Tungsten, the Superhero

"Have you found a suitable replacement?" I asked my personal assistant.

"Yes," he responded. "The subject is in the workshop."

"Very well." I struggled as I sat up, gasping for a breath that, only a month ago, was a bit easier to take.

As I stood shakily to my feet, my PA held me up and guided me to my workshop. It was my pride and joy; meticulous, clean, and more advanced than that loser Tony Stark's.

I ambled up the stone steps and passed through the reinforced glass doors. Once I got into the dungeon, I clasped my hands with glee. There, laying on a gurney, arms, legs, and chest strapped to the cold metal, was a young lady. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, blonde, and lithe. She was perfect.

I held out my hand and my assistant handed me a manilla folder. I flipped through the few pages contained within and learned that she had fallen from over 800 meters as a result of an in-air, multi-vehicle collision.

That kind of fall could do some damage. This made her the perfect fit.

After scrubbing up, I hobbled back to the gurney. Selecting a scalpel, I made an incision under the woman's left ribcage. My assistant handed me various tools, wire, and finally a device which I meticulously sewed to her skin.

An hour later, I stepped back. My back and shoulders ached from being hunched over, but a deep feeling of pride and finality flooded my system. I leaned over and stroked the young lady's face.

"Tomorrow, my dear, you will awaken to find yourself indestructible by anything man can create. You'll carry a new responsibility to fight crime. Your new business suit will be mixed metal alloys and spandex. You will be called... Tungsten."