#BUT THAT MOTHERFUCKER SEEMINGLY DIED ONE OF THE MOST HORRIBLE DEATHS OUT THERE FOR FUCKING NOTHING

[mezzmerizd]

Watched Tango's S8 of hermitcraft all in one day today! I am in fucking shambles about all of the implications!!!

[arsonistslut]

Suddenly...Liu woke up. His face didn't feel like it was burning anymore, and the sunshine that flowed into his room was starkly different from the darkness of the room he was just attacked in. It wasn't just that, though, everything around him seemed to be in a sort of dreamy haze. He was about to stand when his brother burst in the room. Liu nearly jumped out of his skin, quickly realizing that the scars that riddled Jeff's body before were totally gone. Was everything from before just a dream?

"Wake up, bro! You're gonna be late for school!"

All he could do was just stare at Jeff, confusion riddling his face.

"You alright, man?"

"..Y-Yeah, I'm fine!"

Liu rushed out of his bed and began preparing for school as his brother waited downstairs, rushing down as well once he was ready and walking into the kitchen, expecting the same wordless room where his parents usually were in the morning. Carla looked over at her son and smiled as she ruffled his hair.

"Good morning, you two!"

"Mornin' mama!"

Liu thought something was deeply wrong. His brother was never this jovial, and their parents barely ever talked to them in the slightest, and that was for 15 years! Was..was that all a bad dream? Was all that Sully shit a bad dream, was Jeff getting set on fire a bad dream? When him and his brother got to the school bus, Jeff sat next to one of the other kids, and Natalie sat next to Liu.

"Hi, handsome!~"

"Hey, Nat! How are you?"

Liu was thankful that at least she didn't change.

"I'm doing really well, my dad's recently gotten arrested, so now I'm living with my grandma, she's a sweetheart!"

"O-Oh, that's great!"

"Hey, did you hear about Jeff's new girlfriend?"

"No, he never told me! What's her name?"

"Cassie! I'm gonna be honest, those two are the cutest. They're such sweethearts, they're practically made for each other!"

"That's wonderful!"

Liu then looked outside the window..he couldn't help but wonder how he'd just realized this, but it was such a beautiful day outside! The birds were singing, the flowers were blooming, days like this came practically once every century in New Orleans. Maybe everything from before really was just a bad dream.

A delighted giggle came from Sully as he watched Liu go about his day in the world he'd so carefully crafted for him in his head.

"Finally safe..safe from the horrors that would taint your pure soul."

Nina boredly flipped through the late night channels, sighing as she wasn't able to find anything that interested her. It was far past her bedtime, and her eyelids were getting heavy, so when a particularly eye-catching news report showed up, it grabbed her attention right away.

"And now, we turn to New Orleans, which has been the site of a brutal massacre tonight, as 7 people have been recently found brutally murdered over the course of an hour. Police are not releasing any names of the victims, but they have apprehended a suspect who they believe is the killer, 17 year old Jeffrey Woods was recently arrested after having set the house of Bruce and Aurora Arkansas on fire. The lone survivors of this horrible night are reportedly one individual, along with the daughter of Bruce and Aurora. Liu Woods, Jeffrey's brother, has gone missing, if you have any information regarding where he may be, please contact the police. We do have footage of Jeffrey's arrest, but be warned, it may disturb some viewers."

The TV then showed footage of a group of police officers surround a pale teenager, his whole body caked in blood. Jeffrey shrugged and laid his knife down on the ground, placing his hands behind his head and allowing the police to arrest him. As he was led to the back of a cruiser, Jeff looked into the camera.

"You win some, you lose some, I guess."

The TV then cut back to the clearly shaken reporter.

"We'll provide more information as it comes to us. IN other news.."

Nina shut her TV off, a wide smile growing on her face. She couldn't quite place her finger on it, but she related to Jeff. What was keeping someone like her from going on a rampage like that...? Snatching her laptop off her desk, Nina quickly logged onto 4-Chan and started a thread. She pondered over what to call it, then typed in an adequate name.

"Jeff's Killers."

Chapter 19: "Nothing but pure evil"

"Jeffrey..do you feel even the slightest bit of guilt for your actions?"

Woods had shown no shame throughout his trial. No guilt or remorse for his actions. He sure as shit wanted to, but when the judge asked him that question, he couldn't restrain the smile that came to his face as he remembered how good it felt to plunge his knife into his father's head, how good it felt to snap Troy's neck, how good it felt to drop that match. Besides, wasn't Zalgo right? This was going to keep happening until he died.

