Code-name: Spybreaker

Full Name: Col. John Schneider

Faction: Supreme Alliance

“We need more!” demanded Professor Llusk. A thin, older man with receding hair framing a shrewd face, he did not easily accept dissent to his demands.

His younger colleague Van Beek looked on impassively as the four-star general standing before them attempted to frame a reply, “We-.”

“I will heed no argument General Lucas. We need more subjects, and we need the best! This chaff you send is not satisfactory. The process is near-ready, but it will take the right kind of subject, a very special kind of man prepared to sacrifice all to survive something that will make him like a god amongst men,” demanded Llusk in his heavy accent. It was one that Lucas could never place, but something about it unnerved him, even as a decorated war hero and man of noted valor.

“Be careful with your tone professor, these are brave patriots you are talking about,” replied General Lucas, “But I have compiled a list of the best of the best. If any man fits your criteria it will be one of those if they volunteer.”

“Oh, they will volunteer,” said Van Beek with the merest hint of a sly smile as his colleague Llusk straightened up imperiously beside him, “for what man does not wish to embrace greatness?”

***
“Ten, hut!”
Colonel John Schneider stood to attention with the rest of the men in his training platoon as the meanest drill instructor the Army could produce barked his order. In this place, in this camp, ranks were meaningless. There was one purpose for all of them, and that was to prove themselves worthy of Project: Omega. If that meant being drilled into the ground, Schneider would meet that challenge as surely as when he charged enemy positions during the war.

Days passed. Assault courses followed day and night runs, calisthenics sessions and maneuvers. Physical activity was interspersed with tactical and strategic assessments. There was no let up. Each day the number of men diminished as more washed out.

Within one week the number remaining in the group was halved. Within one month it was one quarter of those who started. Finally, a day passed with no washouts, then another. After one more week of grueling challenge the group remained stable. Schneider was tired, but focused. He listened carefully as the two scientists addressed all of the men. One had a peculiar accent he could not be sure of, the other a soft New England drawl.

The egg-heads made it clear that what would follow was highly dangerous to each test subject and that any man could back out there and then and return to their parent unit. None wavered. Then the procedures began, and with them, true pain the like of which none of the men had ever known.

First there came the pills, and a week of nausea and painful muscle cramps followed, prelude to days of nerve-shredding agony which Schneider could not articulate in mere words. Perceptions were distorted. He could hear a spider pad its way up a wall. He felt as though he could discern every single fiber woven into his fatigues. A nearby dripping tap was a cacophonous roar.

When he emerged from days lost in a miasma of hypersensitivity, he saw so few fellow participants remaining. Fear threatened to grip his soul but John pushed the emotion down, this was time to be a valiant soldier. The final treatment still awaited the handful of survivors.

***
One month later, General Lucas stood beside the two scientists, Van Beek and Llusk. The room was alive with murmurs from the various War Department big-wigs who filled it.

“We should not be celebrating failure,” rasped Llusk.

“Failure, professor?” began the general, “Where you see failure I see noble sacrifice by courageous men to give this country a new edge in war. I see success with our man. You wanted the best and he has faced every challenge and exceeded what was asked. We have what we wanted and more.”

“We could have had an army of Supremes,” lamented Llusk.

“In this man, we may have created an army,” said Van Beek, with something not unlike a sneer in his voice.

The attention of those present was called. The lights dimmed, and black and white footage began rolling, displayed onto a large screen. There was no sound except the whirring projector. A title declared ‘Project: Omega’ which was followed with a montage of images of a lone man assaulting an enemy base. One by one he knocked out and neutralized the soldiers guarding the compound, his lithe movements methodical in his systematic dismantling of defensive positions. Bullets bounced off his shield as he effortlessly made his way to his objective, the main compound building. When he exited, there as no-one to slow him down or to try and stop him. The film reel ended and the room was silent, the onlookers awestruck by what they had seen.

“Gentlemen, we give you the future of warfare,” said Lucas to the crowd, gesturing toward a heavy door. The door opened and through stepped an athletically-built figure dressed in patriotic red, white and blue, his head protected by a close fitting helmet. On his left arm he carried a shield, emblazoned with a star the lethal points of which overhung the main shield body. He stood proudly to attention, and all eyes turned to him.

“We give you, Spybreaker.”

