Trash Man

Sergeant Oscar G. "O.G." Rouch (click here for Character Sheet)

Trash Man #01: The Heist at Midtown Labs  

The neon skyline of the city buzzed with life as Sergeant Oscar Gerald Rouch finished his shift. As one of the most respected officers in the precinct, Oscar had seen it all—gang wars, corporate corruption, mutant rats in the sewers, and most recently alien war machines! But nothing compared to, or prepared him for the day his life changed forever.  

It was three years ago when a chemical spill at Midtown Labs forced him to chase a fugitive scientist through a maze of radioactive refuse. The scientist had tipped over barrels of glowing sludge in an attempt to escape. Cornered, Oscar was left with no choice but to subdue him by diving straight into the rancid, bubbling trash, his quarry tightly in hand. In the ensuing struggle, much of the fetid debris got into his mouth and was ingested. It tasted like pure death.  

He only narrowly survived, and hadn’t been the same since. The scientist died while en route to the hospital, his knowledge of the greater threat seemingly lost to the grave. 

Now, Oscar lived a double life. By day, he was the dependable and gritty Sergeant Rouch, dubbed "O.G." by those loyal to him. But when trouble arose and the city needed a hero, he embraced his strange new power. Certain kinds of garbage — aluminum cans, plastic bottles, coffee cups, newspapers, even certain moldy foods — infused him with incredible bursts of super strength and intelligence! He could bend steel with his hands, burst through brick walls, calculate a criminal's escape route in seconds, and lead his squad with an unparalleled precision that left criminals trembling.  

Tonight's Trouble  

Oscar slid into his pride and joy, a matte-black 1970 Charger with a custom engine he built himself. Its growl as he turned the ignition was a symphony of power, a perfect match for its owner. His wife, Tamara, always teased him about the car.  

 “You love that thing more than you love me,” she said just this morning, grinning as she handed him his badge.  

He would lean in and kiss her cheek. “You know that’s not true. But... it’s close.” She would allow him the small jest, having loved one another faithfully for nearly ten years, since high school in fact.  If ever Oscar had a weakness, she was it. 

Oscar’s police scanner crackled to life, snapping him back into reality as he cruised down the freeway.  

“All units, we’ve got a break-in at Midtown Labs. Suspects armed and dangerous. Requesting immediate backup.” Oscar gritted his teeth. That lab was a magnet for trouble. He revved the Charger, cutting through traffic like a hot knife through butter, and arrived at the scene in minutes. The lab was a mess — smashed windows, overturned shelves, and glowing green barrels scattered everywhere. A fire had begun, the smoke creating a potentially toxic threat. 

A team of high-tech mercenaries in sleek black armor, wearing masks with built-in air purifiers, was loading crates into an unmarked truck. Their leader, a towering figure with a plasma rifle, barked orders with a sharp European accent.  

“Move it! We’re on a timer!”  

Oscar took a deep breath and scanned the area. He spotted a tipped-over recycling bin nearby. Jackpot.   

Feeding the Power  

In a flash, Oscar grabbed a fistful of trash, smashing a can easily in his hands before tossing it into his mouth like popcorn. He followed that with a crumpled cup that still tasted of burnt coffee, before downing a stained pamphlet that could have been a bus schedule or a map to the local alcoholics' group.  Oscar never knew, considering the speed in which he consumed the trash. Then that familiar surge hit him — his muscles bulged, his mind sharpened, and a faint green glow emanated from his eyes. 

The Trash Man had arrived.  

He charged forward, a wrecking ball of justice. The first mercenary didn’t even have time to turn before Oscar plucked his rifle away and twisted it into a pretzel. Another tried to fire, but Oscar hurled the heavy, ruined weapon with pinpoint accuracy, knocking the weapon from that enemy's hands while simultaneously throwing the first opponent into the stone wall with more than enough force to knock him out cold, his body crumpling. 

The leader stepped forward, his plasma rifle humming ominously. “You think you’re tough? Let’s see how you handle this!”   

Oscar smirked. “You picked the wrong night to take out the trash.”  

The mercenary fired, but Oscar had pulled the body armor loose from the fallen mercenary, using it as a makeshift shield. The armor absorbed the blast, glowing red-hot in his hands, but Oscar didn’t flinch. With a roar, he threw it like a frisbee, smashing the plasma rifle and sending the leader sprawling. The remaining mercenary fell to his knees, throwing his hands up in defeat. 

Cleanup and Cooldown  

As the mercenaries were cuffed and hauled away, the lab’s head scientist approached Oscar.  

“Thank you, Sergeant Rouch. You’ve saved us again. But I have to ask... how do you always seem to know when to show up?”  

Oscar grinned, wiping what looked like mustard from a discarded sandwich off his sleeve. “Let’s just say I’ve got a nose for this kind of thing.”   

Later that night, back at home, Tamara was waiting for him with dinner on the table. “Another late night?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.   

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he replied, pulling her into a hug.   

“Try me,” she said.  He knew he could trust her.  He just couldn't bear to endanger her. 

He thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. “Maybe someday. For now, let’s just eat something that’s not trash.”  

As they sat together, Oscar couldn’t help but smile. The city was safe for now, and tomorrow would bring another clue to the nature of the Mercenaries and their attack.   

The city was full of trash.  And where there's trash, there’s always the Trash Man.