"I don't. They all deserved what they got. Besides, I didn't have any other choice."

Silence followed his words. Some gasped, some began to sob, some just laughed in amazement, but most of the courthouse was silent.

"Jeffrey Woods..you are nothing but pure evil. This court finds you guilty of all charges, and sentences you to death."

The judge forced back tears and pointed toward the door.

"Get him out of here.."

Woods was led away by a pair of policemen, and the courtroom cheered as he was led away.

"And then, my sentence got reduced to life in prison, and now..here we are, doctor."

"I see.."

Dr. Oborn wrote down more notes in his clipboard, before looking back up at his patient.

"Doc..can I ask you a question?"

"Of course, Jeffrey."

"...Was that judge right? A-Am I just..evil?"

"While murder is a horrific crime, and many people do seem to see you as nothing more than a psycho who killed for fun, I've spoken with you for over a year now, and I don't believe you to be evil. After what you've told me, I now know that your condition was likely caused by the trauma you referred to earlier."

"..Doc, I.."

Jeff let out a burst of relieved laughter, almost tearing up from joy at the doctor's words.

"You h-have no fuckin' clue how much that means to me! I..I thought I was a lost cause for the longest time..I-I mean, people don't feel happy when they kill someone, y'know?"

"You're not a lost cause, by any means. We've made incredible progress today, and I believe that you will be able to comfortably integrate back into society soon enough. Although, I am confused by one thing."

"What?"

"..How did you know about the things that happened after your hospitalization?"

"Zalgo showed me."

"Zalgo? Who is that?"

"Zalgo is the reason I believe in the afterlife. Apparently, it's a medical miracle I even survived the incident at the party, let alone heal so quickly that my body's now one big lump of scar tissue. Zalgo helped me to survive."

"This is the first time you've mentioned this.."

"Demon."

"Demon to me. You have previously stated your beliefs in Leveyan Satanism, so is this a sort of..representation of the devil?"

"No, the devil isn't real. Zalgo is. Look, can we t-talk about something else?"

Dr. Oborn placed one of his hands on Jeffrey's shoulder, growing concerned due to his growing..worry, almost.

"Is everything alright, son?"

"I...didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

"Nightmares, again?"

"No, I saw things, doctor..I've seen how this world will end."

"You've seen the apocalypse, you say?"

Jeffrey then just shook his head, something he feared he would do suddenly worming it's way into his brain unannounced.

"Jeff..are you having intrusive thoughts?"

"I..I don't want to hurt you, you don't deserve it.."

"Nothing will happen to me, son. I'll be just fine!"

"You..you sure?"

"I'm positive."

"Thank you, doctor.."

"Of course-"

Dr. Oborn was pleasantly surprised when Jeff reached across the table and hugged him, but didn't hesitate in hugging his patient back.

Chapter 20: A new terror

"Listen, man, I know what I saw! Some lanky motherfucker was running around my backyard, and wearing a white hoodie! They didn't catch Jeff The Killer, he's still fucking running-"

Carlos Kennedy changed the channel of his radio, confused as to how someone could genuinely believe that it was a good idea to log onto a radio show, ramble about how you believed a convicted killer was still able to run around your backyard, and think you'll be taken seriously. His attention to that was quickly interrupted by seeing a person lying near the road, face down. The good Samaritan quickly stopped his car and got out, rushing over to the seemingly unconscious person that was lying in a ditch.

"Hello?! A-Are you-"

A knife to Carlos's throat quickly cut him off, blood spraying out of his wound. The girl who stabbed him lifted his corpse off the decoy, a teenager in a white hoodie and a somewhat poorly made, but nonetheless effectively scary Jeff The Killer mask.

"Good work, Jethro."

"All I did was sit here, but thanks, Nina."

This was the first recorded murder committed by Jeff's Killers, after a year of just being a bunch of teenagers hanging out in an abandoned house where a bunch of patricide took place.

[ladyfiresfanfiction]

Flying the Nest; One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest Fic- Chapter Two.

