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25 days ago
Current @DocTachyon that would be based I think
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1 mo ago
The bugs are back.
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3 mos ago
If this watch breaks, the foreign exchange market will take a twenty-eight percent hit. People will die.
6 mos ago
bro aren't you 15 go do your homework instead of screaming about your WIFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
6 likes
6 mos ago
"No. This is somewhere to be. This is all you have, but it's still something. Streets and sodium lights. The sky, the world. You're still alive."
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Bio

Absolute clown. Dark and gritty superhero fan fiction guaranteed or your money back.




Most Recent Posts

8:36 AM; January 31st, 2026
David's Apartment; Gotham City, New Jersey

'Sometimes there will be nothing. Sometimes I'm back in the desert. Most of the time? I just wish these bullshit dreams would stop.'

"Not a damn thing to do with the numbers. Keep going."
He could've swore a moment ago it was Alkhatu all over again, the constant whirr of the helicopter blades, the blaring music, the beat of the machine gun as he delivered fiery justice onto the city. He jolted up, expecting to find himself still there. Instead all he found was himself in bed, the sheets over his naked form. "Hmmm... Something wrong?" the man next to him asked.

"No... No, just a bad dream. Sorry I woke you." David pulled himself out of bed, massaging his temples and grabbing the bottle of whiskey he kept on his nightstand for occasions like this. 'Just your past sins screaming at you to pay attention to 'em, Dave, nothing to be scared of.' He allowed himself a little chuckle at that. These dreams stopped being traumatizing months ago. Now it was just routine.

"You sure, Dave? You sounded spooked," the man, Alan, insisted, rolling over and picking himself up. Alan was a few years older than him, just another hookup in a bar. Most days he'd forget he even went to a bar last night, but David was getting better; he even remembered his hookup's name this time.

"I'm fine. Was just one of those falling dreams. I get 'em every now and again."

Alan quirked an eyebrow and for a moment Dave almost swore that he was a long lost relative of Zoey. "That's why you're drinking?"

David laughed. "No, this is just step one of my usual morning routine."

Seemed that didn't appease Alan, judging by the frown he wore now. "Listen, my last boyfriend was a vet. He used to have nightmares and he'd pull this tactic all the time. If you need to talk, I'm here."

David twitched a bit at that. A vet, eh? He was sort of one. Fought in an armed conflict, was willing to die for his cause (even if his was fairly bullshit), watched a few buddies bite the dust. If he had to be honest, he should have stopped mourning them a year ago. It was about time he moved on with his life. Stopped moping over dead men. But at this point, moping over his past failures was about as routine as brushing his teeth. No point in changing a part of your life if you're comfortable with it. "Thanks for the offer, but I'm serious, I'm fine."

David took another drink, then quirked an eyebrow. "... So, uh, boyfriend? Now, I don't mean to be rude, but I wouldn't go that far... Not... Not, uh, yet, anyway. We can... I dunno... See how it goes...? If you want, of course."

"I'm flattered, Dave, but... I don't think I could be with another man like my last boyfriend again."

"Oh... Okay. I understand."

It was a bit awkward after that. Alan gathered his clothes up and put them on, before heading out the door. David sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation.

'Ha! You just cockblocked yourself! Nice!'

"... Yep."

There was something wrong with him. He knew there was.

'Don't think about why people don't like you, Dave. They don't. Live with it. It's gonna piss you off but you know what? Fuck 'em. The angrier you are, the more damage you can do to Anarkee and all the criminals in this city. Speaking of, we should go do that, eh? Ehhhhh?'

"Fuck off." With those words, David pulled himself out of bed and got dressed. Hood continued to nag him, but he just ignored it. After brushing his teeth, he went into his living room, where he was promptly ambushed by Max, who jumped up and attempt to lick David's face. In response, the young man knelt down with a smile, stroking the dog's back as Max licked him. "Yeah, who's a good boy? You're a good boy, yes you are. You wanna go for a walk?" Max's response to that was a bark and a wag of his tail. "Alright, lemme get the leash."

A few minutes later, David was leading Max down the sidewalk. It had snowed the night before, casting a white sheet over the street. A few children were playing, building snowmen, having snowball fights, the usual. David cast a few looks at the scenes, finding himself smiling a bit. It felt good to know that even after all the pain in the world, from the One Week War to all that had happened after it, that people could still find something to be happy about.

