Code-name: Bigfoot

Full Name: Doug Behr

Faction: None

A twist of the throttle and the big old bike roared even faster along a deserted back road. Its powerful, muscular rider ignored the wind that whipped against his exposed russet fur, his focus fixed on only one thing – going home. To his left darkness was coming, and another kind of darkness lay ahead. He felt his jaw clench tighter as he sped on.

His mind wandered as he rode. He had carved out a life where others looked past his freakish appearance, a quiet life where he worked hard and contributed to his community. He lived among people who accepted him just as mom and dad had when they adopted him, rest their souls. Even the nickname he had acquired when he settled across the northern border was one he took pride in. His friends in the small Canadian town where he had lived for the past two decades had called him Bigfoot, and he embraced it because it fit. Now though, the past was catching up with Pulp City, and that meant he too was within its grasp.

So much of Bigfoot’s life, his own history that he knew, he simply regarded as ‘weird’, but he had moved past all that and learned to embrace who he was and to leave those mysteries alone. It had caught up with him in recent weeks, and that is why he now rode his way back.

It had started with an itch at the back of his mind. A mild irritation he could not ignore. Over days it became worse, like some kind of mental buzzing, almost as if an insect was in his brain. Within a couple of weeks the buzz seemed to make some kind of sense to him, almost as if words were being spoken to him: “They have found it”. An image formed with those words, which were spoken over and over, of a creepy-looking masked face with six jeweled eyes. Bigfoot was not yet sure who it was that was somehow communicating with his mind, he left all that prospect of Supreme stuff behind when he left Pulp City, but he could not ignore the message. Someone was digging into something that was best left buried. He was comfortable with who he was, he did not want anyone unearthing how an infant creature was found at the old paper mill, and nor did he care to learn more. The hidden monsters of the woods were better left alone. He was done with the past, but the past did not seem done with him. Whoever they were, they surely wanted those secrets for their own gain, their own power.

He saw a sign exclaiming twenty six miles to Pulp City. He was getting closer now. He gunned the engine harder.

Suddenly he saw twin shapes ahead. Bigfoot skidded the bike to a sideways halt, and squinted as his eyes adjusted to the twilight. The figures were monstrous amalgamations of mechanical exo-skeleton and armor with a moist, fleshy-looking substance visible at their joints and on their misshapen faces. Each of them clutched an ancient looking spear – they were ready for a fight. Bigfoot kicked down the bike’s stand and let it rest. He stepped off, never taking his eyes off the strange figures. With an easy motion he reached over his back and grabbed his trusty axe from its sleeve. He had no doubt the peculiar things in front of him were connected to the message he had received, connected with those seeking to uncover those old mysteries. Bigfoot rolled the axe handle in his grip before bounding forward. These things did not know who they were messing with.

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Code-name: Anansi

Full name: Edina Todd

Faction: none

Suspended one hundred feet above the city streets swinging slowly in the ocean breeze, she finally felt at ease. The sounds of gun fire and explosions were carried clear to her position where she hung, and she could see the chaos of combat raging in the street below. Anansi reflected inwardly that this was the most at peace she had ever felt.

Growing up in the poorest parts of Jamaica had accustomed Edina Todd to the unfairness of life. She had learned to survive however she could, and was gifted with unusual grace, balance and quickness. These talents made her the most skilled pickpocket on the island. She was careful though, clever and resourceful. She saved her stolen pennies knowing she would need them later. But her dreams haunted her. Driving her ever on, never letting her rest. Those dreams pushed her.

When she was fourteen, she had saved enough to smuggle herself to America. The dreams told her she belonged there and she had no choice but to listen. She worked the fields for a while but that wasn’t a job fit for her. She soon found the carnival though, or maybe it found her. By this time she was beginning to trust her dreams more. Fighting them never worked, and life was easier if she just listened. In many of her dreams there was an old kindly-looking man with the laughing eyes, and she was sure that he cared for her.

In the carnival her quick wits and nimble fingers saw Edina working the games of chance and skill. But she found little joy in the work. When she was dared to try her luck on the high wire everything changed. She was a natural, the trapeze and the wire felt like home, no, better than home. Soon she was the star of the show. She did things in the air no one could dream. But still there was something missing

By sixteen Edina knew she had to move on. The carnival owner was taking advantage of her and she knew it. Attendance had doubled thanks to her talents, but still the owner would barely pay her. Enough was enough, and the kindly man in her dreams urged her forward. So in full view of a packed audience she fell from the wire. The fall did not hurt, she knew it would not, but in the crowd’s panic she escaped with the carnival strongbox as her severance package.

