Raised in a collective on the mainland, Elvis was never what you’d call a strong supporter of the cause of international communism. He wasn’t lazy . . . . exactly, but he was more interested in sports than planting community gardens or union organizing. At a young age his goal was to compete in the Olympics. In what sport? What sport you got? When his parents explained to him that participating in international athletic events was a betrayal of their ideological and political views, parents and son looked at each other and realized they had gone about as far together as they were likely to.
Elvis ran away, first to Vietnam and eventually to Madripoor, connecting with relatives whose concerns were a little more localized than the cause of global Marxism. If his parents tried to find him, they didn’t try very hard. Running the streets of Madripoor and getting into fights, Elvis likely would have ended up in a gang (or dead) if he hadn’t been captured in the orbit of his iron-willed grandmother. Under her auspices, Elvis was directed towards physical pursuits more beneficial to the neighborhood and the community.
In his heart of hearts Elvis considers himself the defender of the neighborhood, but he’d never say it out loud knowing what his grandmother would say about such foolishness. In reality he does far more good as a self-taught handyman/contractor/carpenter/plumber/electrician than he does by punching out gangsters. Since he doesn’t care much about money or things Elvis rarely bothers to ask for payment when he fixes something for someone or helps them. At most he asks them for a favor that he uses to help someone else to needs something fixed. Ironically making him a pretty good communist in function if not philosophy. The community will be much worse off when he finally gets himself killed. Which should be any day now.
Elvis has no superhuman abilities, but is a skilled hand to hand combatant. He’s dabbled in various martial arts here and there but he’s more of a back-alley brawler than anything. Unburdened by fear, unbothered by pain, and unfamiliar with good sense, when Elvis gets in a fight he never stops swinging, relentlessly attacking his opponents regardless of the damage he takes in the process.
People started calling him Elvis because of his unwarranted love for the movie Blue Hawaii, but no one remembers that since he grew the sideburns.
Elvis HATES pimps. His grandma’s street is the only one in the border zone of Madripoor where you will never find anyone hustling for johns.