Youngblood (Hero)

 

youngbloodCodename: Youngblood

Full Name: Eddy Patrick

Faction: Blood Watch
Aroostook County, Maine, a rotting farmhouse. The giant rambling building was overgrown with ivy and lit up by flashes of lightning splitting the purple-black sky. Its ancient decaying form sat alone amongst vast sprawling fields and gently rolling hills.

Standing defiantly against cold driving rain, members of the Blood Watch looked on at the forbidding house before them. For those gathered Supremes, the house was a festering sore in this Maine hinterland. Waiting for V.H.’s signal, Six Feet Under slapped the shaft of his shovel into his left hand, and Blacksmith tightened his grip on his mighty hammer. Ace cocked his pistol in readiness. Moon Coyote loped around behind them, scanning a route to encircle the house, and Blood Rose prepared her mind to transport her Team-mates to their quarry.

youngblood-page-001Battle lay ahead, and the Blood Watch was ready.

What followed was bloody and brutal. The supernatural Supremes stormed the house. Immediately they found what they had sought – a nest of vampires! However the number of blood-suckers surpassed what their intelligence had indicated. From every room poured their enemies, vampires of every type: Carpathians, nosferatu, dhampir, jiangshi, strzyga and countless other variations. This was more than a mere nest, it was a conclave.

No quarter was given. As one undead fell to the Heroes, another flew forward, their forms turning to dust, ashes or flame as each was vanquished without hesitation. Slowly but surely, the Blood Watch turned the tide back, their wounds healed by Blood Rose as they fought relentlessly.

With dawn approaching, the Heroes had to corner the last of the undead to stop them escaping. One by one those who remained were dispatched until just a few were left, trapped in the dimly lit cellar beneath the house. Blacksmith, Ace and V.H. cautiously made their way down the wooden stairs, too narrow to accommodate Six Feet Under’s bulk.

youngblood-page-002Two hissing clawed fiends who leapt from the gloom were dispatched with sword and ghostly bullets. Blacksmith then noticed a flicker of movement. He pointed to the back of the dank chamber where there was a stack of coffins. The three advanced, ready for any threat.

As they approached they could hear a faint mewling, a fearful whimper.

Blacksmith smashed the coffins aside with a powerful swing of him hammer. Of all the things he and his allies expected to see, it was not the sight in front of them. A child-like vampire, looking no more than seven years old, terror in his eyes as the three Supremes towered over him. Ace of Wraiths cocked his pistol and Blacksmith drew back his hammer to bring it down in one fatal blow.

“No,” said V.H. firmly, her tone brooking no challenge, “This child will not go the way of the rest. We had a responsibility to vanquish their evil, and we have. This one is a legacy of that darkness, but we can give him a chance to escape that fate. We take him with us.”

Ace and Blacksmith looked on, surprised and concern battling within both of them as V.H. reached out to the youngling, picking him up as he wrapped his arms around her neck.

batbrat

Is evil born or is it made? Is a 5-year old with vampiric powers a threat or a responsibility? The Blood Watch chose to believe the latter. Unable to slay the young vampire, V.H. believes that if brought up and supervised properly, Youngblood will add much-needed survivability and strength to the Team’s repertoire.

What nobody says out loud however, is that if Youngblood’s powers and hunger are only supernaturally suppressed by one of Blacksmith’s talismans. What happens if that is not enough? The Blood Watch observes carefully, as Youngblood has begun to mature physically and psychologically, his deathless lack of aging suppressed partly by the artefact he now carries with him.

<< Back to Heroes and Villains

Posted in: | Tags: , , ,

Wildman (Hero)

 

wildmanCodename: Wildman

Full Name: unknown

Faction: none

 

PROJECT CHIMERA. Twelve months ago, a secret private laboratory housed beneath a decommissioned military base in the north-east of Scotland. A chill wind blew outside and above, while deep underground two scientists sat in a state of the art control room. Monitors provided telemetry on more than two dozen test subjects.

The Chimera research was predated by experimentation on subject alpha under Project Metasis, which had started during World War II and was ultimately abandoned only to be later picked up by a madman. Redacted files about a phase one test stream suggested subject ten was its strongest result, however the developers tried to continually improve him over the time and he eventually died, his prodigious recuperative abilities crashing and failing as his physiology was overwhelmed.

