EVENT ∞ LOG — July 125

[thediadem]

Event ∞ Log

In the Flesh

Jump ⇅ :: Visits — First Contact — Hitchhikers — Notes

∞ Prologue ∞

It's not real, it's not real.

Somewhere in the Blocks, late at night, a young woman repeats the words over and over, fumbling with her room key. She doesn't dare look over her shoulder again, begging her hand to obey. Her fingers are stiff and smooth, and it makes each movement more difficult. Eventually, the door gives way. She stumbles into the apartment, slamming it behind her and locking several bolts.

Leaning back on the door, she lets her key ring fall to the linoleum as she holds her hand up to her face. It isn't just her fingers now. Painted plastic has taken over her entire right hand, spreading up her forearm toward a ball-jointed elbow that creaks painfully. She grabs her neck with her flesh hand, sucking in a sharp breath as she tries to steady her heart.

It's not real, it's not real...

She takes another breath, then turns on the light. The bulb flickers. Hazy light flood the room with an incessant buzz.

She freezes.

A figure stands in the opposite doorway. It doesn't move, stuck in a pose with an outstretched hand—one made of flesh and bone. Her hand.

She screams.

Info & Mechanics — NPC Forum Post — Event Interaction ::: ⇅ Top

Strange Visits

Panorama

For the first week or two of July, life goes on as usual. You have a lot on your plate—jobs, loans, rent, that creep who won't stop staring at you when you're filling up your car—and the last thing you've got time for is other people's problems. Or maybe you find room to listen, anyway? Whatever the case, it's mostly a lot of stories and pointing fingers: a shopkeeper accuses his friend of stealing from him, somebody claims their boss must've skipped town to avoid paying the employees, and a woman is frantic about her missing husband. He never goes anywhere without telling her.

If you decide to look into it, none of the incidents seem connected. After all, people frequently go missing in the Diadem, friends betray each other, and businesses often go bankrupt, leaving their workers to pick up the pieces. Funny thing, though: here and there, you swear you glimpse a figure who isn't entirely flesh. Their features are just...a bit odd. Is it your imagination? When you move in for a closer look, something gets in your way and the figure disappears.

On the other hand, you think to yourself, it's not as though everybody on this planet looks standard. If a man can have horns, why can't his skin also be a bit plasticky?

Use the Event Interaction comment any time you need specifics or some direction for an element you're engaging within the event. This can be an NPC victim your character is questioning, an aspect of the diffusion zone your character is testing, or anything along those veins. While you're encouraged to make things up on your own, too, if you're ever unsure of the results or the answers you might get, approach us there!

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First Contact

The Fringes

Inevitably, you take the risk and head back into the Fringes. It has what you need, and the bizarreness in Panorama isn't making the city feel like much of a refuge, either. Besides, long trips aren't unusual for anyone in the Diadem. As you drive, you might even find yourself reluctant to return to the city. After all, there's so much across the multitude of diffusion zones that regardless of how dangerous it can be, perhaps some part of you is attracted to the thrill of the unknown.

If the promise of loot isn't enough, a note on the Forum might be. Here, you'll scroll across a brief message from who else but the ever-eager Felix Bjurstrom, joined by his daughter, Olive "Ollie" Bjurstrom. (Looks like he's got a new phone again!) If nothing else, the investigative or curious nature in you gets you going. What if this is a piece of the puzzle you need to go home?

If you want your character to scavenge items, check how that works. The Map identifies where each Quadrant is located.

Among the Shadows — Abandoned Mall

©

In Quadrant 1, about a 10-hour drive from Panorama, a standard American shopping mall rises through the cracked and broken highway. A portion of its vast parking lot melts into the road ahead and behind. There are cars in the parking lot, each one perfectly preserved: no rust, no dust, nothing.

The mall's lights are on. The moment you step inside, you'll notice that you're not alone. Inside, shadow corpses are everywhere, frozen in time. Their bodies show no signs of distress. If you try to touch them, a dark, ashy residue coats your fingers. You see a young couple linking arms, a mother bending over to pick up her child, and a man ordering his last meal at the KFC. It's as though they all just...stopped. While eerie, whatever force swept through here is long gone.

The upside is that nobody will bother you while you look around—aside from other fluxdrifts, of course. The shops and their offerings are stuck in the 90's. Big electronics are cosmic touched, rendering them worthless, but smaller electronics like cassette tapes, CDs, and Walkmans are all viable. You can also grab clothes, snacks, and (cheap) jewelry.

