Author Archive: the kiai
#20 – Atlas
*These are small excerpts and fragments from Julio Cesar Moreira’s upcoming book “The Man behind Atlas: The Story of John Luther Rose”.
1890 – John Luther Rose is born in New York, NY. The first child of Dr. Nicholas Rose and his wife Charlotte, John suffered from serious health issues for most of his infancy. It was considered a miracle of modern medical science that he survived to be a year old, let alone that he managed to make a mostly full recovery.
1904 – John Luther Rose makes history by becoming the youngest man to ever earn a doctorate from the prestigious Oxford University. While there was controversy in that many believed young Dr. Rose did not possessed the maturity to practice medicine, his father and his teachers showed the utmost confidence and pride in him.
1911 – Dr. J.L. Rose stuns the scientific community and the World by unveiling his breakthrough achievement: The Atlas Serum. A miracle drug of Rose’s own invention, Atlas is capable of altering a human’s physiology, taking it to its peak optimal condition, making a person as fast, strong, smart and durable as that person could ever achieve to be. However, the process proved to be so incredibly expensive that Dr. Rose almost went through his share of the Rose family fortune in order to produce enough serum for himself. The military deemed the project “a resounding failure†after reviewing estimates of how much it would cost them to produce a single platoon of Atlas augmented soldiers.
1918 – 28 year old Dr. Rose comes home from the War, were he served both in his capacity as an augmented soldier for the United States government and as a field doctor for the countless of wounded in the trenches. Dr. Rose claims the experience has changed him “profoundlyâ€.
1919 – Dr. Rose cancels his engagement of 5 years to his girlfriend Marie Renard. This made the news for months and shocked many of Dr. Rose’s fans, who saw the couple as the ideal example of young romance. Dr. Rose refused to discuss the subject with the press. Marie Renard returned to her native France shortly after this. She married two years later to one of her father’s business partners. They would never see each other again.
1920 – Dr. Rose founds the Atlas Corporation, a medical research company he hopes will help him achieve his dreams of bettering mankind and the human condition. Atlas was the first company of its kind to so aggressively employ both field researchers and theoretical scientists, not just staff researchers. Within the next 5 years, Atlas would open branches in Europe, Africa and South America. Atlas also became famous for its multiple charity drives and humanitarian endeavors, which Dr. Rose considered paramount to the success of Atlas, both as a company and as an ideology.
1925 – Dr. Nicholas Rose dies at the age of 77. He dies in his sleep, accompanied by his wife Charlotte, who would go on to die just a few months later, also from natural causes. The incident is worth noting due to the fact that Dr. J.L. Rose did not attend the funeral due to business out of the country. A private service would later be held for mother and son in the Rose’s family estate.
1932 – Over the last ten years and making use of Atlas’ South American branch in order to procure all sorts of exotic herbs unique to that region, Dr. Rose was able to improve upon his previously enhanced physiology. The results of his research and experimentation had augmented his abilities tenfold, providing him with super-human strength, speed, stamina, reflexes, impregnable skin, a denser bone structure and sturdier muscle fiber. Even his aging process seems to have become halted as the now 42 year old doctor does not look a day over 20. Though most people are still supportive of Dr. Rose and his work, a small sampling of the populace is starting to grow uneasy with him and questioning his motives.
1935 – Although in the last 3 years Dr. Rose had been operating as a police-sanctioned law enforcer, helping the department in various successful raids and arrests that could have resulted in civilian casualties, Dr. Rose had been kept strictly at street level by the Commissioner and the Mayor’s office. Through his own detective work and with the help of Chief of Police Mason O’Shaughnessy, Rose was able to uncover a ring of organized crime and corruption that deeply implicated the Mayor, the police Commissioner and various respected industrialists and members of the social scene. This immediately transformed Dr. Rose’s perception in the eyes of the public. Low and middle class citizens immediately approved of the doctor’s actions, while the wealthy high class and the political sphere started distrusting Dr. Rose and his motives, distancing themselves from him both personally and in business. The Atlas Corporation did not suffer from this.
1936 – It’s in this year that the nickname “Atlas†was attributed to Dr. Rose as his “super-heroic identityâ€, forever merging Dr. Rose and his company in the people’s subconscious.
1942 – For the second time in his life, Dr. Rose serves as a soldier in a World War. This time, however, Dr. Rose spends less time being a doctor and more time helping the allies reclaim Europe from the Axis. He was also a member of the upper echelon of the Manhattan Project, along Howard Hughes, Nicola Tesla and J.R. Oppenheimer, and was the only one who voted against the bombings in Hiroshima and Nagasaki three years later. In later interviews, the doctor claimed he was “as disturbed from what I saw in the battle field as from what I saw back at home amongst our alliesâ€. The Third Reich and Hitler in particular would profess a great admiration for the doctor and his work, quoting that “in his research you can find the true spirit and ideals of the Nazi Ãœbermenschâ€.
1948 – With the War over, Japan indefinitely isolated from the World and Hitler behind bars, Dr. Rose begins a new age for the Atlas Corporation with the inauguration of Unbound Technologies, a new branch of his company originally dedicated to the study of various nascent fields of research that were inspired by his work on the Manhattan Project. Unbound Technologies would go on to become a Fortune 500 company and one of the biggest innovators in the fields of science and technology in the 20th century.
1950 – Dr. Rose once again goes through a new metamorphosis thanks to the Atomic Particle research division of Unbound Technologies. Using a new radioactive isotope of his own discovery, Dr. Rose is able to improve upon the Atlas Serum. Thanks to the new procedure, his strength, speed, stamina and endurance are once again multiplied tenfold. He is now capable of producing rays of clean isotopic energy from his body, which he can use as a blasting weapon as well as to allow him supersonic flight capabilities. His eyes are now able to see through multiple light spectrums and he is also capable of sensing different radiation frequencies. By this point, Dr. Rose/Atlas had become a staple of the super hero community.
1954 – The United States’ Senate of Internal Security Subcommittee calls for Dr. John Luther Rose, as well as the Atlas Corporation and Unbound Technologies to bear trial due to accusations of communist association and charges of treason and war profiteering. The trials are preceded by Senator Joseph McCarthy himself. FBI director J. Edgar Hoover is also seated in the room, as well as many of the industrialists and entrepreneurs Dr. Rose uncovered as corrupt during the 30’s. The hearing stands as one of the most embarrassing displays throughout the McCathyism era, with the image of the Senator accusing Dr. Rose of being “a red abomination and a Nazi sympathizer†as well as the series of interviews that journalist Edward R. Murrow conducted with the doctor both during and after the hearing being popularly accepted as the turning point in McCarthy’s career and the beginning of the end for him. While all accusations were lately retracted by the Supreme Court, the hearings had a negative effect on Dr. Rose both publicly and on a personal level, with many tracing the beginnings of Atlas’ misanthropy in this time period.
1961 – In June of this year, President John F Kennedy personally asks Dr. Rose for his assistance in the Vietnam War during a personal appeal at the White House. President Kennedy receives no immediate response from Dr. Rose. His response would come on November of that year, when Dr. Rose would be responsible for singlehandedly putting a stop at the American occupation of Vietnam, forcing military forces to return home and staying in the country for the following six months until all conflict within were solved through negotiations he personally supervised. This split once again the public’s view on the doctor, with many accusing him of being unpatriotic while other applauded his efforts for peaceful resolution. The following year, Dr. Rose would step down as CEO of both Atlas and Unbound, and very little would be seen of him in public appearances.
1966 – Through a private effort of Unbound Technologies, the first Lunar Colony, Charlotte 1, is built by the end of the year. It is revealed the colony will be populated not only by Unbound employees, but also by a cadre of international scientists and researchers combining their efforts to expand human knowledge of space and the Universe. Dr. Rose would continue to evade the press and the media, in complete opposition to his more boisterous persona from the 30’s and 40’s.
1968 – It is finally revealed through an article in the National Enquirer that Dr. Rose has been living in Charlotte 1 for the last 6 years. Public opinion on the doctor is by this point at an all-time low, with many people considering him weird and confessing to be scared of him. This proves especially true for the younger generations, who’ve only recently begun to know about him through the media. Flora Marcelle’s book, “Atlas: The Truthâ€, is also published by the end of the year, further fueling the fires of distrust in the people. Marcelle, who is Marie Renard’s great granddaughter, claims the book was based on Marie’s original journals from the era when she and the doctor were still engaged and “paints the picture of a different man than the one in the newsreels, one far more sinister and unstableâ€. The book stayed in the bestseller lists for most of 69 and early 1970.
1985 – An unofficial attempt is made by an alliance of the Soviet Union and the United States to bombard the surface of the Moon with a total of 76 nuclear missiles with the explicit intention of terminating Dr. John Luther Rose, a.k.a. Atlas. The missiles however dismantled themselves in mid-flight. When a rescue team was sent to recover the plutonium warheads, they discovered the plutonium had somehow inexplicably been turned to lead. Rumor has it that 14 days after the so-called “Operation: Eclipse†both the U.S.S.R.’s general secretary and the U.S. president received a direct transmission from Dr. Rose. The contents of this transmission, which lasted only 3 minutes, are wildly speculated and uncertain.
1986 – The Soviet Union officially disbands, seemingly overnight.