Maybe that's what he was missing. He'd been such a downer these last few years, he had almost forgotten what it was like to be happy. Maybe that was Hood's doing. Maybe he was just naturally a depressive asshole. Whatever it was, he was sick of feeling like a buzzkill all the time.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that his reflexes didn't even kick in when he noticed a snowball soaring towards his face; it struck him, bits of snow covering his left cheek. The children across the street laughed, though it didn't sound mean spirited. Then, it hit him, how he could remedy this predicament he was in. David turned to the kids, a scowl on his face. "Oh, so it's gonna be like that, huh? Not even gonna give me a heads-up?"

The children stopped laughing. David tied Max's leash around his arm, before reaching down to scoop up some snow, and then throwing it in the direction of the children. One of them was struck in the chest. They all realized what was about to happen, and rushed to grab more snowballs, laughing all the way.

It was on.

David scooped up another handful of snow, running across the street with Max in tow and throwing the snowball at the children while they responded in kind. He managed to duck out of the way of a few of them, but some hit him. The scene in the street was a typical one on a day like this, snowballs flying and laughter filling the air. A young man who figures the world has taken all it can from him, and children who couldn't care less about what the world has in store for them, all joining together to have a snowball fight.

This really was what he was missing, wasn't it?

When it was over, David found himself slumped up against a wall, an ear-to-ear grin on his face and his gut hurting from laughing so hard. "Hey mister!" David looked up just in time to notice the snowball soaring towards his face. He chuckled as he wiped it off. The young boy gave him a goofy grin. "Thanks for playing with us."

"Don't mention it, kid."
RIP Retired, gone but not forgotten.

Anyhow, gonna be wrapping up my crossover with Byrd and then I'll see this season off. I plan on playing Frank for another crossover with Doc at the beginning of Season Two, and then I'll be retiring him so I can focus on another character...


Midnight
A mostly destroyed autoshop; Lynwood, California

ISSUE #16
WAR PIGS
PART FOUR


"Names have power," he said to the man. "And even the unholy angel of death has a real name. And that gives me power. You're a curious one, you know? You don't look like one of Garica's guys, and you sure as fuck aren't rolling with the white power boys bleeding out on the ground. So, what's your story, squire? Who the fuck are you?"


I blinked my eyes a few times to adjust to the bright light, looking around. The autoshop was in shambles, Garcia and his boys were all dead. Before me was the blond man in the ratty trenchcoat, alongside a cowboy who had his sixgun trained on me. I figured I wouldn't be seeing many cowboys after Warpath. Guess they were more in style here than there, surprisingly.

The blond man spoke with a British accent, and I quirked an eyebrow as I slowly raised my hands to show the cowboy I wasn't a threat. "Isn't it obvious? I'm the pizza guy. Took me a bit long to get here though, looks like these guys get their order free." I paused to chuckle. The Brit didn't seem amused, or at least not amused enough to laugh with me.

I sighed, looking between the man and the cowboy who was starting to look less human and more otherworldly by the second. "Not sure if the name means anything to you unless you've been catching yourself up with the news, but I'm Frank Castle, the Punisher. I've been traveling the country, delivering vigilante justice. I ran into a drug den in Fredericksburg Texas, the trail led me here, to Garcia. I'm guessing that's him?" I pointed towards what remained of the suited Hispanic man. The Brit nodded in confirmation.

I paused, recollecting what had just happened, and how I managed to lose my sense for what seemed like hours. "Judging by what just happened to me, and the way your, uh, friend here looks... I'm guessing there's something of the supernatural sort going on. Before you ask how I can tell, because I know you will, I've got a buddy in Warpath who had a bit of a demon problem a few days back. I wouldn't be able to tell you just what exactly is going on, but I know it's not of this world as it were."

Now that I had finished up my little spiel, I nodded to the Brit, cracking a wry grin. "And what'd your name be? Sam Spade?"

Time Is An Illusion
The Inner Workings of A Twisted Mind

ISSUE #16
WAR PIGS
PART THREE


I don't know where I am. Maybe I'm not supposed to know. It's familiar yet foreign. A strange comfort, and a known danger all at once. It feels wrong, yet right.

"It's almost time."

I can... Feel something, controlling my every move. Using my thirst for retribution to kill callously, without remorse, without purpose. I didn't like its attitude, and the fact that it hijacked my body was another mark against it.

