Origins:
There was once an evil genius doctor named Doctor Insano. Dr. Insano caused many problems for many people in his many attempts to take over the world. He had schemes to take everything over like freezing the ocean so that nobody could surf, thus impairing a good part of California. The street gangs in LA, not caring about surfing, but instead upset because someone was moving in o the gray areas of legality on the West Coast, which was their turf, beat him up and sent him back to the drawing board. There is an interesting story about him, but this is not it. This story is not about his mother, Mrs. Insano, his brother, Jimmy Insano, or even his old Social Studies teacher, Mrs. Graham. This is not about any of them. However, it IS about someone by a similar name, a man they called...

INSANO.

...well, for at least PART of his life.

Insano was a semi-well-known professional wrestler in the AFSAACWF (A Few Surfers And A Cameraman Wrestling Federation). Located in San Francisco, the AFSAACWF owned a small amount of beachfront property where they held their events. Insano was a crowd favorite, surging in on his blue and white lighning bolt surfboard atop a twenty-foot wave created by an offshore machine specifically for his entrance and diving into the ring in his trademark blue and white Hawaiian shirt. He'd of course make fun of his opponents who walked into the arena between the tiki torches set up near the entrance gate for the parking lot, as opposed to using a super-flashy wave-ridin' entrance.

Well, our story begins on a balmy October afternoon (extra balmy with a side of humidity, hold the mayo) in the beachfront area housing the arena and the semi-well-known beachfront Jewish restaraunt, 'Didn't I Tells Ya, Watch Out For The Seagulls!'. It was the day of their smallest pay-per-view, God May Care, which ran every year on Thanksgiving for the five people that actually showed up at the arena and the estimated fifteen that watched it insteat of football at home. It was the proving ground for the less-known wrestlers that usually appeared on the AFSAACWF's Saturday night show, The Other Side, which aired at 11:30 local time and had more news segments about what was going on in the AFSAACWF than actual matches. Therefore, God May Care was the only widespread publication that these poor saps got. Now, the more-well-known and even big-time wrestlers would all draw straws to see which one of them would make an appearance on God May Care to keep the 20 fans that actually saw the PPV from switching channels to football. Needless to say, as this is his story, Insano got the "GMC Shaft" this year and had to miss the sixth football game of seventeen for the day to appear in the program. Incidentally, though God May Care could be called "GMC", it's usually sponsored by Honda. Anyway, since Insano happened to be the InterCoastal Champion at the time, he was scheduled to defend his title at the event, something that had never happened before at God May Care. Since the InterCoastal belt was the only one to be defended at the PPV, the match was scheduled last with Insano facing off against a young Hawaiian wresler called the Kilohuea Kid. The Kid was a high-flier with an attitude and a tendency to throw Hawaiian surfing jargon into his interviews, getting on the crowd's nerves because he was hard to understand if you're a mainlander. The match went as expected, a seesaw battle until Insano came off the turnbuckle with a Flying Headbutt of Insanity and landed it. After pinning his opponent, Insano promptly left the arena to find out what had happened in the sixth game of the seventeen of the day, the one he'd just missed. Since his car happened to be in the shop that day, he took the bus back to his pad when a freak snowstorm started. The driver, being an average Californian, was COMPLETELY unable to drive in the snow and crashed soon after they got on the highway leading out of town.

Climbing out of the wrecked bus, Insano was nearly run down by a six-footed alien followed by several men in black suits, ties, and sunglasses. Angry, he chased after the creature and dove straight at it, cracking heads at a dead run and knocking it out.

"Not bad." came a voice from behind him.

"Huh?" Insano asked in return, confused due to the fact that dialogue had been spontaneously written into the story.

"You don't see many headfirst takedowns in this business." Insano turned to see an armored, blaster-toting figure, evidently the source of the voice that had caused dialogue to be written into the story.

"What line of work is that, dude?"

"I'm Captain Commando, chief of the Galactic Federation Police."

"Ah, the whole interstellar 'capture-the-bad-guy' type of thing. Gotcha."

"Actually, you have potential, kid. We're looking to recruit some new hunters... have you ever considered galactic police work?"

"Have YOU ever contemplated dancing in a cornfield at night beneath the Aurora Borealis? What kind of a question is that? Until today, I didn't even know you guys existed."

"True. Perhaps I was a bit sudden, but we're hurting for new..."

"Say no more, intergalactic dude. What's the pay?"

"What, just like that? You'd never even heard of us before today."

"So? I'm a semi-well-known professional wrestler that just appeared on the least-watched pay-per-view in history and had to miss the sixth football game of seventeen for today. I was about to go back to my pad and eat a frozen TV Thanksgiving dinner. What have I got to lose?"

Around a year later, Insano recieved his first payoff as an intergalactic bounty hunter. This is not as integral to the story as contemplating whether or not to dance in a cornfield at night under the Auroro Borealis, but hey, it marks the point where Insano completed the transition from semi-famous professional wrestler to semi-famous intergalactic bounty hunter and hero. He graduated third in his class, however, the top two were killed on a mission by the sixteenth in line, the lowest in the entire class, who double-crossed them because he hated anyone who did better than he did. he would have gooten Insano, too, if he hadn't been teaching another hunter how to gravi-surf in a nebula. None of that is really important.

Name: The Insane Space Hunter... though for some reason, everybody abbreviates that to "ISH"

Physical traits... uh... sure... let's see... well, first, I'll make myself taller, like 6' or so... uh... something like that.

Home: Earth. Read my bio... there's a link to it here.

Transportation: My old YT-1300 (think Millennium Falcon from Star Wars) named the Quest of Insanity

Motive: I have no motive, I want no motive, I'm just insane.

Alliances/grudges... well... uh... nobody's the same from in the first battle, so I don't think I have any. That seems to be all.

Attacks:
1) Ye Olde Hand Blaster:
"Hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a good blaster at your side, kid," as stated by Han Solo. Maybe not, but I'll take the blaster, anyway. Like last time. No wavy shots, no ice beam, just your old average blaster.

2) Ye Olde Rocket Launcher:
Not to be confused with a Rockette Launcher, as they're all pretty old now. Hah, hah, hah. Funny. Anyway, my helmet turns a different color when I use it, so I telegraph the move. That's a good reason not to use it too often, which I don't.

3) The Whimsically Ridiculous Unreliable Flying Headbutt of Insanity that Ensures Victory:
Finally, everybody's favorite, Whimsically Ridiculous Unreliable Flying Headbutt of Insanity that
Ensures Victory, which is executed after I take my helmet off (it's no fun if you don't use your head... without protection... or something), which makes it difficult to execute in vacuum (unless I hold my breath). Also, I need something to jump off of. Incidentally, that's exactly (I think) verbatim from last time (the headbutt, I mean). Moving on...

Last Resort: ...