BangoSkank — Roleplayer Guild

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Junk-Fist Written by ssseraphim in the Nexus '22 Discord

Taking place in:
A bizarre cartoony macabre Arlen Texas.  EVerything here is bizarrely out of proportion and weird.  It's got this almost two dimensional look to it and the angles of pathways are seemingly impossible but still effortlessly traversable as any normal road.  There's a wildly unsettling vibe to the atmosphere and you can hear distant echoes of sipping beer, Texans saying "Yup," and traffic despite there being no visible cars.

JUNK-FIST

The passageways of this Arlen place were now lined with a myserious foul-smelling black and green-mixed trail of some fluids, viscous like magma yet stuck to the bizarre two-dimensional ground like a snail trail.  Now ridden with flies and maggots no different than any roadkill found on the street, it seemed to be left behind by something actively moving.  It's been a while since Junk-Fist was teleported here. . . He'd now be walking down one of those cartoon walls with a painted tunnel from teh animated cartoon known as Wile E. Coyote and the Roadrunner, hoping to meet at least one living thing in this event.  In all honesty Junk-Fist had been getting a feeling that he was actually sent away from the tournament, believing he's in some weird city off the grids of this world.

"Helloo?!  YO!!  Anyone...there?" He shouted down the weird cartoony tunnel.

DANGER, DANGER FONTAINE

"What in the Tex Avery tarnation is this happy horseshit?"

Danger, Danger Fontaine shouted in response to the figure some ways ahead of him down this darkly colored but somehow still pretty well and perfectly evenly lit tunnel.

"Boy,"  Danger, Danger Fontaine shouted in his best Foghorn Leghorn.

"I say boy!  Is this you son?  Have ya cut the cheese?  D'ye have the Irritatin' Bowels Syndromes?  Have ye got a mean case of the shits?"

He stepped over the putrid snail trail and the three maggots swimming about in it and slapped wildly at one single persistent fly that had taken a liking to him.  Never had a fly fan before.  Couldn't hardly write small enough to sign an autograph for one of them.  Them midget folks was hard enough.  Made for good tossin' though.

"Where we at anywho?  How much further to Albuquerque?"

Danger, Danger Fontaine got a hurry on to catch up with the stinky bastard.  As a professional wrestler he was well acquainted with the concept a personal hygiene.  He would have to introduce this poor young man to it.  Maybe they'd get along.

JUNK-FIST

Junk-Fist focused on the loud and Dangerous Fontaine, gaining up through his snail trail.  The stunken fellow simply stood there as the man up and leghorn'ed his way into his one ear and out the other.

"I knew the trail would be useful" he thought to himself.

"Where are we..?  That tournament's still happening.  Damn..  Albuh...koykee... That probably exists where I'm from... We're probably not there though."

He stared down at the disgusting trail he left behind, a clunky semi-solid that could be seen sliding down his pant-legs and out from under his shirt.  Truly, the sight of the trail's origin was like that of seeing the dark truth of how a restaurant's meats are made.

"So uhm... You must know what you're doing, walking up to a guy like me.  Like a professional.  Those are usually the kinda guys that go after me where I'm from."

His eyes went to Fontaine walking over the fly-ridden trail, now releasing a repugnant odor, turning stronger by the second.  The scent matched that of skunk spray, the contents of a septic tank, and raw sewage... One might think this guy's shitting his pants as he's talking...

DANGER, DANGER FONTAINE

"You're just gonna keep beefin' huh?"

Danger, Danger Fontaine asked as he approached the source of the stink.  Now Danger, Danger Fontaine had fought Shoeless Joel Jacobson and Stinky Sam Smith and Bad Personal Hygiene Bobby P. Henderson.  Hell, Danger, Danger Fontaine had even fought Overpowering Body Odor Billy O'Shaughnessey.  But they all paled in comparison to the sheer malodorous miasma maintained by this man.  The fetid funk of a football teams worth of Super Smash Bros fans.  Ya boy smelled like shit.