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Code-name: Supreme Grimm

Full Name: Supreme Grimm

Faction: Grimm

Jonesy looked up to the roof of the crumbling tenement, rain tumbling onto his reptilian face. Up there, he was sure he could see a squat figure, its cape whipping in the wind. The weather was unseasonal for Pulp City, making his nocturnal business hard enough. Supreme trouble just made things worse.

Jonesy was something known locally as a Mutant Mobster. Along with his partner Smith he was an enforcer and not to be messed with, but he did not need Supreme-level interference. He lifted a taloned hand to shield his eyes enough to get a better look, to maybe work out if the Supreme was Hero or Villain, before deciding his next move. As Jonesy stared, there was a sudden lightning flash, splitting the night sky and starkly silhouetting the caped figure above. A few seconds later came a thunderous boom which alerted Jonesy to the fact he needed to do something, and quick. He pulled out his piece, a heavy blaster designed by the boss to look a little like an old-school Tommy gun.

Jonesy started to move, powerful lizard-leg strides. He had money to collect and no-one let the boss down unless they wanted to end up as victim of one of his experiments, and Jonesy had already been down that path once. Supremes were making it too damn hard to earn a dishonest living in this city.

He headed into the alley running alongside the tenement. Years of experience combined with the sixth sense of a mostly successful career-criminal caused Jonesy to glance upwards. The Supreme was swooping down, a little erratically, almost like he was not used to flying. His pursuer hit the ground with a thudding splash, before straightening up. What Jonesy saw clearly then startled even his jaded demeanor. The Supreme was clearly a Grimm, one wearing a half-cowl and flapping cape, and nothing else. Its stocky physique indicated some degree of power. Weird was the only word to describe this new Supreme. Things got even stranger as he realized the Grimm was gurgling a tune: “Der-de-de-de-der, der-der-der, der-de-de-de-der, der-der-der.”

The Mutant Mobster felt more than a little surprised. The peculiar, stocky, mostly-naked green-skinned Supreme seemed to be vocalizing its own theme music. His bemusement was instantly broken. A staccato ionized crack-crack-crack signaled that Smith was standing beside Jonesy and had opened up with his own blaster. Jonesy joined in, doubling the energy-fire raining down on the stoic-faced Grimm. Shots bounced off its chest and tore through its cape. In a blur of motion the Grimm flew forwarded, careening clumsily into Smith and knocking the burly dino-man out, while sending Jonesy to the floor more than a little dazed.

Jonesy shook his head to clear it. Things were not going well. He tried to raise his gun, but his arm felt a little weak from the collision. The Grimm stood over him, triumphant and proud, fists resting against hips as his features were once again lit up with brilliant light from another bolt of lightning. Must be a Hero thought Jonesy, only a Hero would strike a pose like that.

Just at that moment, Jonesy’s luck changed. He heard a not-too-distant explosion, almost immediately followed by the screaming peal of an alarm system. The caped Grimm twisted its head left then right, and it seemed to sniff the air before raising one arm skywards and unsteadily streaking into the air. Jonesy thought he could faintly hear the Grimm exclaim, “Up, up and awaaaay,” but he couldn’t be sure. Now all he had to do was wake up Smith and they could be about their business. Then he had to figure an angle to use the information of a new Supreme Grimm to get in good with the boss. It was all in a night’s work.

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Code-name: Grimm Lee Chan

Full Name: Grimm Lee Chan

Faction: Grimm, The Way

June panned her camera around taking in the spectacle – it looked like everyone in Little Asia was kung fu fighting! And in the heart of it all, was a peculiar little humanoid in a yellow jumpsuit, near-hairless with violet hued skin, its odd face split by crooked pointed teeth. The strange-looking thing twirled two nunchakus with lightning speed, a whirling vision of martial arts motion. He knocked down Ankle Biters with every crunching strike, punctuating his attacks with a shouted ‘Ki-ya!’

As Pulp City’s leading reporter on all Supreme matters, Channel 4’s June Summers had covered many strange stories, but she suspected that whatever lay behind this one would make it a doozy.

June filmed the fray before her, trying to capture the action without getting caught in it. A hot tip had brought her looking into one of the stranger denizens of Little Asia, but she had not expected to suddenly become embroiled in an all-out street battle. She continued filming as it became clear that the district’s shadowy, unofficial protectors – The Way of the Fist and Blade – were vanquishing their last foes, although June was sure she glimpsed a villain in a long coat with a toothpaste-commercial smile escape into a sewer.