2011 – The Orbiting Lunar Station “Charlie 15†is officially inaugurated. While Atlas Corporation and Unbound Technologies have become huge transnational companies with branches all over the world and beyond, they remained anchored by Dr. Rose’s vision of helping to the betterment of mankind. Both companies host a long list of charity programs, outreach centers, special scholarship programs and research grants. Dr. Rose himself has appeared in front of the public eye very scarcely in the previous years, only doing so in his capacity as Atlas in helping the superhuman community with situations of imminent catastrophe for the planet and for the most part remaining secluded in his lunar estate in Charlotte 2. Dr. Rose’s keynote in honor of the 90th anniversary of Atlas’ foundation in 2010 was a global event, with the transmission being translated to a hundred different languages and dialects around the World by the doctor himself as he spoke. The current reach of his power is unknown but it is believed that he is no longer required to sleep or eat and that his aging process has completely stopped altogether. It is also speculated that he has acquired telekinetic abilities, with some sources even claiming that what Dr. Rose is truly capable of is sub-atomic manipulation. Still, speculation is all we have as the doctor has refused to give an interview or even entertain guests for the last 25 years, as he has distanced himself from most of his company’s operations and even stepped down as the public face of Atlas back in 1991. Dr. Rose celebrated his 121st birthday this year, and it seems like he has another 121 years still in him. As reclusive and mysterious as he has become, it is still comforting to know that we can all gently rest our worried heads in Atlas’ shoulders and trust that he will help us go into whatever future is waiting for us.
#19 – Starsmith
The Big Bang.
Contrary to popular believe, the Big Bang was not an immediate event. Instead of a sudden flash of heat, matter and energy, the Big Bang took almost 3 million years to fully form, with the “creation wave†as super-scientists with level 57 minds or higher call it, the reach of the Big Bang’s promethean fire as it spread in the vacuum, giving birth to our universe, still believed to be expanding upon the unending blackness, creating even more life.
Within the span of those 3 million years, when the pregnant mass of the Big Bang was the only titanic sun in our universe, many civilizations rose and fell, nothing like them ever to be seen again, as if the light of creation had given them a divine spark missing from creatures the universe would later produce. Out of these, the Starsmiths were without a doubt the most advanced and respected of all.
The Starsmiths were not even a race, per se. They were a gathering of all the different races and cultures that had been born around the Big Bang that united into a single people. They worshipped the Blast, the Light and the Fire. But they also studied it and researched it and it is through their work that they learned to weld stars out of the raw material of the Big Bang. They learned to harness the white liquid fire and give it shape in their giant black matter anvils with all sorts of different tools. Instead of sparks, rare atoms and particles would fly with each strike of the dwarf-hammer and from the completed star; cosmic residue and dust could sometime form miniature solar systems around them, the most delicate craftsmen even able to do so at will, creating sequences of stars and planets until they’d confectioned a pocket-size galaxy.
And though this masterfully crafter stars, solar systems and galaxies were tiny in comparison to the Universe being birthed by the creation wave, the power they were able to produce was not, in fact being able to produce more raw energy than a regular star due to their unique design. These became the base for all Starsmith technology, enabling all of their creations to work almost eternally on the power of the stars.
The Starsmiths were a peaceful people. They believed in creating just for creations sake, only to discover more of the mysteries of the Universe and deepen their bonds with the Blast, the Light and the Fire. However, they were certainly a selective people, only letting a few carefully chosen to join their ranks and always guarding the secrets of their trade with the utmost zeal.
The rest of the then expanding Universe fell on the Starsmith’s home planet fast and hard, making as much display of their brutality and their mercilessness, trying to shock the peaceful crafters into handing over their secrets and their technology, each race eager to use it in order to slave and subjugate the others. But what the J’Ungians, the Firrodyians, the Pthaegoraeans, the Mrxsti and many others did not count on was the means the Starsmiths would be willing to adopt in order to protect themselves and their sacred teachings.
To the most orthodox Starsmith anvil-meisters, the Furnaces were an abomination of everything they believed in: They were weapons. They were very powerful weapons, powered by their microcosm technology and using the same principle as the Big Bang’s creation wave effect to produce a weapon so effective that it immediately adapted to the wielder’s size, age, fighting style, atmospheric conditions, the adversaries numbers, their age, their size, the weapons they were using, their fighting patterns in order to come up with the optimal attack and defense solutions for any and all situations.
A single Starsmith wielding a single Furnace had enough power to stop the advance of the various alien armies marching against their planet in a matter of seconds. An entire army of Starsmiths was capable of completely decimating them and leaving no trace of the defeated. So terrified were the allied races of the destructive power they’d just been witness to that they lost all interest in ever wielding it and afraid of any creature that could do so willingly and with the same abandon as the Starsmiths. The 7 original races scattered to the seven corners of the Universe, bowing an unbreakable oath to never again come together as one as they’d done that day for fear of history repeating itself.
And so, the Starsmiths were left alone, in the center of the Universe, amongst the wreckage of their home planet and the unending debris of their recent struggle. All of these they saw and realized they had lost their way and given in to the temptation of power. The Furnaces, once their greatest achievement had now become the symbol of their hubris.
And so it was decided that the Starsmiths could not continue. All of their tools, their technology and their discoveries was taken to the core of the Big Bang and was destroyed there in the burning crib of existence, every single Starsmith making a sacred oath never to craft again for as long as they lived. But this was not enough to make up for their great sin. Not to them, or to the Universe, or to the Blast, the Light and the Fire.
From within their ranks a single one would be chosen. He with the purest heart, the noblest disposition and the bravest spirit. He alone would have to carry the collective weight of their shame. He would have to carry on living, feeding on the power of the Furnaces grafted to each of his arms, an eternal reminder of their sins now repurposed as a tool to spread peace and understanding through the Universe, as the Starsmiths had always intended.
And so was Ahn Lu chosen. Chosen to forever roam the Universe in penitence.
The Last Starsmith.
#18 – Pygmalion
Stop me if you’ve heard this one:
You are a struggling art student, trying to make your way in the big city after coming from somewhere in Middle America so boring you thought you would die, only to find out that the kind of excitement you can’t find in Nowhere, Oklahoma is the kind you have to pay for. Only two hours after your first class you realize the horrible mistake you’ve made. Your teachers are either pompous know-it-alls or complete whack-jobs and neither of them likes you or your work and don’t have any real aspirations of you mattering in any sort of significant way.
Let’s not even discuss your classmates and save us some grief.
You have two jobs and barely make tuition, survive mostly on ramen noodles and peanut butter, you don’t have any shirts that aren’t stained with paint, ink or both and everyone already has a preconception of you five seconds after you enter any room because you are an art student.
This, in a nutshell, was Aubrey Doolittle’s life.
She probably would have gone to graduate and go on living in obscurity as yet another unemployed Arts mayor, but destiny seemed to have a different plan for her. Or, you could say that destiny had a different plan for Prof. Walter Blackwell.
Mr. Blackwell, the head of the Arts department in Aubrey’s school, was an old and crotchety bastard from years of trying to make it big in the art community with nothing but failures and terrible reviews to his name, relegated to having to teach people with not even half the talent he possessed. It was around this time that Blackwell heard about the myth of “Pygmalion’s Touch”, a rare gift the Muses would give to their favorite artist in every generation and would make the artist capable of breathing life and conscience into his or her art.
It took Blackwell most of his life to research, locate and acquire the source of Pygmalion’s mythic power, a multicolored ancient necklace that seemed to shine and change with a life of its own.
It took Aubrey about three minutes to see the package outside of Blackwell’s office and steal it in revenge for a recent critique he’d done of her work.
Now imbued with the magical power of Pygmalion, Aubrey has the ability to bring to life everything that she draw, sculpt or create in any sort of way with whatever materials she has at hand. She can use art supplies to affect the environment around her in a million ways, either creating objects out of thin air, editing or erasing existing objects.
However, there are also drawbacks to her powers.
Mostly the fact that she has no control over whatever she creates.
She could just be doodling in her notebook and suddenly the doodles will stand up and start running around, causing mayhem. And she also has no control over what kind of personalities her art will have once they come to life. She could draw a ferocious lion that will end up being tame as a kitty, and then sculpt a piece of conceptual art that will stand up and start punching people with whatever it has instead of fists. And finally, she cannot control what she creates. The only control she has over her art is the ability to erase it, and if her art is crafty enough, it could escape and go into hiding.
Still, Aubrey is mostly enjoying her newfound powers and making the most out of them without drawing too much attention to herself. This in order to keep her powers a secret from the World, to keep fooling Mr. Blackwell who is already more than a little suspicious of her and to specially to keep evading the mysterious Order of New Dada, a secret society of crazy artists and philosophers that seek to bring the end of the World through art and look to harness Pygmalion’s power in aiding their cause.
Add to this the usual quota of wacky villains like the Back Alley Carnival of Carnage, The Mime, Copycat Salvatore, Mushroom-Head, Death Nature, the Mean Clique, Beret Barrionuevo, the Idea Conqueror, the Hummel Figurine Gang and Casanova Contra-Revolución looking to terrorize the big city, not to mention deadlines, tests, lack of inspiration and sudden visits from her parents, and Aubrey has more than enough on her plate to keep her happy until she graduates.
If she even graduates.
#17 – Doc Sage
It was 1925, and science had done all it could for Doctor Leonard Sage Jr..
Having grown up as the only son of famous scientist Leonard Sage, science had been the only true friend and family that he’d ever known. Science comforted him for every moment of affection his father refused him. It motivated him for every nod of disapproval and every sigh of impatience. Science even had to make due when his mother finally left her father, running away with the family bodyguard, never to be seen again. So, for Leonard, finding out that he was dying of a very aggressive case of cancer at the age of 21 and that there was nothing science could do about it was probably the biggest moment of betrayal of his life.
Initially, Leonard refused to give up and started researching his disease, confident that science would find a way. After three years of constant study, cooperation and experimentation that resulted in nothing, Leonard even went as far as going to his father for help. But his father just gave him the same response science had already given him: There was nothing to do.
He was a walking dead.
For the next year, Leonard lost himself at the bottom of a bottle, trying to fill the void of science with liquor and women.
But nothing could take away the fear and the anxiety. Nor his ever-growing desire to live.
By this point, he was desperate and willing to try anything and look everywhere for a cure. It was in this crucial stage in his life that Leonard realized that now that he was no longer shackled by the cold logical methods of science, a whole new world of possibilities and opportunities was open to him.
