Mystery Man of the Forties Turned Aging Industrialist
Dr. James Winter is an aging man, looking somewhere north of Eighty, yet still a brilliant inventor wealthy beyond measure. The only person with any recollection of Dr. Winters at all would be Arctic Fox; Winter populated the Movietone newsreels of his youth, bailing out the U.S. and British governments during the Depression, fighting Communists and breaking union picket lines in the Thirties, arming the Allies with his new-fangled devices to fend off SCYLLA during the War.
His Winters Foundation was a booming company in the Twenties, making billions off dime-novels and pulps based on the real-life exploits of Winters’ fellow Mystery Men, on top of the man’s billions of patents, from everything to popular sheetmusic to automobiles. The Foundation only grew stronger during the Cold War, working its tentacles into every market imaginable while the core companies dominated the military-industrial complex. During this period, Winter took a back-seat from center stage. Today, few people remember that the Winters Foundation juggernaut was originally just one man working out of a garage and a Cornell laboratory: “Dr. Winter’s Foundation.”
Rumors abound about the doctor: some say that he knocked out Hitler himself; some that he ran his own prison in Scranton to house trade unionists purged from his own companies; others say that he alone from his band of Deltas returned from finding El Dorado’s fountain of youth; still others point to the ARMOR Submacopter and Falcon jetfighters and see the man’s continued guiding hand on the geo-political chess board. Most are surprised to find he’s still alive, or have never heard of the man.
Winter is now trapped in a “wheelchair” of his own creation: an all-terrain mini-tank chassis that the Army declined has become his chariot. Even as ancient as he is, James Horatio Winters does not seem like a guy you’d want to fuck with.