"Don't worry anymore."

I kill with purpose. I do, honestly. At least... I think. I'm not too sure anymore. Good, bad, black, white, it all blends together into one mushy grey mess after a while. Maybe I'm not as good as I like to think I am... Maybe I'm only a step above the people who kill for pleasure, or profit.

"Stop fighting."

Snap out of it, Frank! Now's not the time to doubt yourself. The easiest way to fail is to give up before you even start trying, and Ling Chu didn't raise a quitter! You gotta find a way to fix this, maybe... Maybe... God, I don't know what I can do...

"Please."

... It sounds like Maria, calling to me. I don't want to listen, I try my hardest to block it out, cover my ears, shake my head, I even try singing Yankee fucking Doodle just to get it to stop... But still, it sounds clear as day.

"It's over, Frank. Just relax."

I can see her. Blonde hair framing her delicate face. A small smile and blue eyes pleading with me. She reaches out a hand, stroking my face, then opens her mouth to speak...

"Come home."

But it's not her. It's a soulless reflection of what she was, trying to seduce me into giving into this beast's demands. I won't let it use me to cause chaos and destruction. I'm a hero, much as the rest say I'm not. And I know evil when I see it. But while I know it's not her, I can't help but hurt, knowing I'm about to push my wife away for good.

With a heavy heart, I reply, "You know I can't. But I wish that I could."

Her smile becomes melancholic. Tears prick at my eyes. She reaches her thumb up to brush them away. "I wish you could, too."

I lean into her touch, but her hand falls away. I watch silently as she walks away into the pitch black. I'm alone. Nothing to keep me company but my own thoughts. The darkness and silence washes over me like a wave of guilt washes over a remorseful killer.

But I can feel it peeling away. Revealing the light... And a cacophony of gunfire. Just my luck, I suppose.

I guess it's time to see what's waiting for me on the other side.

I step out of the darkness and into the light.

A Day Later; Noon
The streets of Los Angeles, California

ISSUE #16
WAR PIGS
PART TWO


Los Angeles.

I was a fish out of water here, thousands of miles from home. All my life, I had never gone farther than Gotham where I grew up. I was so used to the gloomy, snowy atmosphere of Jersey and New York, tight alleys and brick buildings and long, dark shadows; now that I was in LA where it was all open streets and polished buildings and a bright sun it was jarring. Thank God I had driven and gradually gotten used to the lack of dread that hung to you in the Big Apple, because if I'd taken a plane I'd have died of a heart attack from the culture shock... Or a third degree burn because dear God, I was missing the mild summers of New York right about now.

I wiped the sweat from my brow as I continued to drive down the street. Really wish I had gotten an address out of that guy, but I had my ways of finding out what I wanted to know. I could already tell you one thing for certain: today was gonna be a bad day to be a pusher.

Several Hours Later; Midnight
An autoshop; Lynwood, California

It was probably dumb luck that one of the pushers I roughed up was connected to Garcia. Told me about an autoshop in Lynwood, the place where Garcia usually meets his associates. Said that there wasn't a meet going on tonight, but I might still find him there. Guess now I had a place to go.

The autoshop was heralded by a dented and faded sign in Spanish. The garage door was open, a squad car parked in front. There were a few gangbangers, a Hispanic guy in a suit, another guy looking like he was about to win a Mr. Rogers look-a-like contest, three cops, and a blond guy in a ratty trench coat on the ground. That last guy was definitely out of place in the room.

I parked my van and stepped out, hearing the faint voices from the garage about thirty feet ahead. The voices got louder, and angrier. Whatever was going on in there, it wasn't going well. I'd say I was concerned it was gonna escalate into violence, but that was a load of shit. Not even those cops had me worried; they were obviously in bed with Garcia or one of his rivals to be meeting him without trying to arrest him. If they killed each other it'd just make my job easier.

Then I heard the gunshots. Pulling out my pistols, I ran as fast as I could and jumped into the fray.

Bullets penetrated flesh.

Blood gushed from wounds.

Bodies fell to the ground.

This...

This was...

Perfect...

