Code-name: Tomcat

Full Name: Lieutenant Aaron Marks USN (Retired)

Faction: Heavy Metal / Freelancer

The small robot rolled forward on its single wheel leading Aaron Marks further into the heart of Wilson’s Tower. Aaron was impressed with the clean simple lines of the place, but also the touch of human warmth throughout the building. He had expected Heavy Metal’s base to feel cold, and institutional, less human in some way. So far, he felt very much at ease.

“You must be Lieutenant Marks. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” came an oddly hollow voice from behind him. Turning quickly, Arron watched as a silver humanoid shape coalesced as if from out of nowhere. As Aaron looked on, the semblance of a mouth formed a wide smile in the otherwise blank face. It faded quickly. “Sorry if I startled you. Please forgive the lack of facial expressions, I find maintaining them to be quite exhausting.”

“Lieutenant Marks Sir, reporting for duty!” said Aaron, reflexively snapping a precise salute. Old habits hadn’t yet died away.

A hollow echoing laugh greeted him, “No need for that Mr. Marks. You’re not in the Navy anymore. Welcome to Heavy Metal!” said the silver-man, holding up a hand before Aaron could correct him, “Even a part time member is part of the team. I know you insisted on being free to do your own thing. I respect that.”

“Thank you, sir. Or should I call you Doctor?” Aaron asked, reaching out to shake the proffered hand. The grip was like a steel vice but there was no aggression behind it.

“Call me Mercury, if you like. Most around here do; we’ve got more than a few Doctors around this place. We should get going, M.O.D. is getting impatient.” Mercury said nodding ahead to where the little robot was spinning in place beeping softly and making anxious little beeping noises.

The small machine seemed like nothing so much as an excited child. Aaron was surprised when it asked a simple question in a voice not unlike a kid’s Spell and Say machine, “Ready?”

Mercury fell into lockstep with Aaron as they proceeded. The Supreme’s gait was unnaturally smooth and his metal body made no noise along the corridor. Aaron felt he should be uncomfortable walking into the heart of a computer’s fortress flanked by two robots, or androids or whatever they were, but there was something very human about them both he decided. He had agreed to be part of the team for the opportunity to help people. Secretly though, he had feared he’d be treated like another machine, another cog in an uncaring manipulative calculation. So far though, he felt more respected and welcomed than he had ever expected.

Finally, they came to a door labeled ‘flight lab’. M.O.D. began punching a code into the keypad. “You must be very excited?” said Mercury as the door slid open.

“Does it show?”

“Not really, you’ve got excellent self-control. But I’ll tell you, if I had a chance to fly this suit, I’d be thrilled,” chuckled Mercury.

The room was huge, easily the size of a large hanger bay, only taller, mostly empty except for a small workshop area just on the other side of the door. In the middle of the workshop was the suit, resting mid a high-tech framework of computer signals and power and fuel cables.

For months Aaron had talked about the design with C.O.R.E.’s disembodied voice. Long flights to and from Pulp City where C.O.R.E. had sought his advice in aeronautics, weapon load outs, and thousands of other minutiae. His first impression was awe, his second was that it looked like it belonged on a Saturday morning cartoon.

“We have kept the design purposely less aggressive to appeal to the citizenry. Public image is crucial to what we do. Rest assured the suit is more than capable of performing to your specifications,” C.O.R.E. said with his familiar synthesized monotone as he stepped around from behind the suit.

“Time to suit up,” said Mercury.

An hour later Aaron set down and walked over to the workshop area. The smell of jet fumes and cordite was rapidly sucked away by the room’s massive ventilation fans. M.O.D. rolled out and began to collect the scrapped drones strewn about the floor, occasionally having to extinguish small fires, all the while singing along to the pop tunes blasting from him Walkman.

It took Aaron a few moments to remove the suit. Mercury and C.O.R.E. waited with inhuman patience.

“Your assessment?” asked C.O.R.E. at last.

“She’s a sweet ride. That said there are a few adjustments that need to be made for me to sign off on it,” responded Aaron.

