New Haven Knights

Red Cape and Brown Bombs

So, ok, I was driving home past the Websters on Elm and I hear a big "BOOM!" which got my WhatTheFuck sense tingling.

I come riding up on the HawkSteed and I see those same dudes in black and that fuck in the red cape from, like, FOREVER ago and they are robbing the same fucking bank! So I do the same deal as last time: run a scooter up ones ass then make with the chopsocky beatdown. I take out four of them and turn around towards the fuck in the cape then a horse kicks me right between the nipples and I fall down. I try to sit up and it hurts like red hot knives dipped in lemon juice stabbing me. It takes forever, but I get up and the red cape guy is FLYING away! I rub my eyes and see that he is on a rope ladder hanging out of a helicopter. I was like "Oh. HELL no!" and jumped on top of a car and just Mjed and caught the last rung and started my way up. The cape guy points at me and the fucking red beam shoots at me! And Im like, "Whoa, real superpowers! Nice. Ow.

I fell about twenty feet and landed on someones Stratus, busting out their windshield and windows. I glance up and get hit in the face with one of those metal safety deposit boxes. Finally I hear sirens and decide its time to split. I pick up the HawkSteed and it actually starts. I grab the box and jet my ass out of there. Fuck.

The next day I am at work and I am all loopy on painkillers and Irish Frankenstein has to ask me like a thousand questions in his big movie announcers voice. I told him I rolled my nephews go cart and he finally moved on.

Ten oclock break rolls around and I decide to spend a little me time in the handicapped stall on the third floor. So Frankie sees me going in and says "YOU ARENT SUPPOSED TO USE THAT ONE. THAT ONE IS FOR WHEELCHAIRS."

Im like "Yeah, but do you see anyone in a wheelchair waiting to use it? All I want to do is make a combat drop with the brown berets with out having both knees touch the stall wall. So mind your business so I can do mine."

So he takes the stall next to me and starts whizzing but he is so fucking tall that I can see his freckled sown-out-of-corpses face over the stall divider even when I am sitting! I am like great, who decided to unleash this monster on the villages and mens rooms of the countryside and what is this mad fuck gaining by ruining my ten oclock shit? Cuz I certainly cant deuce it up with McGolem staring at me. I get up, flush an empty bowl and go back to my cubicle where I spend two straight hours farting. Fucking Frankenstien.

Irish Frankenstein and the 9 to 5.

So much to talk about! Wow.

So I told you about the Connecticutioner*s big shocker (shut the fuck up, Gilbert!) and that he moved out. Now I know how my best friend Betty felt when I kissed her at that pool party in high school.

Anyway, without the *cutioner kicking in rent money, things were kinda tight. I mean, I dont need a lot of income to get by. The taxes on HawkManor are paid off and with out you-know-who, my utilities have gone way down. The thing is, even a DIY superhero has some expenses. I needed to upgrade on my costume, I wanted some new HawkTalons, and I am gonna buy a new ride.

Long story short, I got a new gig. I creatively tweeked my resume and scored a customer support call center job at the cable company. Not only do I have health insurance and vacation time, but I get a commission when I talk people into upgrading their programming packages. So Tony Soprano paid for my new order to the Superhero Supply Company! Nice, huh? I got new titanium HawkTalons, a new outfit in dark green with armored panels, and a police scanner for the HawkSteed.

So I am adjusting to my transition from food service to an office environment. A lot of things are new, like softball teams and the office lady who goes around with her hand out for birthdays, baby gifts, going away dinners, and get well cards. And the people whose kids are selling junk food at insane markups for the band trip to Tuscany. Fuck, I*ve never been to Europe, why should I pay some teenage xylophonist I dont even know to go? And fucking Girl Scout Cookies! They act like you kick puppies when you decline to pay five bucks for a box of sub-Nabisco cookies. Dude, I have a 4% body fat index and I need to be able to jump over rooftops and fight four knife-wielding glassheads at a time. Why would I want to suck down those off-brand Little Debbies just to send young teen girls into the woods for a week. Shit, they can wait to learn all about that Girl/Girl kinda shit in college like all the other chicks do.

