to exert no force. The car was flipped and the boy scrambled out. As I hugged him and told him that we would get him somewhere safe, Captain America knelt beside me and asked the boy his name. The boy said “Anthony,” to which Captain America replied, “Anthony, you are one of the bravest young men I have ever met,” and clasped his hand. Anthony said, “But sir, I’m scared, I’m crying, and don’t know where my parents are or what’s going to happen to me. How am I brave?” I will never forget what was said next, for I feel it showcases the true character of Steve Rogers. He looked Anthony in the eye and said, in a very serious tone, “Son, a real man cries when those he loves are hurt and he shows true courage when, in spite of his fear, he continues on with the fight.” He then stood up, nodded his head at me, and ran towards the homes nearest the coast, towards the worst and most dangerous flooding. I will never forget that encounter, as long as I live.
I remained in Gulfport for two more years before requesting a transfer to New York City. In retrospect, my reasons for doing so were foolish and unwise. I was tired of Mississippi’s humidity, I felt that I was not making a difference on the force (a lie I told myself now that I think of it), and I wanted to still increase my perspective of the world. New York City seemed to offer me what I wanted. My transfer was accepted and I actually became an officer for Interpol after a year.What followed was 3 years of substantial personal growth and change for me. I became a much colder, harsher person after the breaking of my sister’s back. Anne Jo was sixteen at the time and came to visit me. I had not seen her for three years and planned to give her a great experience. On the fourth day of her visit, we were walking down a street, having just ate lunch. An explosion occurred fifty feet ahead of us, taking out the front of a law firm. A hooded figure ran out of the wreckage and up the street towards us. As I called for him to stop, a small sphere landed at my feet before exploding. I remember nothing after feeling my head collide with the lamppost behind me. I came to with someone shaking me. A firefighter asked if I could move my limbs. I could and made to lift myself up. He told me to lie still and wait for an ambulance. It occurred to me that I could not see my sister. I was terrified and pushed his arm away, getting myself up. I saw another firefighter kneeling beside a blonde girl. I stumbled over and saw a massive amount of blood covering her lower body. I am not entirely sure what happened in the next few hours, as my mind shut down. The clearest memory I have is of a paramedic telling me that Anne Jo’s back was broken. I was devastated. She lived and actually recovered quite well, but the anger and guilt I felt would not go away. I found that it was a criminal called Hobgoblin that was responsible for the explosions and my sister’s injury. What infuriated me most was that I knew I could not harm him on my own or even with my contacts in the force. I tried, oh I tried. I even went to some very unsavory characters looking for a means of extracting revenge. No success. The more I focused and dwelt on my anger and hurt, the more I devolved as a person. I truly believe what occurred next was due to God’s grace.
I was driving to Washington, D.C. for some training, when, half way there, a large truck drove me off the road. It was intentional and resulted in a horrific wreck. The last image I remember seeing before unconsciousness was a tree trunk coming through my windshield. My next image was a white, tiled ceiling. I raised my head to find that I was in a hospital. A nurse passing by my bed stopped and asked how I felt. I was surprised to find that I felt quite well, better in fact, than I could ever remember. My body did not hurt at all. I felt like my mind and body were processing information at a much quicker rate than ever before too. I asked the nurse where I was and what had happened to my body. She replied that I was in Dublin, Ireland in a very prestigious medical clinic, specializing in reconstructive surgery. She motioned a doctor to come over, who introduced himself as Bernard Hendrick. He proceeded to explain that I was flown in on a private jet, barely alive. A man in a black mask told him to keep me alive, no matter the cost and that organs and blood to keep me alive would be provided. After considerable effort and time, I was stabilized and began healing rapidly. That was two weeks ago. The doctor said he had never seen such a recovery and that I was able to check out as soon as I wished. He told the nurse to bring my belongings. She returned with a set of clothes, a pair of shoes, a wallet, and a cellphone. I was quite confused. After getting dressed, I signed out of the hospital, with the doctor telling me that all bills had been paid for. I proceeded to make several phone calls. Over the course of an hour, I found that I had been recorded dead on almost all records of me. I told my captain and family that I was alive and in Ireland and that I needed time to discover why I was alive and in Ireland. The family was overjoyed and the captain told me to meet up with Interpol agents in Dublin. I then called the one number pre-regestered in the phone, labeled “Information.” Thus began the new chapter of my life.
The story of Autopsy so far has been a full of ups and downs and shifts in his powers. Autopsy started off battling criminals on the streets of Dublin and fighting crime throughout Europe and eventually evolved into a hero that was widely respected and was an important force in taking down the most dangerous of villains to assault the world.