entrancelogs | Killing you softly with, unfortunately, song

Who: Frank Don't Even Talk To Him About This Afterwards Castle and OPEN
Where: What is this unicorn vomit, and then zombie serenading
When: Backdated to event because I will climb back on this RP horse gdit.
Rating: PG-13 for salty language
Summary: Frank continues to hate goddam everything.
The Story

Early Days
Frank is having precisely zero of this bullshit. He's a damn ground zero of reality intrusions, and he's just goddam peachy with that. Because he is 5000% done with this place trying to taunt him with his family's deaths. Beyond done. Hell, he's ready to punch these wanna be 80s music video Lisa Frank vomit rejects in the face even before shit starts turning bad.

In a way, it's a relief when shit starts showing up dark, because, you know that's fucking reality, at least. Or at least a reality he's more comfortable with.

Frank's likely to be found yelling at an innocent 'Elland' citizen, because all this perky color offends his sense of dignity and thus they need to be hurt, too.

Zombie Days
It's about goddam time. Frank's ready to do some killing. Well, he normally is ready to do some killing, but he's REALLY ready, this time.

He may be ready to do some damage, but he's also quicker on the uptake than before. It only takes about one mag of pistol ammo before he realizes that shooting these things in the head doesn't do shit. Except make a rainbow spray. Which is not the effect he's going for.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me." Goddammit, every zombie movie he's ever seen has been A LIE.

closed to Liv

Frank Castle does not need rescuing. Nope. He's perfectly fine, holed up in this shack, easily findable by the horde of zombies doing that burping gurling zombie noise shit outside. This is not fucking happening. This is how he's going to die. This is really how he's going to fucking die.

...of all the ways he'd figured death would get him, he did not see this coming.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"This isn't the welcoming committee I would've asked for, that's for sure," Pepper says, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"Thank you for your help, Mister...?"

"Shit, it's your first time?" It could be worse--the time they made him relive his family's murder over and over again had been arguably worse. Still, anything could be fatal out here.

"Castle. Frank." With any chance, she, you know, isn't from his world or if she is, doesn't read the papers or watch the news or basically do anything that brings current events near her.

:"Probably safer places to be right now. Any ideas?"

She does follow the news, but mostly just the financial stuff and Avengers-related stuff these days, so the name doesn't ring a bell, not in any way that's important to her.

"Pepper Potts," she says, and he might equally recognize her name, given her connection to a certain genius billionaire. "And, I'm not sure. Somewhere quiet, probably - sheltered but not somewhere we can be cornered easily?"

She may not be a fighter but she's not stupid, either.

Yeah, Frank's already gotten yelled at for the fact he's spent fifteen years in various warzones, each crappier than the last, so his grasp of any sort of US current events that don't involve what to blow up next is notoriously weak.

"I'd say it's nice to meet you but..." But just look at this place. And him, covered in rainbow, uh, zombie goo.

"What we need is one of those old basements. You know. The kind with the outside door. Get 'em to follow us through a narrow door, then bolt out the other side." It's not a great plan, but he's not great at bad guys he can't fucking kill.

Ah well, they'll just have to continue on in mutual ignorance of each other for the time being. Probably for the best.

"Somehow I don't think this place is going to be that obvious about it," Pepper says with a sigh. "But it can't hurt to look? At least if we stay on the move we can possibly avoid more of them."

Yeah, Frank isn't exactly going to complain about having someone NOT thinking of him as a mass murderer.

"You're catching on pretty quick." Way faster than he did. He nods at her plan. "You got a weapon?"

Pepper is one smart cookie. She learned how to think on her feet a long time ago.

"Unfortunately, not," she admits. "I can't find a baseball bat or anything."

And she's not a gun person.

"My old lady used to carry enough shit in her purse to count as a weapon." Just saying. Of course, he knew it was mostly all the kinds of 'shit' she'd carry for the kids: crayons and chapstick and coloring books and storybooks and spare socks. Still, if she were here, she could brain a few of these goddam things.

"Just stay behind me. And pick a direction." Because any place is going to be better than staying here.

Pepper has to smile somewhat ruefully at that statement. "Back home, my purse might've been a contender."

She doesn't have as much stuff here - not yet, anyway.

"Uh, how about north, for starters." She points - in what she feels like is probably north. Right? Right. It looks clear of zombies, at least for the moment.

"Thank you," she adds. Pepper's been around long enough to know it's a pretty rare breed of person who is willing to stick their neck out for a stranger.

"I always thought that was the point of purses." Men carry guns, women carry handbags. Makes sense to him.

He makes a rueful face. "Don't waste your time trying to figure out cardinal directions. I've tried. They keep moving around here." Still, the herd seems thinner there. "And don't thank me till we both get the fuck out of here in one piece." That's the goal.

"There are lots of reasons for purses," Pepper says lightly. Weaponizing them is certainly one! Purses are very utilitarian.

She follows close at his heels, grimacing a little. "The effort is appreciated, all the same. Do you have a lot of zombies in your world, or is this just a Wonderland thing?"

"Yeah, but, I mean, the whole design sucks. You got shit to carry, put it in a rucksack. Or cargo pants. And don't charge $500 for it." He's seen those Michael Kores or whatever handbags. Hell. No.

"No. Weirdest shit I ever faced was ninjas." Which to him had been pretty weird. "Apparently I missed the goddam aliens."

"Fashion doesn't always make sense like that," Pepper concedes. She will not be telling Frank that most of her purses back home cost way more than $500.

"The Battle of New York?" she asks, wondering if he's talking about the same aliens. "Or the Incident? Nobody seems able to decide on a name for it."

"I wouldn't know. Then again, there's a lot of shit back home I don't know. Like anything named Kardashian." Honestly, about the Kardashians, he's happy in his ignorance.

"Yeah, the New York thing. I don't know. I was in some busted down building in the desert when it happened. Thought my kids were making it up when they told me." And until he got here and got set straight about it. Goddam aliens. Seriously.

"I would've had a hard time believing it, too, if I hadn't seen it on TV myself," Pepper admits. "I'd been right there, only three days before it happened. Tony almost died. Other people did die."

It's still hard to believe, even here, even dodging zombies.

"Yeah, kinda makes what I do seem a hell of a lot less important." He's..not sure how he feels about that, honestly. "Every man wants to think he's a hero. At least to someone." And he'd failed at that.

"Well, you're a hero to me, right now," Pepper points out. "Not everyone has to save the world. Or maybe a better way to put it is that there are a lot of ways to save the world. Maybe not all of them are as straightforward and obvious as stopping alien invasions."

"Hold that thought till we get out of this in one piece." IF, he should say. The zombie crowd seems to be thinning, at any rate, but Frank looks a bit worse for the wear for it. Rainbow coating is not a good look on him.

"Not sure I was saving much of anything except the asses of the guys next to me at this point." Which, at least he's good at.

Killing you softly with, unfortunately, song

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