The worst part of the job is the dude two cubes over, who (is it who or whom?) I call Irish Frankenstein. This guy is like six foot thirteen and ALWAYS TALKS AT THE TOP OF HIS VOICE.

Its like this: I walk past his desk and I have to say something because his freakish height means we are at eye level even with him sitting. So I say "Hey Frankie. How was your weekend?" and he*s like "FINE. I WENT TO THE LAKE AND PICKED FLOWERS THEN THREW A CHILD DOWN A WELL."

Or I*ll be like "Dude, this chick ordered the premium digital package just to see Bill Paxton bone three wives." And he*ll say "FIRE BAD! POTATO GOOD!"

Well, it is cool to get out at 4:30 every day and there is free coffee (if the last fuck didnt leave an empty pot).

Next time- That red-cloaked fuck and his minions!

One Year Later

I know! Where the fuck was I? Well, I have some really good reasons. Its kinda like DCs One Year Later thing but Five and a Half Months Later. A lot of shit has gone down since October.

First, the big shocker; the Connecticutioner is GAY! I know, huh? I shit you not. Gay, dude. Man, I feel like a total asshole for some of the shit I said to him before I knew. Like, if you and your non-gay bud are hanging out drinking and he turns on Olympic figure skating you call him a fag, youre just busting balls. If youre hanging out with your non-non-gay bud and you call him a fag, its a fucking hate crime. Thats not me, man.

So the *Cutioner and I were out on "special patrol" and hit the usual spots : The Anchor, Rudys, Bar, El Cabron. We didn’t find any trouble, but were weren’t looking too hard. What we did find were many Black & Ciders and Bushmills shots. The Warwagon was at the shop and the HawkSteed isnt so good for two, so we took it urban surfing style. I have to say this about the Elm City; I love the old broad but we need some bigger buildings. I was gonna buy a swingline launcher but the *cutioner pointed out that none of the buildings tall enough to swing from were consecutive and that unless I wanted to swing from bank to bank near the green, I might as well go to Bungee Adventures over on Rt 5.

So we are running rooftop on the way home and my feet slip on one of those slate Yalie roofs on Elm and I go right over the edge. The *cutioner makes a grab for me and catches my left hand. I am dangling four stories above a pointy iron fence and I am fairly sure I am too drunk to land on my feet. Or my ass. Or anyway but neck first on the sturdy Gothic Revival impale-o-matic staring up at me. The *cutioners hand starts to slip and I free-fall for like a second before his other hand grabs me and hoists me up onto the roof. We are lying on the roof all out of breath and the *cutioner takes off his mask. I was like "Damn, Cue! I thought I was dead for sure!" Then he kisses me!

I was STUNNED! I mean, the fuckin Connecticutioner is the toughest dude in the business. He has this stoic night stalker Gotham City thing going on and all of the sudden I was costarring in Broke Bat Mountain! I was all like "Whoa whoa whoa! Dude! DUDE!"

Then he starts talking about how much I mean to him and how he couldn’t handle it if I died and that he knows I could never love him and I am still just shouting "Dude!" at the top of my lungs over and over again.

He looks at me and he is CRYING! This is the guy who sewed his own ear back on with only a warm PBR for anesthetic and he is bawling like a toddler with a massive boo-boo. It was scary! He jerks his mask back on and fires a swingline down York and by the time I get up, he is running across the roof of Toad’s. I was like, huh. Why the fuck does HE get a swingline?

Vegas, baby!

SO we finally got to Vegas and *cutioner zips right past all the strip joints in a beeline to Circus Circus. We get some chips and start laying down the big money. It was awesome! The kept bringing me my Beam & Cokes (with actual Coca-Cola, not some bullshit generic) and *cutioner his Tanq & Tonics for free! We were up like 3 or 4 Cs when guess who starts beefing with some trailer cowboy from Bakersfield? This guy was like six foot thirteen and at least 400 pounds and the *cutioner housed him in like half a second. That guy will always have that "00" welt on his head. Like Wesley Snipes says, "Always bet on black".

