ALRIGHT! First off! I have no idea what the hell went on.

Some weird-ass man gave a card, gave me a job, gave me a chance basically. Alright? Alright. Now, I go to the job location. An IHOP. Worst FICKING service ever, good food though. 8/10. Not racist though, just so you know. Met a French guy, Asian chick and some lady named Lucky... Now who the hell names themselves Lucky? Or were their parents Irish? Wait, wait, don't take that out of context, I'm not racist, I swear!

SO ANYWAY; This LADY, turned into a freakin' Rabbit. A FREAKING RABBIT! IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD! Well, not on the road, like in the car. AND THEN THE OTHER FRENCH GUY TURNED INTO SOME SORT OF ELK! THEN THE OTHER ONE, INTO GOD DAMN MIST! Whatever, not essential to the story... 

We were going to a small town or something. Everything after that was kinda a blur, but honestly, screw the COPS! SCREW THE COPS! THOSE GOD DAMN COPS ARE WILD OVER THERE! Do NOT! Have a calm conversation with the cops over there; they are out of their damn mind. You know what? Screw all the cops. I can do a better job than them. Yeah! I can definitely do a better job. They can screw off all the way back to the Pig- Wait, I forgot to say:

After the job was done: I didn't expect to survive through it. Honestly, I thought I was done for. Those freaks saved my life, and in the end I became a true freak myself. I love it! So this is what it feels to be a superhero huh? Wait no, not yet. I got pals, a rabbit-killer-thing, a elk dude (Handsome man by the way, just like, not in that way you know? Not that I have anything bad to say about it. I like men. Wait, no! Not like, like, like them... Shut up.) And that Asian Chick.

I owe them alot, they fixed me up after I got my face screwed up and my legs chopped off. We decided to go for a dare-devil red and yellow, white petals and stuff. I don't know how they got my number, but I swear on it. I owe my life to everyone there.

2/10 Contract. Would try again.

Despite the first job going batshit, I think it went somewhat okay. Ma and Pa were pissed off (Of course, you know? They came back to the house being a mess, and when I came back home, I looked like a freak. They was not happy.) Yeah, yeah, whatever. There's still alot for me to learn; like, being alot more cautious and slow. Being smart ain't everything you know? Rabbits can win the race if they don't get too cocky with their speed. Well, hell, what do I know? I nearly got killed by one of those freaks. Lucky their name was. Well atleast I WAS LUCKY to have met them. Good lady, made me some food, tasted the bomb. 10/1o, would try again.

Well anyway; it's not a good thing to run everywhere. Keep your freaking eyes and ears out, otherwise you're bound to be slowed down by some missing legs. Thank God or whatever that Chika and them chose to make contact with my sorry ass after all I said about them. Especially that awkward French fellow, Nanook. I think I've come to take a liking to. Not in that way, but like, in a friendly man kinda way, you know? They still have to teach me how to turn into a god damn animal though. BUT I THINK, I know what kinda super I wanna be; Fast and dangerous.

Baseball's the name of the game baby! Nothing's gonna stop me now! HAHA! I need to come up with a Vigilante Alias... Need to read more comics

You see, the thing is; I never expected that life would ever go the way it went on the day I took this contract. I tell you, it's a far cry from normal; that being I was with some weird folks that musta loved some drugs or sh- like that. I mean, there was this Japanese Samurai guy right? Good guy. I didn't understand a word he was sayin'. Not to mention his get up. Now where the hell do you get a fancy set of armor like that? Crazy. Then some rich kid and a cowboy added onto that.

The contracters are weird people. Thank God I'm normal. These people are crazy! Kid, moved stuff with their mind. THEIR FREAKING MINDDDD! Cowboy? I ain't never seen a man shoot so much, and not so much as ever reload his gun. NOT ONCE! Samurai, broke my freaking table! So like, picture this, perfect little barricade: WHAM, SLASH, PAM, CRASH! My table? Floor. LIKE WHAT THE HELL TOSHIBA?

