Bounce

Maximum Comics

May 2nd, 2016 ♦ Bludhaven, New Jersey

The back roads outside the suburbs were empty as the car went barreling over an unpaved section of Highway 70.

...I like smoking lightning... heavy metal thunder...

A two liter four-cylinder roared over the dirt and gravel, the hubcaps spinning clouds of dust in an expansive wake behind where the red hatchback coupe was prowling along the edges of town. It was the 1973 Ford Pinto. Steppenwolf blasted from the 8-track deck in the dash, as the boy at the wheel had one hand on the wheel, one hand on the stick, a foot on the clutch and the other on the gas. The seat was as far forward as it would go, a pair of old phone books wedged between the seat and his butt in order for him to see over the dash.

To be certain, the Redbird was a complete and total piece of shit.

It was also something of a labor of love, as working on the car was a seemingly endless project to occupy the child.

When you lived in a graveyard, projects to take your mind off of things were a must.

Engaging the clutch, the boy spun the wheel and gently applied the emergency brake as a drift stick, taking the car into a controlled vertical slid as he executed a sharp turn. Downshifting, the boy let off the clutch and punched the gas, feeling the tires spinning as the car struck pavement and took off.

He'd tracked Mark to a warehouse on the old Waterloo Docks. Safe bet was that's where the heroine was moving in and out of, allowing him to take out the dealer and the supply chain all at the same time.

Cutting the headlights, the Pinto shuddered along until it arrived at a fishing pier that had been shut down since the late 1960's, when it had been a popular children's swimming hole. That was before the Environmental Protection Agency or water quality testing, which had summarily condemned the river for chemical runoff. But the old pier still offered a vantage point on the docks across the river.

He parked the car outside of an old wrought iron fence that was falling off its hinges. The chain and lock were probably the only thing still holding it upright. Without pause, the child passed straight through the metal bars as though they weren't even there. As he did, his form shifted as though his shadow had come alive.

The shadow seemed to become tangible, black as the night and red like blood. It spread across his body, as a domino mask appeared across his eyes -- which glowed with an eerie light. Heavy chains hung off his form, as though he'd broken free of some hellish bondage, clinking lightly as he walked.

The planks of the old pier had rotted completely through. The boy stood out on a pylon, out toward the middle of the river, and took a seat as he stared across at the warehouse.

There was a light on.

Someone was expecting a delivery.

As he waited, the young Hellspawn pulled out a pack of Marlboro reds. Tapping the pack against his knee, the boy pulled a cigarette free and slipped it between his lips. A flicker of hellfire glowed at the tip of one finger as he lit it up and drew in a breath.

All he could taste was ash in his mouth.

Forcing air from out of dead lungs, the child corpse exhaled into the night air, flicking some of the burning embers off to fizzle in the water below. And settled in for a long wait.

Maximum Comics

THE PENTAGON
U.S. Department of Defense
Arlington, Virginia

"The pod is roughly three by four meters. Scans have revealed an interior volume of..."

"We've ruled out a nuclear strike?"

The Joint Chiefs were assembled in a conference room, screens lit with various angles of a live feed that was streaming from the Army National Guard base in New Mexico, where the Kryptonian pod had been transported from the landing strip for initial study. A NASA flight surgeon had been brought in from Metropolis to oversee the procedure, a measure that the DoD had acquiesced to only because the doctor in question was a military officer.

As far as General Samuel Lane was concerned, this was a strictly military operation now.

"...ultrasound measurements indicate a fluctuating mass inside the..."

The flight surgeon's voice narrated the images surrounding the room. The microphone near the general muted as he posed the question to the National Security Advisor. A mousey, meek politician who seemed to shrink under the weight of Lane's glare. "Are you joking?" the man stammered, before quickly regretting the question.

Sam Lane never joked.

Clearing his throat, the advisor started again. "The Russians would have a field day. Say we're violating New START. And then there's the Chinese, the North Koreans. We'd have almost no support from NATO..."

"Fuck NATO," Lane growled, a baritone rumble as he looked around the room. "Gentlemen, if there's another Superman in that pod, we have a problem." One Kryptonian was one too many. There were too many unknowns with Superman. Least of all, vulnerabilities. How could they defend against Superman?

"We're operating on the assumption that there's someone in that pod," a Coast Guard officer said, piping up from the back end of the table. "My understanding is that the Richards' expedition was only green-lit because the going assumption was that this was a part that had fallen off the alien ship."

"And if it is a lifepod, we now face the possibility that this was an object deliberately launched into orbit," another voice, a Marine Corps officer, interjected. "We might have just picked up a grenade, ladies."

Listening to the debate, Lane's finger reached across for the button on the microphone. "What's this assholes name?"

"Donovan, sir."

"Donovan..." Lane echoed, as though it left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. Depressing the button, Lane's voice resonated through the speakers overhead as he asked, "Doctor Donovan, in your opinion, is there a lifeform inside of that pod?"

There was a crackle of static and a pause. On the screens, a man in a aluminum-like hazard suit stopped his work in order to turn and face one of the cameras.

"Sir, the data lends itself to no concrete conclusion at present, but..."

"Best guess, Commander," Lane snapped, cutting the man off.

"No, sir. I don't believe there is a lifeform aboard the pod."

Lane looked at the Marine. The Marine looked at the Coast Guard. The Coast Guard was looking at the National Security Advisor. And the National Security Advisor looked like he was ready to piss himself if he didn't get out of this room soon. Depressing the button a second time, Lane answered, "You don't?"

"I think there are two lifeforms, sir."

Taking his finger off the microphone, General Sam Lane -- along with all of the assembled Joint Chiefs -- looked over at the National Security Advisor.

The silence was uncomfortable to say the least. "Perhaps... an accident in-- involving one of our... nu... nuclear silos," the man stammered, pulling out a handkerchief as the sweat starting running off his forehead.

The Army Chief of Staff was locking his sights on Lane. "What do you propose? The Manhatten Project in the middle of Colorado?"

"This is an election year," the National Security Advisor managed coherently, swabbing at his face anxiously with the cloth. "The President must have plausible deniability."

"Bob," Lane's voice cut in, turning attention to the Chief of Naval Operations. "What if we put it at the bottom of the ocean?"

The Admiral gave Lane a quizzical look. "And do what? Hit it with a torpedo?"

That, and a cup of really hot coffee, were going to do absolutely nothing to Superman from what they'd observed.

"Not just a torpedo," Lane answered flatly.

The room fell silent again, until the National Security Advisor was the one to finally break the ice. "North Korea lost a sub not too long ago, if we place it in the South China Sea they couldn't easily pin it back to us."

It was the National Guard who voiced the dissent.

"I look around this room and I wonder, what happened to America?"

