Application: He Waits Dreaming
? The Player
Player Name: Em
Age: 26
LJ: cotume27
AIM: cotume27
E-mail: cotume27@gmail.com
Other Characters: Hoban "Wash" Washburne
? The Character
Character Name: Fun Ghoul (Frank Iero)
Fandom: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (otherwise known as Dust 'verse)
Canon Point: Post-"Sing"
Age: 26
Appearance: Frank is something of a hard read. He is short, standing just 5'4", but he is solidly built. His shoulder-length dark brown hair, wide hazel eyes, and open face make him look far younger and more innocent than he is, and that is at odds with the tattoos that scatter across his legs and nearly cover his upper body. Like any zonerunner, he has a number of scars. His clothing is frequently mismatched but is always bright, colorful, and durable. He can be either perfectly approachable or someone you would avoid in a brightly lit room, forget any dark alleys, and he likes it that way.
Abilities / Powers: Most of what Frank knows has been picked up during his time in the zones. He is an excellent shot with his blaster and with traditional guns both, though he has less practice with the latter. His fighting skills have mostly been honed in knock-down, drag-out brawls, and he can more than take care of himself despite his small size.
His small size does come in handy, on occasion. He is light and fast on his feet, and though he would rather face down danger than run from it, his speed has saved him on more than one occasion.
Ghoul has developed a great knowledge of explosives, both of their creation and general use. He also knows his way around machines and engines and has little trouble building them or putting them back together.
He is also a more than passable cook, though he hasn't had much occasion to use that skill in years. He also plays guitar and has some decent art skills.
Inventory: Ghoul is wearing boots, black pants with a canvas belt, a black shirt with yellow three-quarter length sleeves and black-and-yellow striped armband under his signature olive green army vest. There are a few buttons pinned to the front of his vest. He wears two necklaces: one a simple cord and the other a chain with a small, circular medallion bearing a five-pointed star. He has an analog watch; a bracelet with dark blue beads; and a red, white, and blue terrycloth wristband.
He also has a shoulder holster with a bright green raygun, a shoulder guard attached to the right strap. On his left arm is a jury-rigged arm brace. In his pockets are a handful of screws, nuts, small batteries, and small pieces of wire; the pin from a grenade; a small extra battery pack for his blaster; a broken yellow crayon; a lighter with fluid; and an assortment of scraps of paper, some with drawings on them, others with words, phrases, and names.
Personality: The two words most frequently used to describe Frank are “little shit”, and they really aren’t inappropriate. He can be extremely stubborn and contrary and a real pain in the ass, especially when interacting with people he doesn’t know. Like the spines on the cactuses that dot the desert’s landscape, presenting a prickly exterior helps keep him - and, in his mind, others - safe. Living in the zones has taught him that it’s dangerous to get too close to anyone. He’s seen too many times how relationships can be a liability, whether by someone’s crew turning on them or by Better Living Industries using crews against each other.
Despite that knowledge, though, Ghoul really doesn’t do well going it alone. He knows well enough he needs people to look out for, and, as others have told him and which is just as true, he needs someone to look out for him. The times he has tried to function by himself have consistently led to self-destructive behavior ranging from getting careless on jobs to searching out a supplier in a back alley at a swap to pick up some pills.
Frank has a bad habit of thinking himself indestructible. He knows how to be careful, and he doesn’t really make a habit of taking unnecessary risks, but his definition of what constitutes a necessary risk has always been a bit looser than most people’s. He likes to get in the middle of things, setting up explosives and joining firefights and brawls and generally taking part in the offense. He is also perfectly willing to put himself in the line of fire and stay there if it means one more member of his crew can get away with one less scratch.
His time with the Killjoys has broken him of some of his worse habits and tempered others, but he will never get rid of them completely. No matter how much he tries to work on it, he still has a quick temper, especially when it comes to the injustices committed by BL/Ind and S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W in the name of ousting zonerunners and regaining control of the zones. Ghoul lives life at full speed, and though he loves his crew, he still has the occasional bout of restlessness. Sometimes, he just needs to take one of the bikes and spend an afternoon on the tracks that cross the zones. He always comes back home, but his brothers-in-arms know that sometimes, he just needs some space.
Though it may take Frank time to let people really get to know him, when he does, they find he is as loyal as they come. He will never give up on a friend and will do everything in his power to support them, physically or emotionally. One of his greatest strengths and weaknesses may be that he expects nothing less from the people he does let in, and he takes it very seriously and personally when people let him down. Fortunately, his fit with the Killjoys was better than anyone could have expected, and that's one less thing he has to worry about, now.
