Chapter Text
The Balaclava
We all know it was just a white t-shirt. It was cheap, though let me tell you, finding one that wasn’t so see-through it defeated the whole point of wearing a mask in the first place. Well that was a nightmare worse than round the clock torture. I just figured, you know, white for purity of intention. I’m really just here to go after Francis’s douche brigade. Pure hearted vengeance - with a clearly defined target!
Blood stains are a bitch
No seriously, how do people who menstruate cope. Fuck, the blood never comes out, not without three fucking days and more elbow grease than it’d take to fist Optimus Prime. Whites are never the same.
I tried black, but I didn’t like it.
I know the lady said red. But it’s really hard to find a shade that matches my scars! I may not look it, but I’m a real stickler for colour theory, and you just don’t put a warm red next to a cool red. So I figured black is a classic. Fits the whole, mercenary of tragic past goes on a vengeance kick to win back the girl of his dreams. But I really can’t take the monochrome, it gives me hives.
Roses are red
And blood is too! It really is a match made in heaven, or hell depending on the way you switch it. But red tracksuits are hard to find, Target really should get on that, and after my last one got shot, stabbed, road shred. Well I couldn’t find a replacement in time to go after Francis’ latest dupe when douchebag number 23 won the lottery of death by Deadpool. Stakes are high so I brought back the black. It’s really not my style, Alathea said I should at least know how to darn my clothes when she heard me complaining about the holes in the dead red suit. Maybe I should look into that.