All eyes in the room swept to the back of the room, where the Coast Guard and Air Guard were quickly distancing themselves from the Army Reservist who, for his part, seemed to be wondering what was wrong with everyone else. "You know, this is a race we know nothing about. We know nothing about what's inside that pod. What is it. Who is it," the man said, even as he looked around the room and realized he was totally alone in what he was saying. "And we're sitting here, reacting out of fear, just wanting to... lash out and destroy what may be our one opportunity to greet an extraterrestrial race with, I don't know... what's on the Statue of Liberty? Give me your tired, your weary, your poor..?"

Lane laughed. A short, gruff, hollow sound. Standing, the General leaned over the table and answered clearly, "Today, gentlemen, that sign reads No Vacancy."

The room stood at attention, chairs scraping against the floor as all of the officers stood. Looking around at his officers, Lane raised a finger to point at each one in turn. "Now, I want that piece of shit taken out of NASA's hands and no one, no one knows it was ever here," the General stated, pausing only to get a nod of agreement out of the National Security Advisor. When he'd gotten it, Lane looked back and up and added, "We'll take it out back and we're going to put a nuke up it's Super-ass, and it can go to hell."

As he started for the door, the man stopped for just a moment, leveling a glare straight at the National Guard Chairman. "I want one thing to be very clear, gentlemen. That pod is a clear and present danger to these United States."

Maximum Comics

"From Qurac With Love" Part 2

U.S.S. CHESAPEAKE
Luxor-class Helicarrier
Somewhere over the Atlantic

A fog of solid white rolled off the carrier deck, revealing a pristine sky of blue and an endless horizon as the winds cleared away the clouds from the massive ship moving over the ocean below. Her image reflected in the glass, Rita Farr lookout out and could only sum up what she saw in one word. "Unbelievable."

"I know, right?"

The voice, behind her, caused an involuntary shudder even before Steve Dayton could continue. "I mean, where the hell is that intern with my coffee?" Steve Dayton demanded, as the man stood in the center of a military plot and map room in his Armani finest.

Turning, the brunette starlet hesitated a moment before she finally spoke. "Speaking of, Steve..."

"What?"

The response had come so quick that he'd interrupted her. Starting again, Rita tried, "Steve..."

"What, Rita!? God!"

Now they were just talking over each other. Shoulder slumping, the woman gave a heavy sigh. "Steve, why is Garfield here?" she demanded bluntly.

Raising his eyes up from the plot in front of him, Steve was absently toying with a cufflink as he looked back at the woman. "Well, first of all, Rita, did you see that kid fix the copier? I mean, if we get into a Xerox emergency here, I definitely want that kid on our team."

A Xerox emer... Reaching up a hand, Rita pinched the bridge of her nose in vain effort at heading off a rising headache. "How did I know I was going to regret asking that question," the woman posed aloud.

"...second, what if we're in the middle of Hydra agents in the Qurac Congo and I want a triple, no-fat latte with caramel drizzle? Who's going to get that, Rita? Huh? Who's going get that? You? God, Rita, take the star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame out of your ass and think about someone else for a change!"

The fingers pinching the bridge of her nose came away, as the woman planted her face in her hand. Then took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "I have... no response to that," the woman answered flatly.

"...and, you know, he maybe speaks Swahili, Lingana, and Arabic. So, you know..."

"What!?" Rita's head snapped up, her eyes darting around as though just realizing that someone wasn't in the room with them. "What happened to Mahmoud?"

"Killed in a car jacking in Manhatten," Steve answered with a shrug. "It was a week... month ago. The office sent a card. I think."

Rita ran her hands through her hair, turning back toward the window out into the sky for a moment. Glancing back over her shoulder, the woman asked, "What about that ex-SEAL? What's his name? Dave? Frank?"

"Bobby," Steve corrected with perfect aplomb. "Shooting accident on the range."

"Really?" Rita uttered, finding herself stunned at the news. Two S.H.I.E.L.D. linguists gone... just like that? "Wow. That's a string of bad luck."

"I know, right?"

"Here's your coffee, Mister Dayton."

The boy was dressed for travel. An athletic track suit now dressing his form with a pair of what looked like vintage Jordans. That was probably the Garfield equivalent to Armani. Accepting the offered cup, Steve saluted the kid. "First class, Garfield."

Then, he took a sip. "Oh my god, Garfield. What... what the fuck is that? Folgers?"

"...it's all they had, sir."

Lowering the cup down, Steve put one arm straight out, finger extended. His voice boomed ominously as he commanded, "Get the FUCK off my helicarrier."

Garfield's jaw went slack.

Rita just blinked, then planted her face back into the palm of her hand. "Steve, what... does that even mean?" the woman asked, realizing it was more of a rhetorical question if anything. "We're seriously, like, thirty thousand feet here."

"Right, thirty thousand feet, and it's fucking Folgers in my cup," Dayton spat back vehemently, staring daggers at Garfield even as he growled in response to Rita's commentary. "Which, let me tell you, is NOT the best part of waking up."

With a loud, exaggerated sigh, Rita Farr shook her head and started for the exit.

She got three steps before Steve called after her. "Rita."

And she kept walking.

"Rita!"

Her hand grabbed the door handle, pulling it open.

"RITA!"

Siloutted in the frame of the watertight door, the brunette turned her head sharply to scream back, "WHAT!?"

"The fuck are you going?" Steve asked.

"Getting away from you," she shot back, slamming the door hard behind her.

"Pfft," Steve uttered, before glancing over toward Garfield with a shrug. "Women, am I right?"

Maximum Comics

WHITE SANDS SPACE HARBOR
NASA Alternate Space Shuttle Landing Site
White Sands, New Mexico

He'd gotten the call at two in the morning.

An hour before then, the Space-X Exclaibur, an experimental space plane, had been given the go-ahead to de-orbit after a NASA and Space-X joint venture to recover a piece of debris from the Krptonian ship for study. On board had been a crew of four. Two mission specialists, Reed Richards and Susan Storm, pilots Jonathan Storm and Benjamin Grimm.

As for what happened next, he'd gotten the brief on the C-12 from Metropolis to the White Sands Testing Facility that doubled as an old Space Shuttle proving ground, ditching option, and emergency airfield. It had only been used one time in the history of the Space Shuttle Program. STS-3, the third flight of both Colombia and the Space Shuttle Program, landed here when weather prevented landing at either Cape Canaveral or Edwards Air Force Base.

The Excalibur had executed a de-orbiting burn for two minutes and nineteen seconds, at which time it had turned for re-positioning to enter the atmosphere. At approximately the same time, an electromagnetic anomaly lit of alarms from the International Space Station to Houston, Texas. As to whatever that was, a massive solar flare, sun spot activity, or just a complete anomaly within the Kuiper Belt, the Exclaibur and it's crew had been exposed to massive amounts of cosmic radiation. Houston had lost contact with the crew on board the Exclaibur and enacted emergency protocols originally designed in the aftermath of the Colombia accident to remotely re-direct and land the experimental spaceplane here at White Sands.