“The Lieutenant here is handed the most advanced flying exo-suit ever produced on earth and all he can say is it needs adjustments, ” chuckled Mercury.

“I’m not a Lieutenant anymore,” stated Aaron, matter-of-factly, “In fact, as of yesterday, I’m a civilian.”

“As of today, you are part of Heavy Metal,” countered Mercury.

“Then I would like to take the call-sign Tomcat. If I’m going to be a Supreme, I need a Supreme name.”

“I appraise a 79.67% approval rating of this nomenclature. Tomcat is acceptable,” replied C.O.R.E. as Mercury broke into his strange metallic chuckle.

“Come Tomcat, we have work to do. I calculate an 89.46% chance of a Necroplane Scourge assault in the next 32 hours. Your assistance will be required on the mission.”

“I’m in, C.O.R.E., you’ve got yourself a pilot,” replied Tomcat, as Dr. Mercury embraced him in a vice-like hug. He had a new squadron, new responsibility, and most of all, new purpose. He was ready.

Art and text © Copyright 2019 Pulp Monsters

Code-name: Rosie ‘Baby’ Rude

Full Name: Rosalind Beatrice Rude

Faction: None

The city felt like hell on Earth. Everywhere Rosie looked there was destruction, the skyline ruined. Pillars of smoke filled the air with ash. Fires still burned across the industrial zone. Wave after wave of Monster assaults had been repelled, but at high cost. The pervading sound of sirens signaled frantic activity emergency services activity. At least the Monster alert alarms were silent.

Rosie continued walking; there was work to be done. It was a long hike, but with city transit services disrupted she had little choice and did not want to delay waiting for the designated pick-ups. Reaching the cordon around Golden Plaza she showed her identity card. The priority was to get key defenses back into operation, and so Wilson’s Tower was abuzz, construction crews working tirelessly, twelve hours on and twelve off. The skyscraper was heavily damaged, scarred by acid and fire. Holes pocked its façade. Something huge and green glowed near a top floor, embedded in the building’s side.

Rosie looked up and smiled, watching Lady Cyburn weld steel into place. She then glanced backwards at the sound of a super-heavy thudding footstep, as Captain Hadron loomed large over the scene, a true giant working as a human crane, lifting girders and concrete blocks into position for the hard hats to do their job.

Rosie was part of a team trying to patch up one of the upper labs, and she knew that no-one would object if she started early. A woman in a man’s world, Rosie had to put up will all kinds of comments and jibes, but she had carried on, even accepting their nickname ‘Baby’ as a badge of defiant honor as she was slowly, grudgingly accepted, while working harder than her peers to continually prove herself.

On the sites, union rules and many safety protocols had necessarily been abandoned in the face of the threat of further attacks. It was a decision that had been explained carefully to each worker and none had backed away – they all wanted to pitch in to protect their city, tarnished mess that it was.

The building was a hive of activity, crews pushing to get labs and workshops operational for the Supreme boffins, others repairing the infrastructure and defensive countermeasures. Even M.O.D. was scurrying about, providing precise schematics and advice where needed. The little robot knew the tower better than anyone.

When Rosie reached her assignment, there were two guys she did not recognize, working hard to put a support in place for the ceiling above.

Suddenly, from somewhere far overhead there was the sound of tearing metal and smashing concrete, as if the building itself was screaming. Rosie was sure that whatever was, it was plummeting toward the center of the room they were working. She shouted at the two workers to get out. One looked paralyzed by fear. Rosie ran forward to shake him out of it, pushing him away. In that moment, she saw a flash of brilliant green light before everything turned black.

***
Rosie blinked her eyes open, her body a mass of dull pains. She looked around and saw the smiling face of Captain Hadron. She returned the smile weakly, squinting to focus. Hadron looked small. Had he shrunk down to treat her? That was odd. Then she looked around the room. Everything looked small, like it was half the size it should be. Puzzlement made her forget her physical discomfort.

“What’s going on?” she asked, “Did the other guys make it out?”