Phase two was commenced years later, under the title of Project Chimera, the repurposed military base its bleak home.

“How are we progressing on phase two?” asked the older of the two men. Both looked weary, clothes rumpled from continuous work with little time to rest.

“Phase two subjects two to twelve show signs of failure. Vital signs are failing and I do not think any will be viable.”

“No second strain assimilation and stabilization?”

“No,” replied the younger man, his response followed by a small sigh.

“Our new principal will be disappointed,” stated the older man softly, his face betraying his anxiety.

“We press on then?” asked the younger man.

“Yes. It will take weeks, but we have no choice. We are in deep, maybe much deeper than you realize.”

A month passed. The two scientists worked around the clock, aided by technicians dispatched by their patron to assist them. The new arrivals were efficient and eerily quiet, focused on the tasks allocated to them.

Both of the scientists looked on with grave concern at the latest telemetry read-outs. The younger man began a running commentary.

“Second strain accelerant activated. Vital signs are holding. Remain holding. Subject fourteen, failure. Subjects fifteen through to seventeen failing, all now crashed. Thirteen is failing. Eighteen failed. Nineteen, twenty both failed. Twenty one through to twenty four holding. Twenty and twenty two crashed. Twenty one and twenty three crashed. Twenty four holding.”

Silence followed for several long minutes.

“Twenty four holding steady, thirteen still failing,” said the younger one as he resumed his observations.

The young man gasped as the vital signs of subject twenty four flat-lined.

“Twenty four lost, I am sorry sir.”

“Wait,” said the older man urgently, “Look there. Thirteen is improving. His vital signs are growing stronger. Normalized range recovered. He looks stable. Press on.”

“Third strain sir?” asked the younger man.

“All of them. All of the strains, of all the beasts, bring every strain on line!” demanded the older man franticly.

“Are you sure?”

“Oh yes, I am quite sure. You see our patron is someone they call the Mysterious Man. I know many think he is nothing but an urban legend, a boogeyman, but he is all too real. It is his money that has funded us all along, and failing him is never a palatable option. We have run out of time, and this is our final chance.”

Subject thirteen’s thoughts swam. Was he a man once? Did he have a name? If he did he had now forgotten. He heard a woman’s voice calling to him, as if carried on a distant breeze. But he was not in the wild, he was here, wherever here was, and he knew the woman’s voice was in his own mind.

She spoke with a soothing, lilting tone. Yet beneath those gently spoken words he knew there lay terrible fury. She was vengeful. Not with him, but with what had been done to him, and the atrocities committed against those poor animals which he sensed lived on in his blood and sinews.

The voice became louder and more distinct. At last he could understand her phrase, repeated over and over again.

“Free yourself man of the wild. Free yourself for me.”

Rage rose within him. He responded to her exhortations. He knew instinctively she was Gaia, the mother-goddess, and her wrath flowed through his veins in the genetic material of countless creatures whose lives had been snuffed out in the name of some despicable science.

He flexed powerful muscles and sundered titanium shackles like paper. He aimed a punch forwards thrusting through the glass of the cylinder in which he had been housed. Amniotic fluid cascaded to the laboratory floor as he pulled sensors and nutrient feeds from his body. He sniffed the air and he saw that he must leave this place, and he knew whom he sought as responsible for it all. Preternaturally keen hearing had heard the name spoken aloud just once: Mysterious Man.

The underground facility was in ruins. Subject thirteen’s violent rampage had destroyed almost-irreplaceable stocks of genetic material. The two scientists lay injured in the wreckage. One of the silent technicians picked himself up from the floor, even as his body showed signs of massive trauma. He drew a firearm from within his coat, and dispatched the two scientists before turning the gun on himself.

Today. Wildman has arrived in Pulp City. He has that name now, acquired as his reputation has begun to grow, and he is no longer subject thirteen. He is the Wildman, and he is the willing agent of mother-goddess. She bids him find allies in this place – the father and daughter of the green, the avatar of the sun, the redeemed man of stone.

He will do this, and he will find the Mysterious Man, and he will make that monster pay. The beasts live on within him, their rage kept in check as they await their opportunity.

<< Back to Heroes and Villains

Posted in: | Tags: , ,

V.H. (Hero)

Code-name: V.H. 

Full Name: Victoria van Helsing

Faction: Blood Watch

Dear Quincey,

I am glad that I managed to finally catch up with you.

