Code-name: Feartigo

Full Name: Unknown

Faction: Coven/Necroplane

Feartigo stepped through the back-alley detritus. His raggedy presence was unsettling enough to an unwary onlooker, but it was his psychic broadcast of raw dread which sent a scrawny drug dealer counting his take fleeing into the night, money fluttering to the ground in his wake. Beneath his sack-cloth mask, Feartigo smiled his ruined-face smile.

He was here to provide an update, and his contact was always punctual. Why Sanguine chose to meet in a filthy alley amid the city’s grime was unclear. It was out of the way of prying eyes, that much was true, but it was not on the bloodsucker’s usual hunting trails. The squalor did not bother Feartigo, he just questioned it, wondering what Sanguine’s angle was. He had found that to succeed in his true mission he had to question every motive and trust no-one.

Feartigo’s mind flashed backwards to earlier times when his circumstances were far different. A minor Petro loa, he had been cast out, cursed to never again to be able to mount a human host. A disembodied spirit, his urges to violence and spread fear were held in check by his lack of physical form. Those responsible were powerful bokor, and eventually those sorcerers founded the Coven. Time drifted by almost without meaning for the spirit, a century, then two. All the while from the shadows between realms the loa watched the Coven grow. Decade blurred into decade as the secret society’s ranks swelled. In time their focus fell on a wretched city on the West Coast, which soon became their main base of operations.

The loa continued to observe. New players emerged, rising through the Coven hierarchy, competing for mastery of the inexorably strengthening cabal. The loa took interest in one such, Papa Zombie. The human was a potent practitioner of voodoo, but out of his depth compared to the true powers behind the Coven. The spirit sensed the human could be useful in some way. The loa followed his quarry through a portal when Papa Zombie was captured by agents of the Necroplane and taken to their blasted world. There the loa watched, unseen, as the Necroplane made plans for an insidious invasion, systematically replacing key figures from Pulp City and across the Earth with Hollow One simulacra, Papa Zombie among them. Seizing his chance, the loa mounted a mindless Hollow One – he could exist in the physical world once again.

What happened next was remarkable, even within that alien world. The once-inert creature’s features flowed like melted wax, before slowly taking greater definition. Within minutes he stood ready before surprised necro-scientists. Feartigo was born, the embodiment of dread once more. In that instant an idea struck him, a perfect strategy. He demanded to meet their master, as he had something to offer, a bargain to make, and his wish was granted.

The plan was simple. Sacrifice the Papa Zombie simulacra as a way to support and deflect away from Feartigo’s own infiltration of the Coven. Revealing a false agent and ‘freeing’ Papa Zombie would allow Feartigo to join the inner circle and rise above suspicion. The plan worked perfectly.

Feartigo’s thoughts returned to the present. Sanguine materialized, taking form from a coalescing crimson mist. These encounters were always fraught with danger. One slip or mistaken detail could be enough to betray him. But he was not afraid. He was the essence of fear.

Sanguine looked at Feartigo with narrowed eyes and a barely concealed aversion. The lead agent of the Necroplane on Earth had refined tastes, and had lived a high life until the invasion was thwarted three years earlier. His shadowy networks remained largely intact, and that made him the ideal handler of Feartigo. The vampire hissed a little as he acknowledged Feartigo.

“I don’t trust you,” began Sanguine, surprisingly candid, “But Tenebrous has placed stock in your operation, and you have delivered useful intelligence. So far.”

Sanguine’s claws lengthened an inch, glinting in the moonlight. Was he trying to provoke Feartigo? Was he following his own agenda? Feartigo did not flinch, making no move to betray himself or provoke action, even as Sanguine took a sudden step forward. He had to see how this concluded, and ensure his best possible outcome. After a long pause, tension ebbed away as Sanguine adopted a more nonchalant pose. Feartigo pondered if he was testing him, and could only assume he had passed.

Feartigo’s loyalties were not to the Necroplane, that affiliation was simply a convenience. Those who had cast him out were long gone from the Coven, and there was no vengeance to be had. His infiltration had allowed him to swiftly rise within the ranks of the organization, aligning him to the Saints. Mastery of the cabal which had ultimately cast him out could be within his grasp. Obstacles remained, but with the correct choices, they too could be removed. Unknowing rivals such as Vendredi and the true Papa Zombie could be dealt with. The vessel of his past downfall could prove to be his true ascent, beyond the confines of the loa pantheon. Vast power could be Feartigo’s, he just had to act carefully and bide his time. They would not see him coming.