I swear one of these days I'm gonna find a way to talk people off more. Then they'll be sorry... Oh, I hit quite the few homeruns today too. I felt them screaming. Not the guys I killed (Self-defence), the crowds. I'm wickedly surprised that no one clapped for me; that was such a good beating I gave them... OH! FLASHBANGS!? Not a great idea; especially if people aren't where they are supposed to be. LIKE, GOD DAMN, IT WAS FRICKING BRIGHT!

ANYWAY, Great contract. Great people. I rate it 6/10, on the account I got a splinter and I can't rrust anyone with my stuff.

LOOKING AT YOU JAPAN!

I think I got too hasty with my last journal entry. Now like, I've been told that sometimes, bad things happen to bad people. Now I think that something bad happened to me, and that made me realise I'm a bad person. Make sense? Of course it doesn't, shut up!

I don't know what the contractor's deals was, but because of my last contract. I've been doing a little soul-searching; like those hipsters from the 80s. Picture this, your good old pal Frankie and you, watching wrestling all day with some fried bacon and popcorn, when suddenly you realise... HEY! THAT SKINNY ASS PIG ATE ALL THE BACON! NOW WHAT AM I GONNA DO WITH THE POPCORN! I swear to you, I was mad. Not usual for me, I know, I swear- But BOY WAS I MAD AT HIM!

Now I coulda just said: Hey man, you're eating all the bacon so fast, you're starting to look like a pig yourself. But an Ad on the TV stopped me. This most beautiful man- I mean broad! Yeah, this most beautiful lady. Smooth music, shiny brown hair, blue eyes starting spewing something about closure and therapy. I didn't really need therapy. I'm not one of those freaks you know! But like, this man- I-I mean broad... They spoke to me, you know?

I went to their website and booked an appointment: best fucking feeling ever. I got to stare at those preety blue eyes and chistled arms all day. You just know this man does sports, and the grappling type too! Now, hell I'd be lying if I said I didn't find something out about myself talking to this blue-eyed pretty boy: I get a little too peeved about my stuff you know? I need to let go of uh... Being posessive. eH, Whatever.

Oh btw, I beat Frankie's ass the next day in the rookie tournament. So that was Pay back I guess.

So picture this: I'm practicing my swing as usual you know? On the field, my form is beautiful, my batting, perfect- then some IRS lookin' mother- comes outta nowhere asking me to read my taxes. Okay then- Ah, it's a contract. Whupdie doo, I have to go to some place and do this and that. Badda bing, badda boom, I'm suddenly there- What the hell is wrong with all these Harbingers!? And where can I get some powers like that!?

SO

I met a weird looking melty face robot and some GOD DAMN CHICAGO CUBS FAN! I CAN'T FREAKIN' BELIEVE IT! THE HARBINGERS, ARE HIRING, CUBS! God damn, THEY ARE OUTTA THEIR DAMN MIND! Anyways, we stroll up looking like some weirdoes straight outta the circus, but you what? I'm beautiful, I'm at the top of my game, feeling like a slice of salami on a perfect New-York Pizza. Hot and delicious.

This robot's pretty useful, got uh, some good tools for the situations at hand. Then the lady- God damn, I've never seen somebody with that much acrobatics apart from yours truly- FUCKIN' CUBS! You gotta give them a hand out though, pretty cool stuff. Meanwhile, I was a Baseball God I tell ya, no strike outs this contract, no other painful things happen apart from me being stupid and losin' an eye. That's another thing, my god damn eye coulda been saved if I had been alot more cautious. THANK FUCKING DEITY that that robot guy got some good hands to fix my eye up. He said he's do it, but you know, he was kinda afraid of us ordinary humans you know? So I don't know.