An orange light was illuminating the horizon as the disheveled, unshaven man stepped off the C-12 and onto the tarmac. Silver oak leaf insignia stood out on the shoulders of the military flight suit that he wore. The patch on the left side of his chest was embroidered with gold wings embossed with the medical caduceus symbol, beneath which were the words:

DABNEY DONOVAN
CDR MC USN

As the sun was threatening to rise on the horizon, Donovan could see fire crews still working to extinguish the smoldering frame of the Exclaibur there on the runway. As he started down from the plane's ladder, a man in a suit called out his name.

It was never good when it was a man in a suit. The U.S. military wore their affiliations openly. NASA personnel were wearing lanyards with their names and credentials. Firefighters each bore either military or federal civilian IDs on their sleeves. But the guy in the suit? Nothing. And, yet, he was here. In what was almost certainly a highly classified area.

So what did that leave? FBI? NSA? If there was one thing that Donovan had learned to be skeptical of, it was obscure three-letter acronyms associated with the U.S. government.

"What's the condition of the crew?" Donovan asked, skipping the introductions, and doubting there would be any.

"Alive, though they appear to be suffering some effects of radiation poisoning," the man in the suit reported, falling into step beside Donovan as the doctor made a beeline toward the smoldering wreckage. "They've been evacuated to Walter Reed for observation."

Donovan came up short. "Evacuated?" the doctor echoed, turning to face the man in the suit. "I got a call at two A.M. and told to fly out here ASAP," Dabney stated, more than a little annoyed if he was in New Mexico and his supposed patients were at a hospital in Maryland. "This isn't a house call, so please state the nature of the medical emergency," Donovan uttered flatly.

If Donovan was pissed, the man in the suit was completely nonplussed. "You're here because of what the Richards' expedition recovered, Doctor," the man answered in an even tone. Gesturing toward one area of the wreckage, the man in the suit beckoned. "This way, please."

Stepping over burning hunks of metal, the man in the suit led the Navy and NASA flight surgeon toward a large, oval-shaped object. The coloration and design didn't match anything else there on the runway. It was almost... crystalline, albeit cracked and pitted as though it had just been through quite the ordeal.

"We'd thought it was just a piece of the Kryptonian ship," the man in the suit was saying, as Donovan walked past him to approach the strange, otherworldly object. Now the Richards' expedition made more sense. The public story had been that Reed Richards and his crew were going to install new capabilities and hardware on the Hubble Telescope. Recovering alien technology in orbit of the planet was a much more plausible excuse to blow money in this restrictive fiscal environment.

If there was one thing that the U.S. Government didn't have time or money for, it was NASA funding.

Leaning in for a closer inspection, as Donovan peered over the crystalline formation comprising the strange, geode-like form, he heard the man in the suit say, "Now, however, we think it might be..."

Then he saw it.

A shadow. A flicker. At first, he'd thought it might only be a trick of the light. Except, the form had been distinct.

It had been humanoid.

"...life pod," Donovan breathed softly.

Maximum Comics

"From Qurac With Love" Part 1

S.H.I.E.L.D. CENTRAL
The Global Operations Center
Metropolis, DE, USA

Steve Dayton was a man in the middle of a storm.

Monitors bathed the dimly lit room in a sea of colors. Holographic models shone in tucked away corners where armchair generals and analysts carefully picked over developments in all parts of the world. Idly fiddling with the sterling cufflinks, the seasoned agent in the exquisitely tailored Armani suit was watching a giant track of the Middle East. Without looking, the man raised his voice as he called out, "Larry, where's my update on those Russian bombers?"

"Just waiting for sat-link coverage to come back up over the peninsula."

Ice blue eyes swept with the slightly turn of his head, leveling a chilling glare over at the pilot at the computer terminal a level below him. "Take your time. We're not trying to stop World War Three or anything," Steve barked impatiently. When silence lingered for longer than a second, he rapt two fingers against the watch on his wrist. "No, seriously, no rush. When you get to it."

"They're twelve kilometers outside Turkish airspace, en route toward Syria."

_{"Was that so god damn hard,"} the man muttered, pivoting to look back over the opposite shoulder at a brunette who was a knock-out at any age. "Rita, talk to me about Turkey."

"They're issuing warnings about entering their airspace."

No shit. But that wasn't the question he'd asked. "Will they fire?" Steve uttered, making his area of concern more clear.

"I don't think so, no," the woman answered, rather brusque but to the point. "They don't want another incident like in November."

With a nod, Steve acknowledged the report and was already moving on to the next part. Leaning over the panel in front of him, he peered down into the workstation of the transportation action officer. "Cliff, how's that evac coming?"

Rita's voice cut in from behind him. "We don't know for sure that the Russians are targeting..."

With a loud snap, Steve Dayton silenced the room. Leveling a finger over at the pilot, Steve asked, "Larry, is the Op Area in the Russian flight path?"

"If they maintain heading..."

Another snap, followed by a look back at Rita. That ought to be answer enough. If the Russians were flying bombers into Syria, Steve wasn't taking the chance of SG-5 getting caught in some bullshit Kremlin crossfire. "Garfield!" the man shouted.

The rapid sound of flat rubber soles slapping against the floor alerted Steve to the approach of his new secretary. Or 'administrative operations specialist.' Whatever the fuck bitches were calling themselves these days. The kid looked like he belonged in high school. A shaggy mop of hair and a suit that was obviously bought off the rack at Men's Wearhouse. With a pair of Vans, which were probably the nicest shoes he owned. "Sir?"

Sizing the young man up, Steve leveled with the kid. "This is the most crucial piece of this entire operation, Garfield. You're certain everything is right?"

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously. "Y-yes, sir," Garfield stammered, holding it out for Agent Dayton to take.

Steve didn't reach for it yet. "I'm counting on you, Garfield," the agent-in-charge uttered, looking at the object in the boy's hands and then raising his eyes to look the kid in the face. He looked like fear, smelled like Aquavelva, and shook with more nerves than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. "Lives are counting on you," Steve dropped ominously, before he finally stretched out his hand. "Let's see what you've got."

In a moment of baited breath, the green-skinned young college student passed the white cup with its trademark green logo of a two-tailed mermaid into the waiting arms of the veteran spy. Holding the sacred chalice of overpriced caffeinated beverages aloft, Agent Dayton tipped the drink back for a tender kiss of the hot coffee against his lips.

Then he lowered the cup back down.

"Garfield?"

The boy might well have shit himself. His throat bobbed as he audibly swallowed at hearing his name spoken in that tone. "Yes, sir?" His voice might have gone up an octave on that one.

"All I asked for was a triple, venti, soy, no-foam latte."

"Y-yes, sir?"

"Is this a triple, venti, soy, no-foam latte?"

Green eyes just blinked. The boy was utterly baffled, as though he'd just been posed a trick question. "Uhhh..."