And, as you pass by the store windows, you see many mannequins on display. That's normal, so you don't think twice. At least, until you swear one of them keeps moving around the store. Though its pose never changes, it almost appears to...follow you? That can't be right. You must be seeing things.

Zone Effects
Touching any of the frozen shadows will cause the victim to believe that their companion(s) have transformed into monstrous creatures. Attempts to approach you will only register as an attack rather than placating gestures, while words will sound like snarls or spoken threats. An induced panic will make it more difficult to think logically and see through the hallucination. The illusory creatures can take the form of anything that might frighten or threaten you the most.

You can break free of the illusion through a variety of methods, including your own willpower, being knocked out by your friends, or seeing/hearing something that makes you realize it isn't real. The hallucination isn't overly intense, but it can cause a bit of havoc among you and your companions...and increase the likelihood a mannequin might make contact unnoticed.

Wall of Refuge — Strange Temple

©

In Quadrant 1, about a 6-hour drive from Panorama—and on the way to the abandoned mall above—stands a geometric structure made of metal and stone. Sharp angles shoot up from the ground to form a distorted hexagon. The gateway is littered with sigils: some weathered by time, others freshly carved into the rocky surface. They glow when you drive forward, beckoning you closer. Come in, whispers an unknown compulsion in your mind. You are home.

You may succumb to the whispers for any number of reasons: sleep deprivation, desperation for a place to rest overnight, or a need to hide from raiders or dangerous creatures lurking in another nearby zone. Regardless, you give in and enter the triangular entrance. The stone gate lifts to grant you passage, revealing an effigy of a multi-limbed being. A deity? A symbol of power? Though you're unsure, you continue deeper. Your footsteps echo across the cavernous halls.

Behind you, the heavy gate slowly closes with a rumbling finality. Despite the chilly entranceway, the interior of the temple is warm and inviting. Candles line the walls. Fountains flow peacefully. You can enter one of the many rooms to find a soft bed, fresh cakes, succulent meat, and fine wine available for you. Behind a silk curtain is a steaming bath lined with soothing floral herbs and oils.

Meanwhile, throughout your explorations, you might sense a figure or a shadow in the passageway. A glimpse of shiny plastic appears oddly out of place in a temple of this kind.

Zone Effects

• If you are a believer and decide to trust the gifts bestowed upon you, then you may safely indulge. The wine will warm you up, the food will fill your belly, and you can sleep through the night. When you awaken, you can safely leave the temple refreshed. Your vehicle will be outside, untouched, as if some power within was protecting your belongings.
• If you are a heretic and doubt the offerings you've been graciously given, the gifts will begin to rot and all amenities will crumble to dust. The more your cynicism betrays you, the more the temple will take until nothing remains except the oddly textured walls bearing down on you. As you examine the surface, you realize the stone is built from a manifold of dozens—no, hundreds—of twisted bodies. Their arms are raised in reverence, piled upon each other like human bricks. Their gaping mouths are frozen in a silent scream. As for you and your companions...what fate will await the nonbeliever?

The Last Stop — Foggy Town

©

In Quadrant 4, about a 3-hour drive from Panorama, east of the currently unused train tracks, a thick mist rolls through the highway. Here, the sky darkens rapidly into night and the temperature drops. If you've traveled unprepared, presuming the heat in Panorama spreads into the Fringes, you'll find that's not so. A chill spreads into your bones and creeps up the back of your neck.

Then the ground rumbles. The tremors shake your vehicle. Maybe it even makes you lose control briefly or sends you swerving off-road, straight into the fields. And in the middle of the fog, you see it: a figure standing in the middle of the field. Behind it are a few houses, making up a tiny rural town. The houses are dilapidated, many crumbling. Supplies within are minimal, and many items are broken or spoiled.

Do you approach? Do you drive past? Merely staring for a second too long will be enough for the hitchhiker to choose you as its ride, but its appearance may not be all that keeps you in place. In the distance is another bigger shadow. A much bigger shadow. It looms in the distance without true mass or form. Within the void of its body, a searchlight sweeps over the misty town. It does not move. It simply looks while the ground shakes. Each time its light catches a glimpse of something that doesn't belong—an animal, a vehicle that drove too deep into the tall grass, a raider that went too far into town—a sonorous howl reverberates through the zone.

Then the shadow will teleport to its target and crush the intruder without mercy before retreating back to its watchful post. And the intruder is indeed crushed: any living organism caught by the Light Guardian will be flattened with a horrifying crunch of broken bones and squished organs.