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Code-name: Slug Muldoon

Full Name: Sluhgg M’ldoon

Faction: Star Marshals

Slug loved Earth. With its Monsters, Supremes and sheer diversity of challenge, he was as happy as a Quarethian hog in mud. But best of all? Cigars. Earth’s cigars beat anything this side of the Ten Galaxies. Oh, he knew they were bad for him, but the aroma and taste just could not be matched on any world.

And that was partly why he was annoyed. His preferred cigar seller’s store in Downtown had been destroyed the day before in a knock-down, drag-out, nothing-barred fight between two Supremes. Fortuitously for Slug, one of the combatants was a wanted criminal. It was time for payback, a good fight, and maybe he could earn a little bounty for good measure.

A squat, blue-skinned Gatchan, hairless like most of his people, Slug was also a deputized Star Marshal. The Marshals had assigned him to Earth after the Ulthar’s recent invasion attempts, to provide intelligence about their activities. With the way things worked on Earth, rolling news was taking care of much of that for him, plus whatever information Virgo passed on. Deputizing Virgo and Tritonious had been a stroke of luck bordering on genius thought Slug, and he now had his sights on adding a half-alien vigilante girl he was hearing about. The other deputies’ input allowed him to focus on his favored pass-time – hunting! Monsters and Supremes had become his game and they provided a true test of his skills and knowledge. He had found a new home, and it was Pulp City USA, Earth.

And now some punk Supremes had destroyed his regular cigar shop. He was sure Diego would get back on his feet, but that was not the point – it was Slug’s favorite, and no-one messed with his favorites.

Slug pulled up files he had received from Virgo. While he was not actively watching the Ulthar, Virgo was, and at the same time she supplied good intelligence on various Supremes of interest – thanks to her he had some details on the guy he was looking for.

Cro Mag was a big bruiser, even by Supreme standards. By all accounts he was as dumb as a bucket of Atrathian Vompas, and he looked almost as ugly. Cro Mag would not go down easy, that was for sure. Big problems called for big solutions. This was a job for Betsy.

Betsy was no ordinary gun. She was a twenty-five millimeter phased plasma handheld cannon, one of the last ever made before the Fall of Sizzurnia. With custom over-charge rifling and Slug’s special stockpile of ammunition, she was one of the most feared weapons in any arsenal. Named for the Last Empress of Gatcha, her Exalted Majestrix Behtsinia the Fourteenth, Betsy was as formidable as her namesake. In Slug’s words she was simply a ‘beauty’. Slug and Betsy had together held back a Pisces platoon on Scarrus IV, had captured Modra’kk the Tyrant Nebula in the Lost Rim, and had taken down Omran the Decimator of the Vindal Empire. They were an unstoppable team. And Cro Mag was about to learn that first-hand.

Slug maintained a secret base in Pulp City as he did not want to use precious crystal fuel cells on frequent teleporter trips to and from his star-cruiser. Flying to and from orbit would have likewise attracted too much attention, so it had made sense to establish a base. It was secure and well-equipped, its walls adorned with all manner of Star Marshal ordnance, and a lot more besides, most of the remainder unsanctioned weaponry.

Slug grabbed tangle wire grenades, vector mines, and a bandolier of double-phasic plasma shells. He locked a clip of shells into place in Betsy. Wearing his usual battle fatigues, he was ready. He even had his lucky Mamruk skull ready attached to his belt. A life of hunting had taught him that every bit of planning and preparation was necessary for success, but sometimes the missing ingredient was simply good fortune. Slug liked to cover all bases, and the lucky head-bone was something he liked to have with him.

With gear chosen, Slug got into the van he had acquired and refitted with Marshals technology. He stowed extra ammunition and equipment for the job in case the situation changed. The vehicle’s remote link to the base computer activated at his voice command, causing the engine to growl to life.

He was almost ready.

One last part of the ritual remained. He reached into an inner pocket in his exocarnosaur-skin battle vest. Slug pulled out a cigar, carefully snipped the end with a cutter, and chomped down as he lit it up. It was hunting time.

