Captain Uni

Road Warriors - A survival adventure set in the world of Mad Max

I was kidding about the whole 'stealing someone's concept' thing and I saw all the similarities between this and the Mad Max game. Still, it'd feel like sort of a dick move to take another person's idea and do it without their consent. But considering that OP hasn't been online in a month, there's no real way we can get their consent. I figure if we just retool the RPG mechanics there wouldn't be any real problem.

Road Warriors - A survival adventure set in the world of Mad Max

I noticed also that op hasn't been online in a month.

@BrokenWashing

Well hey, nothing like stealing another person's concept, eh?

But really, someone could retool it. Having a survival roleplay set in the Mad Max world isn't copyrighted, after all (well I mean Mad Max is copyrighted but still). Maybe some of the people from the original RP are interested in still doing it and might be willing to GM, I dunno.

Road Warriors - A survival adventure set in the world of Mad Max

DID SOMEONE SAY MAD MAX I WOULD BE SO DOWN THIS SOUNDS SO FUCKING AWESO-

*sees RP has been dead for two months and people just necroed this thread and are talking about potentially rebooting it*

... Oh. Well, uh, I'd be down to do a reboot of this, even though I wasn't a part of the original. I've been meaning to do something other than superhero roleplays for a while now anyway.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

8:49 PM; July 27th, 2018
Manfredi Manor; Outskirts of New York City

---

VOLUME TWO FINALE
ISSUE #10
AND THEN IT WAS OVER

---

I looked up at the gargantuan manor before me. From what I could see through the windows dotting all four stories of the house, all the lights within were on, and the place was teeming with mobsters. My chances of sneaking through the mansion without being detected were nil. I'd just have to do this the old fashioned way.

From the woods outside of the mansion, I double checked my arsenal. The M16 was strapped to my back. The sawn-off Winchester Model 1912 was attached to my hip. My MAC-10 and micro Uzi were in my shoulder holsters. Grenades were clipped to the front of my vest, alongside extra ammunition for all my guns. A combat knife was in my boot. My trusty Glocks were in my hands.

I took in a breath and reminded myself of what was important.

One: Frank Castle is dead. He died with his family.

Two: in certain extreme situations, the law is inadequate. In order to shame its inadequacy, it is necessary to act outside of the law. To pursue natural justice.

Three: this is not vengeance. Revenge is simply an emotional response.

No, not vengeance.

Punishment.

One of my Glocks was fitted with a suppressor. I may not have hope to go about stealthily when I got into the house, but on the outside, I could pick off the guards to make my entrance easier. I grabbed the binoculars that dangled from my hip, scanning the perimeter of the mansion. There were six guards outside, all decently spaced out from each other.

Clipping the binoculars back to my vest, I holstered my other Glock and pulled the knife from my boot. Knife in one hand and suppressed Glock in the other, I began to make my move, silently taking out guard after guard. My knife cut through one guard's jugular as though it was butter. A bullet embedded itself into another's head. I was a ninja. My kung-fu was strong.

Before I knew it, the perimeter guards were dead, and I was free to enter the house. I unscrewed the suppressor from my Glock. There was no need for it now. It was time to go hard, fast, and most importantly, loud. Manfredi wouldn't know what hit him.

I pulled a smoke grenade from my vest, pulling the pin and throwing it through a first story window in the east wing. Smoke filled the hallway, and I heard the guards shout in surprise. "It's the Punisher! He's fuckin' here!" "Get ready, boys! That zipperhead's slim pickin's!"

I came crashing through another window, firing off round after round from my Glocks. There were ten mobsters in the hall, all facing the window I had thrown the smoke grenade through. Half of them went down before they could even think to turn in my direction. The others followed soon after, but at least they had the benefit of comprehending what had just happened before they went.

I jumped back up to my feet and went through the door leading to the manor's foyer. What I found was a lavish room larger than my entire apartment, two sets of stairs leading up to a balcony overlooking the foyer. Marble pillars lined the left and right sides of the room. But I think most noticeably was the group of guards all throughout, guns at the ready.