I am sorry for the London mansion. You know it had to burn. I hope the insurance covers it, and if not, do not worry, as your head will soon be stuffed with garlic and burnt as well.

I have been told that you have been very inquisitive about whom I am, and that you tried to track me down after our first brush in Geneva. Since we will probably never meet eye-to-eye (my teachers did a good job of letting me know how playing with fiends like you may end), I am taking this opportunity to let you know who your killer will be.

We have actually met twice already. The first time, about twenty years ago, was when you graciously slaughtered my family; you and your minions. You thought there were only three children and that was your first fatal mistake. I hid in ice cold water, under the stone bridge, nearly freezing to death. Your heat-seeking vision could not find me.

I will keep things brief – it is like the stories you see in movies. While the Order of the Forge (you know them – you were responsible for the death of their Paris chapter) could not stop you, they were decent enough to save me and train me, and to channel my hatred for you into a set of skills that got me to where I am now.

I spent fifteen long years studying fiends, outsiders and horrors of the night. I know how to kill all of you. Five of those years I was doing my – as you may call it in the corporate world you fell so much in love with – internship, in the Order’s Hong Kong chapter. I passed my final test with flying colors. I beheaded the shadow oni that had replaced the prime minister of a certain country and sent his head to the biggest national television station. To my disappointment, they claimed he committed ritual suicide.

Then I returned to Europe and started tracking you. That was not too hard, as your lifestyle is pretty extravagant and you like to part with your money. You also play too much to who your parents were etc. They should have killed you, you little leech, when you were still in the cradle.

That poor fool, your father, kept hoping until the very end that you were his true son. In a carnal way, perhaps yes you were. However, you were the offspring of the bad blood ‘big D’ left in your mother’s system. But back to the story; I followed the money trail, yes, and that led me to Royal Investments. I then I realized you are not just a bloodsucker, but you are also conspiring against this world with the dead from another dimension (yay, more cadavers to behead!). We have met in Geneva of course, but I had one year less of experience then. I should have known that surrounded by your ‘friends’ and other associates, you would leave them like a lizard leaving its tail to escape.

Fast forward one year, to today, and we are bound to meet again; however this time, I am much better prepared.

You are in my trap. So make it easy for all of us and just die.

Sorry if I could not answer all of your questions and clear any doubts.

Love,

Victoria van Helsing

PS: I am glad that we are sending these good-old fashioned letters. Even for a gal like me, who grew up in the farms of Midlands (I know you, with your cold blue blood find the idea of such open spaces atrocious), reverting to the old ways that my great-great-grandfather and your parents used to stay in touch with each other is very refreshing.

 

PPS: Now slowly turn around. Good night, fiend.

<< Back to Heroes and Villains

Posted in: | Tags: , , ,

Perun (Hero)

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.

<< Back to Heroes and Villains

Moonchild/Moon Coyote (Hero)

Code-name: Moonchild/Moon Coyote
Full Name: Maria Moonchild
Faction: Blood Watch

The story of Moonchild begins with the Arrajo tribe; a small Native American tribe that had suffered for more than a century and half, and which came to reside on part of a reservation jointly held with the Avaje, approximately fifty miles north-east of Pulp City. Today, the reservation casinos are a tourist attraction on the Avaje part of the site. This success has led to some improvement in quality of life on the reservation, although this has not been shared between the two tribes as the Arrajo have shunned this new way.

For the past two decades the Arrajo had suffered the threat of possibly dying out, as no boys had been born among the tribe’s offspring in that time. Marcus Moonchild recognized that some dark force had accursed his people and had led to the tribe producing no boys. He committed all of his abilities as tribal medicine man to combatting that malignancy. He also sought to train his daughter Maria to become the first female shaman of the Arrajo. It was clear to Marcus that whatever the source of the curse was, it was on his tribe alone, as the Avaje with whom they shared the reservation suffered no such problems. From that recognition he was determined that the curse would be broken, and so set to instructing his daughter in the skills she would need to continue his efforts should he fail or fall.