June watched as the curious little thing she was interested in executed a spinning aerial kick to a badly-damaged re-purposed Terror Cotta Warrior, sending it crashing to the ground. With that, stillness came over the scene, broken only by sirens as the Supremes of The Way broke for the shadows, melting from view. It was time to start the real digging for her story.

***

June began investigating at a nearby restaurant, the House of Jade Lanterns. It quickly became clear she was not welcome from the twitchy manager’s frosty reception. Her next stop was a newspaper seller, his wooden stall scorched, no doubt by some recent Supreme conflict. The wizened old man smiled when he understood June’s inquiry. He nodded enthusiastically while decrying the repair bill he faced. Fifty bucks unlocked the snippet of a tale he had to tell. The vendor explained that the creature, Lee Chan to his friends across the community, arrived a few years earlier. Ever since then he had looked out for the people of Little Asia, protecting it with all he had. When June asked about where Lee Chan lived, the vendor shook his head and closed up his stand.

June continued asking around; people knew the Supreme she described, but few were talking. The scraps of information she gathered were at times contradictory, occasionally outlandish, even when benchmarked against the Supreme stories she had covered. One guy said that Lee Chan could never bathe or mirror-copies would spawn. Another explained he should not eat after midnight or he would turn into an evil twisted version of himself. June dismissed that one as she had seen the little creature with her own eyes, and he looked pretty twisted as it was, in a strangely cute way.

The next few days saw June continue trying to put the pieces together. She felt she had a lead connecting Lee Chan to the Grimm, but the whole story felt just out of reach. She had met resistance before, but this was different. The people she talked with smiled proudly when she mentioned Lee Chan’s name, becoming reticent when they realized she was seeking more information.

After another fruitless day, June decided to finish up as dusk encroached. Realizing she was a few blocks from her car, she spotted a narrow alleyway to use as a short-cut. It was dimly lit by hanging decorative lanterns, but June could handle herself so was content to press on. Halfway down the passage hairs on the back of her neck rose. She was being followed. June turned to see two shadowy figures. Ninjas! The city was crawling with rent-a-Ninjas in the past few years, so she had no idea who had sent them. Suddenly, she heard a familiar ‘Ki-ya’ shout as a short figure in a yellow jumpsuit blurred past her. June watched fascinated as Lee Chan swiftly knocked out the Ninjas with well-placed strikes and kicks. When the little creature was sure the would-be assailants were subdued, he turned to June and gave a toothy grin, accompanied by two thumbs up. He then barreled his way from the alley and was lost in the twilight.

June did not file her story. Little Asia had its protector, who did what he could for anyone in the area, even those just passing through. The community wanted to keep their shared secret about their unique guardian. June realized that she would not be the one to expose the tale. She thought about her little savior and how strongly his neighborhood protected him, and smiled as she wiped her tapes.

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Code-name: Gorgoroth

Full Name: Gorgoroth

Faction: Ulthar

The Ulthar Empire’s conquest of Taurus V was swift and brutal. The most advanced indigenous species on the planet was a peaceful and primitive people, bovine bipeds easily defeated by the power of the Ulthar. Once pacified, Taurus V became a key farming planet within the greater Empire. Small numbers of Taurus males were soon periodically drafted into menial labor and service off-planet, but beside Taurus V’s agricultural output, the planet became an overlooked but nonetheless important back-water, supplying the Empire with vital food for its forces.

The Ulthar had largely forgotten the denizens of Taurus until they heard of Gorgoroth. A literal giant among his kind, he displayed an uncharacteristic amount independence and aggression. As he grew older Gorgoroth questioned the subjugation of his species, and none of the answers he received were satisfactory. The fire of rebellion sparked within him, and as a young adult bull he led his fellow Taurus laborers in open revolt against their Ulthar overlords. Gorgoroth’s insurrection was unstoppable, and he claimed victory after victory. This could not stand, and so a promising young Warlord was dispatched to quell the burgeoning revolution. Ra’Leigh arrived with a small strike force to quash the uprising.