Popping the top off the white cup, Steve held the container out for the youth to inspect for himself. A head of foamed milk swirled at the top. "What's this look like to you, Garfield?"

The boy looked at Steve, then down at the cup, then back at Steve. "Foam, sir," he answered, sheepishly.

"It's foam, Garfield," Steve echoed, replacing the top and then holding the cup over the trash can before dropping the entire thing down into the bin. "I mean, I'm only defending the fucking free world here! Is it too much that I ask for a triple, venti, soy, NO-FOAM latte, Garfield?"

The kid took two steps back. Honestly, Steve was impressed it hadn't been more. "No, sir."

"No, sir," Steve echoed, holding his tongue before he said something about apologies and a quarter still not adding up to a cup of coffee.

"Sorry, sir."

"Is there anything else, Mister Logan?" Steve asked pointedly.

"Uhhh..." When the boy didn't appear to get the gist, Steve snapped his fingers and jerked a thumb toward the exit. "Yes, sir," Garfield uttered, shoulders slumped as he shuffled his way back out.

He'd made it three steps out into the hall before a voice called after him.

Pausing, the teen looked up to see a young woman with dark hair and glasses ambling down his way. She was the graduate student interning in HR. Donna? Deanna? D-something... "Oh, uh, h-hi, uh, Debbie, ri--"

Yeah, he got the look. "Dorothy."

"Dorothy, right, yeah," Garfield amended quickly. Then stood there. And what were they talking about? "So, uhh..."

"I was just wanting to chat with ya," the young woman said, holding her clipboard up against her chest as she smiled and added, "I mean, it's not like Human Resources needs a reason to just chat with folks, right?"

Garfield feigned a laugh, which came out rather weak as he flinched back at that remark. "Right, yeah," he agreed, albeit hesitantly.

"Actually, there's a reason."

Of course there was.

"Ya know, the other day, when ya fixed the copier?"

"...yeah?"

"And ya did that fist thing and said 'Go Green'..."

"Green Powah," the boy said, correcting her without so much as missing a beat. Then everything got quiet again. "Er, something like that."

"Yeah, that's not okay."

Wait, what? "Not... okay?" Garfield repeated, almost just to see if he'd heard her right.

"Yeah, you can't be doing that here."

Truthfully, at this point, Garfield wasn't certain if he was lost, dazed, or just confused. "Huh?"

"See, some people feel that you're focusing on your color, to the exclusion of others," Dorothy said, holding out her clipboard as she started to go through her notes. "And then the obvious reference to the Black Panthers, when you marked 'Caucasian' for race/ethnicity on your application forms... Well, I don't need to tell you, that's got some people saying you're committing cultural appropriation. You know, from real colored people."

Make that dazed, confused, or starting to get pissed off. "Real..." Gar began, finding himself flustered and speechless at the suggestion. Holding out both arms, the teen looked at the older girl and answered, "I'm GREEN!"

Seriously. Colored people? Was that even PC in this day and age?

"...and, wait, how would anybody know what I put for race on my..."

"That's not what we're talking about, Mister Logan," Dorothy snapped, interrupting before he could finish that thought. "And I trust we won't need to have this talk again."

With that, she held up two fingers as she made the universal 'eye on you' gesture and stormed off.

"Ugghhhh..." As he slumped forward, the teen planted his head firmly against the wall.

Maximum Comics

May 2nd, 2016 ♦ Bludhaven, New Jersey

Bludhaven was a cesspool of human filth.

The pimps moved hookers. The dealers moved crack. A soccer mom behind on bills was the reigning weed queen of Avalon Hills.

And so long as it didn't affect him, he was happy to leave them to the petty criminality whittling away at so much human decency and civilization.

It started in the high schools. A heroine overdose. First one, then two, then a high school track star. That was when the attention got to be too much, and the dealers looked for markets elsewhere. Which was when they'd introduced it to a middle school.

To be clear, these dealers were not the dregs of society or demons in sheep's clothing.

Jimmy Arlen was a high schooler. He'd never been in any serious trouble with the law and went to church on Sunday. He made reasonable enough grades, but he wasn't scholarship material. At best, he might hope for community college out of high school, but the writing was pretty much on the wall that he'd go to work driving trucks just like his step-dad. Jimmy wasn't a star athlete, but he rode the bench for varsity basketball and ran track and field. He was a triathlete of meager, if respectable, talent and had gotten hooked on heroine as a way of putting himself in 'the zone.'

He got reduced rates from his dealer, Mark, if he ran some 'errands.' Working for Mark meant becoming a middle man. Mark provided the supply and Jimmy helped with marketing, passing the word, distributing, and collecting the money for Mark as they passed the heroine around the school. Then, when the High School had started cracking down, Jimmy found that his younger cousin was a gateway to a market of kids who could raid their mother's purses for money.

One of those kids had been Fabian Juliard. At twelve, he was interested in girls and Minecraft. His one mistake was that Jimmy Arlen's cousin was his best friend. Now, Fabian had never done anything like this before, but agreed to try it with a friend during a sleepover truth-and-dare that had ended with one kid headed to Juvenile Hall and the other to the morgue.

For what it was worth, Jimmy had apologized.

By the time the investigators had gotten together all of the information that they needed, and headed out to the trailer park on the lower east side where Jimmy Arlen lived, the call had already come in of a possible suicide at that address. Jimmy Arlen had hung himself with a length of rusted wrought iron chain. None of the cops had ever seen its like before. Kid had even pissed and shit himself in the obvious struggle against the metal cutting into his throat.

The curious thing was, no one could tell just how Jimmy had gotten himself up the tree like that. But there wasn't signs of a struggle and the cops didn't see a reason to chase that tangent when the medical examiner was going to rule it a suicide anyway.

See you in Hell, Jimmy.

And I mean that.

Maximum Comics

| S U P E R B O Y |

8 ♦ Lor-Zod ♦ Chaotic Neutral

_{"Kneel before Zod!"}

| ORIGIN & BACKSTORY |

Lor-Zod is the son of Kryptonian General Dru-Zod and his lieutenant, Ursa. He was born inside of the alternate dimension of the Phantom Zone and raised aboard a Kryptonian interstellar warship left adrift in the wake of Krypton's destruction. Once New Krypton was established, Lor-Zod was supposed to be his father's heir and legacy in leading the future of the Kryptonian race.

// APRIL-MAY 2016 //
It was with that goal of creating this Utopia that General Zod dispatched probes throughout the galaxy in order to search for fertile land on which to sow the seeds of this ideal Krypton. Targeting Earth, the planet on which the son of Jor-El had concealed himself, the warship exited the Phantom Zone in order to terraform the Earth into Zod's vision of a New Krypton.