“Try and relax,” replied Hadron gently.

“I can take it, whatever it is, don’t worry,” said Rosie firmly.

“I am sure you can,” said Hadron, musing for a moment before continuing, “You saved those workers. Well done. Best as we can tell, you’re okay too. Different, but okay.”

“Different? How? In what way?”

“Look at you. Look at your body. Look at me. Look around. You are bigger now, taller with proportionate increase in mass. Your skin was temporarily purple. Whatever crashed through the building was leftover matter from a Monster attack. We thought it was secure, but it was too high up in the tower and too large for us to remove, so we had to make a considered decision to leave it in place temporarily. What we thought was inert suddenly became volatile and burned its way downward at incredible speed. You were in its splash zone and it dissipated on contact. Somehow, it seems that you absorbed all the energies of whatever it was. We want to run tests to make sure it isn’t some kind of parasitic transformation, and to ascertain if there are any lasting Ill-effects. One thing we have observed is that you seem to vent energy periodically,” Hadron pointed to scorch marks on the celling, “So I whipped up this, a variant of technology I use myself.”

The Supreme affixed a boxy looking device around Rosie’s forearm, festooned with warning lights and hazard notices. It looked bulky, but did not feel heavy.

“I think it’s safe to say you are one of us now,” said Hadron, a big grin across his face.

Suddenly, a klaxon sounded. Hadron moved to a wall-mounted computer screen and tapped on the keyboard below.

“Monsters, in close proximity,” he said, “I have to go.”

“Monsters, huh? Not without me,” said Rosie defiantly.

She climbed off the bed and stood to her new full height, her head almost scraping the high ceiling.

“I need some clothes and something really heavy,” said Rosie, clenching her fists, “It’s payback time!”
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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: Cro Mag

Full Name: None

Faction: None

A nerve-shaking roar chased Trail down a deserted street. He knew he had to keep moving. If that prehistoric animal caught up with him he knew he was done for. The screams had pretty much died down now, and any remaining civilians were lying low or beyond help.

Trail ducked into a dark alley and took a moment to bandage his bleeding leg. He worked quickly, shredding his cloak to use as a dressing. Where was Dead Eye when you needed him? The big jock had really gotten him into one hell of a mess.

To be fair, Trail could have said no, but when Dead Eye called, you tended to answer. It should have been fine. 100 Voices and his lackeys were usually a tough proposition, but nothing they could not handle. While a few of them had shown some resistance to his Trailblazing techniques, there were always a few idiots in the horrible crew Voices frequently surrounded himself with. Dead Eye had assembled a good team too; first class Supremes with a reputation for getting the job done. None of them had been prepared for what awaited them.

The new Supreme they faced was a giant tower of muscle and rage that flung cars and people around like toys. This alone was not a big deal. Trail had fought more Monsters than most people had seen during the Fall. He was a veteran, a hardened Hero of Pulp City. He knew better than most that physical might alone did not win every fight. But something about this new Supreme its allies called ‘Cro Mag’, had unsettled him more than anything else he had ever encountered. It was not the way it charged headlong into battle, or the terrible roars that echoed through the chaos, or even the pungent smell of blood and death that clung to it. No, there was something primal, violent and raw about it. This Cro Mag was the living avatar of mankind’s most savage and bloodthirsty id. He should know, for he had been in its head. Just briefly. Just a glimpse behind the savage exterior into the pure rage and desire that drove this thing. His most advanced Trailblazing techniques skidding off an armor of pure violent hatred. He had recoiled from that mind. So distant from rational thought, beyond even the primitive drives of Kodo Island’s inhabitants.

Things had fallen apart after his attempt to control the raging brute. The team scattered before Cro Mag’s charge. Driving forward, howling and flinging friend and foe around while the demonic Voicelings struck at them from the shadows. He watched the beast throw Stone Hawk through a building like ragdoll. That was when Trail ran, and Cro Mag had chased him. Trail was nearly crushed by a car thrown at him, but had managed to escape momentarily with nothing more than a gashed leg.

