capeandcowl Application Pg. 3 of 3
COMMUNITY POST SAMPLE:
Like suffocating on Mars, getting mouth-to mouth from that asshole Midnighter, and fighting alien space-sperm wasn't bad enough, now I'm stuck here. Wherever "here" is, anyway.
Waking up in a lab isn't exactly my number one choice of happy fun times, especially when some HAL9000 knock-off is telling me to get my shit together and go. But hey, it's not all bad. They set me up with a new apartment, and a nice shiny set of dogtags, My License To Superhero. Gee whiz, I can hardly contain myself!
...
Okay, I got that outta my system. "License To Superhero"? My ass. I already have two of those, and they they both come in .45 caliber. I don't need any more goddamned dogtags and people telling me what to do. But on the other hand, much as I hate to say it, this city looks like it needs help. Might as well make the most of it while I'm here, right? Besides, I might even be able to turn a dollar or two in the process.
THIRD PERSON:
There were little joys to be found in life, Cole had found. Even in the most dismal, bloody battlefield were little things you could focus on to take it away for a few minutes, or even to just help you cope. Right now, Cole was indulging in one of those right now. Aside from starting to shoot people and get the answers he wanted, this was the best way for him to deal with this fucked up situation.
He inhales a deep drag of smoke from the cigarette pressed between his lips, leaning sideways against a bus stop and looking at a peeling and vandalized poster taped to a wall across the street.
Do your part, HERO!
Do your part? Yeah, right. Cole had done his part. Earned his stripes, both figuratively and literally. From the mean streets of Chicago, to the jungles of Vietnam, all the way to goddamned Mars. But it was never good enough, was it? Once you make the first choice to put on that mask, lace up your boots, and go save the world, it never ends.
Cole scowls, exhaling a cloud of smoke towards the ground. What was he going to do now? Well, leaving wasn't an option. Not yet, anyway. First he would have to find out where he was, and then the means of getting back. No easy feat, that.
Already tired of the cigarette, the little joy it had brought him having been replaced with cynicism, Cole drops it to the ground and crushes it under the heel of his boot against the concrete.
Whatever was going on here, whatever had happened, Cole was going to get to the bottom of it. And right now, he really didn't care how many hospital wards he had to fill to do that. Besides, that copy of Die Hard was due back at Blockbuster by Tuesday. He had to find a way out of here.
Laughing softly to himself, Cole shoves his hands in his jacket pockets and heads off down the alley to check out this new apartment he's supposedly been given. Maybe he'd have cable...
Like suffocating on Mars, getting mouth-to mouth from that asshole Midnighter, and fighting alien space-sperm wasn't bad enough, now I'm stuck here. Wherever "here" is, anyway.
Waking up in a lab isn't exactly my number one choice of happy fun times, especially when some HAL9000 knock-off is telling me to get my shit together and go. But hey, it's not all bad. They set me up with a new apartment, and a nice shiny set of dogtags, My License To Superhero. Gee whiz, I can hardly contain myself!
...
Okay, I got that outta my system. "License To Superhero"? My ass. I already have two of those, and they they both come in .45 caliber. I don't need any more goddamned dogtags and people telling me what to do. But on the other hand, much as I hate to say it, this city looks like it needs help. Might as well make the most of it while I'm here, right? Besides, I might even be able to turn a dollar or two in the process.
THIRD PERSON:
There were little joys to be found in life, Cole had found. Even in the most dismal, bloody battlefield were little things you could focus on to take it away for a few minutes, or even to just help you cope. Right now, Cole was indulging in one of those right now. Aside from starting to shoot people and get the answers he wanted, this was the best way for him to deal with this fucked up situation.
He inhales a deep drag of smoke from the cigarette pressed between his lips, leaning sideways against a bus stop and looking at a peeling and vandalized poster taped to a wall across the street.
Do your part, HERO!
Do your part? Yeah, right. Cole had done his part. Earned his stripes, both figuratively and literally. From the mean streets of Chicago, to the jungles of Vietnam, all the way to goddamned Mars. But it was never good enough, was it? Once you make the first choice to put on that mask, lace up your boots, and go save the world, it never ends.
Cole scowls, exhaling a cloud of smoke towards the ground. What was he going to do now? Well, leaving wasn't an option. Not yet, anyway. First he would have to find out where he was, and then the means of getting back. No easy feat, that.
Already tired of the cigarette, the little joy it had brought him having been replaced with cynicism, Cole drops it to the ground and crushes it under the heel of his boot against the concrete.
Whatever was going on here, whatever had happened, Cole was going to get to the bottom of it. And right now, he really didn't care how many hospital wards he had to fill to do that. Besides, that copy of Die Hard was due back at Blockbuster by Tuesday. He had to find a way out of here.
Laughing softly to himself, Cole shoves his hands in his jacket pockets and heads off down the alley to check out this new apartment he's supposedly been given. Maybe he'd have cable...