Thus, from a young age Maria learned her father’s shamanic secrets. Years went by, and after her father’s passing, and her coming of age, it was through ritual in the sweat lodge that she finally discovered the origin of the curse that her father had believed to afflict the tribe. Joined in her ritual by the lodge leader, a tribal elder, the two women sat in darkness as smoke swirled around and heat enveloped them. The lodge leader chanted and drummed while Maria freed her mind of earthly constraints. Maria’s vision in that smoke-filled construction revealed images of a black crow demon spreading plague wings over the people of Arrajo. Despite her skills and knowledge, Maria knew she was unable to fight this dark beast. As her vision came to an end the screaming crow flew at the teenager and the elder, talons stretched out to rake them both. The vision ended suddenly and Maria was awake, alert and unharmed, but shaken by the experience. As she looked around she saw the lodge leader lying prone, dead, her face stricken with anguish.

The following night saw Maria nervously enter the sweat lodge again, this time alone with no-one to guide her with chants and drumming. Outside nervous elders waited. She took upon herself the sacred rituals and unbound her shamanic senses once more. Her sight went beyond sight and the vision began.

In her vision a wise albino coyote visited and spoke with her, its voice as old as the lands in which her tribe lived. The coyote explained that the crow could be defeated, but that Maria would need to give up part of herself to do so; a part of her would always belong to the albino coyote and in return, she would get its help to fight the crow. Fearing what the crow-demon would do if she did not act Maria agreed. As she woke from her vision Maria found half of a moon-shaped amulet in her hand.

On the third night Maria looked to the moon above, bright and clear in a cloudless sky. She took that as a sign that the path she had chosen was correct. She grasped the Moon Amulet tightly. Her body shimmered in the moonlight and her form became that of the albino coyote, its body adorned with mysterious markings. The Moon Coyote leapt into the night then, running effortlessly across the reservation towards the larger part that was home to the Avaje. On the outskirts of the Avaje lands Moon Coyote found a darkened lodge. As Moon Coyote waited, a wiry old man emerged from that lodge, his arms adorned with sleeves of crow feathers.

Moon Coyote became Moonchild once more, however her body was now covered in fine white fur, and her long hair that was once dark was similarly white, and her hands adorned with vicious claws. She took a moment to notice this change, noting also her own heart racing, then focused on her quest.

“You are the crow-demon,” Moonchild said, her voice steady and full of certainty.

“Yes, yes I am,” replied the wiry man, “I am Black Crow, and you are another shaman?”

“Yes, I am Moonchild,” she responded “and I fight for the Arrajo”.

As they stood facing once another the wiry man then explained himself; that he had cursed the Arrajo so they would die out so that his tribe, the Avaje, would become stronger on those sacred lands; that he had killed the lodge leader, and years before, Moonchild’s father; and that now Moonchild would die at his hand.

Silence followed. Then both leapt to attack. Moonchild charged forwards, claws slashing out as the wiry man himself transformed into some sort of crow-man. They battled for long minutes before one final slash from Moonchild caught Black Crow across the throat. Dying, he fell to the floor, blood pooling around his body, his curse lifted with his dying breath.

Moonchild had fulfilled her father’s quest and in doing so gave herself over to a greater power. In time she joined Blood Watch, making use of both of her forms to aid them. Her work with those Heroes in turn made her aware of Loup Garou II. She eventually learned of the bond they shared through their possession of each of two halves of the Moon Amulet; each held an influence over the other which unsettled their respective allies. Nonetheless, Moonchild’s courage and unswerving dedication to stopping dark forces is beyond question among the Blood Watch and so for now they respect the bond she has with the hulking werewolf.

<< Back to Heroes and Villains

Posted in: | Tags: , , ,

Sovereign

Full Name: Sovereign
Allegiance: Unknown

1989
New threats have arisen. Beyond the confines of the United Kingdom, in Pulp City, Supremes soar through skies that have witnessed the spearhead of invasions, from the dark of space and from places beyond the veil of reality. Yet Pulp City is not alone in facing these threats, and in recent times across the world more and more empowered champions have emerged anew. From an ancient temple in Latin America the might of Solar is unleashed. In Poland an ancient power raises the force of storms. And in the United Kingdom, Sovereign, her greatest champion – a figure of legend for so long – has returned to defend his beloved nation once more, even if that means once more facing rising threats on distant shores.