Overlooking the foyer from the balcony was Manfredi himself, looking smug as a snake. "You're dying here tonight, Punisher!"

"Can't wait, Manfredi!"

"Boys, take care of him! Buy me some time!" Time for what? Getting your will in order? Before I could react, Manfredi was running off, and gunfire forced me into the cover of a pillar. It was sort of flattering to see Manfredi running scared while having an army of his thugs try to take care of me. Maybe it was his own weird way of giving me a compliment. But it was one I didn't need.

Bullets tore through the pillar. I hadn't been able to count how many gangsters there were, but it was at least half of Manfredi's remaining thugs, putting the number around fifty or more. It wasn't even fair. They'd need at least another fifty to pose any real challenge.

I pulled a grenade from my vest, biting off the pin and tossing it in the direction of the thugs.

*KRAKOOM!*

I began to sprint from my cover to the other side of the room, firing off round after round in the direction of the mobsters. Gangsters shook violently as bullets pierced their bodies. It didn't matter where I hit them. The only thing that mattered was hitting them with enough bullets to make them drop.

Their guns screamed, bullets whizzing past me, missing by scant millimeters. Maybe one or two hit my vest. It didn't matter. I was too pissed off to die. I had come too far to be put down by some cannon fodder. If anyone was killing me tonight, it'd be Manfredi. I rolled behind a pillar on the other side of the room, tossing another grenade at the gangsters.

*KABOOOM!*

I checked my clips. Not enough for another round of spray and pray. I holstered the Glocks, pulling out my SMGs. I took in a deep breath, then dove out of cover in the direction of the next pillar. It felt like I had become an angel of death, raining justice down on the wicked. Really I just had a near endless supply of ammo and a lot of luck on my side.

Mobster by mobster fell to my might. I picked myself up and began to run. Time seemed to slow down, the bullets flying through the air visible as I narrowly ducked and twisted my way out of their paths. Einstein was right: time is relative to the observer. With enough adrenaline, you could twist the time stream to your liking, slowing the ballistic intensity of a fast-paced gun battle down to a snail's crawl.

Man. I was really getting caught up in Max Payne fantasies these days.

My SMGs were dry after that last round of run and gun. Thankfully, most of the mobsters had fell by now. There was only another dozen or so left. I holstered the Uzi and the MAC-10, swinging the M16 around from my back. One last push, and Manfredi would be mine.

I ran, twisting out of the way of bullets as they flew past me. As I ran, I fired my rifle, pumping round after round into them. They dropped like flies. Death had caught up to them. Their punishment had finally come.

It was there, striding through the bodies of my enemies after making like Chow Yun Fat, that I truly understood the concept of power. Power was this feeling, conquering your enemies with an endless stream of bullets. Power was raining death upon the wicked. Power was surviving insurmountable odds.

Power was...

*BLAM!*

... Power was fading. I took a shot right to the left leg, making it nearly buckle from the pain.

I looked up in the direction of the gunshot's origin. Overlooking the balcony was a fresh batch of mobsters, one of whom had just got me in the leg with his pistol. Anything bigger and I wouldn't have been able to walk, let alone run. I threw myself back into cover, bullets striking the ground where I once was.

I pulled a grenade from my vest. I had just one more, and I wouldn't waste two on these guys. I'd have to throw this perfectly.

Breathe in.

I peeked around my cover, pulling the pin from the grenade and throwing it at the balcony.

Breathe out.

*BOOOOM!*

I ran out of my cover and began to fire, running towards the stairs.

*BANG!* *BLAM!* *BLAM!* *BANG!* *BLAM!* *BANG!* *BANG!* *BANG!* *BLAM!*

By the time I reached the balcony, they were dead. The entire room had been painted red, blood pooling up on the ground and dripping down walls. It'd be a pain in the ass to clean this shit up. I almost feel sorry for whoever will have to do that. I took a moment to reload my weapons.

I pressed on, shotgun in my hand.