Sorry I am late, guys and girls! I completely forgot that Sunday had been Easter, so it was a busy day with family. This is a bit longer than chapter one and has a bit more of a backstory on Janie. I’m also trying something new to include the reader in my story, too! Let me know what you think of this idea and the second chapter. I’ll be staring the next chapter tomorrow! Enjoy :)

I don't remember speaking this much since I received the call that Charles Bogney had been found in his family's guest room, hanging from his belt behind the closet door. His mother found him, a bottle of Percodan underneath him, what little was left strewn below his feet on the wood flooring, an empty bottle of 40-ounce Belgian imported beer shattered on the ground from when he dropped it as he lost consciousness and passed away, alone and in misery. Our mutual friend, another toxic ex-boyfriend of mine whose name was Bryan Harris, had to be the one to call me. I had been trying to get into contact with Charles for the last few weeks of his short life. I felt something was wrong. Deep inside I knew if I didn't get a hold of Charley, he would die prematurely. Unfortunately, my gut feeling and seemingly spot on premonition had come to fruition. The first few weeks after Charles had died, I blacked it out. I remember feeling as if the world stopped and froze as Bryan had stammered the news of Charles's death. My heart skipped a few beats and my vision started to become blurry. I dropped to my knees, the phone on the ground as I let out guttural cries of pain that escaped my lips and waves of tears burned my eyes like acid. I cried inconsolably for the first 96 hours of Charles leaving the planet. I couldn't make the trip to his native state of California for his funeral, and I refused calls and visitors for much of the first month of his passing. My only nutrition became opium, cocaine, amphetamines, and alcohol. My family treated me as if I was a lepper, never understanding I had lost the great love of my life, despite the toxic and harrowing past we shared.

 Mac listened intently as he showed me around the grounds. The outside, where the patients (which we coined them the lovable nuts) could come out for fresh air and sunshine for an allotted amount of time per day was fenced in, but it was a spacious and breathtaking piece of land. Large trees that covered most of the land, little trails for patients to walk with supervising orderlies or nurses, tables for patients and the staff alike to enjoy a little solitude during the day. It even had a fairly big basketball court and exercise areas near the shockingly high chainlink fence, which was adorned with razor wire to dismay any patient who thought of running away from the hospital. Overall, it looked like paradise for someone who enjoyed being a prisoner. Mac talked of hearing about the patients going on some field trip, however, it would be just for the boys. The girls had had their own trip last week. As we stopped at the entrance of the second-floor corridor in front of a massive pair of white double doors, Mac turned to me and looked broken. He cleared his throat, forcing me to pay attention and face him.

 "I'll never forgive myself for leaving you with Harry and Ethel. You probably wouldn't be as bad off if I just would have taken you with me. You were just a little girl, though. And I was an irresponsible and young angsty teenager. I thought maybe they would have taken better care of you than they did me. I'm so sorry Jane. I have done horrible things but nothing has given me more pride and made me want to be a better man than having you as my kid sister. You'll never have to be alone again." Mac spoke in a low yet sincere voice.

 "It wasn't your job to parent me. You were eighteen when you struck out on your own, and I was only nine. They were so awful to you. You had to get out before they drove you certifiable. Charles brought me here for a reason. I feel it. I'm just glad to have my big brother back. We're going to make this place ours, Mackie. Then when we get out, we can start lives worth living." I said, patting his shoulder.

 "If you need me, even if it's at night, I'll come find you. There are phones in here, all you have to do is call and ask for me. I'll be here in a jiffy. I'll see you during our counseling session with Ratched and the crew tomorrow. Get some rest, Baby Jane."

 As soon as I walked in, I was brought to intake. My medical history was repeated, I was weighed, my temperature taken, asked a slew of questions, and then I was given an ugly patient garb to wear. As I was taken to the room I would be sleeping in, I saw that in each room there was a telephone with a pamphlet that had numbers to the nurse's station as well as the number for Spivey's office and the number for the nurse's station on the men's floor. Each room on the ladie's floor had three beds for three patients per room, a chair and desk, and a nice comfy-looking Cloth chair with a desk on one side and in the far right corner a bookcase filled with books to read. I would have been far more comfortale to be in a solitary room, or shared a room with my brother and his roommates, but it was against the hospital's policy for men and women to be roommates. I sighed, taking in a breath of courage, and went straight to bed, avoiding the two people I would be bunking with until I had the energy to introduce myself. In fullfledged withdrawal from opiates and alcohol I was  writhing in pain already after only 14 hours without a hit and a drink and I was so sleep deprived. I felt dead on my feet. I threw my haggard body on my bed and soon enough, sleep overpowered me.

 The comfort of unconsciousness would not last for long, though.

