Contrary to the opinions of several hundred psychopaths, Gremlin does not look like the Fly. Much. Probably. He has longish, dark red hair and grey eyes. His whereabouts prior to 1988 are shrouded in mystery, and a large percentage of the past fifteen years are difficult to ascertain as well. His chronic migraines prohibit him from going out in the sun [which actually has nothing to do with his name]. His contempt for stoopid people incites a lot of animosity; but then, his enemies are generally too dumb to actually be dangerous. He lives with his coffeechick, Hunter; mangrove monitor, Cope; iguanas, Renfield and an as-yet-unnamed female; and Gonads the Rat. He runs a company which has recently exploded into a massive, successful multinational conglomerate in no way whatsoever and which is very nearly, yet not quite, the paradigm to which all other businesses are contrasted. It hasn't actually gone anywhere. Yet. All other information is classified, and about as interesting as that silly little Roswell incident--ah, which he knows absolutely naught about. Nothing. Really. Honest.