After that she dropped off the grid and took to cat burglary for a few years. Edina wandered the great cities of America and sought for something more. Her dreams pushed her ever forward. Finally she got the call. A man with an impossibly silky voice offered her a job in Pulp City, and she knew she had to go. The Mysterious Man explained that he had followed her progress for years. He was willing to put her in the big leagues. She would need a new name though. Her choice was clear; Anansi would be her name. In her dream the kindly-looking man nodded and said she was ready, she could take his name, and his mantle.

With the help of Mysterious Man she created her suit and his science gave her the ability to weave webs to complete her new persona, her new power granted from specially grafted gland implants. The Mysterious Man knew exactly what to offer her to win her allegiance. For his gifts she would always be grateful. But even the Mysterious Man would need to be put in his place eventually.

For now the Supremes of Pulp City would know that a new player was in town. So with a merry laugh she dropped from her perch. The battle was on, and the webs Anansi spun would forever change the world. The trick she realized as she fell, was to make it look easy.

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Code-name: Green Serpent

Full Name: Chiyoko

Faction: Jade Cult, The Way

Twenty Years Ago
“Again,” barked the Ninja Sensei. At his command a young Japanese girl of five years of age slapped her hand against water sitting in a large simple wooden bowl.

The two were the only figures in the main courtyard of a vast temple set high into a remote mountainside. The air was cold and bit at the girl’s tender skin, but she made no complaint as she diligently undertook her training.

Water was displaced with each slap as she struck, and when the bowl became empty she was instructed with the same single word ‘again’ to refill it and start over once more, this time slapping the water with her other hand.

The girl did what she was told because it was what her father wanted, and father’s will was all she had ever known.

Thirteen Years Ago
The girl, now on the cusp of adolescence, but having lived a childhood hard like no other, knelt before a sack of cold, wet sand. She had carried it up the side of the bleak and forbidding mountain as her Sensei had ordered. She had been instructed to creep undetected into the village below, escaping with her worthless prize. Shadows embraced her as she did as she had been told. Without any words of protest she clambered up the mountain with her heavy burden, slowly ascending step after painful step, as icy winds lashed at her slender body.

Returned to the citadel, she knelt before her prize and at a single nod from her Sensei began to rhythmically and repetitively punch the sand, over and over, right then left, then right, then left, until she could no longer count the blows and her knuckles bled, and she continued despite her pain and beckoning exhaustion.

Her task was what her father wanted, so she carried on without question.

Eight Years Ago
A large windowless chamber deep within the ancient stone fortress; burning torches along the walls cast flickering light, leaving dancing pools of shadow around the room.

She was poised, her lithe frame ready for what she faced. A dozen ninjas stood motionless before her, each waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Each had failed the Jade Cult in some way, so each had failed the Green Emperor. Redemption could be claimed by one of their number if he or she slew the Emperor’s daughter. Her task in turn was to slay them all. She was he father’s daughter, and without mercy or hesitation she completed her bloody task, stepping silently through shadows to effortlessly kill the doomed cadre, as her father demanded.

Today
Her father was different now, reborn but still the Green Emperor. His demeanour was changed, and the Oni Queen had gained his favour, sitting at his right hand. He had gathered new recruits with talents to compete with hers, and worse than that, there was the dog he had bequeathed the title Shadow Mask to.

She had dutifully followed his instructions, establishing a headquarters in Pulp City to suit his plans. But while she was her father’s daughter, he had changed. And so had she. Amid a brutal and brutalised childhood, she had slowly earned her father’s respect. This Green Emperor was different. She did not command the same respect from her new ‘father’. The cycle had been changed. Her position had changed. And with that she knew his power could become hers. She would one day become the Green Empress.

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Codename: 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.

Battle 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.

Two 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.

…

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.

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Full Name: Le Murtiple
Allegiance: Ape Revolution Committee

“¡Viva la Revolución!” shouted the little lemur wearing a purple top hat. His dress uniform was immaculate, crisp and clean, for the little lemur was nothing if not attentive to detail.