At the end of the job, we all got pizza. Hurray. Whatever. I need to explain to Ma and Pa why I went missing. I swear I'm not doing drugs

Almost forgot: I should get a new edition of SPIDERMAN meets Cpt. America when I get back

So there I was, waiting in Dr. Harper's therapy room for some much needed company while reading a new comic. There's this poster on the wall, you know the ones with the Cat? Well, I was thinking. After the last contract, I should be less offa fuckin' jerk and allow my team some inspiration. We lost a game of baseball, and I don't know what happened. Maybe they were a little scared of the competition you know? I should have said something. Something, like uh...  "You ain't gonna die if you don't wanna. Times will be tough, all we gotta do is beat the ever-living fuck outta what's killing us"

Yeah, you know, that's pretty good of me. Yeah! I'm such a good person... Huh... I gotta go, I'm gonna come back to this later...

Okay, so back to where I was before, therapy. Dr. Harper is a good guy with a handsome smile, I should be like that. Oh uh, I'm gonna do that when I meet up with the melty face robot guy, he has some issues! In return, he was gonna fix my eye that I lost. Long story short, we shared a couple-a beers, some snacks, watched a game, fixed my eye, I fixed his issues. Pretty fun. I hope the Robot don't die while they're away. Especially that Neth lady, haven't heard from them in a while; they might be CUBs fan, but they're still a lover of baseball.

I went back home to Ma and Pa. Frankie was there, wondering why I keep disappearing here and there, coming back lookin' like a freak on fancy legs. I said: "Ma, Pa, Love you guys... BUT WHY THE FUCK IS FRANKIE HERE!?" Oh yeah! Frankie was there to play some video-games. Typical. Oh yeah, we played games alright (Beat the shit outta him at Immortal StreetFighter Kombat)

I'm feeling pretty good about this Contractor business. I hope it goes well enough to leave this slum of a city and move back to New York.

First off, I don't appreciate the fact that I had to get into a dog carrier in order to arrive at the contract. Like seriously! Who the hell do they think they are giving me a -1 Flight ticket or something? God damn it. I swear, if I see that purple pimp looking sucker again, I'm gonna give him a piece of my mind! Jesus Christ, I nearly pissed myself on the flight alone! Absolutely crazy.

I met up with the other contractors as soon as I got off though, thank God for that. This time, it was a... Business lady? and oh, Dan Steel. You know that pro wrestler that's pretty delusional about the sport? Yeah, yeah, that 60 year old chum bucket. He looked good for his age though, I'll give him that.

Also... Why the hell are noodles there so expensive? Mother- charged me $45 for a freaking bowl of the Asian stuff. Didn't even bother hiding his own predjudice. Damn it, in any case, I got my revenge. Now that's something I like to call a Racism Tax. Speaking off... Why are they mad? I saved their asses, and now those guys won't leave me alone!

I left my contacts to Dan Steel and uh... Doctor Alister. Looks like I have my work cut out for me; I'll have to have a talk with Mr. Steel about their current dilemmas with pus- HEY! You know what? I need to learn how to destroy things. I'm heading off to see Julio now (A guy I met at the airport). I'm not gay, the guy just seemed like a pretty swell dude. Very swell. Almost too swell... AND THAT'S SUSPICIOUS!

How wouldn't I know if they are a demon or something? I gotta check it out. Oh, the Contract, yeah... I rate it a 12/10. Wait no, a 4/10.

Took us HALF A DAY IN ORDER TO OPEN A SINGLE DOOR! I swear, I need to somehow become more sneaky. HALF A DAY! If it was up to me, I'd have broken in by hitting a baseball from afar. Fucck this shit mannn. Also, I'd like to add, if you ever come across some nice looking handiwork, take it from me and enjoy the view. We was this close... Wait, this is an audio recording. You can't see shit can you. We were pretty fucking close to dying, well... Mostly the Doc and Steel. I was flying baby! Anyway, it was thanks to them that we managed to get outta there. I don't know what Dan steel did, but they were yelling and screaming in battle. Nice...

OKay, LOOKS like I'm a demon in the Asian community. Whupdee do. It was all because of that racism tax thing with the Noodle man. Ay ya yayyyyyyyy- Anyway, met a good guy, told my therapist. They ain't too happy with it, so what?