Leonard travelled around the globe, meeting all sorts of people and visiting all sorts of places that science had once thought him were nothing more than charlatans and hoaxes, but now willing to believe, death having lifted the veil that covered his eyes all these time. For three more years he travelled and studied, learning magic and mysticism from all schools and strains. From ancient Roman auramancy to Haitian voodoo, and from medieval alchemy to Nordic rune incantations, anything that could offer him a cure or even the chance to continue living.
His journey came to an end at the top of the lost mountain, Solomon’s Peak, in the Himalayas. There, he took everything he had learned so far and using his own experimental methods, fused his magic expertise into a single binding spell that would keep the tumors in his body dormant, allowing him to continue living while he still searching for a cure.
With a new lease on life and a new World view, Leonard triumphantly returned to L.A. in 1932, boldly declaring his victory over cancer and announcing he would make his mission in life to once again introduce the study of magic within modern society, claiming science had narrowed our view of the World and denying us of thousands of possible advancements in various fields. However, the media took his declarations and made him look like a mad man, discrediting his efforts under the orders of Sage Sr., who would go on to become his son’s biggest detractor and critic.
In order to achieve his dreams, Leonard founded Sage Solutions, a company dedicated to use both magic and technology for the betterment of mankind, as well as finding ways for both to help each other progress and evolve.
With the assistance of Pamba Yan, the keeper of Solomon’s Peak who agreed to return with Leonard to the modern world and continue instructing him in the ways of magic, Professor Arthur Snark, Leonard’s old tutor and closest friend, and Silvia Munroe, his personal assistant and business manager, Leonard, who would be come to be known as “Doc Sage†would go on to defend Los Angeles from all sorts of threats, both magical and scientific, in the name of mankind’s betterment through knowledge and clarity.
#16 – Cobra
Jason To is the only good cop left in a city filled with bad cops.
It all started when Johnny Law came to town. Up to that point, the Triads had been more than happy to keep a low profile and to simply avoid the police as much as possible. “Too much hassle, not enough money” they used to day. Johnny Law didn’t believe in keeping a low profile, or in keeping appearances. He also didn’t care much for the law. Once he obtained control of the drug trade, he began a very public and bloody war against the police. Family’s were slaughtered and displayed on the streets; officers were taken out of their patrol cars and beaten senseless in the best of cases. In the worst of cases, they were maimed or disfigured.
Cops and detectives began quitting left and right. And the people that was coming in and replacing them were clearly already in Johnny Law’s pocket. He had crippled them, humiliated them and now pretended to turn them into their servants. But they were still people inside the department who believed in the letter of the law. People like Jason To and his partner Lei Wu. Together, they brought together every clean cop left in the force and formulated a slow but safe plan to put Law and his goons behind bars.
It took them months of planning and preparing, finding just the right opportunity, until it finally presented itself. And it would have worked. The drugs were there, Johnny Law and his people were there, the Czech smugglers were there. However, Law’s crooked cops were there too. They had all been warned of their plan by one of their own. A rookie cop who’s daughter had been killed in the slaughters, and had sold his brothers in arms under the promise that his family would not be harmed any further. Law thanked the rookie’s gesture with a bullet to the head. The rest of the cops were also mowed down. They were made to look by Law’s police as if they’d been the ones behind the drug smuggling, their names and reputations forever tarnished, as if death was not enough.
The only reason To survived was because he was protected of most of the bullets meant for him by his partner, Detective Wu. In his dreams he can still see him, dancing that epileptic death dance caused by the shrapnel entering your body. He woke up in a body bag, only half an hour after the massacre, while they were carrying them to the morgue. He managed to escape without being detected, but didn’t manage to make it very far. His wounds were still fatal. He was gonna die either way.
Fate decided to intervene that day and save To’s life in the form of a street bum who found him out lying on the streets and decided to help him. In a different life, he had been Li Fang, a brilliant surgeon who lost all will to live after his wife was killed during a gang shooting. He cared for To and managed to hide him until he recovered. But it didn’t matter that the bum had saved Jason’s life, the man who had been Jason To had died that night with the rest of his brothers. He felt cold and empty inside, and there was now a rage boiling in his gut that he couldn’t calm down no matter how much he tried.
It was in that moment that the creature who had once been Jason To renounced to everything he had once believed in: He renounced happiness, camaraderie, justice and mercy. If he was to bring Johnny Law and his corrupt police department down, he would have to renounce all of these things, for these things meant nothing o Johnny. He operated above them, and simply could not touch him. This creature stalks and continues stalking the lonely allies and seedy corners of the city. It is in every shadow, coming when least expected, guns a ‘blazing, its manic laugh chilling crooks and lowlifes to their core. It enjoys playing with them, especially Law’s little cops. It enjoys frightening them, chasing them and marking them, sending them back to Law so that he can know that it is out there and it will not rest. It wants Law to know that he created it, and that it will one day work his way up to him. And it will enjoy the journey.
Fang continues to be by his side, acting as his conscience and trying to bring out what little’s left of Jason To in order to contain the raging fury of the creature. But Jason To has lost all will to live. He’s a broken shell of a man. And the creature, Cobra, is ruthless, venomous and angry enough to continue living through all the pain and disappointment until he’s shed the blood of everyone it’s deemed guilty.
#15 – The Gray Gentleman
Working with the Martian was a pain in the ass.
Mostly, because he took offense on being called a Martian. He had explained countless times he did not come from Mars, and neither did the creatures that invaded in 98 for that matter, that he came from a planet thousands of some alien distance measure he and his people used away from Earth, and once again repeated the name of his planet. Trying to even attempt to transcribe what came out of his mouth is an exercise in madness. So when asked what he would like to be called, he would respond he would like to be called by his name, and muttered more illegible gibberish. And that’s how people usually got right back to calling him a Martian.
His biggest issue with being called that, he explained is that it was also the name the common folk used to refer to the Invaders, the other aliens that almost burnt England to the ground. He took great offense in being compared to them in any way. He hated them, more than he hated anything. From his own recollection, he’d been chasing them from halfway across the galaxy until finally managing to catch them here. Many times he admitted both privately and publically, that at that particular junction he didn’t really cared for us. We were many, and we wanted the Invaders dead. That was enough to consider us allies.
And without the Martian’s assistance, England and the World probably wouldn’t have survived the invasion.
Now, Her Majesty’s Secret Service, on the other hand, had a very different name for him. They’ve codenamed him “The Gray Gentlemanâ€. He’d joined just as soon as the century turned, after we were done with all the rebuilding, but only under one condition: He would serve Queen and Country only in matters of extraterrestrial treat and he refused to borrow his services in any matters that pertained to our planet’s science and politics. He also refused to let anyone examine his very peculiar sidearm, which he carried with him at all times for fear of it being stolen.
Many thought Gray, as many finally settled on calling him as the years went on, was just being a prick. England had all of this extraterrestrial technology in their hands, scientists and scholars pouring over it day and night trying to get even a small glimpse of how it all functioned and he refused to lift whatever he had instead of fingers to help us in that effort. That’s because Gray knew better than anyone that no sooner had he explained the British how to use the Invader’s weapons, they would’ve turned their armies against all nations and brought the entire World under their flag. He knew we weren’t ready yet. He knew whatever we could learn from that technology, we would have to earn it on our own. And again, while most people hated him for that attitude, other really respected him.
For the most part, Gray lived a very quiet, boring, English life. He had a small flat only a couple blocks away from Scotland Yard, where he worked in a consulting capacity for the detective department. He did this entirely pro-bono. His Secret Service stipend was more than enough for him to live a very posh lifestyle, but for him it was something to do to pass the time in between alien sightings. And not only did it kept his mind nimble, it also helped him to slowly understand mankind a little better.
He was fond of the tuba, tea and biscuits, reading and, especially, stargazing. He would sit in the roof of his flat, with a gigantic telescope of his own invention and just look into the emptiness of space for hours, a look of nostalgia on his face every time he did. No one ever asked him. It was very clear not only by his attitude but by the way he never tried to leave our planet, regardless of how many spacecrafts descended on British soil, always a convenient excuse right after the flying saucer had departed. Anyone could tell that the Gray Gentleman simply had nowhere or no one to return to.
Gray died on December 20th, 1961, on a private room in St. Mary’s Hospital in London. On his bedside were the director of MI6, the Prime Minister, Her Majesty the Queen and Nina Mumford, her housekeeper and close friend. He had a private funeral where his body was cremated and his ashes spread from the top of the London Bridge.
1934: Gray’s first and last ambassador mission for the Secret Service.
The fact he showed up naked is, in hindsight, the indicator that this was not gonna end right.
#14 – Jumping Jack
Jackie Caulder has been a hero since he was 15.
And that was about 40 years ago!
Let’s rewind and try to start from the beginning.
It was the 70’s. Free Love Syndrome had pretty much come and gone and had been quickly replaced by the Disco Fever. Jackie, barely 14 then, was already a big shot at school, as he was being heralded as the most promising quarterback his coach had ever seen. His parents, both blue collar workers who could barely make ends meet every month, were already counting with the countless athletic scholarships that would surely come their son’s way once high school was over. All Jackie knew was that this meant a free ride all through middle school and high school, respect and admiration from his peers, getting to third base by the second date with every single cheerleader he asked for a date, and the guarantee that he would never get a “No†regardless of who he asked.
This all came to a screeching halt during a school trip to the Wagner Institute of Particle Research, were a good humored prank from Jackie caused half of the research equipment to explode, bathing him in all sorts of radiation. He woke up six months later in a hospital bed, feeling weaker than he’d ever felt. He had gone from being a well toned kid to a scrawny, sickly shelf of his former self. He was informed that all the radiation had caused damage to his muscles and organs and that he would need from several years of physical rehabilitation to regain his physical condition. And just like that, Jackie Caulder’s future had been completely derailed.
