Peter Ridgeley always loved the idea of superheroes. He loved their colorful costumes. He loved their amazing powers. He loved the obsessive fan base. He loved the idea of them lending an effort to the fight of good versus evil. Peter loved everything about superheroes, but for the one thing he hated. He hated that he wasn't one.

"Peter, be a realist."

"Peter, have you actually thought about this?"

"Peter, what will people say?"

That was the typical reaction he got when he tried to discuss his plans with his friends and family. Peter hated being judged and told he could't be a hero. He was brave, he was smarter than average, and he had taken gymnastics and tai chi at the Y. Peter was certain that he could live up to the hype. The big problem was that Peter seemed to have stopped growing when he was 12 years old. Oh he grew older, but at 22, he was still just a shade over five feet tall. Did size matter? Not to him. Not to the evil he was determined to thwart.

He had studied hard in college. Cal Tech was a great university to learn about physics and get exposure to cutting-edge technology, and Peter Ridgeley had made the connections he knew would be important as a superhero. Technology was a marvelous thing when combined with clever determination. Peter just needed a shtick. There were lots of examples of fierce fighters in nature. Badgers, wolverines, ticks, fire ants--bah it'd been done before. Living in the big city, he was able to follow along vicariously all the heroic deeds of the powered folk. In fact, he had quite a collection of newspaper clippings that he would paw through when he became depressed about his lack of heroic standing.

Then one afternoon, after getting yelled at again by both his faculty advisor and the manager at Jet Propulsion Laboratory (JPL), where he interned, Peter discovered both his "shtick" and his place in the universe. Of course the world didn't know it yet, but the article he had clipped from the Dallas Morning News had the inspiration he was looking for. It was from the fifth anniversary of the retirement of Dallas's premiere superhero Warhawk. In truth, it was really just a flimsy sounding board opportunity for the paper's editor to rant about the crime waves in the city. Peter saw it as his beacon. And thus the Goshawk was hatched.

That was five years ago. Peter had mild success as the Goshawk in Los Angeles, but still didn't make it big. The problem, as he saw it, was that Hollywood had spread its slimy hype over everything. The glitz and glamour of the jet set A-crowd was just too narcissistic to pay attention to a down-and-dirty street hero like him. That and the plethora of big-time supers with their own advertising campaigns and personal managers... just how was the little guy supposed to succeed?

The Goshawk is fearless. He has a point to prove, and he's not going to let you or them stop him. Good must triumph over evil, because it is good.

The Goshawk struggles with money problems. How can he eat at fancy restarants, or drive a new car, or have a nice bachelor pad if he is constantly spending his money on armor maintenance and pricey jet fuel? His poverty is another facet of his determination to being a hero. He places the importance of having the needed resources to be the Goshawk above going to movies, getting new clothes, paying for new furniture, or going out to fancy places to eat. Thus, his resources for these types of activities and expenses are similar to being poor. He might make a decent living as a research assistant, but he spends most, if not all, of his income on maintaining the Goshawk.

"You're not so big."

The Goshawk, aside from being a highly trained athelete, is also armed with a wide array of techno-gadgetry that offers him firepower, mobility and protection. Most prevalent are the compact jetted wings he uses to fly about, and the armored helmet he wears.

The Gostalons, bladed cresents with handles in the center portion, are balanced for throwing, but the Goshwawk can hold them in his hands and use them to fight close in.

The Gosbarrier is a harmonic kinetic dampening field. When it is powered on, the Goshawk glows visibly and hums at the limits of human perception. While it is handy to keep noisome insects, heavy rain, and dust out of his eyes, the visibility of the field makes it less desireable when the Goshawk is undercover doing surveillance.

The Goshawk's Goshearing has an antenna that sticks up--it is easily bent in combat, but equally easily repaired with attention and an action.

The Goshawk is small, but mighty. His torso and shoulders are covered in an articulated armor that encompasses a pair of short wings. His helmet is a caricatured representation of a hawk, and the gloves he wears have sharp talons on the end of each finger. Similar larger talons are integrated into the knee-length boots. When not in flight, his wings fold back and act as a short cape. The Goshawk wears camouflaged clothing under his armor, which is painted to match the plumage of his raptor namesake.