Focusing on the here and now, Trail dropped his cloak to the ground; it would only slow him down. The sound of crumpled steel and broken glass drove him forward down the alley. Cro Mag was coming. Trail limped on, his heart pounding as another roar split the night and chased him down the filthy black passage. Ahead something loomed out of the darkness. Rosie! She was panting and bleeding but Trail had never seen a more wonderful sight. Dead Eye stood beside her. His cybernetic arm crushed and mangled, he too looked ready to drop, but determined to fight.

Cro Mag appeared somewhere behind Trail, blocking what feeble light there was. The massive creature’s ragged horrible breathing was magnified in the narrow passage. Rosie hefted a steel girder like a baseball bat. Dead Eye said something to her, some last-ditch plan no doubt. Cro Mag did not wait, it roared out his rage and defiance. Rosie screamed and charged for it. The alley was filled with the sounds of bellowing titans. Trail leapt into Rosie’s mind, triggered her rage and endorphins to maximum levels, trying to give her every possible advantage. Would it be enough?

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Code-name: Soul Golem

Full Name: unknown

Faction: Necroplane

Pulp City, three years ago.

A small band of terrified citizens ran through the night-shrouded streets of Twilight Hills. Behind them the relentless clank-clud of heavy steps – they could not outpace the dreadful creature that pursued them.

In the distance, strange sounds rang out as energy crackled, briefly lighting up the darkened sky. All street lights in the area were out, and the din of battle echoed all around. War had come to Pulp City, and the Hills were its beachhead.

The group ran on and on. They passed other bystanders who cowered in stores along the main street. They ran on, and finally turned into a blind alley, stopping suddenly as they realized all was surely lost.

The thing caught up with them then. It was a huge, nightmarish thing to behold, an amalgamation of baleful science, once-living body parts, and the tortured spirits of the dead.

Within the creature’s form, life-energy rippled beneath a polymer-sheath, barely contained as souls fought against their imprisonment. The trapped souls could be seen, bidding to be free, stretching at the transparent shroud. The shackles of Necroplane technology were too strong, and those poor souls were slowly being burned up as fuel for the hulking brute, a simple-minded mix of resurrected tissue and necro-tech enhancements, powered by life-energy convertors.

The massive beast lashed out at the huddled civilians, powerful pistons driving its arm, smashing one unfortunate away like a rag-doll, and sucking the life out of the corpse as it flew through the air. The cowering people screamed and begged for mercy. The Necro-tech behemoth raised a mighty arm to attack another defenseless victim when suddenly it was knocked aside by a shovel swung by mighty limbs. Mercy had arrived as a figure loomed large, almost as big and almost as terrifying as the mechanical monstrosity which threatened them. An incongruous grin played out on the newcomer’s face.

“Get out of here folks, we got this,” said the giant in as friendly manner as he could muster. Behind him stood a small, stocky figure, armored, and laden with a hefty backpack while holding a mighty hammer in a single iron grip.

The big guy with the shovel proceeded to smash at the beast that had threatened the small group, aided by his diminutive companion. Slowly the two Supremes pushed back the infernal beast, giving the hapless Twilight Hills residents time to flee.

“It’s going to be a long night. This is the third Soul Golem we have seen so far,” said the more powerfully built rescuer. He gripped his shovel tightly before aiming for another herculean blow.

“Yes it will be. Now, less talking young ‘un, and more smashing,” said his smaller ally as his crushing hammer was swung toward the mechanical beast.

***
Soul Golems are among the greatest battlefield war engines at the disposal Dr. Tenebrous’ forces. Whenever a Soul Golem is deployed, death and destruction follows. There is nothing precise about their use; they have one purpose only, to ensure victory for the Necroplane.

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Code-name: Six Feet Under

Full Name: Ken Meyers

Faction: Blood Watch

On one parallel version of Earth, extinction came unexpectedly on a Monday morning in 1982. Without warning, skies opened and huge hoverships cast shadows over the biggest cities of North America. The ‘human component’ was the target, as Necropoliticians called it, as life energy was harvested into huge containers, rapidly extracting this resource out of living and screaming bodies. Raiding parties then dropped to the surface to search for survivors.