Zone Effects
While the Light Guardian can't be defeated or confronted, you can outrun or hide from its sweeping beam. If you stop far enough on the side of the road, it won't notice you...but you can still watch as it mangles an unfortunate raider or traveler. Possibly, you see the spray of blood or hear the screams before you run. Perhaps you realize how easily you could've met your own gory fate.

If you've left your car and gone too deep into the town before you realize the danger, you can do one of two things: you can risk hiding in an abandoned house in the town and hope that the sunrise comes. In zones like this, the day/night cycle is unpredictable, and many places are permanently cast in darkness. Or, you can try to run back to your vehicle and pray you don't get caught.

Alternatively, you've plowed directly into the field when raiders in pursuit force you into the zone. Should fortune favor you, they'll be obliterated by the Light Guardian while you flee. The beam tracks quickly, but can only shine in one direction at a time so the key is to bob and weave.

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Hitchhikers

Anywhere

Not everyone who enters the diffusion zone will pick up a mannequin, but the possibility is there. Once you make first contact, you will gain a hitchhiker. Unlike most aspects of the diffusion zones, this one has gathered into a storm, meaning the effects will breach even normally stable and anchored strongholds like Panorama.

Some fluxdrifts will brush off your problems while a few might believe you. Others will offer solutions in their own way, including a doctor who'll pay to obtain strange plastic limbs. Not everyone will pitch in to help. The city's big, populated, and somebody on the street turning doll-like doesn't affect them (...until it does). They've got a job to get to and mouths to feed.

Unwanted Passenger

When do you first notice your passenger? At any point, really. Perhaps it goes like this:

You glance in the rearview mirror and glimpse a figure in the backseat. When you spin around, there's nobody there. Then it happens again. This time, you realize it's not a person, but a dummy. A mannequin. It's sitting upright. And is it...wearing a seatbelt? Or maybe it's thrown itself across the back bench as though somebody tossed it there, uncaring.

This time, when you look back, it's still there. You pull over and dump it on the side of the road. That's taken care of, you think. You drive some more. For a few hours or even a day or two—depending on how long you've traveled—you don't think much of it. Then suddenly, it's back. And it keeps coming back no matter how much you try to get rid of it.

Or it goes like this:

You return from a standard trip into a diffusion zone. It went pretty well, you think. You found some clothes at a creepy mall and now you're ready to get some sleep. When you open your trunk to retrieve your belongings, you notice a mannequin stuffed inside, limbs bent at odd angles. You're a little weirded out, but you decide to dump it on the street and move on.

You shower. In the bathroom mirror, the mannequin suddenly appears behind you. Over the next few days, this continues. The mannequin appears in a booth across the diner as you're eating your eggs. It's behind a shelf in the corner store. It's in your closet. Each time you check, it vanishes...but then, sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes it's right there in plain view. It'll even let you throw it away, burn it, anything you can think of. But it always comes back.

However it plays out, you realize that people around you do notice it...sometimes. That doesn't mean anyone will believe you that things are just that weird. Most people have better things to do. They don't know you, after all, and even if they did, well, this place does have a habit of driving people a little crazy. Witnesses casually push the mannequin aside and tell you that's a funny prank. Your regular waitress pats your shoulder and suggests you get some sleep. You're not looking well. The shopkeeper demands you take that thing before you go. He's not responsible for your junk.

But there's a small chance you run into someone who seems to be going through what you are. Unfortunately, they seem to actually have it worse and aren't making much sense. Still, you can try questioning them and see what answers you get. At least, before you lose them for good. For some of you, the victim you run into is in especially bad shape...and you have to wonder how long before you end up the same.

Trading Places

For some of you, the mannequins might not do more than be a nuisance. While that's not ideal, either, it doesn't completely upend your life. Others are less fortunate. If you're one of the latter, you'll begin to notice symptoms.

The first time it happens, you're startled to hear the mannequin speak. To begin with, its voice might be guttural and unnatural, incapable of stringing more than a few words together. Then it seems to learn. It talks in full sentences. Its voice smooths out. It starts to sound more and more like you...right down to your speech patterns and accent. As symptoms progress with varying intensity—over days or weeks—you realize with dawning horror that you're losing parts of yourself. When you wash your hands, you notice a part of your skin is smooth and shiny. The next time the mannequin appears, its previously plasticky appearance is more flesh and blood.