Because he had been born in the Phantom Zone, and thus did not possess a physical body, Lor-Zod had difficulty in manifesting on the material plane. The boy was placed in stasis within a Kryptonian matrix in order to assist in the formation and development of his actual body. One of the Kryptonian puppies that had been born in the Phantom Zone was placed in a matrix as well, so that the boy would have something to play with once he had manifested his physical form. As the battle for Earth turned against the Kryptonians, the ship carrying the matrix became damaged. The pod containing both the boy and the dog were ejected when automatic safety protocols were triggered, putting the object in orbit of the planet Earth.

After the Kryptonian threat to Earth had ended, the governments of the world turned their attention to the debris in space. When researchers discovered a substantial size of debris floating in Earth orbit, scientists began contemplating it's recovery for study. Dr. Reed Richards, together with a team of three other individuals, flew an experimental orbiter design to retrieve the object. During the mission, the shuttle crew was exposed to a barrage of cosmic radiation due to unusual solar activity taking place.

While medical teams tended to the Richards expedition, the Kryptonian pod was moved to the Pike Island Research Institute for further study.

| SUPPORTING CAST |

Krypto the Superdog
Lor-Zod's companion, a canine-like species native to the Kryptonian homeworld. While non-sapient, Krypto exhibits many of the same abilities as Kryptonians when in the presence of yellow sun radiation.

Adam Grant
The son of media mogul Victor Morgan and tabloid journalist Cat Grant, Adam is a student at Metropolis' Benedict Arnold Elementary School. He is Superman's self-proclaimed biggest fan.

Cat Grant
Gossip columnist and entertainment reporter for the Daily Planet.

Commander Dabney Donovan, MD, Ph.D.
A U.S. Navy flight surgeon and NASA astronaut, Dr. Donovan specializes in the area of space medicine out of the Pike Island Research Institute in Metropolis. He is the medical authority in charge of Project SUPERBOY.

Captain Micah Flint
An Air Force test pilot and NASA astronaut assigned to the Pike Island Research Institute as part of Project OPEN DOOR, the development of the top secret Excalibur space plane.

| ROGUE’S GALLERY |

Dr. Albert Michaels, MD, Ph.D. (Atomic Skull of the Golden Age)
The predecessor to Dabney Donovan at the Pike Island Research Institute, Dr. Michaels was a genuinely unfriendly administrator who suffered from a rare disorder of the nervous system. An experimental treatment, devised by Donovan, resulted in violent seizures. Forced to step down as administrator, Michaels was offered help by LexCorps Laboratory Science Division, where they used radium to harness the violent electrical impulses in his brain. Now, Michaels runs a division of Project C.A.D.M.U.S. responsible for researching the Kryptonian genome under the guise of being LexCorps' philantrophic contributing toward the Human Genome Project

Clone 23 (Bentley Whittman)
A juvenile clone of a minor criminal, created by Michaels as part of C.A.D.M.U.S.' human genome project. Michaels' thinks of him more as property or a specimen than as a human being, but acknowledges that the thing's intellect does make him at least somewhat useful. Often used as a test pilot for a variety of different technologies C.A.D.M.U.S. is developing, including mind control helmets, power gloves, and anti-gravity mobility devices.

Psi-Phon
A spy sent by Ronan the Accuser to assess Earth's ability to resist a Kree invasion, Psi-Phon is a child-sized alien closely resembling The Greys. He can telepathically suppress a superbeing's abilities.

Dreadnaught
A large, beastial alien who often works in concert with Psi-Phon. He can mimick the powers of other superbeings.

Mumbo
A magician who appears able to perform magic with the use of his top hat and cane.

| LOCATIONS |

Pike Island Research Institute (Metropolis)
A U.S. Government research institute operated by NASA with contracts supported through Wayne Enterprises, Stark Industries, Star Labs, and LexCorps, this human space flight support laboratory was re-purposed overnight to house and study a juvenile Kryptonian left behind after the Superman incident in April 2016.

Benedict Arnold Elementary School (Metropolis)
An elementary school in Metropolis, providing public education for grades Kindergarten through 5th Grade. Their mascot is the Boot.

The International Space Station (Low Earth Orbit)

| NOTES |

• Lor-Zod is a full-blood Kryptonian, possessing all the natural abilities of Superman when exposed to yellow sun radiation. The same is true when exposed to Kryptonite or red sun radiation.

• Because Lor-Zod's body isn't fully developed, he can only store a finite amount of energy. As such, his abilities fade over time as his access to solar radiation is reduced or diminished.

Maximum Comics

H E L L S P A W N

10 (Deceased) ♦ Damian al Ghul (Clone) ♦ Chaotic Neutral

_"-tt-"

| ORIGIN & BACKSTORY |

The sixth in a series of clones devised from the embryo containing the child of Talia al Ghul and Bruce Wayne, intended for use in genetic experiments to determine the modifications and training necessary to develop the real Damian into the League's ideal of a perfect being -- the future Demon's Head. Secretly, Ra's al Ghul also intended that the final clone might be of use to him in case bodily transference were necessary to prolong his life further. Though Talia might have had ideas for Damian to one day replace her father, Ra's shared no such sentiments. Accelerated growth allowed scientists to study the anticipated development of the developing embryo, and make any recommended genetic changes in utero based on observation. When no longer required or when displaying undesirable qualities, the clone would be terminated and a new replacement requisitioned from the current genetic model. The replacement was then age accelerated and implanted with artificial memories in order to step into the training program where its predecessor had failed.

MY SO CALLED LIFE | SEPTEMBER 2013-MARCH 2014

He lived only six months, believing it to have been ten years.

Replacing the fifth clone of Damian al Ghul-Wayne, Six was 'born' at the level of physical and psychological growth commensurate to a nine-and-a-half years old child. Implanted with artificial memories, the clone resumed the physical and mental conditioning program where his predecessor had left off. He was wielded as a weapon and a tool by Mother, the only name by which he knew the woman Talia al Ghul. In return, she was stern and direct in her tasking of him, admonishing each mistake and tolerating no failure.

Six was brought to Gotham City as a sniper on an assignment of low enough priority as to suit being utilized as a training operation. The League had applied pressure to renown scientist Umataro Tenma to provide certain technology to the League. When he refused, it was decided that a message needed to be sent. Dr. Tenma's wife had died in childbirth, but their son had survived and was Tenma's only family. While Tenma had the child with him in Gotham, the League intended to murder the boy.

Except that Six refused the order, and begged Mother to reconsider. Disgusted by the display of weakness, Talia turned the gun on the likeness of her own son, shooting him through the throat with a single shot.

The death was presumed to be gang related. The body was never identified or claimed, and then buried in a municipal cemetery outside of Gotham.

HELL AND BACK AGAIN | MARCH 2016

He descended into Hell.

It might have been the third day. It might have been the day after tomorrow. Time has no meaning here.