A treaty had been signed by the President of Euroasia and Lord Hellfax of Necroplane. The new alliance with the alien race was intended to be a decisive move in a war that had lasted for over a decade, with neither Euroasia nor Panamerica able to deal a final blow. But none of the Euroasian officials had expected this outcome. Earth’s doom was sealed as Necroplane replenished its energy resources and soon attacked Euroasia after Panamerica fell.

Ken Meyers had been finishing his nightshift as a security guard at Oakland Cemetery in Atlanta. He loved his job for he loved gazing at the stars, imagining how it would be to travel in space. An avid sci-fi fan, Ken spent most of his eighteen years getting ready for an alien invasion that he was sure had to come one day.

When ray-beams tore through clouds, unlike most of his fellow citizens, Ken was ready. He dove into one of the freshly dug graves and shielded himself with a heavy lead cover. He stayed there until finally a terrible silence fell, with none of the usual sounds of the city as it would normally be waking up for another busy Monday.

The barren land pulsed and heaved, the ground still crying from the abuse that had rained from above. When at last Ken crawled out of hiding, he knew he was not unscathed. His body ached, a terrible swelling came over him, and to his horror, he realized that his body had started warping, his teenage frame elongating to nine feet in height, and powerful muscles bulged under what remained of his outfit.

Ken let a cry of pained fury out when he realized that he had absorbed some of the life energy harvested by the hoverships. His insane howls drew the attention of a raiding party. The necro-constructs found the hulk unconscious and under their master’s command carried him through the quantum hole to the Necroplane’s infamous prison, the Hellrock.

Lord Hellfax studied Ken for many months, for this was the first case of anybody surviving exposure to necrorays. For Ken it seemed like an eternity of torture, his body pinched, cut, and burnt more times that he could count. Yet the Lord did not realize that with each blow Meyers became more powerful, his strong will growing like a storm, until the chalice of his fury and hatred was full. He was just waiting for the right moment.

And then it came. Something weird happened one day, the guards began running like crazy. It was so unusual that even Lord Hellfax broke from his sadistic routine and walked over to the window to see what was happening.

Ken tore his chains from the walls with one powerful pull that surprised even him and slung them around the neck of amazed Hellfax, snapping his head off. By the time the body hit the floor, Ken was long gone, smashing a hole in the wall and plummeting a hundred feet to the ground. Yet he did not die, instead he ran onwards, fuelled by insanity, and by hatred, with no goal, and no escape plan.

Chased by legions of Necro G.I’s, Soul Golems and nightmare herders, the man soon to be known as Six Feet Under ran through the barren landscape of the Necroplane until he was so tired he collapsed to his knees. Soon he was surrounded by the minions of the dead who gathered like vultures around a dying defiant lion. One Soul Golem lifted Ken’s powerful body with ease and the balefire in its cyclopean eye brightened to burn the infidel who slew Lord Hellfax.

At that moment fate twisted and help arrived. From Blood Rose’s portal came the entire Blood Watch, with V.H. leading the charge and decapitating the undead, while Sgt. Bale and Red Riding Hoodoo blasted the animated corpses with their arcane tricks, bolstered by Blacksmith’s mighty hammer, forcing the disarrayed Necroplane forces into retreat. Soon the battle was over and the Team carried the fallen hulk through the portal back to the safety of their headquarters.

Ken Meyers died that night, and Six Feet Under was born. The only way to keep his fury and hatred from slaughtering everything nearby was to channel it into destroying as many evil Necroplane beings as possible. And possibly save this Earth from what had happened to Ken’s home.

Six Feet Under never steps back. His traumatic experiences in Hellrock Prison stripped the remnants of his sanity. Caring only for his teammates, Six Feet Under swings his huge shovel and rams into his enemies, no finesse, just brute strength. With nothing to lose, the hulking giant is capable of withstanding not only powerful blows but also the dark arts of magic and mind control. Like the rest of Blood Watch, Six Feet Under is an expert in slaying the dead and the supernatural. But unlike some of his friends, he takes great pleasure in it.