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Code-name: Red Bella

Full Name: Red Bella

Faction: Ape Revolution Committee (A.R.C.)
Red Bella’s journey to Pulp City was long and strange. One of five primates who survived the crash of Module 2, Red Bella awoke alone amid wreckage in the mountains of China. Desperately searching for her crew-mates, she stumbled delirious for days before finally collapsing outside an ancient temple. There she was found by an unusual group of monks, and with them a band of academics who called themselves the Midnight Scholars, and with them the remnants of her crew.

Red Bella quickly learned that the Midnight Scholars were a secret international society of academics and scientists researching occult history. Well-funded and supported by old money from Europe, they sought to unearth ancient artifacts of power and preserve them to ensure the world’s safety. With the monks, they nursed the injured Bella to health and explained their purpose. Bella absorbed lore and history like a sponge, eagerly asking questions. After a few months the team was ready to move on. A voice deep within Bella told her that her place was with them for now. She and the other primates from Module 2 all agreed to travel with the Scholars.

The monks of the mountain promised Bella that the debris from her craft and the knowledge of the survivors would be protected. They and the Midnight Scholars concluded that it was dangerous information better left on the mountain. With solemn vows a pact was made, and the company departed for Hong Kong. The inner voice, which was not her own, commended her decision.

Over the next couple of years, the adaptable Bella learned to read, write and speak a dozen more languages. Her own research helped uncover lost artifacts including the Wyrd Colt, once carried by an American adventurer who travelled to China. Her expeditions and exploits earned her the trust of Hong Kong’s own Supreme Iron Cloud. Iron Cloud soared through the skies using a jetpack he himself had designed and battled injustice, a popular local Hero. He trained Bella in the use of the bullwhip, and listening to the Midnight Scholars’ concerns he joined their party. Despite Bella’s newly acquired skills, her recent accomplishments were not what she was truly seeking, simply a means to an end. Her passion, and soon her obsession, greater than that of her simian companions, became the great Hanuman, the Monkey King – a being she now believed spoke to her and had guided her to the temple and her journey.

Finally, after years of searching the globe, Bella uncovered what she believed to be Hanuman’s temple, hidden high in the Himalayas. She returned to Hong Kong to consult with her allies in the Scholars and plan her expedition.

Unbeknownst to Bella, her tomb raiding exploits had brought her to the attention of the Green Emperor. Realizing the danger that the Midnight Scholars represented to his own plans, he unleashed his greatest assassins. Upon returning to the Midnight Scholar’s quarters Bella found nothing but death, and even the mighty Iron Cloud could not stand against the Emperors’ fury. Of her remaining simian companions, she found no trace.

Bella fled the scene, grabbing as much as she could, including Iron Cloud’s jetpack. Soon arriving in the lower reaches of the Himalayas, many days of climbing frigid peaks followed, as she wanted to preserve what fuel remained in her flying device. The very air seemed to confound Bella, many times she found herself going in circles. She persevered despite the setbacks, the cold, and the blinding snow. Her food supply was almost exhausted, and she was convinced something stalked her. Bella found peculiar footprints that matched nothing she had ever seen or heard of. Noises split the night; yowling singing that chased her even in her dreams. Tormented day and night, she refused to turn back.

Then Bella heard the voice again. She followed it even when it urged her to walk places that seemed unsafe. She took leaps of faith again and again. In a deep ravine near the summit she at last found what she sought. The temple was nothing more than a shallow cave with a simple dulled-brass idol, set with glowing red rubies. The idol was strangely warm to the touch and free of ice and snow. The gems glowed brighter as she approached and the inner voice rang out stronger than ever.

“For an age have I waited for you, Bella. The faithful is first and others will follow. Take this token and it shall be part of you always. Heed my words and know that my children are not forgotten.”

The voice sounded clear in her head and as she reached for the idol it seemed to reach for her. They embraced like long-separated mother and child. In that moment Bella saw visions of great and terrible things. She knew that a larger destiny lay in store for her and the other Awakened. And then the Yeti struck. Appearing out of the snow like a giant terrible phantasm, it struck Bella down and dragged her to the Green Emperor.

Bella endured months of torture before Chimp Chi found and freed her, returning her gear. Never though had she despaired, never was she broken, for she had found the Ruby Idol and awoken the Primates of Power. She, Bella, had opened the door to save her kind. Now all she had to do was get the others to listen. How hard could that be?