Manfredi had come through this hallway. Unfortunately, there was at least a dozen doors in here. I had a flashback to Entisen apartments. Well, suppose it was time to do this the old fashioned way. I readied my foot in front of the nearest door, remembering my time as an officer as I did so, and kicked it down.

Considering how loud that display in the foyer must have been, I was amazed to find a group of mobsters all playing poker. "Ey Henry, ya got any sixes?" one asked.

"Nah Tommy, go fish," the other replied.

Scratch that. They were playing Go Fish.

I cleared my throat, the five mobsters turning and looking in my direction. I leveled the shotgun at them.

*BANG!*

That took care of them. I pumped the shotgun, and loaded another shell into it. I kicked down the door across the hall. Nothing. I went back into the hallway, ducking back into the room at the sound of gunfire. I went back into the hallway, firing my shotgun at the two mobsters at the other end of it. They went down.

I continued on through the hall, checking each and every door. Occasionally I found a guard or two, but the rooms were all empty. Manfredi was nowhere to be found. I guess that meant he was deeper into the mansion. I continued on, ready to send that bastard to his mak-

*KRAAAAAAAK!*

I was sent flying through the air, hitting the ground with a grunt. Standing before me was a metal man, twice my size, having just crashed through a wall. He laughed. And then he spoke. I recognized the voice.

"What did I tell you, Punisher? You're dead!"

"Manfredi?"

"You like it? Had some of my boys make it. It's not finished yet, but it's better than twiddling my thumbs in my office and waiting for you to come and kill me."

I pulled myself to my feet, grabbing the shotgun that had fallen out of my grip. I aimed at him and fired, the pellets barely denting the armor. "It's steel, Castle. You won't do anything to it."

I continued firing in vain as he approached. He grabbed my throat and squeezed. I gasped for a breath that wouldn't come, staring into slits on the mask, through which I could see Manfredi's eyes. They were brimming with barely contained rage. I could only imagine how angry he was; his entire organization, destroyed by some cop with a grudge.

He threw me through a wall. As I struggled to get up, he approached, grabbing me again. Through another wall I went. Another grab, another wall. Only this time, I went flying right out into the foyer. The corpses managed to cushion my fall, just enough that I didn't break anything. As I waited for Manfredi, barely able to pull myself up, all I could see was the ceiling... And the large chandelier hanging from it.

Time for one last dumb move, for old time's sake.

Manfredi jumped down into the foyer through the hole in the wall he had created, landing right under that chandelier, just a few feet away from me. I pulled myself to my feet with a grunt of pain. "What's wrong, Punisher? All that machismo fading now that you're getting your ass kicked?"

"S-somethin' like that."

"You're weak. Pathetic. I'm not going to kill you, no, not right now. Just disable you. I'll keep you alive for weeks, months even. Let the boys use you for target practice maybe."

"What boys? Thought I took all of them out."

He slapped me aside. "I've gone through much worse than this. I'll rebuild. From the ashes that you created, I will rise, and all will fear the name of Silvermane once more!"

He went into a monologue. That's the thing about old-timey bad guys like Manfredi, they love going off on tangents. While he was distracted with lecturing me, I pulled the pin on my last grenade, and threw it onto the chandelier, which hung over his head like the Sword of Damocles.

I got up and dove out of the way. The grenade exploded. Manfredi looked up, and saw the chandelier crashing down above him. He didn't have time to move out of the way.

*CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!*

I coughed, waving the dust away from my face. I approached Manfredi, who was trapped under the chandelier. I tore the helmet from his head.

"Your boys killed my family, you son of a bitch. You shouldn't have picked that park to do your dirty work. Because now, you're going to die."

"H-heh... Heheh..." The laugh he choked out sounded painful.

"What's so funny?"

"... You still think... That it was just a case... Of wrong place, wrong time?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Your wife worked... At the... The DA's office... Didn't she?"

I nodded.

"Someone... I dunno who... But someone sent her... Files... Incriminating me... I found out... No one does anything... In this city... Without me knowing."