So we got thrown out of Circus Circus and I guess they have some kinda phone tree cuz the next three casinos wouldnt let us in. I was getting real pissed off and losing my Beam buzz when the *cutioner tells me casinos suck anyway and that the real action is underground. He knows a guy who knows a guy and the next thing I know, we are betting 2 grand on a cyborg chicken cockfight.

Have you ever seen a cockfight? Well, it’s a lot different than I expected. First off, its actually some sort of roosters fighting not at all what I was afraid I would see. They peck each other to death or use spurs on their feet, or the metal razor tips on their wings or sometimes their laser eyes. Anyway the *cutioner takes all of our money and bets it on a bird called RoboCockEleven because thats his AIM name.

Well RoboCockEleven looked like a fucked up toaster-oven/vulture hybrid and was not looking too healthy. I never knew chickens could cough. He was up against this sleek looking kill bird named Coq au Pain and to be honest I thought we would be out of money and using my Shell card to get us home, but that old rusty fuck tore up his opponent in a stunning ballet of bloodbathery the likes of which I hope I will never witness again! I dont know how they cyber up chickens but I never expected to see a flamethrower in a rooster, let alone missile clusters. The whole place was filled with smoke and smelled delicious.

While the *cutioner went to grab our FIFTY GRAND, I hung back and looked at the crowd. There, in the back row, munching on Loser McNuggets, was Doctor Nihlus! THE Doctor Nihlus! He had the silver metal skull mask and dark green hood and everything. He looked exactly like his picture in Time after RetroNaught stopped him from stealing Iceland. I couldn’t fucking believe it. The *cutioner comes back with a huge wad of bills and I say "Look, its Doctor fucking Nihlus and we NEED to kick his ass!" I mean, that is some big time exposure for a starting superhero, right? So run out to the War Wagon for my costume and the *cutioner says I am the most suicidal retard he has ever met and he was in the Coast Guard so he knows from suicidal retards.

I was like "I thought you were the hard justice guy on this team and here we have a chance to capture this known villian and make a name for our selves and you want to puss out and go home!"

Then he was like "I am ON VACATION! Only drunk frat boys get themselves killed on vacation! We are going back to CT (and he said it "See Tee" like a total fag) and spend this huge lump of money!"

So I was like "You do what you want, but Justice is my date tonight and I am gonna dance with who brung me, you pussy-assed ass-pussy!"

When I woke up on the floor of the War Wagon, *cutioner said I should stop whining about the rope burns and thank him for saving my life. Then he showed me the USA Today chart of Doctor Nihluses massacre of the Vegas Justice Squad. I was mad at first but by the time we got back to the See Tee I had forgotten all about it and he untied me and we went to Modern for a white pie with broccoli and a pitcher of Gassosa.

Next: The return of the Red Cape!

Nebraska Ho!

Well, crap! Its been a long time, hasnt it citizen? The KnightHawk SuperComputer just got back from the shop. Somehow, it got a virus and a metric shit-ton of jpegs from Manema.com on the hard drive and it stopped working. Weird, huh?

So, I think I was telling you about The Connecticutioner and I and our bad ass road trip to Vegas. After leaving New York, I drove for a while. Man, the war wagon has some fuckin balls, I tell you! We tooled thru I-80 all the way to Lincoln at, like, mach six or something, only stopping for gas and to exchange the pee-filled Moutain Dew bottles for Moutain Dew-filled Mountain Dew bottles.

Let me tell you, it was hard as hell finding some crime to fight in Lincoln. The *cutioner needed a big ass slab of smoked prime rib from Skeeter Barnes before we could even look, so we ate and spent 17 hours in a hotel room in a beef coma. After The Connecticutioners massive meat dump, it wasnt safe in the room so we went on patrol. The only crime afoot was some underage drinking in the worlds largest corn maze. After we showed them lacrosse playing bitches how we roll East Coast, the *cutioner and I got fucked up on the kids Mickeys and Jager. At the hotel, I grabbed a shower then the *cutioner showed me a few of his street fighter holds. I had to tap out cuz my towel came off. He said I was a wuss for tapping out, but he could definitely see my work out routine was showing results. Then he got all weird and left. He was gone till like four am and musta found some crime cuz I saw the War Wagon rocking around in the parking lot then he let some dude he was interrogating out. He is sooooo weird.