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Code-name: Master Sagittarius

Full Name: Xyllian

Faction: Ulthar

The fog was thick and heavy along the docks. What little light from lamp or moon was muted and distorted by the heavy mist. Somewhere in the harbor a bell was ringing from a buoy bobbing in time with the rising tide. Xyllian crouched upon the flat tarpaper roof of a rundown warehouse and felt alive. His senses were keen and tight as he hunted as only a Sagittarius could hunt.

Xyllian thought back to the words of his Aquarius Warlord; “Learn about these humans. Join them; fight for them. Fight against them, it matters not. The goal is to learn of these Supremes. One amongst them must be their true leader. When I defeat him, this planet will be forced to bow to my might. One Warlord will do what the Armada could not; to destroy this pathetic Earth, and enslave these humans!” These were the Warlord’s orders. If any Ulthar living could do this thing it was Ra’Leigh. Xyllian believed in his power to conquer. So it was that he found himself stalking the streets of Pulp City.

He began his Earth-side infiltration at the bottom. He watched the lowest of the parasites, those thugs and street predators. They were so like the Pisces back home; squabbling brutal things clawing over each other to gain a bit more food, or living space. Up this food chain he climbed, serving an under-boss, then bosses, before finally he saw Mysterious Man and knew he was in the right place. Like any good Warlord this Mysterious Man collected the best tools, human or Supreme. He controlled things and manipulated others. He was a subtle and alien kind of Warlord, but surely he was a Warlord.

Knowing his target he knew he must gain access to this man’s inner circle. Mysterious Man respected power and ability above all. That much Xyllian knew. So he must demonstrate this. As he had at the beginning, he once again started at the lowest level. Thugs were no match for a trained and equipped Ulthar Sagittarius. Striking from ambush and luring unsuspecting humans into his traps it took less than a week to eliminate all of Mysterious Man’s lackeys from the docks. Then he had waited for the next challenge.

It did not take long to get Mysterious Man’s attention. The crime-lord sent some of his pet Supremes to meet him. The strange feline woman had been an amusing hunt. This Kitty Cheshire had disappeared and reappeared before he could draw a clean bead on her. But the true surprise was the human known as Gentleman. He was a Sagittarius born. But his skill was limited by the feeble technology of his race. Meanwhile Xyllian wielded the most advanced sensor assists and cloaking fields of the mighty Ulthar Empire. It was an extremely satisfying encounter and it had the desired effect. His interview with Mysterious Man happened not long after.

Clearly though, the Mysterious Man was far more cunning than even Xyllian had anticipated. Mysterious Man knew what he really wanted was not money, or human power. So he offered Xyllian the one thing he most desired, vengeance for his Empire. That night he had first learned of the renegade Virgo. The damnable upstart that claimed a Sagittarius’s most honored weapon. The Virgo were chattel, menial servants and worst of all, female. That a Virgo should have slain her betters and jumped her station was the greatest of sins. That smiling man had showed him this Virgo, told him of her deeds against the Ulthar, and struck a bargain with Xyllian.

It was almost a cycle later before he at last met Virgo in battle. It was on a night much like this mist-shrouded one. She came for him that first night, cloaked and armed as he was. For hours they stalked each other across moonlit roof tops, ambush and counter ambush. A deadly game, and with each second that dragged on Xyllian’s rage grew. Even now thinking about it caused his pulse to quicken and his blood to boil.

His contemplation ended, he took a few calming breathes and resumed his watch over the foggy warehouses and grimy docks. Listening to the soft ring of the distant bell, he scanned through his optics looking for the telltale shimmer of an optic field cloak. Then he saw it. The hunt was on again. Virgo was here. Thrice she had evaded him, but not tonight. Somewhere in his mind he knew he was being played a fool. Virgo must also be working for Mysterious Man. The things he had to do to ensure he got another chance had surely helped Mysterious Man far more than it had aided the Ulthar Empire. But that did not matter now. This killer of his caste, the one who broke with the Empire, was again in his sights. He moved slowly and deliberately, his laser crossbow powering up silently in his hands. The hunt was on once more!

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Code-name: Perun

Full Name: Stanislaw Starzynski

Faction: Supreme Alliance

In every generation there is one brave Polish man chosen to wield the power of the storm in mankind’s darkest hour. He lifts up his runic axe, older than the people of his land, the lightning strikes, and the power of an ancient deity starts coursing through his veins.