I need to get Frankie some new airpods; I think I may have lost one during the contract... Anyway, I think I'm getting alot more better at swinging my bat and driving my pizza car. I think eventually, I'll have enough skills to run my own place around New York... Well, I first have to move there, and then I have to find a better way to support myself... And then say goodbye to Frankie... And then goodbye to Pa... Then Ma... Good god, must be very hard to find time to work around this thing. They don't really get it, what it means to be a... Wait, what the fuck am I saying? I'm the Pizza-man! I'm the Batter-bomb! There's no need to strees out about these things!

I tell you what, the next time I get to a contract, I'm gonna practice my baseball alot more. Get myself good with the bat and fight some good ol' crime in the Asian community; maybe then they's stop following me and other racist cunts stop taking selfies with me.

I SWEAR TO GOD! One more guy in a white hat looking for new recruits come by my door, I'm bashing his face in. There are god damn kids around damn it... Oh yeah- They seem like a good target for some good ol' vigilante work. Might even fuck em over when I get enough skills my way- So far, it's going pretty good. Might have to ask a few of my buddies to help me out when I eventually do: we can make a uh... Vigilante team you know? Hell yeah!

I need to get a new name for myself, I'm so sick of not having a superhero name haha. Well, I have a couple of ideas: Pizza-boy, Bat-man? Nah, how about the Bat. NO, I ain't rich and got daddy issues. Besides, who the fuck has a depressing episode and suddenly wants to become an ass kicking cosplayer? Just be an ordinary guy that does it for the fame. God damn.

Side Note: Dan Steel stills needs to contact me

So there I was, just back home from another game, feeling exhausted but satisfied. And that's when things took a wild turn.

I sat my tired self down on the couch, ready to enjoy a well-deserved peaceful evening. But just as I settled in, my phone starts ringing. And let me tell ya, it was a voice I hadn't heard in ages. Dr. Rhea Alister? Remember that name? They were the one who helped me and Dan Steel take down that noodle man for some shady mercenary deal a few months back. Ah, Dan Steel, rest his soul; he ain't with us no more, died a tragic death in a freakin' wrestling match of all things. Life's crazy, I swear.

So, Dr. Alister's on the other end, and they say they're in town. Told me they wanted to catch up and chat. Curiosity piqued, I hopped on a flight faster than a speeding bullet. Ain't nothin' gonna stop a New Yorker from a good ol' reunion, right?

I meet up with Dr. Alister, and we sure had a lot to talk about. Remembering the good ol' times, the adrenaline rush of our adventures, it was like a movie playing in my head. They even gifted me something special - a baseball bat with supernatural qualities. Yeah, you heard me right, this thing had some kinda magical powers. I couldn't believe it myself, but hey, nothing surprises me anymore.

Now, here's the thing. Ever since that reunion, that bat has become more than just a piece of equipment. It's like an extension of me, channeling an energy that gives me an edge on the field. My swings are faster, stronger, and more precise. It's like the spirit of all those baseball greats before me has been infused into this bat. And let me tell ya, it's a game-changer.

I can't help but hope I cross paths with Dr. Alister again. They were there for me when I needed it the most. Sure, our adventures might have been a tad unconventional, but that's the beauty of life, ain't it? You never know who's gonna come into your world and make an impact.

So, here I am, a New-York ballplayer from Boston, swinging my supernatural bat, ready to take on whatever life throws at me. Who knows what's gonna come next? But I'll tell ya one thing, wherever I go, whatever I do, I'll always carry that memory of Dr. Alister and our wild escapades. And maybe, just maybe, they'll show up again, and we can create more legendary moments together.

Until then, I'm gonna keep swinging for the fences and living life like there's no tomorrow. After all, I'm a New Yorker, and there's nothing that can stop me from chasing my dreams.

