Commander Higgs

Real Name: Barnabus Higgs
Villain Name: Commander Higgs
Title: Captain, Commander, Black Scourge of Mars
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Age: 117
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Blue
Height: 6’7
Weight: 773 lbs
Blood type: Irradiated Plasma


What’s there to say about Higgs? A once attractive man, at least for his time, any semblance of beauty has systematically been stripped away by the rough-shod cybernetic parts attached to his body. A century and a half of war and murder has sapped the life from his eyes, leaving them blank husks (or one, at least.) Though he certainly appears human, albeit with mechanical parts to him, he raises ethical questions on what exactly constitutes human. His shaved head reveals the bolts through his skull, seemingly holding two metal plates together. His chest, typically bare, seems to have taken the most damage, what little flesh visible being heavily scarred. Metal plates seem to be bolted on through some barbaric process, welded to his skin as if by extreme heat, the scarring around the metallic armor can attest to that. And its no normal metal either, not simply sheets of steel burned into his skin; the fading paint and a symbol, like a eclipse over a rocket ship, telling the truth of what it was once; military grade armor, attached to his body as a means of elongating his life.

Once upon a time, a long time ago, Barnabus had a mechsuit. A beautifully dangerous thing it was too, smelling of oil and death. But over time, as he lost parts of himself through the many wars and campaigns he waged, his suit was taken apart, piece by piece, and attached to his own body to make up for the chunks of flesh torn from him. Even his bones have been reinforced and replaced, every break an excuse for his alien overlords to improve upon perfection. Now half-man, half-machine, only the constant pulsing of electricity to his temple prevents him from being in constant pain.

His right hand has been completely replaced, in its place a plasma launcher; tubes of the pale green plasma glow on his right hand, connected to each other and the arm in a complicated lattice of connection. His legs, too, have been almost completely replaced, only his left heel remaining human. A steel boot makes up his feet, vents across the calf and heel allowing him to use his Jump Jets with impunity. Across his shoulders, vents are constantly leaking a mix of steam and radiation, evidence of some foul power source deep inside him. His face, perhaps, is the most noticeable. A red, round eye takes up the left side of his face, a tracer dot of similar color marking wherever he’s looking. At one point, his lower jaw must have been ripped off and replaced with a wicked-looking metallic hinge. His teeth, too, were all metal, and he lacked a proper tongue, replaced instead with a metal spike perfect for gouging out the eyes of enemies who get too close. Instead, he speaks with a voicebox in his throat. The voice sounds almost exactly like himself, though just a bit tinny.

The end result is the perfect warrior, melded with a deadly machine to the point where it is impossible to determine where one begins and the other ends. A clanking, groaning metallic monstrosity of a man who, despite the pain and buzzing of his metallic parts, nearly always has a smile of some sort on his face. Right underneath the bushy mustache, the one throwback to his human life he allows himself. It is meticulously taken care of, sleek and shiny, and his pride and joy outside his ship, his raptor, and his guns.


Commander Higgs is a soldier out of time, out of space, and out of patience. A soldier for far too many years, he has done and committed atrocities and crimes, pillaged cities, raped entire villages, all in the name of the Kokodorian Empire. He has spilled the blood of patriots, destroyed heroes, and burned riotous rebellions to the ground. In the grand scheme of things, he is a pawn, a tool to be used, and he is aware of this. The knowledge of everything hes done, and the knowledge that with a flip of a switch, he would have to do more, weighs heavily on him. He is oft found submerged in drink, drowning his sorrows in booze and wine. Serious, stoic, and oft silent, Commander Higgs comes across as quite the hardass. And to the men under him, he is. The Black Scourge of Mars is not some fancy nickname; he is violent, aggressive, and stubborn, used to doing things a certain way and he’d be damned if anyone stopped him.