Eventually, the mannequin becomes independent. It shops with your money. It steals while wearing a face that looks nearly identical to yours, especially from a distance. It calls your friend and says the things you would never say out loud to them. They're thoughts you've had, sure, but you know better than to hurt your friend's feelings...except apparently, you have. And now you can't even use your own voice to explain yourself. Your leg has been getting stiff. Your joints don't bend properly.

Meanwhile, the mannequin is now striding around smoothly. Its appearance is still uncanny and odd if anyone pays attention, but at a glance, it easily passes as a part of the crowd. As its final act, it's even absorbed small bits of your abilities if you have any. Not all of them, but enough to cause trouble. Throughout everything, you cannot harm your hitchhiker. Some unknown force stops you any time you think about it. You simply can't.

Related Incidents

The impact isn't contained only to those directly affected. The hitchhikers' influence spreads through the city. For some incidents, it's difficult to trace back to the source. For others, that's a little easier. Regardless, these occurrences could help you determine how to solve your own situation. Alternatively, if you've escaped unscathed, you can still find yourself dragged into a situation involving someone else.

Return to Sender

July 11 — The Forum: An anonymous poster contributes this bit of information that might catch the eye of those affected. You can try the same method, but it's a risk going back into the diffusion zones. No one can guarantee the specific zone you found the mannequin in is still standing. Further, you have to remember where you made contact to begin with.

If you decide to try it, be sure to take a friend. The less independent the hitchhiker, the more likely it will stick to your side even as you return it home. If the assimilation has progressed too far, though, you might have to utilize methods such as duct taping inside your trunk or strapping it down with ropes. It may struggle and say vile things to you or your companion.

Victimless Burn Victims

July 14 @ 03:00 — The Pavilion (East End): A handful of troublemakers grabbed some freaky mannequins wandering the street and, in a drunken stroke of genius, set them all on fire for no reason other than that they wanted to. Not only has this resulted in damage to the corner store nearby, but Enforcers have linked the incident to four hospitalizations at roughly the same time. Doctors from Saint Margery's Hospital (located in the Blocks) report that all four individuals suffered massive shock and claim to have endured unimaginable agony as if they had been "set on fire."

Curiously, none of them bear any physical wounds and, by all accounts, are completely fine (trauma aside). Notably, all four individuals were also suffering from various stages of "joint stiffness" and "hallucinations"...which have since completely vanished. You might wonder, is this the solution? Or perhaps the better question would be, is it worth it?

The Sculptor

July 15 — The Pavilion (Medical Clinic): Around July 14 onward, word begins to spread that a Dr. Maggie Wright (who insists on being called the Sculptor, though nobody seems to heed this request) will not only do an amputation for free, she will pay you for your limb if you are boasting an "unusual trophic change to the skin, resulting in a smooth and shiny texture." All she asks is she gets to keep the sample. Her promise is that she will study it to find a more permanent cure and, if she does, she will return the limb to you for reattachment.

Some end up trusting her. You wonder, maybe she could help? Dr. Wright will happily accept you as her patient if you agree. Her methods are indeed proper and sterile: she'll put you under and provide you with plenty of pain meds. She appears to have all of the equipment required to preserve the limb, too.

If you're suspicious, you can also pay her a visit, but you won't have much luck getting her in trouble or sniffing out any evidence of nefarious deeds. Her office hasn't got anything strange, she is indeed a real surgeon, and there are testimonials from patients who've had success under her care in the past. Plus, nobody's going to her who isn't doing so voluntarily (they've signed waivers)—even if you could argue how much desperation plays into their decision. Still...the thing about her "title" is a bit weird, right?

Dr. Maggie Wright is 5'2, Caucasian with a light Northeastern accent and silver hair often worn in a bun. She's in her 50s and looks fairly good for her age. Her voice is soothing. She has intense, wide blue eyes, which some might find unnerving, but that's not necessarily her fault.

∞ Notes ∞

• Mannequin contact is not required. Not everybody who goes into the diffusion will make first contact, and many won't. Characters can explore the mall, the temple, and the foggy field without ever picking up a hitchhiker.
• The diffusion zones described are only examples. Others will exist where mannequins can be found, including grocery stores, gas stations, abandoned parks, and more. You can make up your own, but check with us if you have any questions about limitations!
• The speed and intensity of all mechanics are entirely up to you. Generally, the earlier a character makes first contact, the more severe their consequences.
• Investigating the zones or helping others are perfectly fine ways to participate! Since the hitchhikers are meant to be more insidious, it won't be strange if your character isn't in the middle of the action right away or notices things a bit late.