One day I'm playin' this supernatural baseball game with my buddy Valentine. Yeah, he's one of them supernatural baseballers too. Anyway, our powers infused the game with an otherworldly energy, and before we knew it, a mighty swing of my bat sent a baseball soaring through the sky, narrowly missing an airplane. Phew, close call!

But that ain't the end of it. Couple of days later, my pal "Slug," yeah, that's what we call him, comes up to me with a favor. He wants me to help him take down an old evil nemesis. Now, let me tell you, this nemesis was one nasty sonofabitch, full of evil and crap. But me and Slug, we don't back down from nothin'. So, we teamed up with this super scary mutant guy and some random fighter. Man, that fighter was one tough cookie.

We fought our asses off, me and the gang, and finally, we defeated that old nemesis. We were feelin' pretty good about ourselves, you know? But then, shit got even crazier. Turns out, this Fighter guy had an evil clone. Can you believe it? So, I was faced with a choice. Slug was my boy, you know, the one who asked for my help. But this Fighter needed help too, and I couldn't just turn my back on him.

So, I said "Fuck it" and decided to help the Fighter. We battled it out in the damn forest, dodgin' punches and throwin' haymakers. And you know what? In the end, I took my trusty baseball and sent it straight through his damn head. I know, sounds brutal, but it's what had to be done.

After all that adrenaline-pumping action, I said goodbye to Slug, thinkin' I'll see him again real soon. But boy, was I wrong. Couple of weeks later, I found myself at his funeral. Turns out, he had died on some secret supernatural job. Man, it hit me hard. I hate seein' friends die, you know? It's like losin' a part of yourself.

So, that's my story, my crazy rollercoaster of a life. Me, a New-York baseball-player superhero from Boston, livin' life on the edge and kickin' some serious ass. It ain't always sunshine and rainbows, but hey, that's the life I signed up for. And you know what? I wouldn't change a damn thing.

Well, lemme say this; some downtimes, are really fuckin' hard to remember, so I'll just list the common things I do when I'm out and about in the city:

Pizza store pop, ate some fucking pizza. Breakfast slice? Gotten get some shit in my stomach for a morning run.

Spent the rest of the day working on the baseball pitch, training the newbies and cleaning shop right after. Lunch? Yeah, a fuckton. Pizza, Pizza, Pizza. Because that's what heroes eat.

Dinner? No, sleep for a few hours and then we're on the night job. Boom pow, criminals hit the fucking' sack soon after. Chose the night like Batman, because everyone is real fucking sleepy, especially cops. Not me though! I'm gonna base some balls right in the pitch! Eh, fuck. I need to eat.

There comes a fucking dilemma, 24 hour gas station food. GOTTA LOVE IT!

After hours of kicking the shit outta people... I will sleep... Kinda... No, I'll sleep.

Master-Valentine Foundation. What a fuckin' title eh? Look, I hate cops as much as the next guy, and I ain't one to overlook the deeds of one crooked cop over the next. I know this job comes with an ass-kickin' when it comes to morals and shit— but hey? You gotta do, what you gotta do to be a hero ey?

I made my bed; I know I ain't fixin' to be the best kina guy out there, because fuck, my flaws are fuckin' perfect... It's because of that, I need someone... Something to keep me straight:

I knocked some heads, did some crimes to solve em, you know? But I need to make things right, not only to myself, but to the ones that died tryin' to reach their dreams. Yeah, the name? Fuckin' sucks ass right now, but just you wait!

Eventually I'm gonna work up the courage to grow this league, then, help the sorry fucks like me out of poverty and crime; just you wait... I'll be the Professor X with luscious fuckin' hair! The Batman without any money! The fuckin' Spider with parents. Watch me!

If I die tomorrow, at least I started something to change the world.

When I started this, I thought being a hero meant I'd be shined in Fame and glory. I thought, when that Talent handed me this opportunity, that I'd finally get a shot in achieving that childhood dream...

I didn't think it would end this way.

The weight of all them lost lives in that town weighs a fuck tonne on my soul, ya know? I thought I could be the one to save 'em, to protect 'em from harm. But I failed, and now they're all gone. I was pushed aside like some B-rate superhero. I tried my best, but they didn't trust my competence...