This policy extends to his friends, and would extend to his family, if he had any. He’s been like this since a child; no nonsense, not quite a troublemaker, though. Higgs never sought to fight, preferring to solve things with words if possible, but he is also, at heart, a pragmatist, and would get violent as soon as words failed him. Not quite the shoot-first type. When designing his ship, the Broken Chariot, he designed it specifically to have a small hold so he did not have to kill all of his targets. Only most of them. When it comes to his prey, he is the ultimate predator; unrelenting, fierce, cold, calculating, and ultimately triumphant.

He brings these traits to most mundane tasks as well. It is hard for Higgs to turn down a challenge, no matter how silly or simple, and he will get upset and frustrated if he doesn’t win, inspiring him to tackle the subject of the challenge with a single-minded determination typically only found in simple animals on the prowl. He does this simply to be the best, not out of a friendly sense of competition, and oftentimes will shoot or wound the victor if he feels like it. However, he is very fair-minded during competition and will never cheat in any way, adhering to all rules, no matter how mundan. Cheating is simply not tolerated or expected from him, and in that way, he can be considered naive. Similarly, he is extremely loyal, his word is his bond, and despite his associations with the typically-malevolent Kokodorian Empire, Barnabus will follow through with every word he says.

Despite all this, all the trauma and war and personality flaws, he is somewhat redeemable. Barnabus struggles with his nature, a man caught between multiple worlds. He is aware he will never see home again, but the new Earth is so different from his; but even though he has achieved the highest rank a civilian can get in the Kokodorian Empire, that of a Spaceborn Captain, he has no place in their society either. The Kokodorians believe in physical and mental perfection and the purity of their race; he is nothing more than a low-born tool to be used and discarded at the nearest availability. This is something that was made known to him from his abduction; he is to be used, he is not important, and one day they will no longer need him, and he will die, like turning off a light.

Barnabus yearns for a place to call his own, for people he can surround himself with. A pipe dream, certainly, while under the control of the Krokodorian Aristocracy, but its the only thing that keeps him warm on cold nights floating through space. The idea that one day, he can recapture a family, that despite his monstrous and quite disgusting appearance, there will be those that love him for him.  This might be a hard task, however, he is not the easiest person to get along with. He looks for the simplest, most rational solution, preferring to leave emotions out of relationships for the most part, which alienates him from most people, particularly Earthlings, emotional creatures they are.


Once upon a time, a long time ago, in a world very similar to ours but just across the river of time, there lived a man. Barnabus was his name, son of Higson, in a country known as America. They grew food for sustenance, living off the sweat of their brow and the strength of their body. From youth, Barnabus was much loved, a smart, polite boy, leader of the pack of rascals in the small town of no more than a hundred. His life was predictable, simple; in the mornings, he woke, ate breakfast, and went outside with his seven brothers and sisters to begin the days chores. He fed the animals, watered the crops, and helped Father repair the thousand and one things that needed fixing. After chores were done, they settled for mid-afternoon tea, and his younger siblings went off to play.

As the eldest, however, Barnabus was held behind, doomed to learn the tricks of the trade from his male parent. Bookkeeping, cooking, sewing, and other household tasks necessary to run a farm where passed onto him, hammered into his head by the rough ways of the country. This only lasted an hour or two, so as the sun reached its zenith every day, our young protagonist ran off to wreak all sorts of havoc with the riffraff of the neighborhood; chasing dogs, robbing mailmen, and starting chaos, like all gangs of young boys are wont to do. As the sun fell, he and his siblings, of which there were simply too many, came home, ate dinner, and curled up into their respective hay sacks to repeat the process once again.

It was a good life, and one that Barnabus didn’t know he would ever miss, not that a typical boy would ever have the opportunity to miss it. Alas, Barnabus was no ordinary child. Unbeknownst to him, and to the rest of his family, and the world for that matter, you must remember this was very early, technology had barely been invented yet, Barnabus possessed a little quirk of genetics. No, no superpowers, unfortunately, but this one little quirk put him further up the evolutionary chain than his siblings, a fact that one day may lead to his great great great great grandchildren developing superpowers. It would in no way affect his daily life on Earth.

Unless, that is, a passing alien ship scanned the planet and found him.