The Wagner Institute agreed to pay for his hospital bills, but there was still the money for the physical therapy, which Jackie’s parents simply did not have. They attempted to sue the Institute and the school, but only ended up with even more bills to pay and, in the end, he was never able to go to any therapy sessions and just had to adjust to his new life as a weakling. This, however, turned out to be a turning point in Jackie’s life. It was after returning to school in his new condition that he realized that for most of his life he had been a complete bully and a jerk to everyone he’d ever met. He had harassed and taunted his teachers, shielding himself under the coach and his value as a football star. He had bullied many of his classmates, using his strength and the support of his teammates. He had even forced some of the girls he’d gone out with into dating him in the first place, only to treat them like trash after the fact. It was no surprise no one was sparing him any sympathy now that he was the one going through a rough time. By the time he got his head around how much of an asshole he had been, he was actually surprised he wasn’t getting more beatings than he was already getting every day.
It was this realization, coupled with remembering that it was his macho posing while bullying one of his classmates that caused the accident at the Wagner Institute, that made Jackie realize he needed to change and become a better person. Not for the sake of others, since his entire school hated him, but for himself. It was around this time that the true effects of all the radiation his body absorbed manifested itself. Somehow, it had altered his molecular structure, giving him the ability to teleport. He knew this could not all be a coincidence. This long and complicated chain of events had somehow been pre-ordained. Everything that had happened, he somehow knew, was meant to put him on this path. To teach him the humility necessary to take this gift he’d received and not abuse it, but instead help people through it.
Jackie knew from the first moment this wouldn’t be a walk in the park. He would not only have to learn how to properly use his powers, but he would also need to regain the physical condition he’d lost during the accident. The latter part he managed with the help of Ol’ Moxy Lincoln. Moxy owned the local gym and had been a boxer during his youth. When the kid came asking to join in and willing to clean and help in the gym in order to pay for his membership, he recognized something in him. He’d worked with tons of kids off the streets, trying to help them get a second chance in life, teaching them discipline through boxing. The thing they and Jackie shared was they were all looking for the same thing: Redemption. He worked day and night, leaving his sweat and blood in that gym. His old body was gone, so he had to learn to work with his new body, its strengths and limitations.
Whatever spare time he had, he used to hone his teleportation skills. He could only teleport as far as he could see, and the farthest he teleported the more it took a physical toll on him. This was also the same with whatever object he wanted to teleport along with him. The bigger the object, the more energy and concentration it took. With time and practice, it became easier, but teleporting in general was still a tiring exercise. So in order to more effectively used it, he learnt to do short and quick bursts of teleporting, or “jumps†as he called them, designed to make the best of his stamina as well as to confuse his enemies and make the best of his newfound fighting skills too.
The early years were definitely the worst years. Half the time, he didn’t know what he was doing. He kept screwing up, kept getting beaten by common thugs and thieves. But he started getting the hang of it. By the time he graduated high school, he’d managed to make a mark in his neighborhood and keeping it clean from crime, as well as winning a full academic scholarship for State University. He managed to graduate from college, start a career and maintain a couple of fleeting relationships even while expanding his territory and coming to the attention of various super criminals who would become fixtures in Jackie’s life.
Guys like Nightmare, Boss Blind Tiger, Fear & Loathing, Azucena, El Furioso and even more modern additions like Grill-Face, the Beaver, Dreaded Ninja
Now in his sixties, Jackie still does what he does best: Helping people. He’s a married man with two daughters: A little girl and a teenager. His family is fully aware of his life as a hero and accepts it as part of who he is. He’s even become a legend within the super hero community and a role model for all aspiring heroes.
Jackie Caulder has come a long way since his time as a jock and a bully. He’s done much to atone for it, yet after almost 40 years of putting his life in the line for others, he still feels he hasn’t done enough yet. And even though his joints ache and he should sleep more and his bell is starting to stick out of his costume, there is still much to do out there.
So Jack will keep jumping as long as Jack can jump.
#13 – Kid Emo
Julius Blackwell is the second known case of immortality on a human being.
Figures. Even on that, he couldn’t make first.
Julius was made clearly aware of this when he jumped off a 20 story building on his 18th birthday, a “Good bye, cruel world†note on a pink post-it plastered on his less hated Weepy Willow t-shirt. He was tired of all the shuffling his mortal coil had done so far.
His coil, turns out, wasn’t all that mortal to begin with.
Julius’ immortality is manifested on several ways:
One is his impregnable skin, which can’t be cut, burnt, penetrated or harmed in any way, as it absorbs all impact and evenly distributes the kinetic energy on to every skin cell, rapidly metabolizing it. This is what allowed him to survive the fall from the building.
Didn’t do much for the poor guy he fell on top of, though.
Second, we have the fact that, due to the way his body metabolizes energy, Julius no longer needs to sleep or eat. He no longer even needs oxygen, which he discovered after a consecutive 27 hours of being submerged in his bathroom tub, trying to drown himself. He would have lasted longer, but he then threw his pink iPod Nano into the tub to try and electrocute himself, only to have both the device and the mood in the room ruined
Figures.
And finally, there’s the fact that whatever Julius does ingest is super-metabolized in the same way the kinetic energy he gets from impacts, or even simple solar radiation or heat from an open flame (like the one he put his head into during his therapy group camping trip) does, which is a sort of organic cold fusion. So every substance that enters his body is completely reduced to its basic components in a manner of seconds. So, for Julius’ body, there is no difference between drinking a glass of water or, say, a gallon of drain cleaner.
Except, unfortunately, for the taste.
What started as a misguided and very complicated journey to express his inner suffering and tortured soul had become a source of endless frustration to young Julius, now in his early 20’s. Any passerby would think that Julius would be OK with all the frustration, as he is keen on looking for new and fascinating ways to get depressed about stuff, yet he’ll always answer that he doesn’t like wasting a good sulk on non-sulk-worthy things.
When inquired on what exactly can be considered sulk-worthy or not, Julius will always comment that “you don’t understand my pain†and run to his room to have a good cry and try to cut his wrists. Then he’ll remember he can’t and will have a bad cry. Then he’ll go out there looking for something that can undo him as he so wishes to be undone.
Julius is not only a well known figure in psychiatric circles, having gone already through 32 different therapists, most of which have ended up killing themselves which only adds to Julius many frustrations, but is also a known fixture of the super-human community.
Especially of super villains.
He came in contact with his first super villain while at the mall, looking for a new leather wristband to go with his dark blue eye shadow.
The store was suddenly assaulted by the Stink Bug, a Z-List baddy known for excreting a highly corrosive and toxic acid on his unsuspecting victims. After taking all the money, Stink Bug in a sudden outburst of brutality, decided to kill all his hostages, spraying them with his acidic bulge gland. This did not work on our Julius though, and so the Bug kept spraying him, insisting it would have to work eventually.
Four hours later, and after lengthy and difficult talks with various hostage negotiators and even an FBI specialist, Julius finally let the Bug go. His bulge gland completely deflated, his eyes staring an empty stare into nothingness, he just kept repeating over and over that he “felt dirtyâ€.
Even today, in his padded room on the Happy Cheeks Home for the Clinically Insane, “I feel dirty” is the only phrase he’ll say. Over and over.
Sometimes, he’ll shout it.
After that, Julius kept insisting and has tried climbing up the criminal ladder and confront bigger, meaner and more dangerous criminals to the point where many of the A-Listers of the super villain community have gotten restraining orders against “Julius Blackwell, a.k.a That Emo Kidâ€, which was then twisted into “Kid Emo†once the legal document were leaked by the National Enquirer.
And though he may not look it, Julius has proven to be a very successful crime-fighter, having single-handedly wiped out the Z, Y, X, W and V lists of super villains through his incredible powers of immortality and bumming the fuck out of everyone he meets.
He’s not the hero we want, nor the hero we need.
But he is kinda there…
He’s Kid Emo, and he wishes he was dead.
#12 – The Hood
Adolescence sucks.
Anyone who is either going through it or is already, thankfully, done with it can confirm this for you if for some reason you weren’t aware of this.
Your body changes and contorts in ways that make you feel like you’re wearing someone else’s skin. Everything you know about the World becomes either a lie or a joke as authority loses complete grasp of you and your basic instinct becomes lashing out at everything and everyone.
And nothing proves the real seriousness of everything that we go through than the fact that many people don’t even manage to survive their adolescent years. They either give up, becoming completely stagnant, never making into adulthood or they are so irreparably damaged by the experience that it’s like their old self died and from it someone completely new was born.
And then there are those that do literally die.
Adolescence sucks.
And this only worth repeating because, for the most part, Graham Ellis could not give a fuck about adolescence. He is way too worried about everything else going on in his life right now to ever acknowledge the million existential crises, social rituals and high school drama he’s got in the back burner right now.
So, if we take into account everything we’ve previously discussed about adolescence so far, the only logical assumption is that Graham Ellis must be deep into some serious shit.
Graham is barely 15 and lives in the middle of nowhere, Nebraska. He lives with his mother ever since the divorce but he sees his father almost every day on account of his being a teacher at his school.
He’s not “cool” enough or whatever to ever be acknowledged by his school’s it crowd, yet he’s safely above band geek/math freak level. Some girls even find him “cute” or whatever. He’s not an honor student but his grades are nothing to be ashamed of either and he used to have no real prospects about his future or what he wanted to do with his life.
This all very rapidly changed on his first day of school, when Graham accidentally got caught in the way of an oncoming train and got himself run over. Miraculously enough thought, at the moment of impact, Graham was somehow able to derail the train with his bare hands. He got both arms pulverized in the process, but it saved his life. It also got about fifteen people killed in the process. He also managed to save around fifty people too. This with the help of the arms that healed themselves minutes after being turned to mush.