The next day we hit the road again. We stopped a mugging in Denver when we got lost looking for a place that had an all day pancake special. *cutioner was mad at first, but I said he can eat old doggy bag squeezings from Skeeter Barnes if he wants, but I needs me a bitchload of pancakes! So we were looking around and I thought I might see one of the South Park guys and *cutioner says "them South Park guys are living in LA now and anyway everybody in this town looks exactly like them two so we woulnt notice them if they were here, dumbass" then he points out this trey Parker-looking dude and says "see? Check out that Trey Parker-looking dude" and then the Trey Parker-looking dude starts WHALIN on some old lady! HOLY SHIT, I pulled my mask on and jumped out of the Wagon before *cutioner ever braked. I fuckin tooled that hump and was saying "Now you see what your evil deeds have brought you, Trey Parker Dude! Knee-cappery and a venti ass kicking!" I threw his ass in a dumpster and asked the old lady if the was ok, and get this…

She kneed me in the bag! Can you fuckin believe this town? I jump out of a moving vehicle to save some old-as-dirt broad who is gonna die soon anyway and she totally bags me!

Fuck Denver!

Hard Travellin, Yall!

So you havent heard from me for a while cuz the Connecticutioner won 5 C-notes on a scratch-off and we decided to hit the road Hard Travelling Heroes stylee. It was wicked sweet, tooling around in The *Cutioners Econoline and representing Southern New England fierce! We fought all kinds of crime from Pigport to Vegas and back.

First stop: Bridgeport, CT! We spent half an hour in a construction zone on 95 and the Mega-Big Gulp was sitting hard behind my kidneys so we pulled off exit 27 and promptly got lost. We asked these dudes for directions and they pulled pieces on us! Now, the Connecticutioners War Wagon is balls out pimped, with the dark-ass hide-a-vampire tint and the jacked suspension and knobby run-flat white walls, so who could blame a motherfucker for wanting to jack it? The fucking *Cutioner, thats fucking who! I barely had my seatbelt unbuckled when he jumped out the window past the first dude and rammed the cardboard pine tree air freshener into the second dudes larynx. He then turned back and shoved his foot so far up the first guys ass that he got the dudes lunch on his shoe. He then pantsed them both, fired a zip-line over a lamppost and hung them both by their sacks. Damn!

Next stop: NYC! We hit Brooklyn so *Cutioner could visit his Grandma Hadassah at the cemetery. We got there after the place closed, so we scaled the wall and went looking for the headstone. I guess no one expected hard-ass street supers to be wandering in the dark cemetery, cuz we wandered into some straight up VILE felony action! This guy was attempting to exhume and sodomize the corpse of ABC sportscaster Howard Cosell! Now, normally I am not down with the *cutioners use of deadly force cuz I got me a code against killing, but this fuck was butt-raping Americas most treasured sports commentator! I caught him high in the neck with some titanium Hawk Talons (courtesy of the new utility belt!) and the *Cutioner caught him low by shooting out the back of both knees with Sigfreid and Roy, his twin chrome Desert Eagles. That fucker was surprised as shit, I tell you! He lay gasping against the headstone, covered in semen and arterial spray and asked "Who are you guys?"

The *Cutioner says "Justice." And caps him. It was so cool! I decided that if the Connecticutioner gets his back broken by a steroid freak and needs a year off, I’ll take up the cloak for a while. I will have to alternate between KnightHawk duties and my pilates class, but its doable.

Next time: Horror in the Heartland!

Goooaaalll!!!!

Still no luck in tracking down my arch-nemesis Bank Bomber. He must be lying low cuz he knows I am on the case.

I dinged up the HawkSteed running over a Yalie who was crossing in the middle of the block on Elm. Now I have to wait for a 2^nd Day Air package from Scooterworks. The Connecticutioner said that if I had a Hummer, this would never have happened. He is right cuz if I had a Hummer, I would be to busy sucking dick for gas money to fight crime.

I went to Rudys to slap around the Frites guy who told me to use "The Fat Death" as my superhero name, but he was so sad that Mexico lost that soccer game, I didnt have the heart to kick his ass.

