Full Name: John Grimmsham
More than a decade ago in the mid-seventies, John Grimmsham was a loner shunned by most people. Ambitions unfulfilled, he took a job as a guard in Pulp City Studios. Of course, he claimed that this was only a temporary means of surviving before he got a real job in showbiz. John spent his nights on the job watching TV and planning his rise to fame. In the meantime, each day he kept working on a screenplay that he believed would be an award winner and the accolades he was due would be his.
On Christmas Eve in 1979, he was jolted from his diversions. Grimmsham heard some unusual sounds coming from the studio’s food court. With his flashlight switched off, he carefully stole into the court, only to find a couple of mongrels feasting on the remains of a dinner.
The ugliness of these creatures was unrivaled. About four feet short, with hairy backs and vaguely human features, the twisted men-things snarled at the fear-struck Grimmsham and continued feasting. A few minutes later they retreated into ventilation shafts and left the guard pinching himself to check he was awake, and it had not been some bizarre nightmare vision.
The same visitation occurred each night from then on, and eventually Grimmsham was able to approach the strange creatures more closely. Soon he engaged in rudimentary communication with the strange beasts. Their bond quickly grew tighter, and each night there were more and more ’Grimm’ (as he called them) visiting him in the studio. John had a secret that would pave his way to unbridled fame and fortune.
One summer night, John returned to his guard room after making his rounds. Inside the office, Grimmsham found Mr. Heimberg browsing his screenplay. Heimberg was a co-owner of the studios and a famous producer, but unfortunately without a hit in a few years. John’s heart jumped, as he knew this might be the breakthrough his career deserved.
Heimberg looked at him, smiled and put the screenplay inside his briefcase.
“You’re fired, Mr. Grimmsham,” were not the words that John expected to hear, and after a moment of dismay and distress, with all the desperation he could muster, Grimmsham leapt at Heimberg, trying to wrestle the case from his hands.
Standing over six feet tall, the burly producer easily shrugged off the skinny guard and whipped out a small gun, firing it point blank in John’s direction. Fire seared his face and the world went black as Grimmsham tumbled to the floor. An instant later, a terrible inhuman shriek came out of Heimberg’s throat and hot blood sprayed John’s face. As silence fell, he felt himself being gently carried away. Then darkness embraced him.
When Grimmsham awoke, he discovered his vision was limited. He touched his face and pain and rough bandages told him he was badly disfigured. One of the small creatures handed him a cracked hand mirror. He tore at the bandages to reveal horrible red wounds which ran from his eyes down his cheeks.
Grimmsham knew instinctively that he was somewhere underground, and only a faint sound of the city far, far above assured him he wasn’t dead.
Grimmsham looked around and noticed the blurry outline of scores of Grimm surrounding him. One of them, the bulkiest of all, shuffled up to John and offered him a treasure – the blank-eyed head of Mr. Heimberg, mauled almost beyond the recognition.
John smiled; he was about to become a celebrity after all.
The Grimm quickly came to worship Grimmsham. His mastery of the highest art of multi-tasking awed them and so they accepted him as their leader without question. He quickly reorganized Grimm society and established the Grimm Undercity. As he did so, the Grimm began their rapid evolution, new mutational adaptations allowing the society to grow according to Grimmsham’s needs and directions. He quickly ensured they pirated power and communication feeds using ramshackle facsimiles of above-ground technology. Soon the Grimm were thriving as never before, and their numbers swelled, and John Grimmsham was their master.