"I respect that."

He did not.

"I am a professional.  A professional wrestler,"
Danger continued, striking a needless melodramatic pose.  Arms up for a double biceps pose.  Shit eating grin.  One leg bent and flexed hard.  Neck veins bulging his neck veins veins also bulged.

"You know Pepto-Bismol is good for all kinds of things.  Nausea, Heartburn, Indigestion, Upset Stomach, Diarrhea."

He said this last bit in a sing song voice for some reason.  The reas on was that Pepto-Bismol was one of his sponsors.

"Pepto-Bismol is one of my sponsors, that's why I sang that just now.  It really does work though."

Danger, Danger Fontaine moved his arm about to show his opponent the Pepto-Bismol branding, then moved lsightly upwind of his funkily fragrant friend,

"Ya know a friend of mine got piledrived.  Piledriven.  Pildri.  He got dumped right on his stupid fucking head this one time.  He done explosive diarrhea'd all up in his tights.  If you watch the footage you can see it.  Suddenly dude is trying to smuggle a football.  Poor fella was hobbling around the rest of the match.  Started leavin' a trail not unlike your own.  No maggots though.  You just migh thave works ya know.  Nasty business.  My dog, Steve Urkel, he had that once."

Danger, Danger Fontaine looked around the deserty landscape.

"Danger, Danger Fontaine my Fetid Friend.  Pleased ta meet ya.  What say we find us a Saloon to have this little scrap.  Maybe some whiskey beforehand.  We could have a few shots.  Maybe you wipe your ass in the bathroom first.  Sound like a good deal?"

Name: Dangerrutito Fontaniuxic
Race: Homo-Superior-As-Fuck
Age:  Like 40 but possessed a 27 year old Future Russian guy

Attributes:

Megalomaniacal: 

Through sheer irrational unreasonable confidence the man known as Danger, Danger Fontaine, prior to his transformation into Dangerrutito Fontaniuxic, was capable of sustaining unreasonable damage and persisting through that damage.  Decades of steroid abuse probably helped too.  The man known as Danger, Danger Fontaine, prior to his transformation into Dangerrutito Fontaniuxic, was able to violate the boundaries of physics and reason and good taste as easily as Bill Clinton does the institution and boundaries and history and that type shit of an Internship by punching harder, kicking also harder, kicking ass also also harder, and just generally being a kick ass muhfuka of a dude.

Banished Bastard Son:

With the loss of his bastard child B-Rad, banished beyond the realms of sight and sound to a twilight zone, sort of like from the television show called The Twilight Zone, the man then known as Danger, Danger Fontaine bent his will toward achieving more power and doing things more Big Leagueier.  Finding that no earthly power could allow him to avenge the loss of his bastard son, and thus his only hope of ever banging his bastard son's mom again (or even remembering what her name was, pretty sure it had an E or an A in it), he sought strength from the stars.  

Eventually doing a lot of totally rad type shit culminating in him astrally projecting himself into the body of some vaguely Future Russian guy in the future.  That guy was also like a Power Ranger or something.  Hard to tell.  But with that new body he did a lot of deep lore type stuff that culminated in him kinda sort rescuing his bastard child's soul but also kinda sorta fusing his bastard child's soul into a Q-Bramble Blade, also known as a Q-BramBlade, but this specific one was named after his dead and banished and soul fused to a sword bastard son B-Rad.  It was named Trilobisekni.

Power Ranger Type Shit:

Future Russian dude was like a Power Ranger, or a God, or Boba Fett, or maybe some kind of tyrannical slave trader or something.  Not really clear on that.  But now Danger, Danger Fontaine is Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic and has a space ship somewhere in the Double Deep Jeiti and also knows a lot of weird words like Jeiti that didn't exist before but now most fully do exist and it's pretty radical.