1945
30th April, in the ruins of Berlin, a once-great city reduced to a shadow of its former self. The last days of the Greater German Reich and bedlam reigned over the failing forces of that crumbling would-be empire. Near to the Reichhstag, where Soviet soldiers advanced, two men were locked in desperate battle, one on the ground, his enemy the ace of the sky.
No quarter was asked and none was given. There was a strange respect within the enmity between Sovereign and the Red Baron. Many would claim in later years to have witnessed their terrible battle, but few truly did so.
Time and again the Red Baron strafed the ground where Sovereign stood, flying low in his Ghostly Tri-plane. As shots ploughed up the ground around him and then ripped wounds into his body, the British Supreme simply would not fall.
At last, Sovereign returned fire with the ray-gun he had acquired the year before from an unearthly visitor, his shot one of extreme brilliance, smashing the ethereal plane to the ground. The leering skull-faced Red Baron rose from the dissolving plane-wreck to face his foe. A quiet descended as they stared at one another before unleashing a torrent of fire. Those few true witnesses retreated at the overwhelming fusillade, but afterwards it was clear that the Red Baron was broken, his remains spirited into the night. And of Sovereign there was as with every other time he had appeared, simply no trace.

1916
July 1st – dispatches record the worst single day of combat losses ever suffered by the British Army. With 60, 000 casualties, mayhem descended upon brave men who strode forth towards enemy positions and guns, bullets and bombs blasting all around, seeking to take territory inch by bloody inch.
Amid the carnage there were snatched reports of a red-coated soldier – red perhaps from blood some suggest – hit with felling wounds only to rise, again and again. Those bewildered missives recorded this man’s unrelenting progress.
The road to Contalmaison beyond La Boisselle was vital, and it was here that the legends told from fathers to sons in later generations would spring strongest. Of a soldier in a red military coat, sword in one hand, sidearm in the other. The man raged forwards against the artillery that rained down, mown down only to stand time after time, pressing his advance until he was finally lost to sight among billowing clouds of smoke and debris. They had witnessed the impossible, a man so unbending that it took hundreds, maybe thousands of guns to cease his inexorable advance.
His indomitability inspired them all.

1888
A fog of fear swathed the streets of London in chilly late November, and with the coming of each night that terror struck into the heart of the citizens of the great metropolis. But within the overcrowded warrens of small dark streets branching like blood vessels through the district, the greatest suffering, filth and danger was to be found. And amid that suffering borne by the poverty-stricken and those struck low, a predator crept, deadly blade in hand.
Five times he had struck, and five lives were snuffed out with gruesome end. As Sovereign walked those deprived and depraved streets he sternly vowed that this beast – this Ripper – would take no more lives.
Drawn to his quarry through grimy back-streets, seemingly through nothing more than the force of his own determination, Sovereign finally happened upon his foe. Dressed in black garments, this Ripper was a shadowy figure, indistinct but awash in palpable cruelty. The Ripper towered over a terrified street-walker, his arm rose to deliver a final flourishing slash with which to take another life. Wasting no time, Sovereign drew his sidearm and blasted the blade from the monster’s hand. As the poor, frightened young woman fled that scene which could have marked her own death, she saw the grim-set countenance of her red-coated savior as he stalked towards London’s most infamous criminal as the bloody-handed Ripper drew another blade and thrust at her savior. She ran then, she ran for her life.
The young woman would tell her tale the next day, dragging a local constable to the spot where she said she was attacked. However, of the brave red-coated soldier who rescued her and the man who would have butchered her there was no trace, save a pool of blood that trickled into the shabby gutter.

1812
Deep beneath the War Office on Horse Guards Avenue, three men met in a dimly lit room. One wore the vestments and insignia of a British Army General. Beside the general there stood a civilian man, wiry–framed and clearly nervous. The third man appeared the oldest of the three. He was bearded and he wore simple robes and a golden sigil hung from a chain around his neck.
“Has Captain Cornwell agreed to this?” asked the robed man. His tone was enquiring, but betrayed that he strongly anticipated the answer.
“Yes, he has,” replied the general with a nod. The civilian next to him tugged at his own collar as the general spoke.
“And he gives of himself willingly? He understands what it is that you ask of him?” continued the enquiring man in the robes, emphasizing the word ‘you’ as he stared first at the civilian and then at the general. His gaze was dark and piercing.
“And the Shadow Chamber supports this? The Government supports this?” the robed man continued, allowing a pause before asking his most telling question “The King supports this?”
“We are to proceed,” replied the nervous civilian, careful to not directly answer the questions. Ever a civil servant, the man knew how to deftly choose his words.
“Be sure, General Bean and Mr. Armitage, that this will be a most terrible sacrifice,” as he spoke the robed man enunciated clearly and firmly the word ‘sacrifice’ before continuing “And that Captain Cornwell, if he survives and the ritual succeeds, will have suffered a terrible three-fold death. He will experience the pain of three deaths most horrid, as he is drowned, hanged and finally burned within a wicker man, and when he is reborn he will never be able to be destroyed. Each time from then on that he dies anew he will suffer each death again, and again be reborn. And in doing this, you will have created an instrument that may be more powerful than you are able to control.”
At this General Bean leaned forwards. He knew of sacrifice, of sending men to certain death. He had done it many times and he would do so again. This druid’s pronouncements were on the life of one man. The General looked to save many more in a grinding attritional war against the armies of Napoleon, and the life of one man to save many more was a sacrifice worth making. Captain Cornwell had been selected for his independence and courage, and he was giving himself willingly, even if the details of what was truly to follow had been spared from him. To the general it was a price that could be met.
“So be it.”
And with three words, an unyielding legend began.