In just those fast and brutal fifteen minutes, Graham Ellis became many things.
A hero. A killer. A menace. A freak.
But it all boiled down to two things: He was now a super-human and a wanted man. The statements from the crash survivors managed to slowly climb all the way through the bureaucratic ladder until they reached the desk of the offices of P.E.A.C.E.’s homeland security division director, Victor Grieco. Upon hearing the news Grieco became obsessed with this new super-human popping out. He has taken a team of P.E.A.C.E. analysts and operatives and is searching day and night for this “kid in the hoodieâ€, every new sighting putting him a step closer from catching poor Graham, who is yet to be even aware of his presence.
No, Graham already has enough dealing with his guilt over the deaths he caused when he first manifested his powers, the fact that the entire county has an APB on him, that his mother, his father, his friends and neighbors all talk about him as if he was a monster and a danger to his face, without any care of how confused he is. And most of all, Graham is now deeply afraid of himself. Afraid of what his body can do. He knows he’s strong. He knows he can heal really fast. But, what else can he do? How does he do it? Is it something hereditary or just happenstance? Are his parents hiding something from him?
The more Graham Ellis thinks about all this things, the more he simply looks for ways to just lose himself, get away from his head, and forget the life he is living even for a moment.
Because adolescence may suck, but being an out of control super-human is even worst.
Here’s hoping poor Graham can make it out of this alive.
#11 – Pop Guns’ Raspberry De’Laight
POP GUNS TAKE OVER KAFKASTAK!! PRESIDENT SIRRAH WILL HAVE “SEAT OF HONOR” AT TONIGHT’S CONCERT
 GRIEV – Tensions rise behind closed doors at the UN, where rumor has it negotiations between president Istalinov Sirrah and the mediators representing the families of the more than 300 “political prisoners” Sirrah has kept in the nation’s Gulags for almost a decade now have come to an abrupt ending.
It was the dawn of the year 2000 when Sirrah’s “Militant Front for a Unified Kafkastak†movement dethroned the royal family and assumed control of the country. The popular support Sirrah counted with at the time, analysts say, was one of the deciding factors of his victory. However, it’s been a decade of terror for the citizens of the Easter European nation, who went from being oppressed by a despotic monarchy to being oppressed by the military who once were charged with protecting them.
 With civil unrest starting to boil and riots becoming an every day event for the kafkastaki people, the announcement that the overnight world sensation and Billboard chart-breaking Dutch trio “Pop Guns”, who first came into the spotlight with their very controversial cover of Sinatra’s classic “I did it my way” and even more controversial music video which won them their first Grammy, would be having an impromptu concert right in the capital city of Griev has caught everyone in both the entertainment and political world by surprise.
 Spokespersons for the now millionaire group comprised of lead singer/guitarist Raspberry De’Laight, bassist/other lead singer Blueberry Bunn and drummer/backup singer Blackberry Punch have denied the accusations that the concert is a giant marketing plot designed to attract international audiences with what some journalists are already calling “a tasteless display of shock tactics in the face of human tragedy”.
 “The girls have gone completely out of their way and have put themselves and their staff in danger all in the hopes that they can bring a little joy and entertainment to the kafkastakies” said the group’s manager and producer Conrad Teally yesterday morning during a press conference. “The girls have all heard about the situation in Griev and in Kafkastak in general and they very selflessly just wanted to give these good people a small token of good will and solidarity. A few hours of music and levity where they can forget all the ugliness and enjoy themselves”.
 Disingenuous as it may sound to try and sell this as the truth, Teally, who rose to the top of the music industry during the late 70s only to crash and burn alongside Disco during the mid 80s and has miraculously managed to once again catch lighting in the bottle with Pop Guns’ first two albums, is actually not lying. At least, not entirely.
Inside sources have indeed confirm that Pop Guns’ surprise pit stop in Kafkastak has  aussd the group’s “Triple Fantasy” tour to go almost 5 million dollars over budget in order to have the National Football Plaza ready for tonight’s big show. Ironically though, it seems most of that money will be going directly into the pockets of the Kafkastak Tourism and Culture minister, Vladimir Kolcjac, who was in charge of expediting the process of issuing the multiple permits necessary for Pop Guns to set stage and perform within their borders.
And there is also the matter of president Sirrah receiving a personal invitation from the girls themselves to assist to tonight’s event, which seems to go completely against their hopes of providing the citizens with an escape from their very harsh national reality. Many expect tonight’s festivities to end in tragedy, yet Teally remains optimistic.
“The girls want to bring the nation together. That is their number one goal tonight. They want to bring the people and the government together under one roof in the hope that music can show them a way to reconcile their differences and work together once again to build a new, better nation. The girls are still young. They’re still idealistic. They truly believe everything I just told you, and God bless them for it”.
***
Everything had to be perfect.
That is what Raspberry De’Laight kept telling herself while going over the Gulag’s schematics over and over again, memorizing each and every detail, the mission briefing on one hand and a water bottle on the other.
If not, hundreds of people who’d been imprisoned against their will for a decade, their families, and entire nation and perhaps even the World could be at stake.
Raspberry hated this. The emptiness in her stomach and the tightness of her pink satin outfit for their opening act. It cut on her midriff section, barely letting her breath. It squeezed her breasts almost up to her chin and all the frills and veils were starting to put her on edge. And don’t get her started on the silver booty shorts. Just the fact that she had to wear them, as if she didn’t have enough body issues as it was, but it was like they were designed to ride up. She hated them. And her stockings were itchy.
The truth of the matter was that femininity was something that made Raspberry De’Laight intensely uncomfortable, having grown up the only woman amongst her two brothers and her father, a career army sergeant whose job had him jumping from army base to army base. Her mother had bailed on him shortly after her little brother’s birth for reasons she neither knew nor care. Good riddance to bad rubbish. Her father and older brother provided her with all the love and care she never attempted to give. Still, the young sergeant had been very ill prepared to raise a young girl all on his own.
So, he didn’t.
He simply raised another boy and left the complicated discussions on womanhood in the hands of the base nurse.
And so, Raspberry had grown up an army brat in mind, body and spirit. Constantly covered in cuts, bruises and mud, she preferred to wear baggy clothes and have her hair cut short by the base barber. She knew nothing about makeup, or painting her nails. Heck, she’d been wearing the wrong size of bra ever since she’s had boobs. So finding herself now having to wear cutesy, short and revealing clothing, makeup, earrings, long hair and high heels has been more than a mere culture clash for her. More than once the idea of being caught by the enemy sounds more enticing than having to perform yet another concert.
Still, when her “laser vision†first manifested itself, the first thought in Raspberry’s mind was using her gift to serve her country, just like her father. The fact that her other talent, super strength, bloomed in the middle of her UN training pretty much closed the deal on her drafting. And not only was she powerful, she was an apt pupil, knew how to take orders and was respectful of the chain of commands and less prone to bouts of insubordination than all of the other applicants.
They had found their team leader.
#10 – Pop Guns’ Blackberry Punch
POP GUNS TAKE OVER KAFKASTAK!! PRESIDENT SIRRAH WILL HAVE “SEAT OF HONOR” AT TONIGHT’S CONCERT
 GRIEV – Tensions rise behind closed doors at the UN, where rumor has it negotiations between president Istalinov Sirrah and the mediators representing the families of the more than 300 “political prisoners” Sirrah has kept in the nation’s Gulags for almost a decade now have come to an abrupt ending.
It was the dawn of the year 2000 when Sirrah’s “Militant Front for a Unified Kafkastak†movement dethroned the royal family and assumed control of the country. The popular support Sirrah counted with at the time, analysts say, was one of the deciding factors of his victory. However, it’s been a decade of terror for the citizens of the Easter European nation, who went from being oppressed by a despotic monarchy to being oppressed by the military who once were charged with protecting them.
 With civil unrest starting to boil and riots becoming an every day event for the kafkastaki people, the announcement that the overnight world sensation and Billboard chart-breaking Dutch trio “Pop Guns”, who first came into the spotlight with their very controversial cover of Sinatra’s classic “I did it my way” and even more controversial music video which won them their first Grammy, would be having an impromptu concert right in the capital city of Griev has caught everyone in both the entertainment and political world by surprise.
 Spokespersons for the now millionaire group comprised of lead singer/guitarist Raspberry De’Laight, bassist/other lead singer Blueberry Bunn and drummer/backup singer Blackberry Punch have denied the accusations that the concert is a giant marketing plot designed to attract international audiences with what some journalists are already calling “a tasteless display of shock tactics in the face of human tragedy”.
 “The girls have gone completely out of their way and have put themselves and their staff in danger all in the hopes that they can bring a little joy and entertainment to the kafkastakies” said the group’s manager and producer Conrad Teally yesterday morning during a press conference. “The girls have all heard about the situation in Griev and in Kafkastak in general and they very selflessly just wanted to give these good people a small token of good will and solidarity. A few hours of music and levity where they can forget all the ugliness and enjoy themselves”.
 Disingenuous as it may sound to try and sell this as the truth, Teally, who rose to the top of the music industry during the late 70s only to crash and burn alongside Disco during the mid 80s and has miraculously managed to once again catch lighting in the bottle with Pop Guns’ first two albums, is actually not lying. At least, not entirely.
 Inside sources have indeed confirm that Pop Guns’ surprise pit stop in Kafkastak has  aussd the group’s “Triple Fantasy” tour to go almost 5 million dollars over budget in order to have the National Football Plaza ready for tonight’s big show. Ironically though, it seems most of that money will be going directly into the pockets of the Kafkastak Tourism and Culture minister, Vladimir Kolcjac, who was in charge of expediting the process of issuing the multiple permits necessary for Pop Guns to set stage and perform within their borders.