 The Ladies ward had come alive with an ear piercing scream in the dead of night. It was only a quarter past one a.m. when animalistic cries and screams of "Charley! Please! No!" had caused an overnight nurse, the security guard, and an on call doctor, and every patient on the ward to jolt awake in sheer terror. After several unsuccessful attempts at shaking my writhing body awake, a slight slap to my cheeks jostled me and my eyes widened as I jolted upright in bed, taking in gulp fulls of oxygen as if I had been strangled. I shrink back as I see a roommate of mine looking worried and sitting gingerly on the edge of my bed.

 "Are you okay?" You ask.

"I-I-I'm fine. I-I'm so-sorry. I... I have night terrors.." I stammered, trying to explain my problem.

"I have them, too. Don't be sorry. My name is (y/n), but everybody calls me (y/n/n), what is your name?" You asked.

"It's ni-ice to meet you, (y/n). My name is Janie McMurphy."

 Before we could get to know each other further, three staff members burst into the room with a mix of alarm and annoyance etched into their faces. Turkle, the nighttime guard of the hospital joined a nighttime nurse  whose name I had already forgotten, along with Spivey's nighttime replacement, Doctor Stuart. Another body scrambled in not too long after, a flustered and scared Mac. I buried my reddening face in my hands as four voices bombarded me with questions I was too tired and ultimately too annoyed to deal with.

 "Sweetheart, what happened?" Turkle asked. "You have a set of lungs on you, don'tcha?"

"Do I need to call Doctor Spivey for you, Miss McMurphy?" Doctor Stuart asked.

"I'm going to get you a diazepam pill, Miss McMurphy. It's all okay, I promise. Mister McMurphy, we'll give you five minutes then you need to go back to your own bed on the bottom floor." The nurse said, winking at Mac.

 "She had a night terror, Mister Turkle," (y/n) began. "It's okay, I got her up. Could I have one too, Nurse Katt? I can't fall asleep tonight." they asked.

"Sure. I'll be right back. Doctor Stuart will be sure to write this occurrence in a note for Nurse Ratched and Doctor Spivey and you can see them both tomorrow morning. Five minutes, Mac." Nurse Katt added as she, Turkle, and Stuart left the room.

 (Y/N) shyly smiled at Mac when they made their way back to their bed, turning on their side to face the wall to give the two of us some form of privacy. I was hugging my knees to my chest in the bed, avoiding Mac's eyes. He let out an audible sigh and sat beside me, placing a comforting arm around my shoulders. I trembled, trying to keep my eyes from overflowing with tears and took in a shaky breath, resting my head on my brother’s shoulder. We didn't talk; we sat in silence until I faced him.

 "I'm sorry you came up here, Mac, but I'm fine." I said.

“The nurse called me as soon as she heard your first scream. I came as soon as I could. Why are you sorry?” He asked softly.

“I’m sorry for a lot of things, but mostly for waking you up, brother. I just can’t control these fucking night terrors.” I replied, scrunching my eyes shut as more tears threatened to brim over.

"How long have these damn things been happening?" He asked, looking down at me.

"For almost two years... Since Charles killed himself." I replied, quietly.

"Meet me in my room around seven o'clock, ok? We'll have breakfast together and head to therapy together. It's going to be okay, Jane. Thank you, (Y/N), for helping my sister, sweetheart. I appreciate it." Mac smiled as he stood up and ventured back to his own floor.

 The next morning I awoke before my two roommates, one being (Y/N) who stayed up with me until the diazepam knocked us into another universe, and another patient around our age named Elise who had slept through the night terror debacle.  (Y/N) said that Elise was used to their night terrors and usually saved a few barbiturates so nothing would disturb her at night.

I made my way to the first floor, skulking into the first room on the right, which Mac said would be the room he shared with “one giant motherfucker named Chief, but he’s harmless so don’t be scared.” I felt uncomfortable in my new uniform, or prisoner’s gear as I called it. As I looked around and made my way through the large corridor and found Mac laughing with a rather large Native man, I nearly ran right into someone.

“Oh! God, I am s-“ I began, finally taking in who I nearly ran right through.

“I-I-Its n-no problem, Muh-muh-Miss.” A very red Billy Bibbit replied.

“No, really, Billy, I am very sorry. I was looking for my brother and just wasn’t watching where I was going.” I smiled, looking away shyly.

“M-M-Mac  is-is-is ri-ri-ri-right in there, Miss.” He smiled, pointing to the door behind me.