The bold lemur surveyed the scene before him. Novaragua’s capital city was awash with revolutionary zeal as its military junta was under increasing pressure from the fighters of the Luminous Way. President for life Sendero had to know very well that the ‘for life’ aspect was no guarantee of longevity in these times of serious civil unrest. That much was clearly symbolized by the burning of the presidential palace. Of course that it was the lemur’s own home-brew bombs that had caused the palace to burn was simply emblematic of this strange little revolution. The leaders of the rebels in the Luminous Way had kept any mention of their intelligent talking primate ally from their followers, wary of his links to the despised governments of the region, and especially to Sendero himself. Everything he had done for the revolution had been under a cloud of secrecy, and that included this latest direct action.

The flickering flames of the burning official residence of President Sendero cast an amber glow onto the lemur, but insufficient warmth. Despite the fire, it was a cold night and the little primate pulled his cape closer around himself. Just then his sharp senses detected foot-steps coming towards him. Several men he estimated and they lacked the rhythmic step of trained soldiers – fellow revolutionaries he surmised.

“Ah, Vazquez. How are you comrade?” asked the lemur in his friendliest manner to the leader of the group. He had not arranged to meet his contacts at this time, or at this location, so his suspicions were raised. He cast a quick glance at the six men that drifted around him, surreptitiously sizing them up.

“Your time is done here, I think,” said the overweight and unshaven Vazquez, his words tinged with a veneer of warmth. The lemur understood the implication, but was not quite ready to show his hand yet.

“I don’t understand, I thought we were comrades in the glorious fight together?” said the lemur.

“Yes we were, but times change. While you were El Presidente’s special pet you were a valuable ally, our inside man, spreading misinformation and killing when we needed you to do so. And in the early days of the revolution you were very useful, making bombs and gathering intelligence. But times change little monkey. It would not do for the revolution to be associated with one of the symbols of El Presidente’s corrupt regime. And this is a human revolution, no monkey’s needed,” said Vazquez, spitting at the ground as he finished.

“There is one thing about me I never told you or the leaders of the revolution,” began the lemur, “You know about my skills, with a knife; my skills with making bombs; my skills as assassin and intelligence agent. But there is one last thing that I never told you, nor did I ever tell El Presidente. Every man who has learned this secret has died at my hand. This night will be no different.”

With that the little lemur became three. One of lemurs drew a butterfly knife, revealing its blade in a fluid motion.  Another of the identical lemurs drew a chemical flask from the folds of its cloak, while the third drew a stick of dynamite from a trouser pouch, deftly lighting its fuse as he did so. The half dozen men looked on in shock. It was the last thing they ever saw.

Dead men behind him, the little lemur fled into the jungle. His time in Novaragua was done; he was now an enemy to both sides, with the blood of men from both factions on his hands. However his conscience was clear; he had done what he felt was just and right and his actions aligned with his principles.  So he travelled into the thick jungle, to place distance between himself and his foes. He was startled then to stumble upon an orangutan wearing a lab coat, stood beside a beefy-looking gorilla wearing combat fatigues and toting a minigun. He was surprised that he had not sensed them sooner, but then his mind had been on other things, and this pair was an unexpected sight.

“Going somewhere?” asked the bespectacled orangutan in English, with a smile that revealed vicious looking teeth.

“Somewhere better for my health, I think,” replied the lemur, in accented English, warily eyeing the two big apes as he spoke, “And who are you?”

“We are fellow travelers, drawn here by your reputation.  It seems to my friend and I that you need to leave Novaragua in a hurry. We think we may have the perfect destination for you. Have you heard of Pulp City?”

The lemur nodded in affirmation.

“There is a revolution coming to Pulp City,” growled the big gorilla, briefly pausing before continuing, “And we want you. What is your name, what do we call you? Where did you come from?”

The lemur thought for a moment, weighed his options and his principles, and made a decision.

“You may call me, Le Murtiple”, said the little lemur, a broad grin across his face, “And as for where I came from? Well, that is another story…”

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Code-name: Shadow Mask

Full Name: Unknown

Allegiance: Jade Cult

A secret high-tech lab in Japan, years ago; a young girl watched as a killer wiped blood from his sword-blade, the blood of her brave father who had vainly tried to protect her, and her mother and sister, their lives brutally ended.  The implacable killer proceeded to manipulate controls for the test-chamber that the young girl was trapped inside. Leaving the girl to die as the chamber activated, as it filled with a peculiar liquid, the swordsman set to depart.