Ghoul is also terrified of spiders, which the others love to tease him about, considering his apparent lack of fear in so many other situations. He also has a mouth like a sailor.
History: Frank was born on Halloween in New Jersey. He grew up in an extremely close family that spent many evenings together. Time spent with his grandfather instilled in him a great appreciation of music, and it was because of him that he first picked up a guitar. His grandmother taught him his way around a kitchen and the importance of their Italian heritage. His date of birth almost inevitably led to an interest in the dark and scary, and his parents encouraged it, waking him up on his birthdays wearing monster masks and gifting him with tapes of classic horror films. He was frequently ill as a child, and the movies served to pass time on the many days he spent home from school curled up on the couch.
When Frank was six, Frank’s grandfather passed away. A year later, his grandmother followed. It was a bad blow to the child, made worse by increasing stress between his parents. When he was nine, they finally separated, and an end to the fighting in the house was almost a relief. At the same time, the whispers and rumors of potential government collapse and uprisings began to increase in number and volume.
Frank spent much of the fall of his sixth grade year in and out of the hospital with bronchitis and the flu. While there, the staff was taken over by a new company that was quickly gaining notice. Better Living Industries promised health care for everyone, regardless of their means, and they promised to do it better than any other business running. They took over Frank’s treatment soon after, and within a month, he was feeling better than he had most of his life. From then on, two pills a day kept him from getting sick and also helped calm him down, improving his grades at school and generally making his mother worry less about him.
The next year, BLI made another move and bought out the company Frank’s mother worked for, subsequently transferring her to their headquarters in Battery City on the opposite coast. Not long after they moved, the riots began, and then the riots became skirmishes, and the skirmishes became full-fledged battles, and suddenly, the nation was falling into a second civil war. And in the meantime, Better Living Industries played the rest of its hand, effectively removing all competition and taking over as the crumbling government fought to keep its head above water.
Things were safe enough inside Battery City’s walls. The military continued to promise that it would regain control and that things would be returned to normal. Soon, though, it became obvious that things would never be the same again.
A few months after Frank turned sixteen, while he was on his way home from school, the pig bombs fell. Despite BLI’s best efforts, Battery City was immediately thrown into chaos as people rushed for the emergency shelters that the company had promised would never see use. It was the first time it really occurred to Frank how the company lied to them, but he had larger concerns at the time, namely keeping track of his friends and finding his mother. They ended up in separate shelters, and it was three days before the city was declared safe from further attack and he could return to their apartment.
After the bombs dropped, the world as Frank had known it effectively ended. Reports said all cities outside those controlled by Better Living Industries had been destroyed and that the world outside the city walls had been rendered barren and unlivable. They had no real reason to believe it was anything but the truth, especially considering the visuals on the news channels. It took time, but eventually Frank and his mother settled into their new lives, and, aided by their prescribed medication, the bombs became little more than a bad memory.
When Frank was eighteen, he graduated school, moved out of his mother’s apartment, and, like all his classmates, went to work for BLI. Data entry was by no means the most exciting job, but the pills he still took everyday left him little choice but to be content with his routine.
A year later, he had his first encounter with the resistance, though he didn’t recognize it for what it was at the time. His neighbor in the office had been acting strange for several days, engaging in lengthy but quiet conversations with the runner who brought their mail around and slipping off early. Then, one day, there was someone in their cubicle that Frank had never seen before. When the mail cart came around, the runner took one look at the new occupant and ignored them to come straight to Frank, asking after his former neighbor. Frank had no answer for him, and though they had tried to look only mildly curious, it struck Frank how concerned he really was. Frank spent the rest of the afternoon bothered by the fact that not only had he not known where his neighbor had gone, he hadn’t even known their name. His evening pill took some of the edge off, but it also never really left his mind. The next day, when the mail came around, he made a point to strike up a conversation with the runner. He looked surprised and mildly suspicious but also pleased, and a week later, Frank realized that, for the first time since moving to the Battery, he had an actual friend.
It took time, but eventually, Tommy trusted Frank enough to tell him about the resistance efforts taking place both inside the city and in the outer zones. Hearing that anyone could survive in the zones was news Frank wasn’t sure he could trust, but he had heard the radio broadcasts and seen the undoctored footage a friend of Tommy’s had. When Tommy suggested Frank try going off his pills, Frank initially balked, but a few days later, he finally got up the nerve to skip a dose.
Coming off the drugs was both better and worse than he expected. For two days he wanted nothing more than to go back on the pills, but the friends he had made with the resistance had warned him of it and encouraged him to stick with it. Tommy made more trips by his cubicle than usual to check on him, and by the third day, Frank felt like he was finally better after a prolonged illness. It was the week after he stopped taking the drugs that he got his first tattoo, and he never looked back on either decision.