“Call me Janie.” I said, finally looking at him and finding myself entranced by his big blue eyes.

“Okay… J-Ja-Ja-Jaaanie.” He smiled back, forcing my name out through stutters that flustered him.

“Did you, uh, wanna have breakfast with Mac and me?” I asked.

“O-Oh, I’d like to, b-b-b-b-but  I have my morn-ning appointment wi-ith Doctor Sp-Spivey now. Raincheck?” He asked, hopefully.

“Of course. I’ll see you around, Billy.” I smiled, watching as he walked away.

“My dear, dear sister,” Mac began, smirking devilishly as he stood in the doorway of his room.

“I do believe you would eat that boy alive if you two became an item. Come on in, there’s somebody I want you to meet.”

 I walked into Mac’s small room and saw the man he was speaking with earlier, getting his shirt on. He nodded at me and I waved. I looked around their room and was surprised at how gloomy and small it was. The ladies had larger rooms with picture windows and furniture. However, the men’s room only held two beds and a kind of chain fence separating rooms with the other men in the ward. Their one large window in the room was locked down tight and had bars on it so the patients had no way of escaping, even if they managed to open their window. I watched Mac talk quietly with the man he called Chief, leaving me standing there awkwardly. Over an intercom it was announced that it was time for medication and all patients needed to walk single-file to the medication window. I walked out with Mac and Chief and found that the women in the hospital were standing in a line next to the men, and I stood with Elise and (Y/N).  

“Remember, Janie, breakfast after this. We’ll go to the cafeteria; there’s a small window table we can eat at.” Mac whispered, and I nodded.

Billy and I stood in line side-by-side, and every time I looked over, I caught him staring at me, which made him turn scarlet. I felt self-conscious, wondering if I looked too fat in this uniform, or if my hair was a rat’s nest, or if there was something wrong with me. Mac was utterly amused and mouthed “Billy has a crush on you” to me, but I rolled my eyes and shook my head. He was just being nice, or so I thought.                                                                                   

The doctor put me on diazepam at night in hopes of ending my night terrors, and in the day time had me on a cocktail of medication. Something for my debilitating anxiety, two different medications that were supposed to work together for depression, something for my PTSD and flashbacks, and a mood stabilizer. Within ten minutes I was at the table with Mac, and he was telling me how he ended up here, a girl had lied about her age and her parents found them having sex. She lied that he raped her and her parents pressed charges and that while he was innocent, he figured he would never beat the case so he came here as a last ditch effort  to avoid spending a third of his life in prison. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, but I nodded. I believed my brother and I loved him. He had a knack for choosing the wrong girls as I had a knack for choosing the wrong guys.

Several of his new friends sat with us; Taber, who I noticed liked to scream a lot, a pompous and annoyingly whiny man named Harding, a smart and friendly older man named Cheswick, and a little guy who didn’t talk much but was always smiling, whose name was Martini. Chief was minding his own business and standing in the far left corner of the cafeteria, near the exit and watching everyone. He liked to make the staff think he was deaf, mute, and dumb. Once Mac found out that in fact, Chief could not only talk and hear but he was as sharp as a tack, he laughed heartily and gave the Native man a high five, impressed with his trickery and his way of staying sane in this insane place.

“Hey, Billy boy! Can ya show my sister the good Doc’s office? She kinda forgot where it was and I’m still eating this slop here. I’d owe ya one.” He said, winking at me.

Billy had stopped by the table as he had finished his meeting with the doctor to let me know Doctor Spivey was looking for me. He tried to avoid my gaze but caught several glimpses of my blue-green eyes before bashfully turning his head away. I nodded and stood up as Mac grabbed my wrist.

“U-u-Uh, su-sure, M-M-Mac. Come on, Ja-Ja-Janie.” Billy replied, holding out his hand to me.

“Thanks, Billy.” I muttered, glaring at Mac who feigned innocence.

 We didn’t speak much on the way to the Doctor’s office. I felt lost in a sea of fog since this was my first day taking the new medication, and Billy seemed pensive along with being super nervous. As we made it to the office, we stood outside there, not speaking nor looking at each other right away.

“Will you be at th-th-the therapy session today, Janie?” He asked, looking at me this time.

“I sure will. Ratched knows what happened last night and I guess wants me to talk about it today.” I replied, feeling nauseous at the thought.

“Don-don-don’t worry. She ca-can be mean, b-b-b-but deep down she’s a n-n-n-nice lady. She’s friends w-with my m-m-mother, so I’ve known her mo-most of my l-l-life. I’ll be there for y-y-you if things get hard. I promise.” He explained.

This time I looked at him. Really looking and overcome with a feeling I hadn’t felt in a long time; safety. I barely knew this cute boy but he, along with my brother, were ready to protect me and get involved in my messy life. I wanted to cry and I wanted to hug Billy, but I didn’t know how he would take that just yet. I smiled and thanked him, finally letting go of his hand before watching him walk away. He had a sweet smile plastered on his lips, his eyes lit up as we said our goodbyes. His soft brown curls bouncing as he jogged back to the cafeteria. I slid down the wall and sat there, trying to gain my composure before recounting what I dealt with last night. The door opened after five minutes and I looked up to see the doctor himself extend a hand and help me to my feet.

“Ah, there you are, Miss McMurphy. Let’s get to the bottom of these night terrors, shall we?”

[lordmo]

dug out from the docs I wrote at my last job, a half-baked idea I had for a 2d arena fighter where guns were a major component, with every character having melee and gun modes. Set in the 1920s-30s USA. Every character is an assassin, but (most of them) with an alibi. Rough character ideas:

Cowboy (main character)

GUN: Pump-action shotty

GIMMICK: Slings around a pair of horseshoes on ropes as a bola, a rope dart, or a kusarigama as needed.

Black farmhand from Colorado.

CINEMATIC FINISH: Drags the opponent off into the night behind a horse.

Singer

GUN: Machine pistol

GIMMICK: Deals with hitherto-unseen piano wire lines as projectiles and traps.

Half-black half-white singer from Memphis (though possibly working out of Harlem, not sold), with all the social bullshit surrounding that.

CINEMATIC FINISH: Leaves the opponent hanging, strung up like a fly in a spider’s web, but it’s piano wire and they’re sliced to shit.

Detective

GUN: .38 service revolver

GIMMICK: Just one helluva slugger who relies on dodging and swaying like a boxer

Drunk-ass white guy from Beverly Hills. Two-fisted and paranoid.

CINEMATIC FINISH: leaves the opponent tied up in a car which “accidentally” loses its’ brakes and goes off the end of a pier

Strongman

GUN: Browning Automatic Rifle

GIMMICK: Big motherfucker with a big gun and deadly grapples

Huge Polish circus attraction with the classic “Strongman” look. His stage is set in Indiana.

CINEMATIC FINISH: drops a god damn boulder on the wounded opponent in the woods

Soldier

GUN: Appropriate WWI-era carbine or troop rifle

GIMMICK: He has a bayonet and is really good at rushdowns and switching between ranged and melee

Canadian wanderer (white) who wears a military helmet with the back blown out, letting his hair flow out of the back. Fought in Ohio or thereabouts.

CINEMATIC FINISH: ties the opponent up in the wilderness, lights one cigarette for himself, one for the opponent, and another for seemingly nobody. Then, in silhouette he slashes their gut open and leaves them for the wolves.

Socialite

GUN: Webley revolver

GIMMICK: Cane sword, which he uses for fencing combos

Posh white dickhead with a masquerade mask and a tuxedo, operating out of Miami. I probably don’t need to tell you that he’s a serial killer.

CINEMATIC FINISH: Socialite expertly dices the opponent apart in the middle of a ballroom, while jaded rich people in opera masks watch the “exhibition”

Businessman

GUN: Sawed-off double barrel shotgun

GIMMICK: He’s slow, but he can switch to a very, very devastating axe with his off-hand.

Portly black fellow from New Orleans. Wears a tweed suit minus the jacket.

CINEMATIC FINISH: Pan away, pan back to screams as someone encounters a mysterious, bloody burlap sack left on the stairs of a local club.

Dock Worker

GUN: Mauser C96 knockoff with a red tassle, Chinese military-style.

GIMMICK: The red tassle conceals a short chain with a blade on the end, and also the Mauser comes with its attachable stock/holster for extra Melee bullshit. Also, can take an immobile kneeling stance with 8-way fire when the stock is attached.

Tomboyish Chinese woman wearing an ill-fitting men’s suit. Based out of San Francisco.

CINEMATIC FINISH: Hidden backup with bigass cleavers show-up and Dock Worker is shown feeding the fish with the opponent.

