Hero:  Stoner Hawk

Not many of the Pulp City Supreme’s stories contribute to the clichés as does the story of James Proudhawk, the mighty Native American hero. But that is usually the least of the concerns of the Villians that James is tracking.

Two major events in the Pulp City’s history link to the almost extinct tribe of Avaje.

First, they used to dwell where Twilight Hills are nowadays. Blood Watch claims that the presence of their angry spirits lingers and causes the new gates to Necroplane open.

The second occurred on the day when Stoner Hawk was born in the sweat lodge of his grandfather.

James Proudhawk was born in a little reservation about 50 miles northeast of Pulp City. His mother worked nights at the casino, so Jimmy spent most of the time with his grandfather, a proud man who never felt like he belonged in the 20^th century. Old Proudhawk, now bearing on 70, was a sight to behold. His wiry frame moved graciously as if the years under the scorching sun didn’t affect him. When tracking pumas with his little kin, he was able to outrun the wild cats. None could match his eye when he shouldered the old Winchester and took down the prey from 200 yards. Grandpa would be Jimmy’s role model, the only person he would never argue with. When he said “Get out of here, don’t let them break your wings, go to the city, get an education”, as surprised as he was, James would never dare to defy the old man’s words.

Pulp City was a jungle full of predators Proudhawk would never understand. They were not the noble beasts he tracked with his grandfather. They were foul and deceitful snakes, hiding in the tall grass of gestures, smiles and compliments waiting only to strike. The school became less and less important as the young native started adopting the ways of the reptiles in human guises.

James spent countless hours in Pulp City’s clubs and bars, sometimes not seeing the sunlight for weeks. Without a regular job, he would chase odds and ends, mostly physical labor, but that would barely pay for the booze. When he entered the dreamy world of drugs, he began accept low-crime jobs to feed his habit. Whether breaking the fingers of a junkie in debt or helping to “establish” the territory of a local hustler, James and his intimidating physique were up to any job. Jimmy was all-or-nothing kind of guy, so he quickly became a dealer himself and the one that would always personally make sure the stuff he was selling was the best on the market.

After months of living on the edge Proudhawk found himself in the real trouble. One of the junkies turned out to be a dirty cop who was very trigger-happy, and with the bullet just barely missing his head, Jimmy had to snap the neck of this misery of a man. He needed a very good lawyer, and the good lawyers, even the ones that were his customers were pretty expensive.

Proudhawk never saw it coming.  Paying off the debt took him out of Pulp City and back to his hometown where he and another goon were supposed to “convince” the landowner to sell a precious lot needed to complete the right of way for the highway. As he confronted his own grandfather, shame and guilt washed over him, he gasped for every breath, the burden to heavy to bear under the piercing eyes of the man he adored.  The world slowed down as the slideshow of his crimes rolled in front of his eyes, the dull bang of a gun woke him up. The smoking barrel of the goon’s revolver, the  staggering old Proudhawk and the rush of the blood to the head sent James Proudhawk over the edge. 

He roared and jumped at his former allies.  He took the bullet in the chest, a second and a third one before he got to the shooter and like a mortally wounded bear he literally tore the man in two with his bare hands. He collapsed to the floor of the sweat lodge, with a dying grasp, he reached out for his grandfather, and then the world blacked out.

When the consciousness returned, Jimmy opened his eyes only to see a crouching ghostly silhouette of the old Proudhawk by his body. He took him by the hand and led to the highest summit of the reservation. The trip to the otherworld was his rite of the passage, the blood washed off his hands in the cleansing trip. The anger of the last years was replaced with focus, the weakness of the drugged body and mind exchanged for the strength of the stone as his communion with the nature and spirits of his tribe transformed him into a whole new being.

Jimmy walked out of the dream after what seemed to be only a couple of minutes, but it was years in the netherworld. He couldn’t bear the Proudhawk name until his redemption was complete: he became Stoner Hawk, a stigmatizing name that would always remind him of his past and his purpose.

Back in Pulp City, the den of the snakes, Stoner Hawk usually works alone or joins forces with Ace of Wraiths, who assisted at his grandfather’s birth and skilled him in the ways of the gun. His powers come from communion with the Earth, as he is able to call on the powers of stone and shape it in different forms and reinforce his body with its durability. His skin becomes covered with the sandstone and his hands turn into deadly weapons. There is a peril, though, as in the stone dwell all sorts of malicious spirits that beg Jimmy to stay inside and lull him into the sleep that never ends: the stoner slumber.

But for today, Hawk’s resolve is strong and he does everything to make his grandfather proud again.