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Code-names: Apebot & Virus

Full Names: Apebot & Subject 046

Faction: Ape Revolution Committee

If a person was able check the research logs detailing Professor Andryshnikov’s primate experiments, and if they looked for any entries about the A.R.C. Supreme today known as Virus, they would find quite a few records, starting with a sentence that would highlight the small monkey’s future capacities: ‘Subject 046 appears to be highly interested and proficient with hand-held electronic games.’

A long time before the ill-fated shuttle plummeted to Earth, Subject 046 had mastered all the primitive electronic games his era could muster. His technological capabilities were evident in a number of areas, but he seemed to above all focus on the electronic diversions made available to him.

In time, Subject 046 and the other young primates were launched into space, eventually crashing to Earth, and surviving only by some miracle.

While in South America, when the nascent A.R.C. was salvaging all of the precious items they could from the shuttle wreck, the skilled spider monkey discovered that the ship’s main computer had several games loaded in its memory. Pong, Space Invaders, and Asteroids immediately captured the imagination of the A.R.C.’s technological genius in-the-making. Not willing to part with these treasured delights, he quickly redesigned a training bicycle into a motorized three-wheeler that would help him to drag the computer and other necessary components to his destination.

A few years later, with the A.R.C. and its loot smuggled into Pulp City, Guerilla assigned the task of researching new means of combating enemy Supremes to Dr. Red and Virus. Since “da teknology” was more or less black magic to the fierce leader, they could do whatever they wanted. First on their agenda was the creation of advanced weaponry. In a frenzy of development they constructed plasma guns, new types of ammunition and grenades, all to aid the cause of the A.R.C., and possibly more likely Red’s own agenda within the Team. But the little spider monkey wanted something bigger, more fearsome, something to test his ingenuity and expertise, something that could be A.R.C.’s trademark.

Virus posed himself a question: if in a game of Pong a paddle would be used to chase the ball, why couldn’t a robotic body be programmed to chase real enemies?

Thus, the first Apebot was born, or rather constructed. The simple gaming algorithms that Virus prized so highly were built into its computer brain, and shortly afterwards, the mighty beast of steel saw its first action. Everything was fine to begin with; Apebot (the paddle) chased down stray a Grimm (the ball) and repeatedly kept smashing its opponent against the asphalt. The faulty and simplistic programming saw its demise when many more Grimm arrived, and Apebot’s brain circuitry fried as it was not able to process so many ‘balls’ that needed to be ‘paddled’.

The second, driven by more advanced programming, crashed after a month of steady work, when Apebot was overcome by swarms of Heavy Metal Sentry Bots, failing to attack Androida who controlled them. Virus noted that Apebot performed well against many ‘balls’ but failed to recognize and eliminate ‘the opposing paddle’. More work was needed.

The current Apebot programming still retains some faults as Virus has not been able to overcome every bug, but nonetheless he has created a primitive form of artificial intelligence. The robotic hulk freezes every time it fails to complete a series of complex patterns. However, as long as Virus is near to Apebot, able to override its programming directly, the steel gorilla performs wonderfully. It is able to process increasingly more advanced commands and make simple tactical decisions.

What has been even more important and absolutely unexplainable through the basics of its programming, is that the bond between Apebot and its creator Virus is much more than one would expect from more than three tons of steel and a little over fifteen pounds of spider monkey.

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Code-names: Father Oak & Acorn

Full Name: William Oakland & Acorn

Faction: Settler’s Green

William Oakland spent his childhood in and around Pulp City’s Settlers Park. It was the only place in the whole city he felt at home. His days were spent climbing trees and playing hide and seek in the bushes. He would often help the gardeners to plant flowers and tend to things around the park. Nothing upset young William more than watching people litter and defile his beloved park.