After that, he started doing what he could for the resistance, passing information and supplies into hands that would take it to the zones and getting more directly involved in the sabotage efforts on BLI properties. He eventually met some of the zonerunners himself, and they were everything he had been missing in his life in the city. He and Tommy still went to work in the office everyday, still exchanged little more than the basic pleasantries, but he had something to look forward to, now. It felt better than he ever could have expected to have music and color in his life again, and for the first time in too long, he was truly happy.
Eventually, a day came when Tommy didn’t show up for work. Frank snuck down to the mail room, where one of the others passed on a message the other man had left for him. Its contents had him immediately leaving work with little regard for appearances, racing to the warehouse that had served as the resistance’s base. He got there too late. It was locked tight, warnings posted on every door, S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W’s seal on all of them. The next day, Frank chanced going back in to work, but it wasn’t long before lunch that he saw white suits headed his way. By the time they got to his cubicle, he was long gone. They got to his apartment before he did, but he managed to slip away before the agents caught sight of him. He also knew better than to go to his mother’s, instead making his way to a safe house underneath the city.
The next months were spent hopping from group to group, doing whatever they needed and gaining new contacts. He also made his first trips out into the zones, and they were nothing like BL/Ind had said. They were harsh and unforgiving, just like the people that lived there, but the resistance was in control there, and by the time Frank - or Fun Ghoul, as he had begun calling himself - led one last bombing run on a BLI manufacturing plant, he was ready to make his way to the other side of the wall.
Getting settled in the zones was surprisingly easy. People knew him already, knew his name and reputation, and it felt more like continuing his work than starting anew. A few others left the city with him, and the three of them set up with a fourth in one of the many safe houses dotted across the desert. Otter had a reputation, too, and Frank never saw it coming when, almost a year after they left the city, after a nearly unsuccessful run that left them nursing minor injuries and wounded prides, Otter disappeared and S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W descended on them. Frank and Hambone managed to get away, but they lost Shaun to the raid.
The betrayal and loss hit Frank doubly hard. He went a little wild, throwing himself into their jobs with a fury he didn’t recognize until Hambone confronted him on it. Their fight was explosive, neither man able to get past their own grief to see the other’s side, and by the end of the night, Frank was on his own.
The weeks after were bad. He turned back to pills, losing entire days passed out under his cot, drifting close to losing himself completely. It was another friend that finally dragged him out of it, getting him cleaned up and helping him pull himself back together. Frank spent another week on the man’s couch before James all but ordered him to go see Doctor Death Defying and Show Pony that ran the biggest illicit radio station in the zones and get back on the proverbial bicycle. He had no problem essentially being one of the Doc’s errand boys, and he began to spend more and more time at the diner.
Doctor Death Defying and Show Pony had a crew that had been staying with them. The Killjoys were green, and the first few times he met them, he wasn’t sure what to think - or even to hope too much that they might last more than a few weeks. Still, the more time he spent with and around them, the more they grabbed and held his attention, and before Frank knew it, Dewees was looking entirely too proud of himself and Frank was spending far more time at the diner than with James in his cabin.
It took time for him to really trust them, but after he fell ill not long after joining them, he tried to slip away and take care of himself as he would have done before, but they would have none of it. From that point on, the Killjoys, WKIL, and the young girl they had accidentally adopted and who they all called Motorbaby became the family Frank hadn't realized he missed having. He and Party Poison eventually became something of an item, and to this day, he’s still not sure he believes there wasn’t money bet on how long it would take the two of them to get together.
Despite any initial misgivings he or anyone else might have had, the Killjoys quickly became one of the biggest and most successful crews in the zones. Everyone knew of them and knew how good they were at what they did, and it wasn’t long before they attracted S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W’s interest as well. The head Exterminator, a man named Korse, made it his personal mission to wipe them out, and more than one occasion has almost seen him being successful.
A few months ago, Korse caught up with them. He managed to truly get the best of them, kidnapping Motorbaby and taking her back to the city. Their attempt to rescue her saw all of them gunned down inside BL/Ind’s headquarters. Death, though, is a strange thing in the zones, all of them having seen it before - and all of them having come back from it. Like the broadcast said, Killjoys never die.
First Person Sample: [There's a long muttered string of rather creative swearing that sounds like it's coming through clenched teeth before he grumbles...]
If it's not one thing, it's a-fucking-nother.
[There's the sound of something electronic powering up and then down, and he picks up the phone again.]
I'm betting it won't be this easy. Poison, Kobra, Jet? Anybody out there?
Third Person Sample: [here].
Other: