They still call him "The Elephant"

"See that?" General Maximillion Johanasson asked.

His troops replied with a unanimously, and hearty, "Sir, yes, sir!"

"Know what it is?" was the follow-up question.

A less hearty, "Sir, no, sir."

The general did not smile and began pacing, "That, my boys, is a live satellite image of the most fortified bunker in the entire world. It's got fences made of linked razor wire topped with barbed wire; triple thick doublesteel walls; a camera grid with redundant coverage of every area within a quarter mile; automated defense turrets with machineguns powerful enough to blow a sunroof in a tank."

Now the general smiled, but it was clearly an ironic smile, "And boys, we need to get inside."

Just then the image of the bunker on the satellite exploded. The troops at the base were in an obvious panic and they fled wildly. The troops watching this began cheering, thankful they didn't have to go in there.

One impetuous young lad asked his general, who now carried a mad grin, "Sir, how did this happen?"

"Just watch the image carefully boys, you'll see him any—ah ha! There!" He pointed to a giant silhouette the size of a car lumbering through the smoke and fire.

The impetuous soldier asked another question, "Uhh, but, sir, who, or what, was that?"

"I can answer both of those. He's The Elephant, he's an elephant, and the best damn mammal I have under my command, no offense, soldier."

Origin Story of Project Chloroplast

She was born in a botany laboratory, the result of billions of research dollars and thousands of scientist's man hours. Every couple hours she was pulled from her soil and studied. She was constantly injected, and her dirt fertilized, with chemicals whose names were so complex they'd tie the tongues of even seasoned lab technicians. They didn't know that she could feel, and think during all of this: every searing microscope examination, every violating stab of the needle, every chemical burned her inside and out. But there was simply no way to for her to communicate her misery.

Things only got worse when she sprouted her first cotyledon. Clearly, the scientists had gotten what they were after with her, so the examinations increased in frequency and invasiveness.

Quickly, she grew out of her Petri dish and into a glass box. Now, she was too large for the scientists to use their microscopes, so they instead cut off tiny pieces of her to put under their microscopes. It hurt even worse than their needles and she would scream every time, calling to her missing parts. There were plants in the room, and they would wince at her agonized yells, but the people in lab coats didn't seem to hear her at all.

Her glass box was too small to contain her eventually. The scientists moved her to a large glass tube, away from her precious soil. Instead, they gave her measured amounts of sunlight; just enough to keep her alive. It was in this glass tube that she realized she could move and discovered, much to her dismay, that she looked like one of the people, not the plants with whom she could converse.

Though she looked like them, the scientists were still cruel to her, giving her water laden with chemicals and constantly cutting off pieces for their tests: all but one. There was one yellow-haired young man she liked very much. He would never cut her pieces off, and, when it was just the two of them in the lab, he gave her fresh water and turned up the sunlight so she had enough strength to stand. As the months passed, he taught her how to understand the language of the humans and, when she had enough sunlight, he could hear her talking.

Then, it all came to an end. Their funding was cut, the scientists had to shut down the lab and that meant destroying all of their research subjects: they had enough data to reproduce them all if funds were restored anyway. They grabbed a torch and approached her tube. She was too weak to fend them off, too weak to stand, too weak to make them hear her screams.

But the other plants heard her. They heard her desperation and something inside moved them to great feats: the trees threw their mighty boughs at the scientists, and the vines wrapped around legs and necks. A flower toppled its pot and flicked on the light switch behind her tube. Within a few moments, she had the strength to break herself free and fled the lab, only glancing once over her shoulder at the sign above her cell: Project Chloroplast.

The yellow-haired lab technician met her outside the building and brought her to his house where she lived in the backyard, gleefully feasting upon the bountiful sunlight and growing an impressive garden, while the heat died down from the incident at the lab. She taught herself better command over her leafy brethren and how to channel the sun's power; he taught her that not all humans were bad.

Now, embracing her moniker as Project Chloroplast, she seeks out anywhere there are weak being abused by the strong and rights that injustice.

"They call him The Elephant"...

… said Sergeant Major Colin Buckingham.

"Why's that, sir?" asked the sniveling and forgettable private lucky enough to find himself in the presence of the Army's most innovative officer.

"Because he's an elephant."

The private looked confused. To his mind, elephants were lumbering creature, totally incapable of performing secret missions on behalf of the military. But his mind was wrong. The Elephant was, as his name implied, utterly unstoppable once he'd built up momentum, able to recall even the most minute details of anything he'd encountered before, and proficient in charming audiences with tricks. In short, the stupid private did not realize, when he spoke his next words, that he was insulting the greatest agent the world has ever known out of sheer ignorance. "But wouldn't an elephant make a terrible soldier?"

Sergeant Major Buckingham glared at him. "Evidentially not."