His love of the trees and flowers never faded as he grew up. After high school he got a job working for Pulp City Parks and Recreation. For the next twenty five years William took care of his beloved park. It was widely rumored that he slept under the trees more than he did at home. He was often seen talking to the various trees and bushes as he tended them. No one seemed to mind though as his work was always done.

Things went bad for William when Royal Investments, backed by some sleazy city councilmen, bought out Settlers Park. William found himself without a job and with his park in danger of becoming another high-rise office complex. William became insane with grief and despair over the news.

Late at night William screamed his rage and fear into the night clawing at his own skin in his madness. From the darkness a voice called to him from the tallest and most ancient oak tree in the park. William knew this tree, it was the Heartwood, the soul of the park and it spoke to him. William followed the soft green voice and disappeared into the ancient tree for three long weeks.

When at last William Oak emerged he had changed. His legs were long and bark covered, with toes like tree roots. His arms seemed a mass of leafy branches or vines that stretched to incredible length. He had super human strength and stamina. More than that, he could command plants and the very earth itself to do his bidding. Finally William Oak felt complete. He had a purpose and the power to do what needed to be done. Covering himself in a simple homespun robe, William Oak was no more. Father Oak was ready to take back the land and defend it against all interlopers.

Royal Investments was poised to break ground on the new office site that same morning. They had in attendance members of local and state government and a large crowd. Father Oak burst from the park during the speeches, scattering the assembled crowd. In the process he destroyed several bulldozers and other construction equipment. After this he claimed that any person entering his park and threatening the welfare of his children would be punished. His claim that the trees were his children earned him the name Father Oak.

Since then Father Oak has continued to protect Settler’s Park and other natural sites throughout the city. Royal Investments realized that the risk of developing Settlers Park was simply not financially sound; Father Oak has cost them too much in equipment and manpower over the years. He has even managed to foil any Supremes that have threatened his land.

Many people have flocked to join Father Oak in his back to nature approach. A gathering of hippies, both young and old, now resides in Settlers Park. These folk dubbed Tree Huggers by the populace are almost as much of a menace as Father Oak himself. The Tree Huggers spend their time tending the trees and planting simple gardens shepherded by Father Oak. They live off the land and in peace with the land. They welcome any who would join them. Supremes have also begun to answer a call, and a new Faction appears to be emerging which has been called by some ‘Settler’s Green’.

Eighteen months after Father Oak first appeared in Pulp City the Heartwood tree called to him once more. Following the trail of the voice again, the great tree yielded up to him a small child. This was Acorn, the daughter of Father Oak and the mysterious Mother, or so he claims. Father Oak takes great pride in his Acorn and will go to any lengths to protect the child. The child of Father Oak and Mother is a fey and innocent seeming girl of around seven years of age. Though she has been in Pulp City for several years she has not appeared to age. She wears simple colorful dresses and is often barefooted. She has deep green hair and flowers seem to be woven into, or perhaps growing from it at all times.

Acorn is a curious, friendly and outgoing young child. She has a control over plants and the earth that rivals that of her father. Her cheers give Father Oak greater strength, and her temper has leveled buildings. Certain agencies have attempted to study Acorn but any such attempt raises Father Oak’s wrath. In one famous case the Department of Child Services attempted to take Acorn from the park sparking a major civic uprising. The Tree Huggers marched on city call en masse. When that failed to see her returned, Father Oak began tearing up downtown. This sparked a major encounter with members of Heavy Metal. Ultimately it was Acorn herself who decided it was time to return to the park. She destroyed the top floor of the Department of Child Services when a large pine grove suddenly grew up around her. She then skipped down the street and jumped into her father’s arms. The whole mob left the downtown area as quickly as they had come.

Father Oak will defend any park or natural resource. He has on several occasions gone on rampages in the downtown area. Seeking as he says to destroy the machinery that threatens the earth. Pulp City’s heroes have always managed to chase him back to his park with minimal loss of property. Other times Father Oak or Acorn have come to warn the people of Pulp City of impending danger. Father Oak is an unstable but powerful ally and will do anything to protect Acorn or the Green places of Pulp City.

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