Blood and fear and pain and death death death DEATH DEATH DEATH DEATH DEATH ITS SWEETNESS KISSES ME AND SETS ME FREE IN THE NIGHT THE SCREAMS OF THE DYING AND THE SILENCE OF THE DEAD MINGLING IN PERFECT HARMONY IT WAS D̨̛͟E͞͝͏̷҉L̵̨̛͞͝I̧͘͘͟C̵͘͜I̸͘Ǫ̷͏̷U͢S̡̀͢

I blinked.

What the hell was th-

T̡HIN̕K NO͜THI͡N͟G OF I͝T҉ Y̢ÓU A̕R̛E ҉ǪNE ̢WI̕TH̢ M̷È ͜THE ͝BRIN͝GE̵R͡ ̢O͠F̕ PA͞I͘N AN҉D͡ ̡DE̸A̸TH ̵GIVE̢ ͞M͜E҉ ̶D͝E͏ATH͟ ̸SÌNG̶ ́Y͟OU̧R ̕SON̡G̛ ͏AG͘E̷N͝T̨ ÒF ͏VE͠N͡G͠EAN҉C̀E͘

ŢH͞IS ̶VES͜S͠EĹ

S̸͠UI̶̵҉TS̸̡͟ ̶̡M͏҉E

Ẃ̧E͜͜͞L̵̕͡L͘
Gwen waiting for the Surfer like



:-p

EDIT: Apparently the picture doesn’t want to post


<Snipped quote by Simple Unicycle>
I think I know your preference of what I should do, then.


Now I'm not gonna try and convince you to play Huntress, but... You should play Huntress.
Were we discussing season 2 plans?

Because boy-howdy do I have those.

Anyway I'm pretty happy with where Frank's arc has ended up so I'm probably gonna end up just playing him for a bit at the beginning of season two to do another crossover with Doc, and then I'll retire him because I've honestly kinda lost that special something I tapped into to write up those posts of high octane gunplay all the time. Gonna end up either doing a version of the Question who's a mishmash of the different versions of the character or a semi-reimagined Jimmy Woo.

Spoiler alert: I'm 110% going with the Question.

Also, gonna try and get another post up to progress my crossover with Byrd. Hopefully we'll be able to wrap that up before the season ends.
Soooo...

Anybody got a kryptonite ring just sorta, y'know, around? Because I sure could use one of those.


Implying a homeless ex-cop with a bunch of guns has Kryptonite on hand.
3:04 AM; January 9th, 2026
Outside the Angel Nightclub; Hub City, Illinois

It didn't take long to figure out where she was. All it took was another lungful of the gas, and after a bit of coughing he could Hear and See the city's directions. A long, winding crack in the road took him there, leading him through the snow covered Hell of brick tenement buildings to the bright Heaven of sleek skyscrapers, or at least the closest thing that could pass for Heaven in a town like this. Jury Street was a "high class" red light district, slummy dives and strip clubs disguised as cocktail lounges and exclusive nightclubs.

The city cried out the most when he entered this part of town, but he drowned it out with the thoughts of her. Shams. He wasn't too sure what had happened, those early days were fuzzy, getting used to using the gas and all, but all he knew was that their once productive partnership fell into shambles. All that Oscar wanted was to tell her it was better this way, he could tackle bigger problems than he ever could now. A part of him knew she wouldn't understand. He couldn't blame her.

He saw her there, bleeding out on the ground, a pool of blood under her marring the snowy sidewalk. It hurt to see her like this; the firecracker that she was, beaten down, tired... Dead, even. The thought made him clench his grappling gun tighter, and he may have sped up in his swinging just a bit at it. She wasn't dead. She couldn't be. If there was one thing he knew about her, it was this: she'd die when she was damn well ready.

When he landed on the ground and stumbled over to her, looking so (dead) still and (dead) frail in the moonlight, the first thing he did was pull off his gloves off to place boney fingers upon her throat and wrist. There was a pulse, thank God. But if she stayed out in the cold without getting patched up, she'd be dead for sure. There was only one place he could think of to go. It had been a while since he had been there, but he knew the way. And if he had forgotten, the city could fill him in.

Her warehouse.

Picking up his former partner from the ground and throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes ('Feels strange referring to her as that,' he mused internally), Oscar took his grappling gun from his inner coat pocket, aiming it at a nearby rooftop and firing. It was a good mile or so outside of Hub City proper and he had little time to waste. It was times like this he wished he had a fancy car or plane like Grim. But, of course he didn't, so he just had to do things the old fashioned way.

The Question set off into the cold night.
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