Equipment:

Trilobisekni:

Neoborhilliumium Manticulated with obnoxious precision into an Q-Bramble blade, sometimes referred to as a Q-Bramblade, polished to an intrinsically implausible sheen, it was his ultimate adytum.  It went by many names.  The Blade of Legend.  The Sword of Myth.  The Katana of Dread.  The Loosener of Shackles.  The Remover of Bras.  The Sabre of the Downtrodden.  The Zweihander of the Einhanded.  Fucking Cool Sword Bro.  Trapped within it the soul of his Bastard Child, B-Rad.  Ever pleading in perfect iambic pentameter to be loosed upon the world.  It's name was Trilobisekni. 

Only one such as he, Dangerrutito Fontaniuxic, could wield such a blade and only with it could any being even dream of performing the famed but also completely unheard of and just super mysterious and secretive manuever known only as the Hiden Doblee Triplut Forbidan Yin Releese Ohm-Mega.

Fontaniuxiciccix 4

Atramentously Vantablack like a hole punched through the otherwise actually quite bright total darkness of deep space, the Fontaniuxiciccix is an Alderson Disk, though Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic sometimes calls it an Alfredo Disk.  An astronomical megastructure with absurd near limitless power, alas Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic broke the key off in the door to the Extra-Genocidal Control Room and is now left with less than an Eighth of its facilities.  That's still a hell of a lot though.  It's like several football fields.  It's mass is probably greater than the mass of your sun unless you have just a super humongous sun.

Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic mostly uses it to store his Zord and equipment and trophies and sometimes have a bitching party or two.  It also has a really nice snack bar.

Aromatic-Polyamide Weave NOT Power Ranger Suit

All scientifical.  Skintight suit of Aromatic-Polyamide Weaved Technical Suit Things.  I cannot over emphasize how tight it is.  You can see like veins and stuff through it it's so tight.  Yet also very resilient.  Excellent at heat dispersal allowing him to just plummet from space onto a planet with naught but the faintest, and slightly arousing, warmth.

Like a Black Power Ranger uniform except it's also like hooked into his brain or suit or soul or something (possibly his ass) so it can change colors and designs at his beck and call.  It's not alive or anything.  Definitely not self aware and slowly consuming his consciousness and biological components for some nefarious future scheme.  That's canon, that it's not doing that.

It also has a Recursive Diolunium Dial.  What purpose it serves is unclear but Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic is forever fiddle fucking around with it.

Panoptic Hex Texx-Gogs

Also known as his Goggles, Goggs, Goggos, Seers, and Oakleys.  They allow him to zoom in, zoom out into Third Person somehow, or "Enhance," whatever that means, and have Night Vision, Thermal Vision, Day Vision, and also a Color Blind mode to ensure full accessibility for the differently abled.

Outfitted with a Xeogenix Toggle allowing him to instantaneously manipulate the Muon Input through the full spectrum of Muu, carefully so as to avoid a full on Muonnic Conclipse.

Thaumic VocoRecordoer

Integrated into his suit or maybe chest or throat or something, it allows Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic to make his voice sound like less of a bitch.  Vital tech.

Special Moves:

Hiden Doblee Triplut Forbidan Yin Releese Ohm-Mega:

 shhhhh, it's a secret 

FUCKIN MORPHIN' TIME BITCHES:

Not quite remembering the series Power Rangers correctly this is the phrase Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic shouts just before doing some weird weebish hand and finger gestures and whistling a tune to summon his Zord.  That is a preposterously large inexplicably humanoid shaped robot that does mostly the same things he does but more biggly.  His soul trapped bastard son sword thing, Trilobisekni, also grows way bigger for reasons that are not self evident.  It also has a gun capable of destroying small planets and/or massive quantities of unarmed civilians if they are all gathered, against their will or otherwise, in a sufficiently small space.  In this form he is known as Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic Mooora Beeeegaruuuuuu.
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