Yes, the Kokodorian Empire was notorious for kidnapping children with interesting abilities and “improving” them back on their home planet, Kokodoria. Improving, in this context, means injecting them with all sorts of strange and vile chemicals in hopes that something would happen. They were quite good at it, too. Their enhanced slaves fetched quite the high prices at the Slave Symposium of Andromeda, the finest in all the galaxy. Of course no proper Kokodorian appeared on the market, they were simply too high-brow for that. Only the castoffs, the dregs of society that didn’t quite have a place within their military or servant structure. Poor things, doomed to be sold as some Tyrfian’s plaything.

Anyway, enough about that, back to our protagonist.

One fateful day, just as Barnabus was preparing to run out to play, something blocked out the sun. His prepubescent mind worked overtime trying to figure out what it was; it couldn’t possibly be dark already, no way, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight! It couldn’t be an airplane, or a blimp, they hadn’t been invented yet (though the boy didn’t quite think that) and no bird was quite so big to so effectively block out all the sun. Just as he shielded his eyes to look at what was so efficiently destroying his warm summer day, his feet left the ground and Barnabus the boy was never to set foot on his planet again, not until he was Commander Higgs, the man/cyborg/secret collector of magazines.

The aliens that took seemed to glow with a strange light, somehow eerie but beautiful, and so enamored was he with them he failed to notice the long knives, pneumatic needles, and dried pools of blood on the floor. It didn’t take him long to notice, however, and his jaw-dropped stupor turned into a shocked scream. A many-fingered hand clamped over his mouth, a face with no mouth peered into his, and a voice, a horrible, terrible, wail of a voice shattered his consciousness to ribbons. He was aware, somehow, of what they were doing to his body, pumping him full of chemicals and concoctions that turned his blood to lava and ripped bloody screams from his throat. But no matter how much pain he endured, no matter how much he screamed, the creatures didn’t stop. It was a long way back to their planet, after all, and they had to stay entertained.

Kokodoria is a golden planet, a beautiful apple of a planet. And just like an apple, it hides a rotten core of racism and slavery. Oh, both are all across this planet, the so-called “Golden Race” believing in their own superiority and power so much they declared war on most of the galaxy. And they were winning! Well, mostly. The galaxy is a big place after all, and they control but one small part of it. Thus they were ever-expanding, ever increasing their foothold, world by world, planet by planet, and with acquisitions such as these, they could continue to do so. The boy was special, that much was obvious; the preliminary injections had aged him, it seemed, when most would be reduced to atoms. Tall, burly, and with strength behind the madness in his eyes. Oh, this was going to be good.

His life fell into another pattern, but not so pleasant now; a breakfast of nutrient paste, afternoons taken up with more experiments, more injections, and if he was particularly lucky, combat practice. (Lucky here is a term that means severely unlucky.) In the evening, another meal of paste, and then he collapsed into bed, nursing the half-dozen or so new wounds he acquired that day. A terrible sort of ease settled into him after a while as things grew easier; their training worked, their experiments worked, twisting his mind and body. He was stronger, faster, better in every sense of the way, but his thoughts had clouded, focused only on the next goal and beating his opponents. A monster, in a way, and soon he was feared by even his fellow slaves.

He didn’t notice, as time passed, that he wasn’t aging, only that his powers grew. Time was marked not by birthdays but by practice, once a week; defeat enough opponents, the rumours say, they’d even give you your freedom. A blatant lie designed to promote the competitive spirit, of course. Slaves have to have hope to live. Still, the slim chance inspired him to work harder, fight smarter, and win every match he was ever given, including on one memorable occasion, against the very alien who abducted him. And despite the rule not being a rule, one alien in particular, whose name is similar to the sound a cat makes when he’s trying to throw up a hairball (In Kokodorian society, the more unpronounceable a name is, the more desirable, its a sign of uniqueness), took pity on him and sponsored his bid for freedom. As a reward for his freedom, Mr. Cough-Cat-Puke granted him a gift; an animal from his homeland! At first overjoyed, Barnabus could only act weirded out when given not a dog or a cat or even a horse or sheep or pig, but rather a fluffy, small, rather adorable … dinosaur. Of course, he loved it all the same, but to a man from his era, he had no idea what it was!