I have a new ally in my war on crime! I gave Country Ray 35 cents and he said he would help me out if I need it. I may try to order him a sidekick costume.

The *cutioner is all moved in now. It is going OK except he keeps bringing home these informants to interrogate. I know that he is a dark vigilante type, but I am afraid of what he is doing to those poor dudes. They all make terrible noises all night long and it keeps me up. The weird thing is, they usually drive their own cars here and leave alone in the morning. I guess they are too scared of the *cutioner to give him any lip. I said that to him and he said "Oh, I get plenty lip." Then he giggled. I dont get him at all.

Super Best Day!

Best day ever!

The Connecticutioner moved in to the basement and I paid off the phone bill. My utility belt came in and it ROX! I went out patrolling and stopped three robberies at three different Shell stations. It was like a shell station hat trick!

Then, as I was riding the HawkSteed back to the Manor, I saw a bunch of dudes in black behind the Webster bank on Elm. They were planting explosives on the wall and were going to bust into the vault! Man, I tore down on them fuckers like it was my religion! I rode the Steed right over the first guy and jumped up and split kicked his two friends in the jaws. I had them all tied up with the cord from my BRAND NEW UTILITY BELT J when I saw this guy in a red cape running away. He said "Curse you, KnightHawk! I will get you!"

Dude. He knew my name!!!

I think I have a nemesis! Finally I start building my rogues gallery! I ll have to do some extra street time to investigate this guy. I mean, if he is gonna me my nemesis, I should know his name, right?

Roomies, BBQ, and Dead Homies

So The *cutioner and I are friends again. He told be that he was drunk and said some things he didnt mean. And I said that I know I really dont have super strength. I mean, I am ripped and shit, but there are two guys at the gym who can lift more than me. Anyway, he is gonna move into Hawk Manor cuz he needs a place to crash and I can use some cash to pay off the tax lien. The manor has a sweet finished basement that my grandpa built before he died, so the *cutioner will live there.

Even better news, I stopped a robbery! Some punk was trying to jack up Joe Grates. What a retard! Doesn’t he know the fearless KnightHawk loves BBQ? Its like robbing a Dunkin Donuts and being surprised theres a cop! So, long story short, BAM, BIFF, POW, guess who gets free pork sandwiches for life? Sweet, huh?

Sad news though. Dr Pookie died in an explosion. I was at Burtons Bar in West Haven and I saw something on channel 8 about it. I didnt see the whole story, but aparently he worked for M.E.T.H. Labs on Dagget street and he had an accident. Too bad cuz he was nice and I really wanted that jetpack.

The *cutioner was all happy tonight. He said he just broke up a huge drug ring and the forties were on him. I tried to pour out a Steel Reserve for Dr Pookie but *cutioner told me not to be an ass.

I hate the *cutioner!!!

I am so not talking to The Connecticutioner anymore! We were drinking at Vivas and I was talking up this chick. She asks why we were wearing masks and I said we are superheroes. So she asks me what superpowers I have and I said I have super-strength and super-stamina. Then the fucking *cutioner tells her I am full of shit and that I dont have any powers! I said I am too super-strong cuz I can lift the Knightsteed over my head. He tells her anyone can lift a 63 Vespa. Then the girl just leaves! I was like, way to use your super cockblocking powers, dude! Then he called me a stupid breeder, what ever the fuck that means!

In good news, not only is Dr Pookie working on my jetpack, he gave me a job! He said as long as I was out patroling, I could just deliver his packages for him. Its a good thing too, cuz my boss at Subway I pissed at my knuckles being too sore to kneed bread. Fuck that dude!

Justice is my business and business is slow

I think I am gonna go with Knighthawk for my new name. Cool, huh? The fryolator guy at Rudys told me I should use El Muerte Gordo. I told him I would think about it and he laughed. I dont get that guy.

Whoa, check this out! The *cutioner got his ass kicked by the bouncer at Partners! This dude must be huge, cuz *cutioner is a hard motherfucker! I asked him what he was doing at Partners and he told me to mind my fucking business. Man, I know he is a dark vigilante and everything, but he takes that veil of secrecy shit too far some times.

