Frank Dieselwang & The CDC & The Toxic Dude Outbreak - Finale

With a superhuman effort, Frank Dieselwang and Shellandra Foreheart-Stiner Coldcrusher, but you can call her Shelly, applied their brainpower to the situation at hand, taking a respite from an intense skirmish, as evidenced by the smell of Axe and the plethora of  torn Ed Hardy shirts scattered across the nice guy blasted landscape.

Taken by Michael Sauers

Aside from a bit of sweat, and lack of shirt, and slightly elevated heartrate which caused his enormous pectorals and laser etched abdominals to heave just so, Frank was perfectly whole, and he looked on next to Shelly as she stared down the huge 90s style computer terminal at the top of the building they found themselves in after a metric ton of fighting.

Frank Dieselwang and that one guy who doesn't like Social Justice

Frank Dieselwang bounced his pectorals intimidatingly at the dudebro wearing the gaming T shirt, a trilby that he ignorantly called a fedora.

"You broke the code of conduct, and you were warned and you still kept on being abusive. You should have been kicked out long ago!"

"SJWs and Feminists are winning I dema....!" Frank's fist of great social justice smashed into the dudebro's jaw, blasting the dudebro into the sky, Team Rocket style.

Frank rubbed fist lightly, mostly to wipe off the day's worth of cheek sweat that he had touched.

He sighed, "I can't wait for Big Bad Con 2016, this would probably not happen there."

(OOC Author's Note: Sorry for the short post everyone, I had a great weekend at Big Bad Con! If you're a Bay Area Local, you should check it out)

Breinded Uther and the Wryters Bloch (feat. Frank Dieselwang)

Breinded Uther stared blankly across the way, resigned. The bridge to his path to freedom, and escape was blocked. Armed with several energy drinks, two pilot pens and an inspirational quote, he was unable to muster his energies to fight the most vicious of foes ahead of him, the Enemy of Creation, the Eater of Inspiration, the Wryters Bloch.

Breinded looked behind him, the streets of paved text behind him, a testament to his good works, but he could not see a path behind the Wryters Bloch to get to the promised land of Dedlein.

“Please…. I just want to pass.”

The Wryters Bloch merely stared back, placid, unmoving, but unsurpassable. There would be nothing to fear, no attack, no derision, aside from the plague of self doubt that is spawned from your inaction in the face of it.

Breinded slumped a little harder. “Someone, someone please help me.”

Like a blast of lightning shot from a cannon that was modified to shoot lightning thanks to rubber and other things, Frank Dieselwang, arms flexed as tight as olympic swimmers in the most tensed part of a butterfly stroke, burst in, wearing a Muse shirt because he just left a Muse concert, which was not at all some kind of reference to writing. With a roar and swing, he blasted the Wryters Bloch, Bane of Beauty, the Warden against Wordcount, into dissipating nothingness.

Breinded looked up, and Frank turned back, eyes firm and manly, hand held out. “I won’t carry you to Dedlein, but I believe you can get there with your own two feet. Will you get there?”

Breinded took Frank’s hand and looked up with thanks, “Thank you, I think I’ll be able to make it.”

Frank Dieselwang and the Somewhat Anachronistic Bootlegger

"Nyah nyah, you'll never get away with this copper! Nyah!' said that not at all dated mafioso armed with a tommy gun and a fedora but not in the nice guy sort of way, as he menaced Frank Dieselwang with the aforementioned tommy gun.

"We'll see about that Caponata Coglione!" Frank Dieselwang declared right back, suddenly taking his shirt off for really no discernable reason, baring himself in the mid afternoon sun, his nipples aimed aggressively towards his aggressor. The size and firmness of his erect nipples clearly demonstrated a physical opposition and willingness to fight for his beliefs and justice.

Frank Dieselwang and the Sumo Earl (or maybe Duke)

With a thunderous roar, the Earl of Sumo shouted at Frank Dieselwang "I AM THE EARL OF SUMO," in a loud way, which was perhaps a bit of a redundant sentence the author realized after failing to proof it the first time. The volume was of the power to shatter mugs, shattering all mugs within a 100 yard vicinity, yet all of the glasses within that vicinity remained untouched, because it was a mug shattering shout, not a glass shattering shout. There was also a glass mug, which was kind of strange but not unheard of, and it crack a bit to be unusable but it didn't exactly shatter.

Sumo Taxi, taken by Richard Pluck

Frank Dieselwang & the CDC vs. the Toxic Dude Outbreak, Part the Second

"You're starting to turn into your moth..." began a young man wearing a Limp Bizkit shirt, before Frank shoulder checked into a dumpster.

Frank began to show slight signs of exertion, which for him meant that sweat was dripping at a slightly increased rate from his hot, sculpted torso, glistening and highlighting the creases in his abdominals. He flexed his chest, causing his pectorals to bounce up and down at an andante tempo, much like Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 21.

Frank Dieselwang & the CDC vs. the Toxic Dude Outbreak

“We’re glad you came into the office today Mr. Dieselwang, I’m Shellandra Foreheart-Stiner Coldcrusher, but call me Shelly,” Shellandra Foreheart-Stiner Coldcrusher said, giving him a firm handshake as he entered the clear bubble office that was intrinsic to the CDC while sensuously simultaneously spraying him up and down with a canister with her other hand. During this process, her eyes ate up his extremely masculine form, his skintight shirt clinging alluringly to his abdominal muscles which seemed to ripple like perfectly melted chocolate being poured into a parchment paper lined half sheet pan.

“Mrs. Dieselwang is my mother, you can call me Frank. And it’s a pleasure and an honor,” Frank replied warmly, totally and manfully unfazed by the sanitizing spray, without taking offense to anything she did, “I understand you have a problem with Toxic Males.”