The thing about Hell is that it isn't a single place, or even a single realm. Like Dante's Inferno, it exists on a multitude of levels, each controlled by its own group of lords, devils, demons, or other primordial entities whose mere existence defies the mortal imagination. As one such creature, the Devil Malebolgia had challenged the other so-called Princes of Hell by creating creatures, known as Hellspawns, composed of souls infused with necroplasm to serve as his own personal army against both heaven and hell. Hela and Mephisto likewise had their own champions, in the form of the Dsir and the Ghost Rider respectively. Klarion, one of the Lords of Chaos, the primordial creatures of eld, decided to do likewise. Whether to legitimately challenge the Princes of Hell for his own ends, or merely to feed the chaos and instability in Hell... only Klarion could have said what his exact motivations were.

Brokering a deal with the Devil Mammon, insinuating some kind of alliance between the Lords of Chaos and the Lord of Greed and Avarice. Mammon supplied the necroplasm from the Malebolge, Klarion supplied the power to merge it with a human soul. But this deal would require a host.

To find a suitable soul, Klarion searched along the Phlegethon, the river of blood. Along the shores of Purgatory, he found the most unlikely of souls in the form of a blood-stained child. Taking the boy from out Purgatory and into the Garden of Avarice, Klarion skillfully befriended and beguiled the young and confused soul until he'd discovered what had led to his death.

Six made a deal with Klarion, one which allowed him power with which to go back and protect Toby Tenma, the child that Talia al Ghul had sent Six to kill. A pact made, the bargain struck, Klarion completed the ritual -- bonding Six and C'thu -- and sent the newly forged Hellspawn back to the mortal realm.

Klarion did fulfill his word. Each letter, in point of fact. He gave Six power with which to protect the boy, and sent him back to Earth so that he might accomplish that goal. However, Klarion sent Six back to Earth by way of the River Lethe, which causes people to forget their previous lives. As a result, Six returned with no memories of who he was or why he was there.

ANGELS AND DEMONS | APRIL 2016

Awakening in a graveyard, Six wandered aimlessly until he came across a pack of hellhounds that were chasing a ghost. Intervening, Six was subsequently introduced to both Casper McFadden and Hot Stuff. The two became like two halves of his own forgotten conscience, revealing pieces of himself to him. Hot Stuff in particular had an interest in Six, identifying him as a Hellspawn who had made a deal in Hell and had accepted a commission in Hell's Army as a result.

At the behest of Casper, Six sought out Wendy the Good Witch, crossing into Gotham's crime alley, and was able to recover some of his memories. The four traveled to Gotham Academy, where they were unable to prevent Toby Tenma from being assassinated by a rogue angel, during which Six was teleported back to Hell and met his supposed overlord, Mammon. Revealing that the bargain struck had been that Six would be given an opportunity to go back and save Toby Tenma, Mammon ruled that their deal was complete and Six's servitude in Hell was to begin.

Back on Earth, Hot Stuff offered to aid Wendy and Casper in their efforts to retrieve the Hellspawn from out of the bowels of Hell. Introducing them to Klarion the Witch Boy, who augmented Wendy's magic with his own, the group was successful in teleporting Six back to Earth. Exposing Mammon's bargain as a hoax, Klarion stated that he would be willing to help shelter the Hellspawn and his friends from Hell's wrath... for a price. A small pittance, really. Just a few favors now and again.

And so the Hellspawn finds himself in a web of deception. Klarion double-crossing Mammon. Mammon attempting to usurp Klarion. Hot Stuff working for both, or neither. And Six stuck in the middle.

| SUPPORTING CAST |

Hot Stuff the Little Devil
Both the Clown and Cogliosto to Six's Simmons, Hot Stuff is a child-like devil who ostensibly works for either Mammon or Klarion, but like so many agents of Hell appears to have either his own agenda or else is merely an agent of anarchy.

Casper McFadden (Casper the Friendly Ghost)
The disembodied spirit of a young British boy who lived in the American Colonies and died prior to the War for Independence, he often serves as the voice of Six's conscience.

Wendy Markowski (Wendy the Good Witch)
The adopted, orphan daughter of the Three Witches (Thelma, Velma, and Zelma), Wendy is a young witch who struggles to perform the dark arts but has an innate talent for white magic.

Dr. Shondra Kinsolving, MD
A physician operating a free clinic inside Gotham's so-called Crime Alley.

Lori Zechlin (Black Alice)
A teenage student at the Gotham Academy, with a chip on her shoulder and a personal vendetta in the War on Drugs. She has the ability to 'borrow' powers from nearby magical creatures, including Hellspawns or Angels.

Colin Wilkes (Abuse)
A young orphan in the care of St. Eustace's Home for Boys.

| ROGUE’S GALLERY |

Klarion (bum bum bum) the Witch Boy
The architect behind Six's transformation into a Hellspawn, and the one who wields final control or authority over the contract binding C'thu and Six together. He may, or may not, be supporting Mammon's claim to all of Hell in the face of both Mephisto and Malebolgia's challenges.

The Devil Mammon
The Lord of Greed and Avarice, ruler of the Fourth Sphere of Hell. He intends to use Six, and others like him, for an army that will depose all other devils and install him as the one ruler of Hell. He also believes that he is manipulating Klarion, and will replace him to become more than just ruler of Hell... but a Lord of Chaos as well.

Victor Zsasz
A serial murderer and child killer.

Doctor Fate (Nabu)
A Lord of Order, Doctor Fate has long been that which kept Klarion in check. He sees Six as an agent of Chaos, period.

Zauriel
An angel sent to Earth. Like the Lords of Order, he sees Six as a threat to all mankind.

Asmodel
One of the fallen angels, who refused to serve in Heaven and now works to reign in Hell and Earth.

Solomon Grundy
A zombie from the Swamps of Gotham.

Imhotep
An immortal priest of Ancient Egypt, mummified alive for his crimes against the Pharaoh and condemned in the afterlife.

| LOCATIONS |

Halyard Street Cemetery (Bludhaven)
A municipal cemetery that ran out of funding a year ago. Six's grave, marked only as 'A Boy' is located here. Six lives in the condemned ruins of the former caretaker house.

St. Bernadine's Church (Bludhaven)
A Catholic church in Bludhaven, which operates a soup kitchen and food pantry for the homeless.

Park Row Clinic (Gotham City)
A free medical clinic located inside of 'Crime Alley' in Gotham.

Avarice (Fourth Sphere of Hell)
The realm of Mammon, currently used by Klarion the Witch Boy as a base of operations for the Lords of Chaos.

Malebolge (Eighth Sphere of Hell)
The realm of Malebolgia, which contains the river of necroplasm used to empower the Hellspawns.

| NOTES |

• As an entity composed of roughly 9,000 units of necroplasm, Six is able to manipulate both tangible and intangible effects in the mortal realm as well as in Hell. He is effectively powerless, and mortal, when in the Heavenly realm.

• As necroplasm is denser than human bone or tissue, Six weighs several hundred pounds more than he otherwise appears, making his body more durable than that of an ordinary mortal. This also contributes to his strength to a degree.

