NOTE: Biographical details are uncorroborated.
Cole Burns, AKA the Lethal_Enforcer, needs no introduction. He's a man on the edge, and Cerberus Daily News had better be taking notes, because the Lethal Enforcer teaches a lesson only once.
Cole Burns is a loose cannon. He's a man with no attachments and only one rule; get the job done, no matter what the cost. He's hard, he's fast, he's hot, he's cold, he's your worst nightmare come to life if you cross him, and he sells out to no-one. He lives an existence balanced on the razor's edge between life and death, unflinching. He doesn't back down, and when he wins - which he will, because a life of hardship and grit has made him a winner - he just keeps on going, pushing past the obstacles in his way.
As the Lethal Enforcer, he was thrown in at life's deep end, and you'd better believe he knows how to swim.
Cole Burns is a red-blooded human, and a prime example - indeed, the prime example - of human masculinity. Hailing from a long line of American warriors, he is not constrained by this heritage. His distinguished hairstyle is the work of the last of the Japanese samurai barbers, and he is also no stranger to non-human cultures, having mastered the ancient asari art of biotics. Nor is he just a human, as that part of him which isn't muscle or sinew is now chrome and steel, as hard and unyielding as his eyes, his fists, or his relentless pursuit of justice.
The Lethal Enforcer is irresistible to the female sex, though beholden to no-one; man, woman or other.
Raised on the streets, possibly since conception, Cole Burns learned that the universe will swing for you and that you have to take the blow and then swing back harder. His only education was at the school of hard knocks, and he aced the curriculum. He knew that to survive you had to be the best - and Cole Burns became the best, before showing his peers that what they had previously believed to be the best was just a warmup.
From before the age of six, he fought in the pit fights in Little Neo-Mexico, taking down drug-addicted criminals and corrupt cops for a handful of credits. Financial responsibility was something he learned with his toilet training, and violence was the lullaby of his infancy. The reactor in Little Neo-Mexico was leaking - the contractor grasping for every last credit, and thicker walls meaning lesser profits. While he and his ilk laughed in their high-rises, the dispossessed suffered. The young Cole Burns bled, and more importantly made other bastards bleed, to provide for his many siblings. Over the years, his brothers and sisters would all lose the fight against eezo contamination, but tragedy only made the young Cole Burns stronger. The lesson beaten into him by the cold, hard realties of life was that you can rely on none but yourself - yourself, and the man he was destined to become: the Lethal Enforcer. He got his first bio-amp when he was ten years old, out of a pawn shop. Self-taught in the art of biotics, his lessons were refined by his sensei, a hard man of the streets. At sixteen, he joined the army on a biotic scholarship, his body and mind now finally tuned weapons of mass destruction.
His military career was distinguished, but eventually he was forced to leave the military life; his ability to get the job done by any means and regardless of the cost was too much for the timid desk-jockeys to handle.
The military couldn't handle him, but he was a warrior by trade, and a warrior he remained. He became commander of the Fighting Swordfish, a ragtag team of professionals from very different backgrounds who came together against the common enemies of humankind. Their only mission statement? To defend the Earth at any cost. Chuck, Mac, Big Tex, Cobra, Wanda, Little Jim: the Lethal Enforcer knew and trusted them all.
For years Cole Burns roamed where he was needed. One trip saw him visit the Citadel, following a lead on a dope-dealing data-hacking child-smuggling predator who was soon to realise he'd made the mistake of underestimating the Lethal Enforcer. At one point a turian C-sec officer tried to hassle him for protection money, unaware that when the Lethal Enforcer is around, the one who needs protecting is you.
The Lethal Enforcer was on Earth when the Reapers arrived. He saw his unit killed in an instant, the latest victims of the cold, unforgiving universe. A lesser man would have been broken by the experience, but the Lethal Enforcer doesn't break. He comes back stronger, harder, more determined. The immediate aftermath of his men's death is a blur; the next thing he remembers is waking up in a hospital bed with fifty pounds of shrapnel and cybernetics in his body, medals pinned to his chest.
They tried making him their poster boy, but that is not the way of the Lethal Enforcer, not when there is still injustice in the universe, not when there are hard decisions to be made and commanders too weak to make them and face the consequences. The Lethal Enforcer won't be held back, he won't be held down and he belongs to no-one. He left, beholden as ever to none but himself, and continued his campaign against the universe that works to grind a man down - but only succeeds in sharpening the Lethal Enforcer to a deadly point.
His first job as a freelancer took him to Omega, Queen of the Terminus. He hacked terminals for credits while he waited for his first real job to come in, teaching quarian technicians (often female and adoring) how it's done. His samurai gladiator training allowed him to put Eclipse forces in their place when they made the mistake of harassing him. He also worked with a geth hitman, named Darius 7, for half an hour, until the machine turned on him - only to discover it had gravely miscalculated.
When you need to call someone, you call the Lethal Enforcer. When the fat cats and suits screw the little guy over, there is no hope for justice save him. Cole Burns knows that sometimes you have to break the rules. It won't be pretty, but if you can't handle the fumes, get out of the apothecary, because the Lethal Enforcer is about to supply some medicine.
- The Lethal Enforcer owns both a restored hover-capable 1980s Corvette and a Kawasaki 264 HoverNinja.
- He wields a matched pair of platinum-plated carnifexes, though he needs nought but his bare hands to take you down.
- He leads a neo-retro-synth band, Lasertiger. They play every Saturday night on Omega at the Blood & Chrome; he's on the synthguitar. He's got twenty five labels fighting over the rights to his music, but none of them will get it.
Threads of Note
Whiskey: The perfect drink?