[OOC] Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

[Ceta de Cloyes]

I haven’t even been here for very long and I already feel a little spoiled by the assumption of every post getting a personalized little review from the gm lmao

[Enarr]

@Retired It's not that i'm specifically eager or blasting through it. I'm posting because my office currently has a bit of a work dry spell and i have literally nothing to do for 8 hours but sit here and pretend i'm reviewing old shit. Posting because if i don't, i'm going to blow my fucking brains out. It'll slow down when work picks back up again.

@mattmanganon

In other words, he wants you to also Retire.

[Lord Wraith]

@Retired The Teen Titans are accepted.

[Xanadu]

A little update on my part!

Next post should be up by the end of this weekend if all things go according to plan.

[Ceta de Cloyes]

@Hound55

Woof! The personality! The characterization! That was a really good post, very pleasant to read ;P The characters felt very distinct and alive, and the jumps in time were very smooth and easy to follow, very nice!

[mattmanganon]

A little worried about that last post, did i go a little too far with the "LOL all of that casual racism in 50's tv!"?

[Hound55]

@Hound55

Woof! The personality! The characterization! That was a really good post, very pleasant to read ;P The characters felt very distinct and alive, and the jumps in time were very smooth and easy to follow, very nice!

@Ceta de Cloyes

Thanks, I was a bit worried when I skimmed back through it. It seemed to come out a bit clunkier than I wanted, but glad people were still able to follow and enjoy it.

[Bounce]

Marvelous Monday to you.

Blessings and high favor.

[Dblade26]

Idea for my best pairing ever.

A Buddy Cop Detective Series starring Detective Chimp and Hit-Monkey.

[Bork Lazer]

Hey, if someone's doing the Suicide Squad in the future, put this guy on the squad.

[Hound55]

Just like what should happen to Gambit...

[Byrd Man]

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

THE SHADOW

^{_{♦ LAMONT CRANSTON/KENT ALLARD ♦ WEALTHY MAN ABOUT TOWN ♦ CHICAGO ♦}}

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

^{"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow knows..."}

The Shadow is going to stay The Shadow. The only difference is there will be two of them. Lamont Cranston will operate in the modern day while we flashback to the days of Kent Allard's Shadow.

---

C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:

You know, 2019 doesn't seem to be very much different than the era in which The Shadow was created. Corruption and greed seem to be fucking over the little people in this country and there seems to be a growing tide of hate from people who are frightened by the changing world.

Also, Nazis are still a thing.

So through that lens, I think The Shadow would adapt rather well. And with the angle of turning the character into a legacy, I have the ability to jump back and forth through time to tell stories. So... yeah.

---

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

Kent Allard -- The original Shadow.

Lamont Cranston -- Great grandnephew of Allard. Current Shadow.

Margo Lane -- Newspaper reporter and Allard's love interest.

Claude Fellows -- Modern day mayor of Chicago.

Rutledge Mann -- 1920's Chicago chief of police.

Ralph Weston -- Modern day Chicago chief of police.

Roy Tam -- Weston's right hand man. The Shadow's agent inside CPD.

Grendel -- Mysterious Chicago crime boss operating in modern times.

The Black Sparrow -- Fifth columnist active during WW2.

Kyle Vincent -- Modern day white nationalist and Illinois Nazi.

---

S A M P L E P O S T:

1929

Joe McGill kept a watchful eye on his men as they loaded up the small convoy of trucks with crates. Each crate contained thirty cases of Canadian liquor. Those that weren't loading the trucks were standing guard in the warehouse with Tommy Guns. It was a precaution that was well worth the extra cost. McGill ran a rough calculation and came up with seventy-five grand in profit for him and his crew. That was what the president made in a whole year, just on this one run south.

With the amount of money involved in bootlegging, it was worth fighting for. Worth killing for too. The Italians were trying to muscle in on his rackets and hijack his shipments. McGill was going to be goddamned if he let that happen. The major fuckup from last week had been unfortunate, but it was necessary. It wasn't McGill's fault that Jim Marino had been a coward who hid behind a group of kids during the hit.

"Hahahahahahaha"

McGill looked up into the darkness of the warehouse. All action beside the trucks had come to a standstill. The sinister laughter boomed through the open space. But to McGill it sounded so close, like whoever it was was whispering into his ear.

"You're all murderers and poisoners. You traffic in suffering and despair. Human parasites."

McGill motioned for his men to fan out. Those that had been loading the trucks pulled pistols from their waistbands or shoulder holsters. He saw a silhouette of a man with a large brimmed hat stretch across the floor of the dimly lit warehouse. Gunfire lit up the darkness as the Tommy Guns and pistols erupted. After several seconds of prolonged gunfire, the warehouse fell silent again.

"Hahahahaha. With aim like that, no wonder six school children are dead."