Old gods still watch over their children and stand vigilant when tides of evil rise. Dark forces have begun to rise once more, and in Pulp City the agents of a coalescing evil power are at large.

The first photo-documented proof of Perun’s existence dates back to 1944, from a still taken in Warsaw. The picture was taken in the razed capital of Poland by a German army photographer evidencing the extent of the damage done.

The picture is over-contrasted and blurry, but it clearly depicts the clear silhouette of a man hovering ten feet above the ground. The figure wielded an archaic weapon that seemed to be the source of an all-present light, bathing the rubble in unearthly shades of white. In front of him a smoldering pile of corpses, all uniforms burned away, so it was hard to tell their allegiance. The photographer was recovered by his allies a week after the photo was captured and taken in for questioning, never speaking publicly about what he saw.

Another note was found in the documentation of one of the arcane-seeking Third Reich units. Apparently, the entity was mistaken for the Scandinavian/Germanic deity, Thor. No trace was ever found of the unit that tried to talk Perun into service for the Nazi empire.

The 1950′s and 1960′s proved that Perun was more than a local phenomenon, as he was seen siding with the greatest Supremes on Earth, including the Supreme Alliance, visiting distant Pulp City on occasion. Without word, he eventually vanished from the headlines, his fate unclear.

He is not a talker, say his allies, but they are glad he is on their side. He is not a diplomat, but a thunderstorm and barrage of lightning is usually enough to convince even the most steadfast opposition.

The current wielder of Perun’s power (though it is hard to tell, as the runic axe changes the appearance of the bearer) is a student from Warsaw whose grandfather and great-great grandfather also served as Lightning Lords years ago. Stanislaw Starzynski became marked with the lightning rune when he confronted Forgotten minions sent to recover Szczerbiec, the legendary coronation sword of Polish kings.

And now the power of Perun stands ready once more.

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Code-name: Arquero

Full Name: Rowan “Row” Fletcher

Faction: none

When she adopted the costumed persona of Riposte, Naomi Kingsley knew that she alone would not be able to topple her father’s criminal empire, or his allies in the Coven. She realized that she needed more power, another tool that she could shape and direct to her will.

Other Supremes were already too established in the media and the public mind to be of much use. Furthermore, most Supremes had powers and abilities that often made them too hard to predict. But when Naomi heard the story of a young vigilante making a name for himself, she thought she had found the instrument she was looking for.

Rowan ‘Row’ Fletcher, son of Olympic archery gold medalist Bogart Fletcher and Pulitzer Prize winning journalist Karen McBride, had the talent and motivation that Riposte needed. Rowan had his father’s gift with bows and a fiery temper inherited from his mother. When his parents were killed in a gas station hold up, Row was enraged. It did not take him long to discover that they were murdered in an effort to stop his mother from publishing a story about the origins of the Coven. Seeking vengeance, Row fashioned a disguise, adopted the code-name Arquero and took up his father’s bow. In the days that followed he systematically hunted down his parent’s killers.

Rowan’s life would have ended in a dirty alley when he was lured into an ambush by the Coven’s thugs. Rowan’s temper and incredible focus caused him to lose sight of his surroundings, unable to see the ambush until it was too late.

Tunnel vision was Rowan’s fatal flaw, or would have been if not for Riposte’s timely intervention. With her guidance Rowan escaped the trap and took out his target. By the time he thought to thank his benefactor Riposte was long gone.

A week later Rowan was drawn into yet another set-up and saved once more by Riposte. This time however, Rowan was able to track his mysterious companion to a secluded rooftop. There he found Riposte waiting for him. She offered him a deal. In exchange for his loyalty she would train him and equip him, and most importantly help him get his revenge.

In the months that followed their roof top pact, the team of Riposte and Arquero erupted onto the scene in Pulp City. Arquero’s high-tech bow and ferocious pursuit of his targets counterpoint Riposte’s cold cool analytical leadership and traditional seeming costume. Riposte feels that she is sharpening a tool to surgical precision. Arquero finds himself increasingly indebted to his partner and possibly attracted to her. What will happen in the future is unknown to any except possibly the woman known as Riposte.