And there is also the matter of president Sirrah receiving a personal invitation from the girls themselves to assist to tonight’s event, which seems to go completely against their hopes of providing the citizens with an escape from their very harsh national reality. Many expect tonight’s festivities to end in tragedy, yet Teally remains optimistic.
 “The girls want to bring the nation together. That is their number one goal tonight. They want to bring the people and the government together under one roof in the hope that music can show them a way to reconcile their differences and work together once again to build a new, better nation. The girls are still young. They’re still idealistic. They truly believe everything I just told you, and God bless them for it”.
***
Blackberry Punch had no place she’d rather be in the whole wide world.
It wasn’t just the celebrity aspect though. The fame. The awards. The appreciation. The beautiful designer dresses, the sound of the crowd going wild for you, their applause after your final bow. Those are the kind of things every little girl dreams with her whole life. Some more than others.
Blackberry spent much of a very rough childhood on the streets, neglected by her parents and cared for only by the thugs and dealers of her neighborhood who recruited her into their business. By fourteen, Blackberry had a police file taller than her. She spent the next two years in and out of juvi before her super powers started manifesting themselves.
Her super power, the eggheads had explained to her, was personal mass manipulation. She could make herself light as a feather and completely intangible or gain a ton or two of added weight, becoming more and more impervious the heavier she got. It was a talent she only started to fool around with by herself, but that she fully mastered and developed under the care of the UN handlers and trainers.
Now close to her nineteenth birthday, Blackberry was the older, more seasoned member of the group both in their front as celebrities as well as in their role as secret agents, which curiously enough seemed to be the part of this whole experience she enjoyed the most. Her years of living in the streets had developed in her a love of fear and danger. The more tense and life-threatening the situation, the more alive that made her feel.
Her psych evaluations and half of the handlers tried to stop at all costs that the Security Council drafted Blackberry for the team. They felt this particular personality trait could end up backfiring on both the team and the UN, as her need for extreme trills almost bordered on the pathological. Yet the Chief would hear none of it. He had scouted Blackberry himself. He had drafted her and kept a close eye on her for the entirety of her training. The paper pushers couldn’t understand it. There was no way. What that young woman had was something only field agents, people who’ve done the job and dirtied their hands can recognize in each other: The will to succeed and survive.
Still, the insistence of the psychiatrist had kept her from becoming team leader. Not that Blackberry particularly cared. She had no need to run the show. She actually preferred just being pointed to her target and then unleashed upon it, like a shell being shot off a tank’s barrel.
That was the good live.
#9 – Pop Guns’ Blueberry Bunn
POP GUNS TAKE OVER KAFKASTAK!! PRESIDENT SIRRAH WILL HAVE “SEAT OF HONOR” AT TONIGHT’S CONCERT
 GRIEV – Tensions rise behind closed doors at the UN, where rumor has it negotiations between president Istalinov Sirrah and the mediators representing the families of the more than 300 “political prisoners” Sirrah has kept in the nation’s Gulags for almost a decade now have come to an abrupt ending.
It was the dawn of the year 2000 when Sirrah’s “Militant Front for a Unified Kafkastak†movement dethroned the royal family and assumed control of the country. The popular support Sirrah counted with at the time, analysts say, was one of the deciding factors of his victory. However, it’s been a decade of terror for the citizens of the Easter European nation, who went from being oppressed by a despotic monarchy to being oppressed by the military who once were charged with protecting them.
 With civil unrest starting to boil and riots becoming an every day event for the kafkastaki people, the announcement that the overnight world sensation and Billboard chart-breaking Dutch trio “Pop Guns”, who first came into the spotlight with their very controversial cover of Sinatra’s classic “I did it my way” and even more controversial music video which won them their first Grammy, would be having an impromptu concert right in the capital city of Griev has caught everyone in both the entertainment and political world by surprise.
 Spokespersons for the now millionaire group comprised of lead singer/guitarist Raspberry De’Laight, bassist/other lead singer Blueberry Bunn and drummer/backup singer Blackberry Punch have denied the accusations that the concert is a giant marketing plot designed to attract international audiences with what some journalists are already calling “a tasteless display of shock tactics in the face of human tragedy”.
 “The girls have gone completely out of their way and have put themselves and their staff in danger all in the hopes that they can bring a little joy and entertainment to the kafkastakies” said the group’s manager and producer Conrad Teally yesterday morning during a press conference. “The girls have all heard about the situation in Griev and in Kafkastak in general and they very selflessly just wanted to give these good people a small token of good will and solidarity. A few hours of music and levity where they can forget all the ugliness and enjoy themselves”.
 Disingenuous as it may sound to try and sell this as the truth, Teally, who rose to the top of the music industry during the late 70s only to crash and burn alongside Disco during the mid 80s and has miraculously managed to once again catch lighting in the bottle with Pop Guns’ first two albums, is actually not lying. At least, not entirely.
 Inside sources have indeed confirm that Pop Guns’ surprise pit stop in Kafkastak has  aussd the group’s “Triple Fantasy” tour to go almost 5 million dollars over budget in order to have the National Football Plaza ready for tonight’s big show. Ironically though, it seems most of that money will be going directly into the pockets of the Kafkastak Tourism and Culture minister, Vladimir Kolcjac, who was in charge of expediting the process of issuing the multiple permits necessary for Pop Guns to set stage and perform within their borders.
And there is also the matter of president Sirrah receiving a personal invitation from the girls themselves to assist to tonight’s event, which seems to go completely against their hopes of providing the citizens with an escape from their very harsh national reality. Many expect tonight’s festivities to end in tragedy, yet Teally remains optimistic.
 “The girls want to bring the nation together. That is their number one goal tonight. They want to bring the people and the government together under one roof in the hope that music can show them a way to reconcile their differences and work together once again to build a new, better nation. The girls are still young. They’re still idealistic. They truly believe everything I just told you, and God bless them for it”.
***
Blueberry Bunn, or at least that had been the name chosen for her by her handlers, was at that moment fulfilling all of her little rituals and pre-show eccentricities. A superstitious girl since her childhood, Blueberry was busy at the moment going through the band’s catering table.
Contrary to their status as world famous pop stars and would-be divas, Pop Guns’ tour contract only had four small conditions:
- A fully stocked catering table filled with hamburgers, fresh fruit, water and salad.
- Fresh flowers.
- A TV with the remote.
- Absolute privacy after the concert. They’d gladly meet and greet people before the show, but not after.
It was now an hour before the show and Blueberry had already finished most of the giant burger tray, the fruit and the salad being the first thing gone whenever she sat down to eat. The table, however, was stocked to serve at least six people.
Blueberry had no type of eating disorder. That was not the girl her mother had raised her to be. No, Blueberry was able to eat like that and still keep the young, toned body of a 17 year old girl due to the hyper-accelerated metabolism she was born with. One of the side effects of her super speed.
Pop Guns was a front. An incredibly well crafted front. Like the other two, Blueberry had been recruited after careful study, scrutiny and training to be a part of an elite special ops team under the direct supervision of the United Nations security council. The group was born of the necessity of the UN to take action in situations where it’s hands had been tied down and required from direct but plausibly deniable action.
The band cover had been probably the security council’s greatest idea ever. This gave their operatives the freedom to travel everywhere in the World, bypassing even the tightest security thanks to their fame and the image of banality and air headedness that was associated with celebrity disguised them better than any make-up and fake documents the UN could ever provide the girls with.
This was already the Pop Guns’ tenth mission, yet Blueberry would get the pre-concert, pre-mission jitters each and every time regardless. After the concert was over, she would have to be the first inside the hot zone, using her super speed and stealth to infiltrate the main Gulag just outside the capital city to disable the security for her team mates.
She hoped she could avoid using physical violence, which she despised. A good mission, at least for her, meant not having to throw a single punch. Unfortunately, that seemed to be the exception and not the rule.
#8 – Jezebel Phoenix
I’ve been around.
That is, I think, the best way to sum it up.
Most of the early years are a complete blur. The fact that everything keeps changing so damn fast doesn’t hep either.
When the hell did we started carrying phones in our pockets again?
Anyways, I know it may sound a little hard to believe, looking the way I look.
That is, alive.
But, hey. I know who I am and I know where I’ve been and what I’ve seen. The rest is your problem.
Half the people I meet prefer to not believe, mostly because of what that would mean for their own personal believe systems, for science, for history and what not.
The other half likes to believe I’m just making stuff up.
Like I said, it’s their problem.
No one likes to hear that the messiah had a nice caboose. Either because its blasphemy or because it confirms there actually was a messiah.
So, I try to mostly keep to myself. When you’ve lived as long as I have, you tend to not get too attached to, well… Everything.
The people I know and the places I visit tend to end up turning to dust sooner or later. It used to hit me real hard. Left a big hole in me. Like the equivalent of phantom limb for nostalgia or something.
The children were the worst.
My… Children.
…
Lets just say no one cheered higher when we came up with the first condom and move on, OK?
As far as what I do, well… I’ve done a bit of everything.
Or at least everything they would let a woman do.
Even tried to get into the hero business once or twice. I think the first time was in 1722, when the concept first appeared. Then in the early 40’s but that just didn’t go well AT ALL. And one last time in the seventies.
Thank Buddha I stopped smoking whatever I was smoking back then. That costume… I’m sure there are pictures on your world wide web or somewhere in there.
I never did too well at the hero thing. Mostly because compared to guys who can build giant zeppelins, move mountains with their minds and turn into living energy, the amazing ability of “Not Dying” leave much to be desired.
It does have its perks though. I’ve never been sick in my entire life. Not even a cold. Not even a migraine. Never had any acne problems or anything of the sort.
Even my teeth are completely flawless!! And let me tell you, having leaved most of my life without knowing proper dental hygiene, that is saying something.
But anyway. Starting my own business was mostly a matter of necessity more than anything else. It’s real hard to open a bank account or take a loan when your birth certificate is a museum piece. OK, that was a joke. When I was born, the concept of birth certificates, fire and the freaking wheel had not occurred to us yet. But my condition does make me rely on cash a great deal.