Questions? Ask here

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Comments

[terrorisms]

( Finally, finally, after all those words, all that chatter, all that talk, the figure standing before Wade acknowledges him at last. Broad shoulders turn slowly, angling his profile from a quarter perspective to head-on for the first time in a manner that's downright god damn dramatic. It's about now Wade might start to feel the pinging of a few red flags, or the wailing of a few Kill Bill sirens, as little details begin to stand out.

It's definitely the Punisher. His height, his build. A prominent nose visibly broken a dozen times over. A sharp jawline. But there's something a little — uncanny about the features. It's not that they're wrong, it's that they're a little too perfect. Like someone drew him from memory, but it's mostly line work, and they left out the little details and flaws necessary to take it from a sketch to realism.

It's not actually fabric or Kevlar on the Punisher's chest. It looks like it, sure, with black sleeves and the outline of a bulletproof vest with that iconic skull, but the texture's wrong. Too flat. Like when people paint hyper-vivid clothing on their bare skin with body paint. The seams where limbs connect to torso are too pronounced.

The good(?) news is, the gun he's holding is undoubtedly very real.

Frank Castle paints an intimidating figure when he's just himself, standing tall and dark and brutal and brooding in claustrophobic alleys... but the man that stands before Wade manages to capture a vibe Frank could only ever aspire to in his god damn dreams. The thing that unhinges its creaking jaw to speak feels like somebody's sleep paralysis demon, and when a voice finally spills out of his throat, it's every bit as deep, rusted, and as guttural as Frank is when he's at his very worst. The words themselves are stilted, disjointed, cobbled together in fragments like patchwork mimicry. )

Big fan? You like-- to. Hurt. People. Hurt... fun. You like... to see punishing? ( And then lower, quieter, leaning in as though to share a hoarse secret: ) I can show you...

[primepool]

[Speaking of direct-to-streaming productions... huh. Why yes, he does have the danger sensors that anyone with two eyes and training would have, but the glorious truth of it is that Wade can afford to ignore it. And obviously, big fan. He can guess what comes out the other side of an encounter with The Punisher.

Thing is? Might be the first time in his life he hasn't done anything to earn it. Come on, he hasn't even killed a guy (yet! It's coming,), and he's been downright social.

This is a glow-up era. The real character growth timeline. Phase 1: Hero-Adjacent. (He has no idea what he's doing without Logan. His Logan, by the way. The one he knows is still kind of an unhelpful asshole.)

-- Right, he was saying, straight-to-streaming 'cause now he's closer, now that Frank is opening his mouth and displaying Teeth, with a capital T, there's a very off-season vibe about him. Like a cosplayer, but the kind you run into in a corn maze. Who wasn't hired to scare people, it's just a guy who showed up with his own chainsaw.]

Ooh. Yikes. Gonna need some saline spray for that throat, huh? [Did someone say Kill Bill sirens? Huh, who turned those on?

Speaking of turned on -- there's definitely a little shiver going through Wade, and it's not exactly fear.

I can show you. Oh, god. Yeah, that's doing something.] I mean...

[Wade, this is like one of those big choices in the game menu when you know it's gonna lead to something like, "everyone disliked that" with one of the answers, and one of the answers is glaringly, obviously, the wrong one. Maybe think about what answer you're about to say --] Yeah, kinda? Especially when they deserve it! Which, let's be real, a lot of people do --

[terrorisms]

( Something else that might eventually become apparent after a few seconds of talking to Mister Punisher: he doesn't blink. Not even one time. His eyes, shining and glassy and reflective, are never shuttered by eyelids. His stare goes unbroken as he levels it at Wade's mask, and it feels a stolen memory. There is a man in a red suit that he is supposed to dislike. There is a man in a red suit that is a pain in the ass, who gets in the way of the punishing. Annoying "hero" choir boy. The one who wouldn't kill.

This man is in a red suit.
Close enough.

The Punisher smiles.

And then that gun he's been holding is in front of Wade's right eye, and it does not hesitate to pull the trigger. )

See?

[primepool]

[There's some days where he thinks having a metal-covered skull would probably make things a lot simpler sometimes. Wade registers the gun but it's about equivalent for recognizing a dalmatian having spots. Of course Frank's loaded! It's not a rocket launcher, for one -- a little disappointing -- and guns don't really matter in the long run with a healing factor.

Unless Wade's too busy hyping himself up for a fan favourite to dodge the bullet entering his skull.