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Full Name: Captain Hadron/Dr. Rick Parker
Allegiance: Heavy Metal

(AKA: Giant Hadron, Mini Hadron)

Captain Hadron is one of the admired heroes of the world’s greatest Supreme Team, Heavy Metal. Yet that reputation sheds little light onto his past and the uncertain future he faces. In public he is known for his rock and roll lifestyle, everyone knows the story of how friends in his high-school band nicknamed him ‘Captain Rick’ after his favorite musician, and his work with high school science programs. Hadron is often paired with Lady Cyburn as the good boy and bad girl of Heavy Metal. Behind closed doors Captain Hadron is a troubled but determined man of science.

Richard ‘Rick’ Parker was a brilliant quantum physicist, published in dozens of academic journals before completing his PhD before he turned twenty two. He was a prodigy in his chosen field, and the long-haired maverick that broke the stuffy scientist stereotype. Parker’s dissertation to achieve his PhD award focused on a theoretical explanation of the phenomena of quantum holes which posited radical new ideas.
Parker’s work drew the attention of the developers of the High Intensity Hadron Accelerator/Collider (HIHAC) project situated several miles outside of Pulp City, and he was quickly headhunted for a role in designing the accelerator/collider array. The bold young man jumped at the opportunity.
Although HIHAC was deemed to be a risky proposition if situated in the geologically active region of the United States West Coast, its location was chosen for the close proximity of Pulp City, itself the focus of the greatest concentration of quantum hole events.
The HIHAC project was due for completion by July 1988, with full-scale experiments to be run before the end of the same year. In the year preceding a number of small-scale operations were run as construction was near to conclusion. Dr. Parker stepped up from his design work to direct oversight of the array, ironing out kinks and problems as each new trial run revealed a new issue. The brash young man earned the appreciation of his bosses as he ensured the project stayed firmly on track. Dr. Parker inspired those around him with bold and inventive solutions to every problem or setback; even if it meant he did not always strictly adhere to personal safety protocols.
In late 1987 Dr. Parker was directly recalibrating part of the array when unbeknown to the HIHAC team a tumultuous conflict between Supremes broke out in Pulp City. Forgotten and Necroplane Supremes sought to unleash the power of a earth-elemental Monster, funneling the power of a dormant Quantum Hole to do so, while a motley mix of Heavy Metal and Blood Watch Heroes battled to stop them. As the power of the earth was summoned into the Monster form, this unleashed a minor earth tremor. The outpouring of quantum energy fed the tremor to become an overwhelming seismic event. At that very moment Rick Parker was examining the HIHAC array personally. Fail-safes suddenly crashed offline and the HIHAC became active, triggered by the unleashed Quantum Hole energy being detected.
The seismic activity caused damage to the HIHAC tunnel housing the array, just enough to wedge shut the escape door that Parker needed.
Parker’s entire world was whited out as a wave of energy raced along the array and his body was bombarded with particles which even inexplicably siphoned off the power of the nearby quantum hole. After the nanosecond assault of energy which felt as though it lasted years, Parker lay unconscious across the overloaded array.
It would be days before members of Heavy Metal were able to discern what precisely had happened, but C.O.R.E. calculated the sequence of improbable events to represent a billion to one chance of occurrence. That mattered little Rick Parker. His work was damaged and potentially ruined, but worse his body was irrevocably affected and altered by the blast of particles and Quantum Hole energy that had hurtled through him.
Parker’s body was quickly observed to be leaking unstable particles. It was also apparent that whatever process was taking place was killing him. Working together with C.O.R.E., Chronin, and Dr. Mercury, Parker and those Supremes were able to create gauntlet and helmet devices to regulate the particle flow from Parker’s body. What was immediately apparent was that the equipment enabled him to have incredible control over his own molecular structure and also molecules in his vicinity. In the days that followed he realized he could alter his size and fine-tune the extent of his external molecular manipulations. His transitions to giant-size required a lot of control and meant that he could not utilize other abilities when doing so, and even his transformations back to other sizes were time consuming when grown to his maximum height. However it was also clear that the loss of unstable particles from his body had only been slowed by his new equipment, and that in the future he would need to find a more permanent solution.
Now viewing himself as so much more than he had been previously, and also needing the help of Heavy Metal to ensure his survival, Rick Parker became known to the world as Captain Hadron, adopting the nickname his band gave to him in high school. He has fully embraced life as a celebrity Supreme, but the scientist within is certain that mastering the phenomena of Quantum Holes will be the key to his long-term existence. He brings to Heavy Metal a positive attitude, intense and occasionally reckless scientific knowledge and curiosity, and what he thinks is great hair. He hopes with the help of his Team to stabilize and increase his powers. He also strives to unlock the mysteries of the Quantum Hole for the betterment of mankind.