Now a free man and official citizen of the Kokodorian Empire, our young protagonist joined the military. His unique skills and training served him wonders, and it wasn’t long before he was promoted to the Elites and given a mechsuit of his own. With this powerful mechsuit, he proceeded to wage a war of bloodshed across the galaxy. Oh, he wasn’t infallible, not by a long shot; Barnabus lost as many as he won, sometimes taking down his raptor, Higgins, with him. But every time he fell, every time he lost a limb or an eye or went down with a hole in his body, he was patched up with the very machine he was piloting, a sort of grim irony; essentially dooming him to die in the tank he piloted.

Time passed, and Higgs was a Spaceborne Captain, leader of an entire division of powerful Kokodorian and Slave ships. The Kokodorians Empire’s 5th Spaceborne Division, they were called officially, though all the troops called them “Higgs’ Heroes”. They were quite famous, you know. And as his notoriety and power grew, his tasks grew harder; it wasn’t long before he had to ditch the mechsuit altogether, taking the plunge and bonding the rest of it to his body. He was complete now, or so the alien whose name reminded our protagonist of a sheep giving birth, a sound he had heard all too often on the farm. It was time for him to take on a new mission, potentially his very last one ...

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Far, far in the future, the same boy peered at Earth from the cockpit of a vessel not unlike the one which had picked him up over a century ago. Though it was once his home, the man who looked upon the planet felt no kinship for the Earthlings, destructive little beasts they are. He felt no kinship with anyone save, perhaps, Higgins, his cybernetic pet raptor (a birthday gift from a long time ago). Even the thirty spaceships behind him, each larger and more powerful than the deadliest of Earth’s machines, was nothing but a tool to accomplish his mission. What mission was that, you ask? Well, what does any person of any race do first thing when they return? Conquer the planet, of course.


1. Strength
2. Endurance
3. Reaction
4. Agility



Kokodorian Super Soldier Serum: The first of his many enhancements, this super soldier serum, called K12 by those affected by it, increases everything of value within him. His muscles are stronger, he can run and react faster, and his skin is thicker while maintaining elasticity. In short, this enhances his human parts to superhuman levels, allowing him to lift up to ten tons, take plasma shots to the face without feeling anything, and think and react at breakneck speeds, though not quite able to catch a bullet mid-flight. However, his mind and body can react fast enough to dodge bullet fire.

Mechsuit Bonding: Once upon a time, he was fully human. Now, though, not so much. Commander Higgs has replaced a good portion of his body with his once-trusty Mech, Alight the Stars. His right arm, both his legs, a good portion of his stomach and back, and the entirety of his upper chest is replaced by this material, as well as his right eye and lower jaw, tongue, and teeth. He’s more machine than man, really, only scattered pieces, such as his left arm, left to remind him he is flesh and blood. These mechanical parts are extremely strong, able to withstand up to 100 tons before caving in; though to say he can lift that much is a misnomer, however. The metal has force-absorption properties, of course, but it is still attached to flesh and blood. Attempting to lift that much weight would shatter every organ and reinforced bone in his body. Defensively, however, it works great. He also has a mechanical eye that allows him to zoom in up to a mile and scan the galactic infonet for information on anything he can see. It also has heat vision, tracking capabilities, and X-Ray vision. True X-ray, he can’t see through clothing at will.

Plasma Cannon: Instead of a right hand, Barnabus possesses a cannon that shoots irradiated bolts of plasma. These pale-green balls of heated particles can melt steel in a second and travel as fast as any bullet. They are about fist sized and impact hard enough to dent a car door, if the car door wouldn’t melt as soon as it’s hit. He can keep sustained fire, once every five seconds, for up to twenty minutes. After this, he has a five minute cooldown. In addition to the burns and force damage caused by plasma bolt, concentrated radiation can cause sickness and additional radiation burns at the point of impact.

