Captain Uni — Roleplayer Guild

Time Is An Illusion
The Inner Workings of A Twisted Mind

The phone on my desk was ringing, singing a siren's song that commanded I answer it. I obliged. "Hello?"

"A FOUR-EYED FAT MAN SINGS A SONG OF ZEROES AND ONES IN HIS ASSISTANCE, LORD OF METAL WILL JOIN THE BATTLE AND BABIES WILL SHED TEARS FOR MY HEALTH, EIGHT-LEGGED WOMAN TRYING TO ENTANGLE ME IN A WEB OF LAWS AND RESTRAINTS THAT REPRESENTED A WORLD OF STOOPED NECROMANCERS AND-"

I hung up the phone. It was a bad line and a prank call, someone spouting insane babble, I couldn't make sense of it. But the caller's voice sounded familiar and strange at the same time.

The letter on my desk was dangerous, the hand writing all pretty curves. I read it.

"You're in a comic book, Frank."

Suddenly it all came back to me. Thought bubbles and words hanging over scenes of intense action, me gunning down man after man on my twisted journey. I sought revenge for the death of my wife and two children at the hands of criminals, using my skills acquired during my time as a marine serving in the Vietnam War to aid me. I was also assisted by a guns supplier and veteran hacker named Microchip. Occasionally I'd clash with or even partner with some teen in red and blue spandex calling himself 'Spider-Man.'

But that's not right. It wasn't me, it was someone else, another Frank Castle from another world maybe. I couldn't wrap my head around it. 

All I knew was that I was in a comic book. Funny as hell, it was the most horrible thing I could think of.

The phone rang again. I answered it.

"Wake up, Castle! You're not going to kill another cop!"

I hung up the phone. It was a bad line and a prank call, someone spouting insane babble, I couldn't make sense of it. But the caller's voice sounded familiar and strange at the same time, and I felt an overwhelming sense that I had done this before...

The letter on my desk looked different and the same. I read it over a second time.

"You're in a play-by-post roleplaying game, Frank."

Suddenly it all came back to me. A character sheet detailing my life up to this point, my skills, how I was different from my mainstream comic book counterpart, and an example of what kind of stories I would provide. Post after post of stories, all with fancy headers with my face and name plastered on the top. Fancy colors denoting which person is speaking and a sudden shift from the third person to the first person in between stories in order to sound more 'noir'.

But that's not right. I was real, I knew I was, at least I think I was. I couldn't wrap my head around it.

All I knew was that I was in a play-by-post roleplaying game. Funny as hell, it was the most horrible thing I could think of, but I had said that before so take that with a grain of salt.

The phone rang once more. I answered it.

"Snap out of it, Frank! You're having another Max Payne dream!"

I hung up the phone. It was a bad line and a prank call, someone spouting insane babble, I couldn't make sense of it. But the caller's voice sounded familiar and strange at the same time, and I felt an overwhelming sense that I was going to get hit with a copyright strike if I didn't stop...

Light engulfs me.

ISSUE #6
THE ADVENTURES OF PSYCHO VIGILANTE
AND HIS PAL NERD COP
10:47 PM; July 8th, 2018
David Lieberman's House; New York City

Dave was practically squealing like a fangirl when I threw off my trenchcoat to reveal the kevlar vest. "Haha, holy shit! You did the skull thing after all!"

I rolled my eyes, fighting back a laugh. "Hey, if Spider-Woman can go around wearing a costume, so can I." I slid the vest off to avoid burning up too much. Even at this time of night it was in the high 80s; try walking around in a kevlar vest and a trench coat at those temperatures. At least I knew what Hell was gonna be like when I got there: not unlike wearing winter clothes in Arizona.

He paused, then asked, "How'd you get away from her anyway? She's faster than you, stronger than you, and she can shoot webs out of her wrists."

"Lucky break I guess. Took one hell of a beating though. But it all worked out for the best."

"If you being hunted for gunning down dozens of mobsters in addition killing two cops and destroying a building is things 'working out for the best', then I don't even want to see what things going bad is like."

That gave me pause. I'd killed two cops. It was a hard pill to swallow. Two of my friends. Two sons or brothers or fathers whose families would never see them again. Two innocents, dead by my hand. Spider-Woman was right. Innocent people had died that night because of my actions. That was why I needed to start planning instead of rushing in like nothing mattered. I didn't care if I died, but if another innocent got caught in the crossfire... I didn't know what I would do.

After a moment of silence, I cut to the chase: "... I'm gonna need your help, Dave. I need you to dig up the homes of Manfredi's top guys, get me layouts and the like. I'm not gonna go all John Woo anymore, or at least I'm going to try not to. Too many innocent people have died already."

Dave nods, looking oddly pleased. "Good thinking, man. I was hoping you'd realize that wasn't for the best." He takes a sit in front of his computer, typing away at the keyboard and clicking around. After a couple of minutes with the occasional muttered curse word from Dave, he's done.

"I'll send the house plans to your phone, as well as the addresses and the names of the guys living there. Good luck, Frank."

I pull out my phone, seeing a notification pop up; a text from Dave, with several folders attached, the folder names being the name of the owner, their rank in Manfredi's operation, and the address. I pocketed my phone, nodding, "Thanks. I'm gonna need it." What a team we made. One's a psychopathic vigilante with nothing to lose, the other's a nerdy cyber crimes cop with die hard loyalty. They shoot bad guys! Someone should get me into contact with Fox, because boy howdy do I have a show pitch for them.

I grabbed my duster and threw it on to cover up the vest, before stalking off into the night. I'd strike tomorrow. For now, I was going to plan out my attack. My first target: Lawrence 'Squid' Loman, a mid-ranking member of Manfredi's operation. Not too low that his death wouldn't make any splashes, but not too high that it would make Manfredi extra paranoid. No, that would come later.

I released a sigh of frustration as I began to walk back to my safehouse. God, I wish I hadn't started my crusade in July.
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The Artist Formerly Known As Simple Unicycle

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