However, something very strange happened then. Time for the sword-wielding killer stretched out to seeming infinity, his body reacting ever so slowly to his surroundings. He saw then the young dark-eyed girl with burning hatred in her heart. With time slowed to an almost standstill he was able to see the spray of blood fly from his own neck glide impossibly slowly outwards as the vengeful girl took his own sword and cleaved his head from his body with a single blow. The life of Shadow Mask was snuffed out in an instant as time resumed its normal flow. Shadow Mask was dead, and his sword, the symbol of Shadow Masks across innumerable generations, taken by his own killer.

Years passed, and far away in a remote mountain fortress in Japan, a feral thing brooded alone in a Spartan cell. The creature was something less than a man and at the same time so much more. Simple clothes adorned the savage man-thing’s frame as a small reflection of the creature’s limited needs. The creature wore a mask that resembled nothing so much as an ornate muzzle, a stark contrast to its simple vestments, its beastly nature defined and displayed through that adornment. The thing’s cell was not locked, since its occupant lived only to serve its master, and would not seek to be elsewhere unless commanded. A cold stone corridor led from the cell into one of the meeting chambers of the man-creature’s master, the Green Emperor.

Following a discrete signal, the brute left its cell arrived in the meeting chamber. His master was there, regal and shrouded in cloak and armor. A cadre of Ninjas stood motionless against one wall, and before them stood the Green Serpent, deadly and beautiful in the eyes of all those who saw her, except perhaps for this brute. His thoughts were governed only by servitude to his master and the violence that he would unleash in fulfilling his tasks.

“Ah, your attack dog arrives, father,” said Green Serpent, disdain dripping from her words. Silence followed briefly in the stone-walled chamber.

“There are those who think this beast is unworthy of your attention, father, that it is unworthy of the Shadow Mask mantle.” An almost imperceptible shake of the Green Emperor’s head signaled to her that she should say no more.

The Green Emperor stood impassively for several minutes. He stared to who knew where, his face hidden behind his ceremonial mask, his contemplations his own. Finally he turned on his heel and walked up to the one he called ‘daughter’, that those others who knew of her called Green Serpent, heir to the empire of the Jade Cult.

“You see too little, daughter,” he began, emphasis on the latter word.

“You see only what you want, what you desire. You see the Jade Cult. You see the shijin totems. You see steps to power. You see the steps to usurp my power. And I applaud all of that. But I see more. I see that a child, half human, half oni, and born as lowly as one can be within my empire can become something to be feared. A child born with nothing has the potential to fight for anything. By taking that potential, honing it and sharpening it a great instrument is created.”

The Green Emperor paused, and gazed along the cadre of Ninjas standing stock still against the wall.

“Anyone can kill, daughter. But those who can are ultimately distracted by other things. And any of these Jade Cult Ninjas could rise to the mantle of Shadow Mask, as the pinnacle of their skills, as those who did so before them,” he waved nonchalantly at the ranked assassins, “But that is pride. It is a pride in their own abilities, but pride nonetheless. And your weakness is avarice. It was weakness that was the failure of the previous Shadow Masks. But my new Shadow Mask is a killer without distraction, without such weakness. Already he is one again with thoughts that race bloodily as he seeks only to serve me and to mete out death at my command. He has a singular purpose and in that he is magnificent, my perfect instrument. If you are correct to dismiss my new Shadow Mask, then that will be tested and proven. I asked that you bring your most promising Ninjas to me now, and here they are. I propose a test then. If your Ninjas defeat the Shadow Mask, then he dies as the dog you feel he is. If your Ninjas fail, then he has truly earned his name and rank. Or if I willed it, he would stand and face their attack and not attack back, reining in every instinct within him to do so.”

As he finished, the Green Emperor nodded at his new Shadow Mask.

The savage Supreme breathed darkness out from his own muzzling mask. The darkness coalesced around Shadow Mask. The inky darkness twisted and formed a shape, and the shape drifted away from Shadow Mask to form a shadowy copy of its creator. In that moment more than half a dozen Ninjas, expert assassins all, drew weapons to face a snarling wild man-thing and his shadow double.