Jump Jets: Incorporated into the boot of his new, cybernetic legs are vents, and through these vents he can channel prolonged bursts of flame powerful enough to rocket him hundreds of feet through the air. Thanks to decades of practice, he can control this precisely enough to perform advanced aerial maneuvers with ease. Curiously, the flames are green. He can travel at hundreds of miles an hour for up to thirty minutes a time before having to rest for an equivalent amount of time.

Radiation Vents: A nasty little weapon designed to be used against organic life. The vents in his metallic shoulders can open, exposing the area approximately ten meters around him to the highly concentrated radiation at his core. This wave of heat and poison is powerful enough to render headaches in normal humans in seconds, bleeding of the orifices in minutes, and death within the hour.

Shoulder-Mounted Plasma Rockets: From the tops of his shoulders, he can fire powerful rockets, six at a time from each shoulder. These rockets are powerful enough to shatter stone and fast enough to outpace most airplanes, though they’re not quite supersonic. In addition to the normal explosive, plasma bursts from the point of impact, capable of melting steel in seconds.

Perfect Accuracy: Due to the mechanical parts, like his eye, and his over a century of training, Higgs rarely misses, even at ranges beyond the typical for his weaponry.


Kokodorian Withdrawals: During his extensive time among the Kokodorian population, he became accustomed to their food. Not a weakness on its own. However, Kokodorian cuisine is fond of a certain spice, called Hohkho, that enhances the flavor of all their food. Harmless to their species, but deadly to any other. Individuals affected with K12 have a different reaction; they develop a reliance on it, similar to how Terran’s react to heroine. If he goes more than 24 hours with it, the K12 within his system physical harms him, raising his blood pressure and removing any additional powers he has through the serum.

Mechanical Weaknesses: Like all mechanical objects, Higg’s has its share of flaws. Its limitations, yes, but far more than that. The bonding between the mechsuit and his flesh is imperfect, at best, causing him constant pain; though mollified slightly by the mechanical implants telling his brain to ignore it, it doesn’t work all the time, particularly if he has to perform complicated athletic or acrobatic feats. Like all computers, Higgs can theoretically be hacked. Additionally, due to the compatibility issues, repair is impossible on this planet, requiring him to fully retreat if he is injured.

Imperfect, By All Accounts: Everything  about Higgs is imperfect; there are gaps in his armor, quite literally. Pain wracks his every movement, but also, Higgs has absolutely no resistance to any sort of magic. A simple magic spell can entirely tear him apart. More importantly, this is not a fact he keeps secret. He is quite arrogant about his disbelief in magic.

Law-Abiding Warmonger: Due to his programming, Higgs cannot disobey the laws of his current province. This ensures he remains undercover, but more importantly, allows him to continue to work within the confines of the boundaries placed by whichever society he is within. If he knowingly breaks any law, he is immediately shut down.

One-Armed Soldier: Though his gun-arm provides quite a bit of firepower to his arsenal, it also leaves him at quite the disadvantage; he cannot wield anything that requires two hands, and in feats of strength or acrobatics, he is limited to using only one hand as well.

Insufficient Power Supply: The nuclear power source deep within his core is a source of great power, yes, but even it is not sufficient enough to run all his processes forever. Should he overextend it, which involves using his jump jets too much, firing multiple plasma bolts, venting radiation, or a combination of the three, or any other ability that would drain him, he shuts down while he recharges, lacking the energy to keep himself running.

Plasma Blaster: The plasma bolts he fires are not perfect; despite their power, they are, essentially, superheated matter, and as a result, individuals with fire or burn immunities are resistance to the effect. Additionally, beyond fifty feet, the plasma starts to cold, reducing its effect tremendously.


Kokodorian Energy Pistol: The basic energy pistol given to the armed forces of the Kokodorian Empire. This handheld gun fires bolts of pure golden energy, capable of searing flesh and melting stone. The effective range is exactly 100 yards; after that point, the energy dissipates into thin air. Wounds inflicted by this gun are nearly impossible to heal, due to the cauterization and the messy hole it makes. The energy pistol can fire ten shots before needing to recharge.