Like anyone, he dies. Sort of. At least, Wade's mind goes into a Not Conscious place, his body dropping backwards and skull cracking as it hits the ground with the full power of gravity behind it. Blood splatters behind him in a beautiful halo. Good thing he doesn't have hair to worry about! It's fast enough he doesn't feel anything until a few seconds later, when his eyes open and he groans.] Ow. Wow. [He starts to sit up about when the bullet makes its way out the back of his skull, dropping onto his shoulder and bouncing away. Goddammit, now there's a hole in his mask!] I would be way more excited about getting shot by the Punisher if I wasn't now realizing you're the eviler, body hair-free version. [And now he's flipping back onto his feet in one smooth motion, wiping blood off his forehead.] Seriously, where's your goatee? I know you can grow one, you son of a bitch!

[terrorisms]

( There really is only one obvious course of action here. Only one valid response to any of this, in terms of both practicality and comedy — the latter is not something the Fake Punisher is thinking of, but nevertheless, still worth pointing out.

The long and short of it is that he watches Wade drop. Watches him groan. Watches him sit up. Watches him bitch about getting shot.

And then he just fuckin shoots him again.

Mid-sentence and everything, like total asshole. He's the (not!)Punisher. This cannot possibly be a surprise. His superpower is being real mad about stuff and shooting people a whole gosh darn lot. Bang bang, pew pew. It's possible the mannequin is missing some of the creativity and originality of the real guy, if we want to give Frank-the-real-guy some maybe undeserved benefit of the doubt.

At least this time he's got enough intel to know that a single bullet won't do, and so instead he unloads the entire clip, one round after another. Maybe that'll take him a few extra seconds to recover from. Should give him enough time to relieve Red Suit of his sword — he'll be needing it for this next part. )

[primepool]

[Ow.

For equal amounts of comedy effect, Wade falls back in the exact same way and cracks his skull back on the exact same blood-splattered spot. Surely this isn't gonna end up giving him (even more) brain damage, right?

This is the worst cucking of his life. Not that -- not that it's happened more than once. Hah, what? That would be stupid.

Not that Wade's thinking about that immediately upon waking up again -- to find his sword is missing. He gasps.] All right, now I'm mildly annoyed.

[And full of holes. Now, with the real Frank, that could be really fun, but right now, with Mannefrank, Wade no longer hesitates. He grabs the knife from his calf and stabs it into his foot, rolling past him to get back to his feet.

Okay, so. He has an adamantium sword now. Just one. It's fine. He cracks his neck, picking up his closet available weapon -- a fork.] You better put that down, or so help me god, I'm gonna kill you to the dulcet sounds of What Does the Fox Say? In the wrong key.

[terrorisms]

( There are two unquestionable truths in any given universe. One, the correct way to serve steak is medium-rare. Two, a certain garbage writer is truly awful at executing fight threads. These things established, allow us to envision a vibrant, deeply non-specific theater of the mind experience that goes a little something like this:

They do a whole fight. There's choreography, and it's super badass, and at one point they whip out dicks and measuring tapes, and ultimately it becomes clear that of the two of them Wade is the more powerful fighter with unbeatable regenerative capabilities. Were he fighting regular-ass Frank — not that they'd have much of a reason to fight — he would absolutely take the upper hand and it would be RIP Frank Castle more effectively than that bullet to the head had been. But the thing he's fighting is made of plastic, spite, and Eldritch voidstuff. When Wade lands a neat, flawlessly executed swipe of the knife that fully cuts off Fake Punisher's plastic fingers, they begin to grow back made of flesh instead. Wounds do not heal so much as they leave very little impact; there are no nerve endings, and no pain, and no humanity.

Wade does dope ass karate about it, and then the spooky piece of shit mannequin does an Indiana Jones move and just fuckin' shoots him again because the Abercrombie and Fitch that manufactured this mannequin didn't install creativity where his dick should be. Also probably at some point, somehow, something explodes and neither of them look at it.

When this totally interesting, well-executed, deeply thought-out power struggle of a fight scene ultimately begins to wind down, Fake Frank is a big enough dick to leave Wade's head-and-torso alive enough to sort-of see what he's doing with those limbs — at least enough for him to tell that it's intricate, dramatic, and deeply unnecessary.

Wade's head and midsection make up the nasal septum and nasal bone between the vacancy of eye sockets. His limbs hang down to form the shape of elongated teeth. His blood sweeps around him and above him, and the whole thing comes together to form the distinct, unmissable impression of the skull plastered across Frank Castle's bulletproof vest.

And on the brick wall of the alley above him, painted in his blood, a vague, ominous message.

No Heroes.
No Heroes.
No Heroes. )