"Bullshit. It was a coincidence." Something in my head told me otherwise.

"It wasn't... Believe me... I sent Rossi and Francesco down there... Where you were having your picnic... Had 'em kill a thorn in my side... And your family... Two birds with one... One stone."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" My boot slammed down on his face. I heard a sick crack. Manfredi grunted, but didn't scream. Only laughed that Goddamn laugh.

"Heheheh... Heheheh..."

I pulled out one of my Glocks and aimed at his head. "Any last words, you son of a bitch?"

"Two... Fuck. You."

*BANG!*

They were all dead. The final gunshot was an exclamation mark to all that had led up to this point. I slowly released my finger from the trigger... And then it was over.

I left.

---

12:01 AM; July 28th, 2018
Frank's Warehouse; New York City

When I got back I took off my vest and grabbed one of the bottles of whiskey I had. I didn't bother with a glass.

I pulled out one of my Glocks.

It felt like this was a fitting end to my journey. A bottle of whiskey in one hand, and a gun in the other, barrel resting under my chin. I took one last swig, and prepared to pull the trigger...

...

I couldn't do it.

I don't know why I couldn't. I told myself at the beginning of all this that I would blow my brains out when it was over. But I couldn't do it. Something in the back of my head forced itself to the front and stopped me. It felt like throwing my life away would be... Disrespectful, I suppose. My family was gone, yes, but I was still here.

I released my finger from the trigger, and set the gun down.

I was still here.

The Punisher was no more. But Frank Castle... Maybe he wasn't dead after all.

I threw the gun at the wall, and continued to drink.

Here's to the Punisher: may you be needed no more.

THE END

_{^{lolnah he'll be back later}}

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

2:00 PM; July 26th, 2018
Manfredi Manor; Outskirts of New York City

Silvio Manfredi had clawed his way to the top over the course of the last fifty years.

When Kingpin came to town and overthrew him almost a decade ago, he was livid, to say the least. But he fell in line. He'd done too much to have his entire organization crumble to dust because there was a new guy on top. He'd just have to settle for being second best. Kingpin had let him stick around out of respect, because one thing the mob held dearest was respect. They were cold-hearted bastards to the guys who spat on that respect, who defiled it. Respect others, and you too shall be treated with respect, even as cinder blocks are being tied around your ankles in preparation to throw you into the harbor.

But respect meant jack fuckin' shit these days. His entire organization was crashing down because some lousy cop went crazy and decided to come gunning for him. The gook bastard had already killed over a hundred of his men, including most of his top guys save for Frankie, Marko, and Hammerhead. He had no semblance of respect, fighting dirty, from the shadows, killing men with extreme prejudice. The man's capacity for violence was godly.

The son of a bitch had eluded him for most of the month. Even the third party assassin Silvio had hired failed to put him down. But he had confidence. Niagara had called him last night saying he had caught the fuck, and was gonna make sure his death was nice and slow. Silvio hadn't gotten a call back, yet. Knowing Frankie, he'd probably drag it out for the rest of the day.

His phone rang. Silvio pulled it out and checked the caller ID. He smiled. There was Frankie, right on cue. "Manfredi here. How's it going with the Punisher?"

"B-boss... I have some bad news..." Silvio didn't recognize the voice, but it sure as hell wasn't Frankie.

"... Who is this?"

"I-I'm Andy Russo, I work for you. I... Look, boss, Frankie's dead."

No. That fuckin' schmuck did not manage to kill Frankie. "... You better not be bullshitting me."

"I-I'm not! Frankie's fuckin' dead! That chink shot him and a bunch of other guys! He got away!"

"..." Silvio hung up the phone.

Frankie was just behind Marko and Hammerhead when it came to the rank he held. Considering Silvio had sent Marko and Hammerhead out of New York City while the Punisher was being dealt with to ensure they didn't get killed, that meant that the Punisher would be coming for him next. That would not fuckin' happen on his watch.