Syspherian Ballistic Pistol: A powerful ballistic pistol pilfered from a confiscated weapons shipment from Sysphera 4. It fires nail-like bullets, capable of penetrating inch-thick steel, with a flared blunt end; each bullet possesses its own propollent and self-stabilization system, so accuracy and power isn’t lost due to the unique design of the bullet. The result of this are bullets traveling at subsonic speed capable of pinning most opponents to the floor or wall or, really, the nearest available surface. It’s biggest issue is due to its design; it works best on flat surfaces where it doesn’t have to fight inertia. On slanted or otherwise sloped surfaces, the bullets deflect, losing much of their power. Each clip carries six bullets.

Espherian Laserblade: A sword, used by the officers of Espheria, kept as a sort of trophy. It’s design is unique; a sort of curved arc coming to a loop, from which three concentric rings are visible. When a switch is thrown in the handle, plasma radiates down the blade. There are two forms to this; “Cold Plasma” and “Hot Plasma”. The Cold setting forms a blade of blue energy; this form is blunt and deals little to no extra damage due to heat, perfect for practicing or use as a blunt weapon. The “Hot” setting is much more dangerous; the blade from this settings is capable of burning steel with extended touch and can cut through flesh with ease.

Espherian Force Droid: A modified robot from the Espherian Conquest. This little guy has the shape of a frog-like creature and is typically docile, resting on his right shoulder. However, should it detect some kind of physical or energy attack, it will spring to life, projecting a light-blue forcefield that forms a flat, disc-like shape around it. Using its claw-like tendrils, it will move across Higgs body to deflect these attacks. Advanced prediction software and highly powerful detection hardware allow it to determine the presence and location of attacks from up to 100 meters out. However, it does have some inherent flaws. This Droid cannot block more than one attack at a time, so a barrage of attacks will still get through. Additionally, there is a limited range to it; bullets and other small projectiles are easily deflected, while things such as missiles will still explode. And finally, the Droid is not sentient in any way, shape, or form, and cannot warn Higgs of incoming danger.



Higgins, the Cyborg Raptor
A gift from his alien masters, this raptor has been mechanically enhanced to better fit their needs. She possesses a mechanical lower jaw, similar to the Commander, though with rows upon rows of incredibly sharp, metallic teeth, hooked to better rip apart prey. Normal leathery skin is on her upper arms and torso, though outfitted with metallic  reinforcement, giving it a nice, metallic sheen. It’s lower body, however, particularly her legs and tail, are completely cybernetic, bone and flesh fused to advanced alien robotics. Her tail is entirely replaced, a long, swinging whip of dino-death. Her legs, meanwhile, are incredibly enhanced, allowing the dinosaur to run at incredible speeds for long distances.

In addition to this, Higgins possesses a special suit of armor. This golden armor, emblazoned with a stylized sun, covers all of her organic bits, protecting her from damage. In addition, it has a jetpack attached to it. Similar to the Commander’s Jump Jets, this jetpack allows Higgs to fly short distances and enhances her running and jumping speeds.

Higgins has been enhanced organically as well, the Kokodorian Empire wishing to reward their best agent by enhancing the lifespan and intelligence of his favorite pet. This has resulted in Higgins living as long as the Commander has, and possessing enough intelligence to plan and counter-plan with the best of them. She’s more than a pet, she’s a best friend.

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Mechanically speaking, Higgins can run at speeds in excess of 500 MPH, possesses claws and teeth powerful enough to shred through thick steel, and jump up to 100 feet in the air.. Her Jetpack allows her to double her running speed, fly at similar speeds, and triple her jump height with a burst of it. She additionally possesses the ability to sense heat through a gland in her tongue. However, being a dinosaur, she is also incredibly aggressive, and thus is rarely with the Commander on his ‘diplomatic’ mission; additionally, her cybernetic parts are vulnerable to extreme heat and cold, as well as electronic interference, such as from an EMP weapon.


The Commander is ageless, having already lived for a century or more, and liable to live much longer.