• Six's symbiote is known as K-9 C'thu.

• Six gets around in a 1974 Ford Pinto, which he calls the Red Bird.

• Because of the manner of his death and resurrection, Six has a permanent wound in the form of a bullet entry and exit wound at the base and back of his neck.

Maximum Comics

| G A R F I E L D L O G A N |

A G E N T O F S. H. I. E. L. D.

19 ♦ Garfield Mark Logan ♦ Neutral Good

| ORIGIN & BACKSTORY |

The son of paleontologist Mark Logan and biologist Marie Logan, "Gar" grew up in all corners of the world. After the death of his father in a boating accident, Marie Logan moved the family to a permanent home operating a wildlife sanctuary in the Republic of Qurac. At the age of eight, Gar contracted the Sakutia virus. Due to the isolation of the wildlife sanctuary and the rapid deterioration of Gar's condition, his mother was forced to treat him using an experimental vaccine developed for treating the virus in West African green monkeys. Though Gar made a full recovery from the illness, his body reacted to the vaccine.

In light of the aggressive, sometimes violent reactions, Marie Logan moved Gar to a pediatrics hospital in the United States. Tests revealed that Gar's genetic structure had undergone a mutation of unstable molecules within the rNA of his cells, thus allowing him to alter his shape and form. In particular, Gar was successful in changing shape and form into animals with which he was familiar. When treatments were unsuccessful in reversing the metabolic changes, Marie Logan again returned to her work in animal conversation with Gar in tow.

Though an American citizen by birth, Gar attended elementary school in Qurac, middle school in Brazil, and completed the equivalent of a high school education in the Congo. As a result, he speaks three languages fluently (English, Portuguese, and French), in addition to having some conversational familiarity with Arabic, Urdu, Swahili, and Lingana. At his mother's insistence, Gar applied to, and was accepted at, Metropolis University for Conversation Biology. The transition from the outback to the big city was not an easy transition for Gar, on top of which the first year of college added a great deal of personal stress.

Deciding to take a semester off, Gar began applying for jobs in Metropolis in order to achieve greater financial independence, but found that he had difficulty in getting hired due to his green color. Seeing an advertisement for a student internship at a federal office in Metropolis, Gar applied as part of his "ask a hundred, get ninety-nine rejections" strategy... and wound up being hired when the interview revealed his multi-lingual fluency and experience in the third world.

| SUPPORTING CAST |

Colonel Slade Wilson (Codename "Deathstroke")
The enigmatic leader of the Strategic Hazards Intervention Espionage Logistics Directorate.

Colonel Niles Caulder, Ph.D., Ret. (Codename "Chief")
The Branch Chief of the Metropolis Field Office, responsible for all of its activities, to include oversight of Field Operations Unit SG-1.

Sergeant Joshua Clay
An Army Field Medic and Afghanistan combat veteran, he's interning at S.H.I.E.L.D. in order to get a good reference to John Hopkins University for medical school.

Tara Markov
An undergraduate student interning as Rita Farr-Dayton's personal assistant.

Dorothy Spinner
A graduate student interning at S.H.I.E.L.D. in the Human Resources Department.

// Field Operations Unit SG-1 CODENAME "DOOM PATROL" //

Steve Dayton (Codename "Mento")
Widely regarded as the greatest secret agent in the world, Steve Dayton's success is largely due to his psionic abilities, which border on clairvoyance at times.

Rita Farr-Dayton (Codename "Elasti-Girl")
Olympic gold medalist in college, Hollywood Oscar nomination at 20, an accident while shooting on location at an active volcano in Hawaii left this star athlete with the ability to shrink or enlarge her body. She now acts as one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s secret agents.

Larry Trainor (Codename "Negative Man")
A Navy test pilot exposed to near lethal levels of radiation while testing a supersonic jet, Larry carries his own personal demon as a result of his trauma. He serves as Doom Patrol's logistics and transportation expert.

Clifford "Cliff" Steele (Codename "Robotman")
A NASCAR driver critically injured in a deadly crash at the Daytona 500, Cliff Steele's brain was successfully transferred into a machine body. Today, he serves as Doom Patrol's C4I specialist (Command, Control, Communications, Computers, and Intelligence).

| ROGUE’S GALLERY |

Captain Zahl
The captain of one of the new Akula-class ballistic missile submarines, and a possible rogue agent from the Russian Navy.

Laura De Mille (Madame Rouge)
A high profile assassin with a malleable body and the ability to mimic the appearance of others.

Brain
The disembodied brain of a French geneticist, hell-bent on world domination.

Morden (Nobody)
A disembodied spirit, capable of possessing others and draining away their sanity.

| LOCATIONS |

S.H.I.E.L.D. Central (Metropolis)
The original headquarters of the Strategic Hazard Intervention Espionage Logistics Directorate, the Metropolis field office remains one of the most important R&D support facilities to the agency's operations.

Triskelion (Washington, DC)
The modern headquarters of the Strategic Hazard Intervention Espionage Directorate, aligning it with the Pentagon and Capitol Hill.

USS Chesapeake (Helicarrier)
A Luxor-class Helicarrier, named after one of the original 6 frigates built by order of the Naval Act of 1794, which created the modern U.S. Navy.

| NOTES |

• At this time, Garfield does not use the name "Beast Boy" or "Changeling".

The Bounce House

| S P A W N |

_"-tt-"

Hider

| IDENTITY |

Damian al Ghul (Clone) // "Six" // Spawn

| ALIGNMENT |

Chaotic Good

| ORIGIN & BACKSTORY |

The sixth in a series of clones devised from the embryo containing the child of Talia al Ghul and Bruce Wayne, intended for use in genetic experiments to determine the modifications and training necessary to develop the real Damian into the League's ideal of a perfect being -- the future Demon's Head. Secretly, Ra's al Ghul also intended that the final clone might be of use to him in case bodily transference were necessary to prolong his life further. Though Talia might have had ideas for Damian to one day replace her father, Ra's shared no such sentiments. Accelerated growth allowed scientists to study the anticipated development of the developing embryo, and make any recommended genetic changes in utero based on observation. When no longer required or when displaying undesirable qualities, the clone would be terminated and a new replacement requisitioned from the current genetic model. The replacement was then age accelerated and implanted with artificial memories in order to step into the training program where its predecessor had failed.

MY SO CALLED LIFE | SEPTEMBER 2013-MARCH 2014

He lived only six months, believing it to have been ten years.

Replacing the fifth clone of Damian al Ghul-Wayne, Six was 'born' at the level of physical and psychological growth commensurate to a nine-and-a-half years old child. Implanted with artificial memories, the clone resumed the physical and mental conditioning program where his predecessor had left off. He was wielded as a weapon and a tool by Mother, the only name by which he knew the woman Talia al Ghul. In return, she was stern and direct in her tasking of him, admonishing each mistake and tolerating no failure.