And that was when the warehouse turned into a war zone. Bullets ripped through the air as McGill's men opened fire. Whatever it was, kept firing on them. McGill saw the side of Albert McKinney's face disappear into a bloody mist of pulp. McGill backed away and beat a retreat to his office. He opened up the heavy metal door and closed it behind him. Bullets bounced off its surface as he the threw the deadbolt across it and cowered behind his desk.

McGill heard the gunfire intensifying through the door. He pulled a five-shot revolver from his waistcoat and aimed it towards the door with a shaky hand. McGill was a gangster, but he had always been the one who ordered the hits. He'd never actually carried them out. McGill flinched as a rapid burst of machine gun fire raked the metal door. Someone screamed and an explosion rocked the warehouse.

Quiet fell. McGill could smell smoke. He started to stand behind the desk when the metal door swung open. He saw a shadow in the doorway and screamed as he fired. McGill continued to pull the trigger even as the gun dry fired on empty chambers. The door frame was empty. Whatever had been there, or whatever McGill thought had been there, was gone.

"Joseph McGill."

Something shimmered in front of him. It was a man. A man with two guns in his hands. McGill held up is empty gun as the man opened fire. Two bullets ripped through McGill's chest and he crumpled to the floor. The man stood above him and looked down. McGill saw that he wore a hate and some sort of cloth over his face.

"The weed of crime bears bitter fruit, McGill. It's harvest time for you."

"No," McGill gasped. "No please!"

---

P O S T C A T A L O G:

TBD

[Lord Wraith]

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

THE SHADOW

@Byrd Man

Fuck yes.

[mickilennial]

I, too, enjoy the exploits of The Shadow.

[Simple Unicycle]

And to think I was worried Byrd was gonna steal my boi Question from me.

Nice sheet (or rather, nice sample post) Byrd, can't wait to read your posts.

[Dblade26]

As I'm getting a clearer picture for stuff with Connor, anyone mind if I grab Deathstroke since he tends to be a GA enemy? I know he's also a very frequent Titans adversary, so obviously I wanna check ahead of time. I'd be willing to share him too. I likewise need to grab Catman and Onomotopoeia if that's cool with everybody.

[Hound55]

For the love of God! Accept this man!

[Retired]

As I'm getting a clearer picture for stuff with Connor, anyone mind if I grab Deathstroke since he tends to be a GA enemy? I know he's also a very frequent Titans adversary, so obviously I wanna check ahead of time. I'd be willing to share him too.

@Dblade26

Hit me up. Technically Slade's a TT legacy character, and I have some ideas, but I'm open to working something out.

[Dblade26]

<Snipped quote by Dblade26>

Hit me up. Technically Slade's a TT legacy character, and I have some ideas, but I'm open to working something out.

@Retired

All cool, naturally that's exactly why I was checking! Let's talk, I might not need to use him after all but interested to hear and discuss!

[officaz]

Uhm, you go first

T H E P U N I S H E R

________________________________________

F R A N K C A S T L E ♦ Vigilante
♦ N E W Y O R K C I T Y ♦ Working
________________________________________

CHARACTER CONCEPT
"Some people ask me how I sleep at night.I tell them I just close my eyes"

FRANK CASTLE'S first job was enlisting in the USMC. He completed boot camp, and went onto learning how to kill, if in a tight spot, perhaps in a residential setting, or mid-to-close range. He did so well in his Infantry school that he was recommended for Sniper School. The special two-man dive was elite. He was pushed to his physical limits, and he had to lie on his stomach and navigate and search across common and uncommon territories for at least two days. His eyes had to be checked every month, like so did his weight and blood. There was also P.T. and versatile weapons training. Then, one day, Frank was handed a medal, a salute, and $5,000 for becoming a Marine Sniper.

He was called upon to serve the U.S. armed forces all over the globe, and then five years was up and Frank was heading home. Frank’s skills when he was ready to punch it in were combat preparedness, identity theft, language(s) inventory, etc.

While home, Frank was touring with his family in the park. Before he knew, a mafia hit went down with them sitting in the middle. His wife and child were killed. Frank was hurt so bad that he began experiencing anxiety and sleep disorder.

He took the meds, and they helped calm him down, but pills didn’t give him answers.
He was in a city where murders come a dime a dozen. So, since he was a victim, an assassin, and a justice seeker, Frank took on the alias to kill as many of those dime-a-dozen murdering pieces of shit that he could.

CHARACTER MOTIVATIONS * GOALS
I FOUND OUT ABOUT Punisher by noticing him on the shelf.
It looked like I would like him. So, I picked up a copy or two and right away I liked it. I liked how dirty it was, and how there was the dark bulldog humor. He is my favorite antihero. But I want to take him up a notch and include more humor, more modern amenities, and more twists and turns.