Minutes had passed. The chamber was awash with blood. Shadow Mask’s claws dripped red to the stone floor. Bloodied but unbeaten, Shadow Mask stood across the bodies of those the Green Emperor had set before him. The Emperor approached, and put a fatherly hand on his shoulder. Green Serpent looked on as impassively as she could manage, but noticeably chagrined in the eyes of her father.

“I have a task for you, one worthy of you. There is a city, in the west. I bid that you go there and enact my will, and reclaim that which has been taken. Find the sword. Pulp City and its protectors shall feel the power of the Green Emperor, and you will lead the way for the Jade Cult in that accursed place.”

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Code-name: Stalker

Full Name: Stalker

Faction: none

When the sun blazes in the sky over Pulp City, and Solar is hunting evil-doers, the big black cat identified as Stalker is often to be found by his side. When the sun goes down and darkness falls, and a change can be sensed in the sun-powered Hero, Stalker remains as his companion. And when the feral man-beast some call the Avatar of the Jaguar hunts, Stalker has been seen running with him.

The dark-furred feline is an enigma to the authorities of Pulp City. Although the general populace has come to terms with evolved talking primates from the Ape Revolutionary Committee, most believe Stalker to be an urban myth. Few accept that there is any possibility of a mighty beast native to the jungles of Latin America being on the loose in a modern metropolis, even one teeming with as much weirdness as Pulp City.

Scattered reports have linked the elusive animal to vicious attacks on criminals, while yet other reports have suggested that the creature that has been suggested to be Stalker has been seen in the company of Supreme Villains. What is clear to the authorities in the city is that if the beast is real, it is not clear how it continues to evade capture, whether it is some kind of Supreme animal, or even whether human-level intelligence drives it on.

In truth Stalker serves as Solar’s monitor, in all of sun-powered Supreme’s aspects. Solar has yet to fully realize his full potential as the avatar of Ahau-Kin on Earth. This has caused Johann Sonnenbrandt’s psyche to become fragmented, and in turn he displays different abilities depending on which aspect is currently in the ascendency. The median aspect – known to some as Dark Solar – reflects traits of the other two, and is like a powerful and vengeful demi-god. Stalker’s task is to help Johann accept and become Ahau Kin.

Stalker is a spirit guide, appearing when he is needed, knowing that Sonnenbrandt must learn some lessons for himself. As a brave soul of a fallen warrior, eternally rejoicing in the hunt, he was summoned by Ahau-Kin to become a guide and interpreter of mysteries to Solar, as he became the avatar of the god by putting on the tiara. However, Stalker has found more than he expected when he was charged with his duty. He likes being alive once more, even on an impossibly changed Earth. He also likes his role as a guide, much as he did when training young Jaguar Warriors of old. To his own surprise, he has come to love the city as a new hunting ground. It remains to be seen whether he will fulfill the duty given to him by Ahua-Kin. For now he is happy to hunt the varied and exciting prey of this new jungle. He is happier still to serve a mighty being like Ahau-Kin, and shape the re-birth of his ancient God.

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Code-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:

“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 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).

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Code-name: Jade Hawk

Full Name: unknown

Faction: The Way

“Car 54, we have a code 1025 in progress at 827 east 32nd street at the U-Hock-It pawn shop.”

“Ten-four dispatch. This is car 54, we’re en route.”

A voice whispers in the darkness….. “Armed robbery sounds like my kind of scene.”

A dark figure leaps from the rooftop and into the shadows. The hunter has begun stalking its prey.

Only blocks away four thugs were piling TV’s, electronics, and handfuls of jewelry into the back of an old beat-up van. A pawn shop employee lay crumpled on the ground next to the loading dock. While the other three ran inside for more loot, one thug jumped into the driver’s door to start the getaway vehicle. He barely turned the key before a green claw burst through the side window and tore the man from the cab. The next thing he noticed was the unpleasant taste of asphalt and a piercing pain in his back. He barely let out a gurgle before passing out.

Two of the other thugs walked up to the van carrying a large box with a 50 inch flat screen TV. “Benny, what the heck is that?” called Freddie.

It was too late. Benny felt a sharp pain across the back of his knees before his legs gave out from underneath him. The shadowy figure leapt up from behind Benny and pounced off the box – pushing it directly onto the chest of the collapsing thug. This pulled Freddie forward and off balance just in time to receive a kick to the face.

