Full Name: Supreme 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.