CHARACTER NOTES
TO CLARIFY MY VISION, I would like some characters from the same scene as my character. Daredevil, Wolverine, etc. There’s not much to it. It can be a big fight, a run-in, a double target, or a team-up, etc.

CHARACTER NOTES
NONE AT THIS TIME. The Punisher has lived a long, hard life and friends and enemies go as fast as a buck. Some have been constant.

SAMPLE POST
Outside in the night, one man walked alone and had always walked alone… in the shadows, carrying .50 pistols and knives and maybe a grenade or two. He looked down alleyways and observed hobos blowing plumes of cocaine smoke, sometimes he would watch hobos suffering epileptic-like reactions from injecting heroin. And, in the streets it was no different, only the territory codes were different. Good people could issue an emergency call for a prostitute, or there was a camera that could identify a shooter in an attempted murder case. But, outside in the shadows in the gambling houses and in the alleys, no one was good and no camera was operating.

The Punisher’s Wolverine-themed automatic alarm clock ringed at exactly 2:30 a.m. He rolled over the bed and sat his feet on the floor, still sitting on his bed. He was well-groomed, but his hair and a gap in his back after two drug dealers jumped him, running away after they stabbed him in his back. This he could feel… so he stood up, did some stretching, preformed some calisthenics, and tidied up his hair. He was finished getting into his black ops BDUs when the phone signal intruded.

“Hello?”

“Is this Mr. Frank Murdock?”

“Yep.”

“OK sir, your address is 991 on 9th street, do I have that right?”

“Yes.”

“You have a package and I cannot locate you.”

“I’ll meet you on 8th. Give me ten minutes”.

Punisher snatched open the drawer table sitting beside his bed, and put on one of his black tank tops. He had several things on his mind, so before he unlocked his door and ran into the street he lit up a generic cigarette.

The delivery truck swooped around the corner like he was toting a Ferrari. They had a dress code, a time item is due, and instant assistance from the area authorities at the push of a button inside the vehicle, but go without a speed limit.

He was slowing down halfway through the second street from 9th and there was a man smoking a cigarette and looking down the street the driver was coming up. The receiver of the package was Frank Castle, who titled himself to this particular courier as, “Frank Murdock.”

“Hello,” stated the truck driver. He let go of a moment, and asked Frank if the package was redeemable. The bullshit vigilante nodded, and signed and handed the guy a fistful of paper currency. The two went their ways. On his way back to his shithole, Frank stopped at a dumpster and examined the contents, cutting it open, and finding a Nokia flip phone, a manual to use the phone, and a silver cross attached to a silver chain, which didn’t look cheap. He ditched the box, and put the phone and the manual in his pocket. As for the cross, he understood that it could be several different possible employers. One from Chicago come to mind, just like one’s in Florida and like at least two he regarded in New York.

Frank never kept his contact information the same. He had a few people that worked his number when necessary. He started out a vigilante… to hurt those that were decent and innocent, returning to how his family was taken. Now, he was getting paid to murder.
He was home. He took off his cap, and lay down his revolver from inside of his BDU’s. Next, he went into a specific kitchen drawer and got a tiny canister from it, which he sprayed the silver cross with. And, there was his answer: 4N4

The number represented the Aryan Brotherhood, a dangerous challenge to society, and mostly operated on in prison systems. It was a mill… everything is the same. The information and the ration, was a phone call away. There should be some time, he thought, so he reinserted his gun into his pocket, and put the Nokia away. Then, he headed downstairs, and to the store.

He lived life alert, and didn’t witness any suspicious people or cars, so he got back to his apartment with a six pack and some Fritos. It was 1 a.m. when the phone started ringing. Frank was sleeping well, but he awaked and answered. The number was restricted.

“Hello?”
“Is this Frank OPS?”

“Yes. You’re the guy who sent me the phone?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“…”

“Oh, the name of your register---“

“Right, now forget it. What do you want from me?”

“I hear that you like to kill, and you’re not scared.”

“Am I cheap?”

“I heard you like $5,000. But, there’s going to be some traveling. We don’t know exactly where he is.”

“I’ll do $8,000.”

“OK. This guy is an informer. He cannot live. He snitched on two boys inside of our lockup. And, then, a guy selling guns and robbing creeps pulling in a G a week, the Brotherhood wants this motherfucker dead. But you know, we would cut him into pieces… but we want him dead, so he’s not worth it… How will you put him up?”

“I’ll execute the guy and set him on fire, and then I can throw him into the river. That’s a way I can do it.”

“OK, well, that’s alright. You’re real. But are you going to Ohio, find this guy, fuck his world up like that, and still keep on keeping on?”

“Yeah, sure. But my fee is $8,000. How do we exchange our assets?”

“It’s the second number in the phone. Call him, and set it up.”

CLEK
TO BE CONTINUED