So I started thinking what I could do with all of these millennia of experience that benefits from the fact that I cannot be killed no matter how hard you try.
It’s actually rather silly that it took me all this time to figure it out: Professional Bodyguard.
Got myself a license, a couple of people who are crazy enough to work both for and with me, and there you go!!
Now, don’t believe what the movies have told you: Being a bodyguard is mind numbing job. Cubicle drones get lucky compared to us. But then again the pay is GREAT, you get to meet interesting people and, once in a while, something blows up. Mostly because of me.
It’s a flaw of mine. I’ve been working on it.
So, what do you say kiddo?
You want in?
#7 – Bosozoku-Hime
Enter through the Crimson Hellmouth into the Obsidian Dome, to a land of fantasy far away from consciousness and imagination.
Once known as the empire of the rising sun, it is now a country where the Sun never rises and the eternal night is only kept avast by the light of the soul in search of adventure and excitement.
Welcome to the Neon City.
Where once upon a time, the indomitable Susanoo and his eight Orochihana fought the legions of the Sun Mother, Amaterasu. And yet, when their country needed them most, these brave heroes gave up their life in order to defend their subjects, dying in a fulminating flare of atomic power.
And so it was that the Gods were killed. Encased in eternal darkness and having been abandoned by all semblance of divinity, the sons and daughters of Izanagi and Izanami fell into chaos and anarchy. These were the days before the Rise of the Neon Sun, when the techno-men plague started, when the Crimson Hellmouth opened, adding the Oni Gender Wars into the mix, and when the bosozoku first started to appear.
And then, it reappeared: The crown jewel of the Gods. The unquestionable fetish of power and authority within the Obsidian Dome.
The Blazing Hachimaki.
It’s flames will scour whoever she fits unworthy to hold her and will only accept to be worn by the one true God made flesh.
Shiromori Tomoe was little more than a 13 year old girl, trying her best to hide her fear and uncertainty under a face of fake bravado when she first tied the Hachimaki to her forehead, uniting all of the motorcycle tribes under a single banner.
The first year or her ruling brought the beginning of the construction of the Neon City, the country’s new capital.
The second year brought the first secession of the Clown, Carnation and Water Dragon tribes. From then forth, their members would become outcasts and continue living in the periphery of society.
The third year brought laser tempering technology for the construction of neon katanas and the first ever prototype of the emotional engine.
The fourth year brought the end of the Oni Wars and a lasting and prosperous alliance with the female ogres.
The fifth year brought Blood Plumb, the empress’ beloved motorcycle, fueled by honor and fury. It also brought the Neon City’s first interaction with the outside world since the end of the Great War. Shiromori-dono, in her role as ambassador became the most beautiful and delicate flower, which only accentuated he sharpness and bitterness of her thorns.
What will the future bring to our beloved empress, sitting now in her neon lit throne, multiple rave geisha dancing for her amusement while she waits for the next big asphalt stampede, demonic invasion, coup d’eta or formal gala to come her way. Her eyes filled with the steel of resolve, her neon katana gently resting on her lap while a multicolored kimono covers her tight letter jumpsuit and the Blazing Hachimaki flutters in the air, like the young empress wild spirit.
#6 – Mouse
To whomever it may concern.
I, Charlie B. Goode, in full use of all my physical and mental abilities hereby declare this my Last Will and Testament.
I, unfortunately, have nothing in my possession worth inheriting to anyone.
And even if I did, I have no family to whom to inherit it anyways.
All I had in the world was my uncle Linus. He cared for me and raised me until his sudden and unexpected death at the age of 97.
It is in his memory that I became a nurse and care for those afflicted by all sorts of mental illness.
Also, I had no money for medical school.
It may not have been the most glamorous of works, but I quite liked it and made me feel like I was doing something important with my life.
That all changed the day I met Edmund Montagu. He had been a guest of the Happy Cheeks Home for the Clinically Insane ever since I got there. He’d never given us any trouble, hadn’t even spoken in all those years. He just used to seat on his wheel chair and read comics all day long.
And one day, out of nowhere, he just got off his chair, started screaming he was a cat, took me hostage and jumped from our third floor window.
I was very lucky that Mr. Montagu had bullet-proof skin and unbreakable bones, or else we would have both died that day.
I was not so lucky in that, when I regained consciousness I was in some abandoned sewer, dressed in a mouse costume and tied to a chair. Mr. Montagu had decided that I would become his sidekick in his new endeavor as a crime fighter.
And that’s been my life ever since.
I’m just a 24 year old nurse. Never even kissed a girl. Now I find myself everyday thrown into the most absurdly dangerous situations because of Mr. Montagu’s insane crusade. I mean, his hearth is in the right place and he kinda, sorta does have what it takes to make it in this business. But he’s a seriously sick person and he needs help, before he hurts someone.
Especially before he hurts me.
I’ll do as I swore to do the day I graduated from nursing school: I will care for my patients. I won’t abandon Mr. Montagu. Not until I finally convince him to go back to the clinic and get help.
But in the mean time, just in case…
#5 – Cat
This World is a filthy, dangerous place.
Evil clutters the drains of our society, making it drown in misery and corruption.
The throat of truth and righteousness is further and further choked by the hairy hands of crime and villainy.
But evil-doers, wrong-doers and other kinds of doers associated with the previous two… BEWARE!!
For I will be society’s avenging plumber, mooning you with my half-shown cheeks of justice!
I will be peppermint flavored cough drop of hope that will sooth your aching throat after I kick those hairy villain’s hand right in his foul butt!
I AM THE CAT! AND I BORROW THE NIGHT!
I borrow it because saying I own it is the kind of thing that egomaniacal super-villain types say. I must remain forever humble and servile to avoid that my super-powers corrupt me and turn me to the side of the devils.
Also, the night truly belongs to the law-abiding citizens of my beautiful hometown, which I’ve made a sacred, double secret pinky swear to protect.
So, once again for the cheap seats: EVIL BEWARE! Because there’s a new cat in town and not only is he hip to your tricks, but he’s also not had his claws clipped in a very, very long time. Kitty can scratch, baby.
Meowch!
And using said claws, plus my other awesome powers, my super scary Charles Bronson from “Death Wish†impersonation, a belt full of pouches, which are then filled with tiny, itsy-bitsy crime-fighting gadgets and my own fearless protégé, the valiant Mouse, I will bring an end to all sorts of crime and villainy.
I will punish the wicked, right wrongs, save damsels in distress, help old ladies cross the street, shake hands, kiss babies and all other duties that this life of super heroism and self sacrifice I’ve pledged myself to demand.
And, in conclusion my superstitious and cowardly lot, you should very much fear me the next time you see me.
FOR I AM THE CAT!!! AND I BORROW THE NIGHT!!
#4 – Reaver
Byron Snow was not happy.
He was far from it, actually.
You would think that someone who spends his life sleeping, partying and indulging in any excess his mind could think of in equal ways, a man who would never have to worry about money for as long as he lived, would not have to deal with such things as unhappiness.
Yet he did.
He did because the reason for his unhappiness relentlessly followed him wherever he went. It stared at him at any club he went. It brought him his supper, he could see them even from his penthouse apartment, far above the city, aimlessly loitering like the mindless cattle they all were.
Humans were his problem.
Humans were the reason of his unhappiness.
300 years ago, back when he was “born” into his new life, he and his kind would have no issue with rampaging through villages burning everything in sight, openly feeding under the moonlight, enjoying from the warm sustenance as well as from the fear saturating the atmosphere. But those halcyon days were long gone. Quietly bowing their heads and blending in with the meat was now the name of the game. Both The Council and The Covenant had agreed to this. In this new era of enlightenment and widespread information, acting in such an open manner would only invite more attention than the one they already got from The Huntsmen, and that was more than enough attention already.
So they blended in.
Most of them finally made use of their vast fortunes, amassed through centuries of never needing a single dime, spending it in every possible thing they could conceive off in order to chase boredom and hunger away.
Reaving was unanimously outlawed by The Council, the decision enforced by The Covenant. Anyone found reaving, no matter how careful or privately they did so, would be executed on the spot. No exceptions.
And so, Byron Snow hid. And lived. And was unhappy.
He was unhappy while a once proud and mighty race cowered under the numerical superiority of the meat. While their legend was forgotten, the terror they once instilled in the hearts of men and children alike lost to the passage of time. He saw as the meat made fools out of them, turning them into parodies of their former selves, little more than fodder for the romantic delusions of teen-aged girls, spinsters and unsatisfied housewives.
And the worst part was that every day, every month, every year he kept on feeding but not nurturing himself, he cared a little less about all of those things that should have continued to fuel his righteous indignation. He was growing fat and complacent.
He had to do something about it.
The first night he went out there was yet to be a costume. He had honestly convinced himself it would be a one time thing. Something to sate his thirst and be done with it. He knew it had to be someone who wouldn’t be missed. Someone you’d already expect to found splattered across the walls and floor of a dirty alley. When he heard the woman scream, he knew that was it. Even as weakened as it was, his body did most of the work for him without his even realizing.
The woman in itself was of little interest. Who cared what had happened to her? She was nothing but an enabler. By being the victim, she allowed him to come at him in any way he damn pleased. He was the real star of the show.
His original thought had been to just take things slow and enjoy it as much as possible in order to get the most out of it, considering this was gonna be a one-time thing. Even when the first warm jet started gushing, he innocently still believed this. But it had been so long since he had last reaved. The sensation, the rush, the excitement, the frenzy.
It completely took over him. How could they have stopped doing this?
How could they keep denying themselves something that was so unequivocally theirs?
It was wrong in so many fundamental levels. He knew it all the way inside of him, as he felt his body getting stronger, already demanding more sustenance.