Flapper

GUN: Ruby Pistol. She carries a LOT of them.

GIMMICK: Potato masher grenades, which are great for both improvised bludgeons AND projectiles.

As the name suggests, she’s a total Flapper Fanny type - and also kinda homage to Ethel Hays in her manner of speech - based out of New York

CINEMATIC FINISH: never got one oops lol

Fortune Teller

GUN: long-barreled Colt .45 (not quite a Buntline)

GIMMICK: Throwing glass beads to create explosions and etc., plus backdashes with her “conjuring” her gun seemingly out of nowhere.

Romani wanderer who claims no homeland, but her stage is in Texas.

CINEMATIC FINISH: same as Flapper

Vigilante

GUN: Colt 1911x2

GIMMICK: John Woo-style action hero, diving and dashing and cartwheeling every which way.

Lantern-jawed white guy in a trenchcoat and domino mask. Works out of Chicago.

Actual alibi-profession is owner of a newspaper.

CINEMATIC FINISH: leaves the opponent tied up and hung from a lamp post, a la Batman.

Stuntman

GUN: LeMat Revolver

GIMMICK: Keeps a rapier in his offhand at all times, plus he has an artificial leg that contains a shotgun.

Strapping tough white guy (though secretly half-Puerto Rican) with a cleft chin. Fights out of Hollywood.

CINEMATIC FINISH: The opponent is the “tragic” casualty of an “accidental” fire on an overly elaborate movie set.

MAGICIAN

GUN: Mars Pistol

GIMMICK: Teleportation and varying magic tricks (like doves with knives taped to their feet)

Italian or Slavic man (haven’t decided) who is currently performing in Philly.

CINEMATIC FINISH: Basically a horror death-trap of some description where the opponent is trapped in an enclosed area and Magician pulls a lever and SURPRISE, the opponent dies horribly in some manner.

THE KID

Gun: Tommy Gun

Gimmick: Lots of belly flops, evades, and crawls.

Short Mexican man, fought in Texas. Wears a way-too-baggy suit and, as his name indicates, he’s barely 20. Current cover business is import-exports.

Never got a cinematic finish

SEMI-BOSS: “Numbers”

GUN: Semi-auto pistol (browning, beretta, whatever’s appropriate at the time)

GIMMICK: Has a hook hand, which he uses for some fucking NASTY grapples. Has a devastating bullet-evading dash.

Bespectacled German guy with a high-and-tight trenchcoat-and-fedora look. Fought in the backwoods of Georgia.

Same as above.

SEMI-BOSS: “Big Guy”

GUN: Browning Heavy Machine Gun, barely modified as to be holdable.

GIMMICK: Big, slow, soaks up damage, fires fast, hits like a goddamn juggernaut.

Towering Native-American guy wearing a crude heavy metal bulletproof vest. Fought in Nevada.

CINEMATIC FINISH: the idea was a sky burial but I’m not so sure anymore

SEMI-BOSS: Sharpshooter

GUN: Lever-action rifle

GIMMICK: Has a lasso at her disposal to reposition the enemy, plus ricochet shots and a kneeling stance.

Short white girl in an over-elaborate dress and huge cowboy hat. Part of a traveling circus currently stationed in Wyoming.

also her personality gimmick is that she doesn’t give a fuck about money or revenge or justice or anything, she’s chomping at the bit to test her showy marksmanship abilities in a real combat situation

CINEMATIC FINISH: Sharpshooter tosses a bottle in the air, turns her back, closes her eyes, and leans her rifle over her shoulder. She blows the neck off the bottle perfectly, letting it land flat and spill its contents as the opponent falls backwards into an open, shallow grave. The show carries on.

SECRET BOSS: Undertaker

GUN: sawed-off single-shot rifle.

GIMMICK: Super armor on some moves, disturbingly long-ranged melee attack specials (see: Freeman from Garou), and he can reflect bullets with his shovel.

Totally stereotypical “ghoulish” guy with the cloak, hunched-over physique, deathly pallor, ratty crooked hat, all of that business. Donno where he fights.

CINEMATIC FINISH: what do you think, genius. It involves an open grave.

BOSS: never settled on one lol sorryyyy

Other ideas involved a big game hunter with a double rifle, a circus acrobat with a bull whip in some capacity, a travelling chef (please let your imagination take that concept to another level), and a death-obsessed olympic pistol target shooter who did low damage but could tap the FUCK outta that fire button.