With the rise of metahumans and mutants, the criminal underworld had obviously jumped at the chance to get some on their sides. Manfredi hadn't been lucky enough to nab up metahumans when they were first cropping up, but he had decided to do something smarter...

His boys had managed to get some blueprints from Stark Industries.

They seemed to be very rough and were most likely for a prototype for some military tech they were working on, but it was military tech nonetheless. He ordered a chop shop and a computer shop he had under his control to start working on it together when he got his hands on it a month ago. They were making good progress on it, but it wasn't finished yet.

Still, it would have to do.

He dialed the number for the chop shop, where the armor was being worked on. "Vinnie? It's Silvio. I'm gonna need you to finish up the Silvermane armor, fuckin' ASAP."

---

ISSUE #9
STORM ON THE RISE

---

9:41 PM; July 26th, 2018
David Lieberman's House; New York City

This was it. Probably my last time seeing Dave for a good while. Tomorrow night, I would be hitting Manfredi in his own manor. I had taken out all his top dogs. He'd probably be keeping the rest of his goons with him, to provide 'protection', if you called being there to soak up bullets protection. By the time this was all over, I'd have spilled enough blood to fill a lifetime supply of blood bags.

"... Something on your mind, Frank?" I was pulled out of my thoughts by the voice of the man I had come to visit.

Dave.

I don't know why he helped me out in this. After I got married we sort of fell out of touch. I was busy raising a family, he was busy being a nerdy bachelor. It wasn't that we had a falling out or anything, we just... Drifted apart. I think the last time we had talked before I had recruited his help was two years before that. But still, he jumped at my request.

"... Yeah. Just thinking... Soon, it'll all be over."

He chuckled at that. "Heh. Yeah. Been a wild ride."

"That's putting it lightly." There was silence, for a moment longer. "... You know that after this, I'm gonna have to lay low. We probably won't see each other for a while."

Dave nodded. "Yeah. I know."

"It's been a pleasure, Dave."

He looked down, smiling. "Pleasure's all mine, Mr. Castle." Dave stood up, grunting as he did. "Enough of this sappy shit. Let's have a beer. For old time's sake."

I laughed. "Sounds like a plan."

And then it was just like the old days, when we were both fresh out of the academy, spending late nights chatting over a cold brew. Come tomorrow, I'd be dead, either at someone else's hand or, if I managed to survive this suicide mission I was on... My own.

But for now, I'm just Frank, and I'm having a conversation with an old friend, blissfully ignorant of the storm on the rise.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

No gods, no masters, no date stamps.

@Byrd Man

Careful now, Byrd. Every time someone references Objectivism, I feel tempted to drop whatever character I'm doing to play a certain faceless Objectivist vigilante man.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

Speaking of time...

I decided to retroactively alter the dates of my last two posts, in order to stretch out Frank's crusade so he did it all over the course of a few weeks instead of just one week. Just saying in case someone is confused when my next post is set on the 26th. Once I finish up the Manfredi arc I'm probably gonna go with everyone else's approach and not provide specific dates in my posts.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

I mean, 'cultural appropriation Lois' was pretty bad, but at least she was alive in those. For whatever reason, DC spent the majority of the innocent and optimistic Silver Age repeatedly murdering the shit out of Lois Lane.

The greatest romance in comic history, folks

_{Okay, so the last couple weren't Silver Age, but it does at least show DC's long proud history of brutally murdering Lois remains intact}

@AndyC

The Silver Age: stuffing women in fridges before it was cool.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

Meanwhile, in Simple Unicycle Land...

Season Two

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

<Snipped quote by Simple Unicycle>

Feel free to use the Cartel for some bad guys for Frank, I'd just ask you stay away from the characters I've used in it so far. The main players on that side of my story are probably going to go dark for a little bit on my end. You can PM me if you have something specific in mind.

@HenryJonesJr

I was just kidding, but hey, if you're giving me permission I might just throw some Silk Cartel goons at Frank once I wrap up the Manfredi storyline. None of the actual established characters you've used of course.