I didn't trust my competence.

My friends, who stood by me through thick and thin, they're gone too. Their absence leaves a hole in my fuckin' heart that I can never seem to fill, drinks and all. I miss 'em more than these words can tell.

These strangers, they hate me. I tried to change my ways, but they ain't fixin' to forgive. And wy should they?

When I started this, I wanted to be a Hero for my ego. I didn't think it would mold me into to realizing that that didn't matter; what mattered were the people around me. I had my prejudices, but I met people who got me through it.

I thought I would die on my first job, but they came back for me... I lost my legs being an asshole, yet that someone I swore at gave it back to me...

It's because of that, I pressed on— I knew that I had to be a Hero:

Chica... That sonnova bitch... I hope you're still out there... I owe you a pizza.

It's because of them, I continued to chase that dream, but always ran back to pick up those left behind; because I wanted praise: I wanted to be the one savin', not be the one saving... I wanted to be a better hero than anyone else!

You meet alotta weirdos like ya, like things that ain't people:

Alister, fuckin' nuts and bolts, afraida shaking hands, but a damn near sport when it comes to these jobs...

I'm sorry I lost the gift you gave me... Whoever Frikkie is, tell em I'm sorry too, it was a nice jacket, it was sad to have it be stolen...

These Contracts were painful.

I didn't expect to meet good friends out there, even ran into another Baseball player:

Valentine... Asian (And I hated his guts)... They weren't shit, I thought... And then, he ran back to me.

They all did... Why? I wasn't good a person.

And now, I'm left feelin' so alone. The burden of my mistakes, the guilt of not bein' able to save 'em all, it's suffocatin'. I don't know how to move forward from this, how to find redemption for my failures.

There was this Doc:

Rhea. Shared the same name as the Bot, but they were more for fixin' people up... I shared a drink with them; sharing the "war stories" in New York or whatever...

They died...

I wish I could turn back time, make different choices, be the hero they needed me to be. But I can't. All I could do now is carry this pain and try to learn from it, and I'm tryin' 

That's what I kinda said to Valentine; he was there when she died... He had to make a choice, it was a difficult one for sure, but... I was just glad he made it out.

And then... He died too

They're all dying.

Why can't I save them?

Why can't I be a hero?

I WON'T THEY GIVE ME A CHANCE!?

I WANT TO DO SOMETHING! WHY CAN'T I DO IT!?

"I hope I don't ever see your face ever again"

I've done it all wrong. I broke a promise to save people. I wanted to be a better person. I had to be... Those kids in the Foundation, I hope they get a better chance than I do.

This was supposed to be my last job as that rookie vigilante from Boston... A step in becoming who I truly was... And I guess it was, just not in a way I expected:

I'm not a hero, I'm just a guy who wants to be.

This is my last journal.

Signed: The MasterBatter.

Fuck, man, there's alot I wanna say. It's been months, I'm over it now.

After a long back-and-forth, they dropped the charges. Steppin’ out felt like a walk-off home run, but I knew I had to do more. 

And that’s when the idea of bein’ a vigilante hit me like a fastball down the middle. I had seen the flaws in the system firsthand—how easy it was for the good guys to get crushed. Crime is like a bad call at home plate; it don’t care who you are. I thought, “Why not use what I learned in that room for something good?” 

Here I am, standin’ on this tightrope between what’s legal and what’s just. Lost sleep, lost a few pals in the process, REST IN PEACE YOU FUCK, faced tough breaks that got me wonderin’ if I was up to the fight. But lemme tell ya, in a world that often doesn’t give a damn about justice and the little guy, I ain’t just gonna sit in the stands. I’m a voice for the voiceless, the shadow in the night, bitch I ain't Batman, but their more handsome cousin Master Batter. It’s a rough ride, but when I save one person, when I turn the tables on just one wrong, it makes all those late nights worth it.