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Code-name: Lady Cyburn

Full Name: Cindy Burns

Faction: Heavy Metal

Not all of Heavy Metal’s members are there because they want to be a part of the most recognizable Supreme trademark. One of them is on the roster because otherwise they would be in prison. Welcome to the world of Cindy Burns, former leader of punk rock band World in Flames, February 1982’s playmate of the month, and charged with arson and attempted murder.

Cindy was never right in the head. Her obsession with violence, fire and body-modding earned her the renown of the true rock rebel at the age of 17. Her band’s first album, heavily inspired by Huxley’s work and early cyber-punk fiction, made it to the Billboard charts and Cindy was rich overnight. However, the rock star life had a high price tag, as she dropped out from school, and drugs, alcohol and sleep deprivation became her new teachers. But the real trouble started when the band was touring the world; addictions, tattoos and piercings were not enough for Cindy anymore, and so she began to modify her body with cybernetic parts.

As you all know, high tech parts and implants are NOT free in Pulp City, and Cindy had to pay her debts. Her cash pile dwindled, and as the band split up, Cindy, aged 18, was the first cyber-modified woman to make it to the hottest spreads in adult magazines. As if she wasn’t already in too much trouble, the playmate appearance attracted murders of hungry industry vultures that pushed her more and more towards the dark side.

Mark Cunning, who was infamous for a series of privately distributed videos portraying each of capital sins in the most gruesome way, saw her as an angel of death of the new age. The money he offered was, Cindy foolishly thought, a way out of the life she was in and a chance to disappear. She was to star in a movie titled Fire Woman – it was a story of a scorned woman, left to die by her boyfriend crime lord, who had become tired of her. Cindy was to place this half-human, half-machine vengeance engine of fiery death. Her body was appropriately modified further. When she asked about the screenplay, Cunning explained that he had a new method, impulse shooting, where you don’t follow a script, you just follow the protagonist.

While copies of the video was sold at private auctions for $200,000, Burns was sentenced to prison for life with charges of arson and triple murder. The case attracted the attention of all media and Supreme powers, as some claimed Burns was just a gun in Cunning’s hand, while others wanted to see her burn the way her victims did. Her mods could have not be removed without threatening her life, so for the first time, the US prison system was faced with a challenge of incarcerating a weapon of mass destruction.

As she was too dangerous to keep in a normal prison, a judicial decision allowed C.O.R.E. to take custody of Cindy in return for ten years of service by her in the cause of good.

Lady Cyburn, as she calls herself just like in the early days of her rock career, is a weird mix of broken moral system, guilt-ridden soul and a little girl awed by a burning match. Cindy finds the idea of good not much different from evil. In either case, she can still do what she likes the most!

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Code-name: Boreas

Full Name: Boreas

Faction: The Forgotten

The volunteer team was ready to face metaphorical demons that day, but none of them bargained for the demon they found.

The flowing lava on Etna’s slopes turned the night into the fourth of July. The blackened mountain spewed fire that drowned the vineyards and villages.

As soon as the chopper landed, people in orange vests jumped out and started setting up a field hospital and distributing sleeping bags and blankets for all those who lost their homes. Most of the volunteers were unaware that two Americans who wandered off in the darkness right after landing had very little to do with the charity that had organized the relief operation. The only charity that The Coven carried out since the day of its founding was offering a quick and painless death to all who opposed it.

The pair climbed the slopes. At some point they had to stop and strap on breathing apparatus as the fumes became increasingly toxic. Their ESP trackers went crazy when they finally reached the summit. Suddenly, the screens flickered and died.

“John, what was that all about?” asked Martin, a second before he looked into the red eyes of his comrade and his own body was sent tumbling into the boiling crater.

The chopper landed on the deck of a ship harbored in a Sicilian port. The pilot informed everybody on board that the rest of the team had decided to stay a couple of weeks more. Two weeks later, when the ship ran aground on the Outer Banks of North Carolina, no survivors were found.

…

Fast forward. Moonchild wakes from her feral dream as she smells an intruder in Twilight Hills. She pokes a razor-sharp nail into the muscled side of Six Feet Under to wake him up. A second later, a man in a black suit shows up on the rocky road. Come on – Twilight Hills? Late at night? Strange man in a suit? You don’t have to be able to smell a trap to know there is something wrong.