Both thugs landed hard. The dark-clad figure was immediately on top of Freddie. Only then did Freddie get a good look at the vigilante that was ruining his night. The figure had an emerald green hawk-like mask, a dark hood and cape, and a protective bodysuit. This had to be the Jade Hawk!

Freddie started to rise when the Jade Hawk planted a glove with brutal gem-like talons onto his chest. “You’re not going anywhere,” whispered the Hawk in the criminal’s ear.

The sound of running footsteps down the alley caused the Jade Hawk to turn her head. The fourth thief was making a run for it. The vigilante was not going to let this man get away, only for the others to make some sort of plea deal to turn their buddy in for less jail time. No. She would get all of these losers…
…

“Dispatch, this is car 54 requesting backup. We have a brown Chevy van license plate PLJ-459 with its engine running at the loading dock of the pawn shop. We’re going in.”

“Car 54, this is Dispatch, backup is on the way.”

Officers McCrery and Franklin began to move cautiously down the alley with weapons drawn when the fourth criminal landed on the hood of their cruiser with a dull thump.
…

Less than an hour later…

“Franklin, what happened here?” asked Detective Walsh.

“Well detective, as best we can tell, the Jade Hawk beat us to the scene again. The Hawk took out these four lowlifes robbing the pawn shop. Their prints are all over everything in the van. It seems pretty cut and dry. At least the store employee will be okay.”

“Cut and dry? We can’t have another costumed hooligan running wild in the streets meting out justice on a whim. There are laws in this town. Heroes are supposed to fight villains and leave the regular crime to the police. We have four criminals that need hospitalization here. You don’t see Iron Train pulling this kind of bull! The chief wants the Jade Hawk in handcuffs and off the streets!!!”

ABOUT THE JADE HAWK
The Jade Hawk is a dark figure that stalks the criminal element of Pulp City. Heroes are not generally fond of her methods but cannot deny the results. When Heavy Metal or Blood Watch find themselves hunting the same prey, Heroes like Iron Train and Red Riding Hoodoo try to mitigate the Jade Hawk’s sheer brutality. None knows exactly why she is on this crusade, but whispers from the dark vigilante seem to imply that lady justice failed her some time ago.

Evildoers owe her an unpaid debt. The Jade Hawk plans to collect on this debt – in pain and blood.

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Code-name: Twilight

Full Name: unknown

Faction: The Coven

Less is known about the origins of Twilight than almost any other Pulp City Supreme, and not much more is publicly known about the truth of the group she represents. Hidden beneath the web of corporations that form Coven Enterprises, The Coven is a secret organization headed up by practitioners of the dark arts. Some scholars claim that after centuries of undermining Southern social structures with voodoo and assassinations of politicians, leaders of The Coven have forged a bloody and secret truce with official authorities.

Today, following its recent public exposures and now lurking less and less in the shadows, in trying to pursue its political and economic goals the Coven deploys a small but highly skilled Team of Supremes. This Team acts not only in the South (where the location of the Coven’s primary headquarters is confidential and closely guarded), but in other important cities, reaching out to influence politicians, local businessmen and celebrities. Pulp City has become one such key location in Coven plans. Since the Coven rarely relies on brute force alone, despite the power of Loup Garou II and Rook at its disposal, Twilight, the mysterious shadow thief, is without doubt one the leading operatives for the organization in Pulp City.

It has been suggested that the Coven is hunting down those who have left its ranks or have stood in its way, and that Twilight was banished to Pulp City after a spectacular failure in Louisiana, where a young Creole managed to slay Loup Garou, an important Coven resource. Twilight was subsequently tasked with delivering the death-proclamation of the Coven, the trail leading to Pulp City where the Creole woman found refuge in the ranks of the Blood Watch. Despite Twilight’s many successes since, rumor on the Supreme grapevine is that this one failure continues to hang over her Coven career.

Twilight is a mistress of avoiding detection and cheating death. Her enemies claim that she possesses the skill to disappear into shadows or to strike from behind with her twin blades, known as the ‘fangs’, only to reappear a hundred feet further in the blink of an eye. Some experts in Supreme matters have speculated that her origins may lie to the East. Others have wondered whether Twilight is just a codename for an assassin in the Coven’s ranks, or whether there is there a troubled woman behind Twilight’s mask? Nobody outside the Coven knows the answers to these questions, or if they do, they are not saying.

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