Ra’Leigh’s raider ship strafed the dissenting plantations, scattering Gorgoroth’s rebels. In little time Ra’Leigh had his elite troops on the ground, and all of the Taurus dissidents were swiftly routed. All save for Gorgoroth. The mighty bull charged into the Ulthar lines, sweeping soldiers aside with his sheer mass. Ulthar lasers and blades alike seemed to only enrage the massive rebel leader, and soon the Ulthar were compelled to fall back. Ra’Leigh realized the tide was turning against his forces, and so the two peerless warriors came face to face for the first time. In burning fields surrounded by bodies, the two stood facing each other for long moments. Their respective troops stood back. There was a silent agreement between the two commanders, whatever happened now was between these two alone.

The battle lasted nearly an hour. Ra’Leigh was the faster combatant, his trident striking again and again at his giant enemy. But Gorgoroth had size and strength, as he hurled carts and industrial equipment at his foe, forcing the Aquarius to give ground. His thunderous charge was not as easily evaded and was seemingly completely unstoppable. Blow after blow was struck, and the two seemed equally matched. At the very last, Ra’Leigh’s mastery of water gave him the upper hand. Falling back slowly towards nearby irrigation ditches, he summoned his power as Aquarian Warlord and used the vast supply of water to nearly drown Gorgoroth.

Finally, with the colossal bull at his mercy, Ra’Leigh paused. It was perhaps the most challenging single combat the young warlord had ever faced. Recognizing the value of a great fighter in Gorgoroth, he offered the giant Taurus a deal. Gorgoroth and his followers would be spared only if they served Ra’Leigh with unwavering loyalty. They would be trained, equipped and allowed to fight within the Ulthar ranks. Gorgoroth agreed, provided all his people in generations to come were given the same opportunity, and with this the Great Contest was enacted. Gorgoroth took to the stars as agreed, and the first Taurus Shock Troopers recruits went to war under Ulthar banners – another fanatically loyal servant was wielded to the side of Ra’Leigh.

Decades later Gorgoroth now finds himself stranded on Earth. His loyalty to Ra’Leigh remains and he will serve the Warlord until death. But Gorgoroth has seen that there is a quality within the humans of Earth that reminds him of ancient stories of Taurus that was. Another spark has been lit within the gargantuan general, which sees him seeking to become more than a warrior. He is trying now to be a true leader to his brothers. Maybe, just maybe, there is a chance that the Taurus can find a new place in the galaxy, find a way to balance the ancient ways and the new. Possibly, Gorgoroth the Mighty can also become a savior to his people.

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Code-Name: Taurus Shock Trooper

Full Name: Varies

Faction: Ulthar

It was a two or three day run to the arena, maybe longer if there was trouble on his path. There would always be those who thought they could gain an edge by eliminating the competition as they travelled. The Ulthar did not mind that – if you were weak enough or stupid enough to be killed along the road they had no use for you anyway. If the thought of being attacked while making the journey to the Great Contest made you nervous, then you would not last the first few minutes of the trials.

Cheraam was lucky to attend the last Great Contest. Ten cycles ago, his eldest bull brother had competed and lost. His brother was strong but slow, and besides, he had never really been in many scraps, too gentle by far to last in the crucible of the Contest. But Cheraam had learned from his brother’s mistakes. He worked tirelessly to train his body. He fought everyone he could in the surrounding plantations. He was faster, tougher and far meaner than his bull brothers. He would win his place or die in the dirt – that was better than slaving on the estates.

The elders spoke of days long ago when the people of Taurus V had lived peaceful lives wandering the great yellow grass plains. Those ancients had strived for artistic perfection and oneness with their community. In the old days a male that showed selfless concern for the tribe had his choice of females. Then the Ulthar Empire came from above with fire and machines, laying waste to the peaceful ways of the tribes. Cheraam didn’t believe it, concluding they were tales the weak and timid would tell to reassure themselves.

The Ulthar ruled Taurus V unquestioned, and demanded great tribute each cycle. The immense plantations were all that existed there now. Each farm employed thousands to work vast fields, raising crops for their masters. The best females were hoarded by the land owners or given to warriors who prevailed in the Contest. Every few cycles a plantation would fail to meet the quota, and then the Ulthar would rain fire from the sky and obliterate that land. That was the price paid for weakness. With each such Ulthar strike, neighboring landowners would claim the lost lands, working ever harder to appease the Empire.