He would need to disguise himself. No need to attract the attention of The Covenant. And already the humans had this long standing tradition of dressing in gaudy outfits and beating the living hell out of each other. And certainly no one would miss a few dead robbers or rapists. Nor the police would dig to deep when they found their broken, maimed and dry remains. They simply had it coming.
Byron Snow smiled.
He was happy for the first time in a long time. Happy that he had finally found a way of being himself once again out in the open, were his kind truly belonged.
Out there in the night.
#3 – SantamarÃa
The small isle of Punta Blanca is a republic located about a thousand miles from continental Central America. It is nation with a rich history and culture that almost 99.99% of people who don’t live on Punta Blanca know nothing about.
No, unfortunately the best known fact about the small island is its infamous nickname: “Paraiso de Guerrillas”.
Guerrilla Paradise.
The name comes from the later days of the Cold War, where Punta Blanca became a focal point for the struggle between the CIA and the KGB, both organizations desperately trying to ally themselves with the local government and militia before the other could. This was mostly due to both strategic geographical advantage and the vastness of it’s natural resources. Since Punta Blanca was not fully colonized until the late 19th century, this meant that it’s mineral riches had gone pretty much untouched throughout the entire Spanish occupation, making it the richest so called third world country in the world.
However, Punta Blanca, and specially Punta Blanca’s president at the time, José Higuerón Padre, wanted nothing to do with either country and their petty struggles. Being a predominantly self-sufficient country with a ridiculously low importing rate there was nothing that either side could offer that would truly win them over. This was the point that negotiations turned sour. It’s rather unclear who took the initiative, whether the Yankees or the Russians, but either of them decided that if they could not have Punta Blanca, then no one would have it. The other side simply played along.
The island became the site of a bloody conflict between communist and capitalist “factions”, nothing more than actual american and soviet soldiers masquerading as local militias, which both Washington and the Kremlin used as excuses to pump even more armed forces into the area. The conflict lasted almost two years and caused enormous damage to both the country and its people. Many lost their lives due to this pointless struggle. Something would have to be done.
In April of 1974, president Higuerón passed a constitutional decree which was unanimously approved by the country’s senate, which officially instated the first ever Punta Blanca National Army. A staggering 75% of the male population of the country was immediately drafted and trained. Yet Higuerón and his people knew this wouldn’t be enough to free his country from the Cold War’s phantom.
Article Zero of the National Army Proclamation Act also officially instated “Project: Torch”, the first ever official super-soldier program since “Operation: Rule Britannia” in World War I.
But just like Rule Birtannia before it, the majority of Punta Blanca’s soldiers proved immune to the multiple chemical treatments employed by Project: Torch, with most soldiers only gaining minor muscular and reflex enhancements from the procedure.
However, through something scientist call a genetical probability of one in a million, a young soldier names John Duarte, the first ever successfully produced super-soldier in the world. The process provided Duarte with super strength, super speed, maximized reflexes, peak hand-to-eye coordination, and improvements to everyone of his senses. This coupled with extensive training from multiple mercenary organizations contracted by the Punta Blanca government for the purpose of both training and adding to the ranks of their army turned him into his countries top operative.
His codename comes from the local legends of the early settlers about a missionary who lived in the deep jungles of the island after fleeing the slaughter of his flock by the indians by throwing himself to the ocean and swimming for days. John Duarte gave way to SantamarÃa.
Almost 40 years later, Punta Blanca remains an autonomous nation, even more distrusting of other nations than before. Their army continues to grow and evolve, being now considered the top military power in all the world. Which mostly has to due with the man in the top chair of that army. Even in his late 60’s, SantamarÃa continues to be both an imposing presence and a skilled combatant. The process that gave him his power has somehow also allowed him to retain his mental and physical prowess even at such and advanced age.
His eyes remain forever vigilant on each and every border of his small nation, a grin on his lips and a glint on his eye, waiting for the next fool stupid enough to dare threaten
 his beloved country.
#2 – Alwin Pemberton, the Bright Knight
They were truly the Dark Ages…
For the previous four centuries, the Roman Empire fought with all it’s might against the invading forces from beyond the skies.
Even with their glimmering flying machines, their impervious suits of armor, their divine strength and wisdom and their abundant knowledge of the mystic arts, it had taken them that long to truly crush the Last Legion’s mighty spirit.
But, alas, Rome did fall and burn, and the age of the God Conquerors thus began: With them and their progeny as the new lords and ladies ruling over the land, and the mere mortal men their slaves and workforce.
Some accepted the inevitability of their fate, as it was the place of mortals to serve and worship the gods. Yet others rebeled.
Brave men continued to fought against the invading hordes, knowing full well their numerous advantages against the mere steel of their swords.
Wise men studied day and night to master the god’s secrets, using their own magics against them, even at the cost of their minds and bodies.
And beyond them all was a man both wise and brave. A man who was able to bring hope and unity throughout the land, taking their rebel forces and turning them into an actual army. Many saw him as a messiah. The once and future king returning to his throne to deliver us from evil and slavery.
Sadly, Alwin Pemberton was not this man.
In fact, Alwin Pemberton was not even born when the brave prophesied king and his armies fell under the Conquering God’s war machines in their glorious last stand. And though the invaders suffered greatly, they were still able to recover.
Yet Alwin Pemberton would have to do.
Those at least were the last thoughts of a dying Myrddin Wyllt, the legendary king’s military advisor and chief sorcerer, whom Alwin stumbled into one stormy night while looking for cover under a dead three through an act of sheer happenstance.
Except the old wizard did not believe in such things as luck or coincidences.
For the last 14 years, Myrddin had been both thinkering and guarding the late king’s best guarded secret: A suit of armor made entirely with metals and magic from the God Conqueror’s arsenals. It had been forged more than a thousand times by expert blacksmiths who covered it in protective runes and charms from their frozen homelands. Myrddin had conjured for it two giant metal wings, made with the same mystic cauldrons the gods used to propel their vessels through the clouds.
And finally, there was the sword: The Grass Blade, so called for the green hue with which it’s otherworldly steel shined. The blade had been forged through a ritual known only to the mage himself who had even gone so far as to temper the rare metal with his own hands. It was capable of cutting through anything and anyone, deflecting all attacks no matter their nature and was even supposed to be able to summon the winds and the lighting to smite down it’s enemies.
All of this power was now on young Alwin’s hands. It would be his life’s mission from now on to continue with Myrddin and the King’s crusade. To learn the secrets of the armor and become the hero his people so desperately needed. He would need to use the armor to bring hope and strength to the masses, to embolden them into once again unite against the God Conquerors.
And so begins the legend of the man who united the whole world in it’s darkest moment against the first alien invasion never known by mankind. This is the story of King Alwin Pemberton, The Bright Knight.
#1 – The Fury
Rebecca Costas has been an orphan for half of her life.
As the youngest daughter of the Costas family, which had controlled organized crime in Bell Town since the 30’s, she enjoyed a childhood filled with comfort and luxury. And Fabbiano Costas may had been the scourge of mobsters and police men alike, but behind closed doors he was a devoted family man and dotting father to all of his children.
For ten years, Rebecca’s life was heaven.
And then the Greek invaded.
Three families, the Marinos, the Stavros and the Colonomos, had been pushing to expand their territory without success, mostly due to Fabbiano’s efforts and dealings with the police. Â However, through a slow and furtive operation and guided by Dionysos Colonomos, the three families successfully turned the tables on the Costas, uniting the rest of Bell Town’s crime under their banner and overtaking all of their business and territories.
Never one for loose ends, Dionysos had the entire Costas family executed as his first and only message for anyone who would challenge his reign. Only Rebecca survived, smuggled out of her bedroom under the cover of the night, the screaming and the confusion by her maid, who went on to raise her as her own.
That was ten years ago.
Now, the Colonomos’ grip over Belle Town’s is absolute. Shortly after the coup, they even took care of the other families just to further cement their hegemony. Everyone, from purse snatchers and street vendors to drug dealers and terrorist organizations and even the police and city hall, must pay tribute to them.
Dionysos, who was already an old man when he took over, is still as sharp and deadly, never relenting his power to his lieutenants or even his sons, Nikon and Pavlos. He will clutch his throne with all of his might until his dying breath.
And yet, something seems to be happening.
A masked figure has appeared over Bell Town, determined to wage a one-woman-war on the Colonomos. Dressed in sharp crimson, wearing a red mask with black tears painted under its eyes and armed to the teeth, this person lives and breathes to bring ruin and misery to anyone and anything affiliated with them.
It is for this reason, her unrelenting commitment, her blood lust and drive, that Dionysos underlings have dubbed her “The Fury”.
All attempts to find her have been for nothing. The vigilante works for no one and has no allegiances. The morgue is filled to the brim with her previous business partners who were discarded as soon as they served their purpose. All ruined operations are stripped clean and re purposed into more weapons and money for the Fury to keep her vendetta alive.
Whoever she is, she’s highly trained and effective. The only reason the Colonomos know of her existence is because she wants them to know. For her, this is clearly personal. She enjoys not only hurting their pockets, but also their pride. Even though she covers her face, her form-fitting costume and bulletproof vest are designed to clearly show she is a woman in order to further emasculate them.
Dionysos has used every resource he has, either legal or illegal, to try to find this person to no avail. He knows whoever she is, she needs to be stopped as fast and as publicly as possible before his standing in the underworld begins to deteriorate and his ruling is placed under question.
How would he react if he knew the woman he’s moving heaven and earth to find, the woman who a lifetime ago was Rebecca Costas but who now goes under the name of Rosa MarÃa Guzman, is actually one of the maids under his employment, hiding in plain sight and taking advantage of this to gain valuable information on his criminal operations?
And even worst, what could happen were he to find out that his youngest son Pavlos has fallen in love with her? And what could this mean to the Fury?
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