Last night I patrolled for hours in the ~~Avengermobile~~ Hawksteed and didnt see one crime! Its a good thing the Hawksteed gets such great mileage, At three bucks a gallon, I am dropping half my check this week on gas!

My cape finally came today and its the wrong one! I was so pissed! The *cutioner says capes look gay anyway so I should just get my money back. Sometimes he can be so negative! The guy at the Superhero Supply Company said the style I ordered was discontinued so they substituted a shorter one. I may just take the store credit and put it toward a new utility belt.

Well, the hot pockets are done, so I am off! Stay faithful citizens!

Fucking Waterbury lawyers, man.

Check this shit out! I just got a "Cease and Desist" order from the Brass City Avenger! It says that he has used the name for ten years to fight crime in Waterbury and the citizens of his town are confused by me using "Elm City Avenger". If I lived in Waterbury, I would be confused why my town was such a shithole if I had a superhero spend ten years "cleaning it up". If BCA is so damn good at superheroing, why cant he stop the mayor from diddling little girls? Riddle me that, Brass-hole!

So I met The *cutioner at The Anchor and showed him the order. He thinks I should just pick a new name, since the old one hasnt got in the paper yet (despite what some people may have promised) and its not written on my shirt or anything. It pisses me off to no end, but I may have to do it. Now I have to pick a new name and that really sucks. I hope I can find one as kewl as "The Connecticutioner".

P.S.: The *cutioner can really pound the brews! The chick at the Anchor cut us off and we had to go to Bar. Man, that place sucks but the pizza is OK.

Hammerman Unmasked!

Well, turns out The Hammerman is not a supervillian after all. Yup, he is just some dude named Frenchie. Oh well. At least he wont be bothering Dr. Pookie anymore.

I asked Dr. Pookie if he could make me a jetpack and he said "uh, sure". How cool is that? He said he was a little busy now but he would get right on it. Since he is so cramped for time he asked me to deliver some stuff to his friend for him. What could I say? I mean, free jetpack, right? His friend Tom lives over on Norton Street. Man, those scientists live in some shitty neighborhoods! I think Tom must be doing some crazy important research cuz he was all shaking and sweaty when I gave him the bag.

Well, me and the *cutioner are off to catch the Aristocrats at the Criterion. I hope Golden Crust is open after cuz its a curried goat kinda night!

Rock on Justice!

Fuck Craig Gilbert!

The Advocate came out and that prick Gilbert didnt mention my battle with The Hammerman! He totally told me it would be in his shitty paper and then it wasnt! The Register said they might get that lame beauty queen to add a line about me in her Yea Jesus! column, but I she would probably go all J Jonah on me. I would try Play, but theyre like a high school paper with booze in it.

I met another superhero today! His name is The Connecticutioner and he is really cool. I was back at the shell station on Whalley and Goffe looking for clues Hammerman may have dropped and I saw this guy filling up old Hulls bottles with gasoline. Turns out he is out to kill the crime family that killed his aunt or something. I suggested since we were both heroes and were meeting for the first time, we should probably fight each other for a bit. He told be that was dumbass idea and that I should just loan him four bucks for the gas. It was so cool! I think were gonna be like Ollie and Hal!

Avenger in action!

That cockfaced manager at the gym wont let me work out with my mask on! Now, every time I lift, risk exposing my secret identity. Id go to another gym but Im locked in for another six months. Fuck.

Good news, though. I fought my first criminal today! Some punk was whaling on this dude with a hammer in the Popeyes parking lot, right next to the walk-up window. Man, I jumped out of the Avengermobile and jacked that fucker up! He was all like "Who are you?" and I was all like "I am the Elm City Avenger! Fear me, evildoer!"

Man, he about shit himself! He took off through the Shell station and was gone.

I helped his victim up and gathered all the stuff he dropped. I think he was a chemist or geologist or something cuz he had a lot of little rocks in glass bottles. Its always good for a superhero to make friends with those scientist guys cuz they can build you cool gadgets and shit. I hope Dr. Pookie knows about lasers!