<< Back to Heroes and Villains

Posted in: | Tags:

Captain Hadron (Hero)

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.

<< Back to Heroes and Villains

Posted in: | Tags: , ,

Skyline (Hero)

 

skylineCode-name: Skyline

Full Name: Peter Stoltz

Faction: none

For some Heroes their new lives are shaped by the pain of tragedy, while others are called to the fight against evil by their own personal crusades. A very rare few can say their new lives as heroes began simply because they were there.

Peter Stoltz was a physics major at Pulp City University, working as a lab assistant to Professor Beeching in the field of inertial physics.

Using alien metals recovered by Heavy Metal from a downed Ulthar Patriaship, Beeching had struck on a process of layering various charged sheets of the mysterious alloys to create a field that appeared to dampen or magnify the force of gravity in a highly localized area. Stoltz would then secretly test the various prototypes in rooftop sprints across the Pulp City skyline.

It was on one of these test runs that Stoltz’s new life suddenly began. Flashing across the rooftops in a modified impact-resistant suit, and clutching a balancing device (a six foot pole with an inertial generator housed at each end), Stoltz heard a desperate scream from an alley below. As Stoltz in his persona as Skyline subsequently said in an interview with the Pulp City Planet:

skyline-page-001“I heard that scream, and something just took over. Before I knew it I had thrown myself off a six-story building. The impact suit made the fall as soft as bouncing on a feather bed. I hit the street right behind this thug standing over some poor girl, and just let him have it with my staff. Sucker flew straight through a dumpster! I saved the day and I’ve never looked back since.”

From that night on, Stoltz has operated under the guise of Skyline. Carrying the device he now calls the Spring-staff and wearing the second generation of Beeching’s inertia suit, Skyline is now a familiar, if fleeting image against the night-time panorama of Pulp City. His methods may be questioned by the police, and allegations of violence bordering on brutality are often laid at his feet, but to the common citizen he’s a local guy making good, giving the criminal filth of the city the treatment that they richly deserve.

skyline-page-002Skyline is like a light in the darkness. Maybe that is why he and Jade Hawk were drawn together….

 

***
Equipment: Skyline has a black cowl, with bulbous goggles tinged yellow. It covers his full head apart from his mouth and chin. His inertia suit is made of a black synthetic material, and is banded around the biceps, forearms, thighs, shins and torso. These are the metallic layers that produce the gravitic fields. These are also present in his shoes (giving Skyline slightly thickened soles). His gloves have pads on the palms that produce strong gravitic fields to enable him to adhere to any surface. There is a stylized horizon of Pulp City in a strong silver line across his chest. The Spring-staff is a 6 foot metallic rod, with a black synthetic sheathing over the gravitic generators at each end (which provide approximately a foot of cover each).

 

<< Back to Heroes and Villains

Posted in: | Tags: , ,

Supreme Alliance

Chronologically, the original Supreme team in America. Most of them became legends of WWII, some rose to fame shortly after. Our Facebook webpage gradually introduces the entire line up – Spybreaker, A-Beast, Battlesuit 7 and others.

Posted in: Pulp City | Tags: ,

Lady Cyburn (Hero)

 

 

ladycyburnCode-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.

ladycyburn-page-001As 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.

ladycyburn-page-002While 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!

 

<< Back to Heroes and Villains

Posted in: | Tags: , , ,