The man takes his time to climb the path, and the wind picks up. When the suited man is finally at the summit, facing the two Blood Watch sentinels, he does not seem to be spooked by the presence of a she-coyote nor the hulking man. There is something weird about his eyes and Moonchild bares her teeth and leaps at him, only to be caught in midair by an invisible whipping force that hurls her back into the onrushing Six Feet Under.

The wind turns into a hurricane and both heroes fly high on this lethal carousel ride. The air crackles but they clearly hear how the stranger hisses: Greetings from Stygian, you are all dead, humans. There might have been some more of this dreadful poetry coming, but patience is not Six Feet Under’s strongest suit, so he swims down through the spiraling wind and hurls his shovel, breaking the neck of the visitor.

The wind howls and Moonchild could swear she saw a demon face with fangs dripping of blood in the tornado juts a second before all goes quiet and all that is left is the body of the stranger.

…

A week passes, and all of the heroes in Pulp City know about this new threat – the just-awakened Forgotten that joins the ranks of Stygian’s followers. Blacksmith claims that the evil demon is Boreas, once good but now a harsh godling of the wind who was apparently captured by a Greek pirate king, Aeseus, who kept him in slavery and mistreated Boreas for years.

Aeseus would draw on the godling’s power to rule the seas. In return, he would feed the chained Boreas with the blood of his fallen enemies.  With the passing years, controlling the force of the wind became more and more testing and since the seventy-year old pirate king did not want to pass on his secret to anyone else, he cast the golden cage that restrained Boreas into the fiery bowels of Etna.

When Stygian learnt about the fate of Boreas, she knew that if provided with a human host, the demon of the winds would slowly regain his powers. Instead of sending her underling Hellsmith to do the job and potentially alert other Supremes, she passed the information to one of her cultists that she suspected to be The Coven’s snitch. Once again, her machinations deceived all others.

Boreas is new to Pulp City and his bloodlust and hatred of people high as never before. Fortunately for humanity, he is still weak at this time and cannot support a material body for a long time before having to find a new host. V.H. and other heroes are desperately seeking to permanently banish the demon while he is still vulnerable, and before his true power rises again.

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Code-name: Howler

Full Name: Howler

Faction: Ape Revolution Committee

Howler – the poster-boy gun-ape of the Ape Revolutionary Committee.

Many would probably call him an ‘early adopter’ since while his Team-mates have more recently begun appreciating the convenience of wearing clothing, as well as using guns and explosives; Howler truly enjoys life as it comes. Guerilla has turned a blind eye on Howler’s new Walkman, fancy shades and such distractions, but his absolute love for action movies and human damsels in distress has placed the revolutionaries in frequent danger.

Howler could easily be the role model for all those teenagers whose mothers constantly complain that watching TV and mindless movie violence gets you nowhere and nothing. In his case, it got him cool guns, cool Ray Ban sunglasses and other cool things. When watching Howler fight alongside his A.R.C. comrades, viewers can pretty much tell what was on the TV or in the local movie-house the previous night.

This possibly coolest primate in Pulp City loves high-octane action-filled TV shows and blockbuster movies, and all of the twisted creations in them, with a special place in his heart reserved for the biggest action heroes.

Howler wants to be just like them. In fact, some commentators claim that he carries a check-list with the twenty most heroic actions culled from his favorite entertainments penned down. Skewering the alien head hunter using its own spear? Check. Escaping the skyscraper in wreathed in flames? Check. Stopping a murder cult? Check. Driving a motorcycle at high speed while listening to Kiss? Check. Dating a human babe, well, that came later.

Howler’s actions very often fall out of sync with A.R.C.’s plans and objectives. This is mostly because his heroic approach (even if only mimicking his small and big screen hero idols) puts him in dangerous situations where his primate allies do not want to participate. In this regard, he is even more of a solo operator than Chimp Chi.

The rest of A.R.C. treats Howler as a useful annoyance. Many of them would probably be very unhappy if they knew that their ally hangs out with June Summers and lets her know about pretty much everything that happens on the Team. Worse still, most of them would call it an appalling aberration that runs counter to the revolution if they knew he actually started dating the human a few months ago.

However, as long as Howler’s foolhardiness wins the day, they do not seem to notice or care.

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