Six was brought to Gotham City as a sniper on an assignment of low enough priority as to suit being utilized as a training operation. The League had applied pressure to renown scientist Umataro Tenma to provide certain technology to the League. When he refused, it was decided that a message needed to be sent. Dr. Tenma's wife had died in childbirth, but their son had survived and was Tenma's only family. While Tenma had the child with him in Gotham, the League intended to murder the boy.

Except that Six refused the order, and begged Mother to reconsider. Disgusted by the display of weakness, Talia turned the gun on the likeness of her own son, shooting him through the throat with a single shot.

The death was presumed to be gang related. The body was never identified or claimed, and then buried in a municipal cemetery outside of Gotham.

HELL AND BACK AGAIN | MARCH 2016

He descended into Hell.

It might have been the third day. It might have been the day after tomorrow. Time has no meaning here.

The thing about Hell is that it isn't a single place, or even a single realm. Like Dante's Inferno, it exists on a multitude of levels, each controlled by its own group of lords, devils, demons, or other primordial entities whose mere existence defies the mortal imagination. As one such creature, the Devil Malebolgia had challenged the other so-called Princes of Hell by creating creatures, known as Hellspawns, composed of souls infused with necroplasm to serve as his own personal army against both heaven and hell. Hela and Mephisto likewise had their own champions, in the form of the Dsir and the Ghost Rider respectively. Klarion, one of the Lords of Chaos, the primordial creatures of eld, decided to do likewise. Whether to legitimately challenge the Princes of Hell for his own ends, or merely to feed the chaos and instability in Hell... only Klarion could have said what his exact motivations were.

Brokering a deal with the Devil Mammon, insinuating some kind of alliance between the Lords of Chaos and the Lord of Greed and Avarice. Mammon supplied the necroplasm from the Malebolge, Klarion supplied the power to merge it with a human soul. But this deal would require a host.

To find a suitable soul, Klarion searched along the Phlegethon, the river of blood. Along the shores of Purgatory, he found the most unlikely of souls in the form of a blood-stained child. Taking the boy from out Purgatory and into the Garden of Avarice, Klarion skillfully befriended and beguiled the young and confused soul until he'd discovered what had led to his death.

Six made a deal with Klarion, one which allowed him power with which to go back and protect Toby Tenma, the child that Talia al Ghul had sent Six to kill. A pact made, the bargain struck, Klarion completed the ritual -- bonding Six and C'thu -- and sent the newly forged Hellspawn back to the mortal realm.

Klarion did fulfill his word. Each letter, in point of fact. He gave Six power with which to protect the boy, and sent him back to Earth so that he might accomplish that goal. However, Klarion sent Six back to Earth by way of the River Lethe, which causes people to forget their previous lives. As a result, Six returned with no memories of who he was or why he was there.

| SUPPORTING CAST |

Hot Stuff the Little Devil
Both the Clown and Cogliosto to Six's Simmons, Hot Stuff is a child-like devil who ostensibly works for either Mammon or Klarion, but like so many agents of Hell appears to have either his own agenda or else is merely an agent of anarchy.

Casper McFadden (Casper the Friendly Ghost)
The disembodied spirit of a young British boy who lived in the American Colonies and died prior to the War for Independence, he often serves as the voice of Six's conscience.

Wendy Markowski (Wendy the Good Witch)
The adopted, orphan daughter of the Three Witches (Thelma, Velma, and Zelma), Wendy is a young witch who struggles to perform the dark arts but has an innate talent for white magic.

Dr. Shondra Kinsolving, MD
A physician operating a free clinic inside Gotham's so-called Crime Alley.

Lori Zechlin (Black Alice)
A teenage student at the Gotham Academy, with a chip on her shoulder and a personal vendetta in the War on Drugs. She has the ability to 'borrow' powers from nearby magical creatures, including Hellspawns or Angels.

Colin Wilkes (Abuse)
A young orphan in the care of St. Eustace's Home for Boys.

| ROGUE’S GALLERY |

Klarion (bum bum bum) the Witch Boy
The architect behind Six's transformation into a Hellspawn, and the one who wields final control or authority over the contract binding C'thu and Six together. He may, or may not, be supporting Mammon's claim to all of Hell in the face of both Mephisto and Malebolgia's challenges.

The Devil Mammon
The Lord of Greed and Avarice, ruler of the Fourth Sphere of Hell. He intends to use Six, and others like him, for an army that will depose all other devils and install him as the one ruler of Hell. He also believes that he is manipulating Klarion, and will replace him to become more than just ruler of Hell... but a Lord of Chaos as well.

Victor Zsasz
A serial murderer and child killer.

Doctor Fate (Nabu)
A Lord of Order, Doctor Fate has long been that which kept Klarion in check. He sees Six as an agent of Chaos, period.

Zauriel
An angel sent to Earth. Like the Lords of Order, he sees Six as a threat to all mankind.

Asmodel
One of the fallen angels, who refused to serve in Heaven and now works to reign in Hell and Earth.

Solomon Grundy
A zombie from the Swamps of Gotham.

Imhotep
An immortal priest of Ancient Egypt, mummified alive for his crimes against the Pharaoh and condemned in the afterlife.

| LOCATIONS |

Halyard Street Cemetery (Bludhaven)
A municipal cemetery that ran out of funding a year ago. Six's grave, marked only as 'A Boy' is located here. Six lives in the condemned ruins of the former caretaker house.

St. Bernadine's Church (Bludhaven)
A Catholic church in Bludhaven, which operates a soup kitchen and food pantry for the homeless.

Park Row Clinic (Gotham City)
A free medical clinic located inside of 'Crime Alley' in Gotham.

Avarice (Fourth Sphere of Hell)
The realm of Mammon, currently used by Klarion the Witch Boy as a base of operations for the Lords of Chaos.

Malebolge (Eighth Sphere of Hell)
The realm of Malebolgia, which contains the river of necroplasm used to empower the Hellspawns.

| NOTES |

• As an entity composed of roughly 9,000 units of necroplasm, Six is able to manipulate both tangible and intangible effects in the mortal realm as well as in Hell. He is effectively powerless, and mortal, when in the Heavenly realm.

• As necroplasm is denser than human bone or tissue, Six weighs several hundred pounds more than he otherwise appears, making his body more durable than that of an ordinary mortal. This also contributes to his strength to a degree.

• Six's symbiote is known as K-9 C'thu.

• Six gets around in a 1974 Ford Pinto, which he calls the Red Bird.

• Because of the manner of his death and resurrection, Six has a permanent wound in the form of a bullet entry and exit wound at the base and back of his neck.

| STORY HOOKS AND HALF-ASSED PLOTS |

If God Will Send His Angels
Six returns, with no memories, and winds up involved in the investigation of serial child murders while trying to remember why he is here.