For the majority of the natives of Taurus, the Great Contest was the only escape. Prove yourself a superior fighter and the Ulthar would free you from servitude and a cycle of misery. Higher in status above even that of plantation owners, warriors serving the Empire were given access to the best breeding females, taught the secrets of the Ulthar, and allowed to fight amongst the stars. If a Taurus trooper survived long enough, they retired home and were given a plantation of their own. Life in military service to the Ulthar was not easy, that was true, but to Cheraam it was better than toiling ceaseless under the yoke of others.

He had waited, and trained, for the ten cycles since the last contest. Six bulls from the plantation also planned to compete. They were swiftly dispatched, their bodies scattered around the back pasture where they had agreed to meet. Those others were weak and would never have succeeded. Only the strongest and most vicious fighters would meet the Ulthar’s exacting standards. Cheraam finished scrubbing the blood from his axe and set off down the road. His first task was done, and done well. Two or three days running, a few more weaklings trampled on the way, and he would be at the Contest. He would become one of the elite Shock Troops of the Ulthar Empire.

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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-names: Gemini X & Gemini Y

Full Name: None that exists outside of the twins’ own mental connection

Faction: Ulthar

Ulthar twins are extremely rare among the egg laying species. When they are born there is always a male and a female. Each pairing shares an innate psychic bond and Ulthar culture holds that twins are a single being sharing two bodies. Twins are always immediately claimed by the Gemini Caste and secluded into the most secretive and intensive training program imaginable.

From their birth, Gemini twins are subjected to biological, chemical and psionic treatments designed to enhance their inborn psychic abilities. By the time a Gemini emerges from their secluded training they are stunted, distorted versions of the normally tall and slender Ulthar physiology. Their original gender characteristics are suppressed leaving them almost genderless and indistinguishable from each other. The most disturbing of all their features is their distinctive skull implants, their upper cranium removed and replaced by a special crystalline matrix which amplifies their psychic powers.

Geminis are always found close to Aquarius Warlords. They serve as counsellors and advisors constantly in the background of any meeting, so much so that most Ulthar pay them no notice. A perceptive outsider might observe that a Gemini never speaks, nor are they ever directly spoken to by any Ulthar. They are simply present, silent shadows at the highest level of the Ulthar war-machine.

The Supremes now known on Earth as Gemini X and Gemini Y are themselves products of this entrenched cycle. Gifted and powerful beyond other Geminis, they were chosen for an exceptionally difficult task and assigned to Ra’Leigh, the most rebellious and troublesome of Warlords, although he believes he won their services due to his own cleverness. Their duty was to see Ra’Leigh brought to heel and made to comply with the Ulthar directive, or failing that, ensure his destruction.

Instead Ra’Leigh survived and thrived. He sought counsel from Stormblades’ whispers, and embarked on a quest to conquer Earth and the lost colony. Gemini X and Y concluded that the most efficient way to undermine Ra’Leigh’s mission was to guarantee his defeat.

The true secret power of Geminis is population control, psychic manipulation that keeps billions of warlike Ulthar locked into their stagnant Caste system. Gemini X and Y withdrew the mental hold they normally exerted on Ra’Leigh’s forces, and the normally precise and clocklike movements of the Ulthar structure failed. Troops experienced doubt, fear, and failure for the first time in a hundred generations. The invasion was defeated. This should have been the end of Ra’Leigh, ensuring that Earth was left alone forever.

The Gemini plan failed. Instead, like some horrible disease, a semblance of the independence seen on Earth began to creep through Ra’Leigh’s Patriaship. Sporadic signs of individualism occurred among the lower Castes. The presence on Earth of the great turncoat Virgo further inspired rebellious thoughts and free expression. The most terrible change however was in Ra’Leigh himself. Defeat inspired him.

So unnerved were the Gemini Caste that they agreed to assemble the fleet for a massive invasion of Earth. Shaken and uncertain, the Warlords truly took control of the Empire for the first time since the Great Schism. This conquest failed also. Gemini X and Y judged that this was due in large part to unprecedented doubt among the Gemini Caste, coupled with the Ulthar’s inability to come to terms with such determined, clever, and powerful Supreme opposition. They devised a final strategy to save the Ulthar Empire and convinced the rest of their Caste of its necessity.

As the Gemini’s machinations were put in motion, the Empire turned on Ra’Leigh, stranding him and his followers on the far side of the galaxy. Destroying the Warlord’s vessel was simple, its deck-plans and security schedules leaked to ensure that the traitorous Virgo and Tritonious knew when and where to strike to cripple the great Patriaship. The Geminis guided the crew to assure destruction of the most troublesome and independent-minded of them. Yet somehow several resisted their mental commands and were not eliminated as the Geminis had planned.

Now the most powerful of Gemini twins are trapped on Earth, their place within the Empire sacrificed, doomed to die on a primitive world, their purpose served preserving the eternal Ulthar Empire. With no need to expend so much of their energy subjugating a vast populace, the Geminis are finding their power evolving. New and strange ideas are forming within them, and their own value as individuals is becoming apparent. There is inspiration to be found in Pulp City, especially the private empire of Mysterious Man. It is a new paradigm to the Twins, but perhaps a good one they think. Perhaps they should seek something for themselves.

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Code-Name: Stinger

Full Name: Known only to Scorpio Caste

Faction: Ulthar

Stinger leaned casually against the burnt and crumbling walls of a primitive human structure, confident that the deep shadows and limited lighting would conceal him from casual observation. Somewhere ahead, Kitty Cheshire and the living hologram Vector would be opening the door to their goal. Stinger did not care for what it was, or why Mysterious Man wanted it; all that mattered for him was the fight ahead. That there would be a battle he had no doubt. Those human Supremes always showed up. That was fine with him – he was here only for the rapture of conflict.

Waiting in readiness, Stinger reflected how most of his life was a struggle to find combat. His Scorpio Caste had fallen from favor with the Ulthar Warlords, seen as little more than living decoration – fancy guards with flimsy weapons used to dress the Grand Halls, performing ceremonial salutes. Stinger was never content with such a fate. He knew in his hearts that the ancient Scorpio Caste could still serve the Empire, and that it could yet be a lethal force on the battlefield. All he had needed was a chance to prove it.

It was Ra’Leigh himself that saw Stinger’s worth and gave him the chance he wanted, but only after Stinger had tried to kill him. Stinger still did not know how Warlord Draznee had uncovered his primal desire for battle. Perhaps it was Stinger’s constant requests to be allowed to prove himself in the Great Arena. Perhaps it was the work of those twisted freaks from the Gemini Caste, sifting through his thoughts. However he did it, Draznee found Stinger and offered the Scorpio a chance to test his skill for real. All he had to do was eliminate an upstart young Aquarius to ensure that he never rose to the rank of Warlord. Stinger relished his challenge.

Opportunity came while Stinger was on guard in the Grand Hall. Seizing his moment he struck at Ra’Leigh from behind. The strike had been true but the Aquarius was fast and combat-honed reflexes turned fatal blow into a mere flesh wound. Skirmish commenced. Stinger’s sword was swift, but the young Aquarius was stronger and his spear had the greater range. Blades flashed and clashed in the Grand Hall. Passing Ulthar soon gathered to watch the spectacle, though none dared intervene. Stinger used every trick he knew, thrusting, feinting, dodging, and soon the young Ra’Leigh was off balance and gave ground. Ultimately though, Ra’Leigh was still Aquarius and he summoned his mastery of the prime element to end the encounter. A blast of water sent Stinger into a wall, dazed, his weapon lost.

It was Stinger’s first true fight, and although he lost, also his greatest victory. Ra’Leigh pulled Stinger from the floor, placed the Scorpio’s fallen sword in his hand and held it to his own bared neck.

“Kill me now and you can return to your master and stand guard in his hall; or take this blade and follow me onto every bloody field of battle across the universe.”

Warlord Ra’leigh stood by his word. Stinger became one of his greatest warriors and they traversed the universe, a relentless tide of conquest in the name of Ulthar. Every resistance was overcome, until Earth, the great failure, the ultimate challenge, the unconquered jewel.

Ra’Leigh’s loyal followers were now stranded on Earth, far from the heart of the Ulthar Empire. Here Stinger found a world full of cunning warriors, mighty beasts, and endless tests. Here he discovered, his skills were highly prized. He had also uncovered insight into what drove the Aquarius, pride in victory, and had through that gained his own sense of personal worth. Stinger would never go back to being an ornamental guard. His blade would carve out his own kingdom. Soon he too would be a master.

Stinger’s reverie was cut short by the approach of several figures. He smiled. Earth offered wonderful challenges. With that he drew his blade and dashed into the street. The fight was on again, and he reveled in every moment of it.

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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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Codename: 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.

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