Jack Puncher

A brand new character I made up and did not base on anyone else

Jack Puncher wandered alone. That’s how he liked it. Quietly wandering and not doing anything in particular despite being very large, very smart, and having basically every skill known to man. He had hitchhiked to a small town and walked into the local bar for a drink.

“We don’t like strangers here,” snarled a fearsome-looking man who might have been intimidating if he weren’t much smaller than Puncher — as most people were.

Puncher decided to try to defuse the situation and avoid a fight — though this basically never worked, and he was constantly in fights. And he always won them because he was very large and also had lots of military experience. “Maybe you should try being polite. Might have a nicer day that way.”

“I’ll show you!” yelled the man, about to attack, but Puncher was much quicker, slamming the man with his fist that was the size of a turkey — well, not a full-sized turkey, but like a discount one, which is still really, really large for a fist.

“Ahh! Why’d I pick a fight with someone so much larger than me!” yelled the man as he fell bleeding to the ground. “This was not a smart idea!”

Puncher got a beer and sat down at a table. A beautiful but desperate-looking woman sat down at the table with him. “I saw how you handled that thug,” she said. “Maybe you can help us.”

Puncher took a drink of his beer. “I don’t like to get involved,” he told her.

“But you have to!” the beautiful, age-appropriate-for-him woman pleaded. “There’s this man in town, Mason, whom everyone is afraid of. He murders and tortures people just for fun — the most evil man you can imagine — but there’s no one here to stop him. We need someone who is very large, good at fighting, and maybe has detective skills to unravel Mason’s evil schemes.”

Puncher didn’t like to get involved, but he had a code: If people really desperately wanted him to get involved — which was constantly — then he would get involved. “Okay, I’ll see if I can help.”

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It took a while for Puncher to use his superior intellect to unravel all of Mason’s schemes, which involved like drugs or something (no one really cares). Puncher also got into a lot of fights along the way — which he all won easily, being so skilled and so large. Finally, he tracked Mason down to his headquarters in a warehouse on the edge of town.

Using his military skills, Puncher snuck up to the warehouse and peered inside. There, he saw Mason — who would be a very scary individual if Puncher weren’t so much larger than him — laughing evilly as he beat an orphan with a puppy.

“Ha ha ha! I’m so evil!” he exclaimed. “Everyone in this town must want me dead in an extremely violent fashion, but it’s not like there’s anyone who can do anything about it! I’m invincible! And evil!”

Mason then noticed all his evil thugs were lying dead. “What happened? Are my just desserts coming?” And then came at him Puncher’s discount turkey-sized fists. “AH! I’M BEING PUNCHED TO DEATH!” screamed Mason. “THIS IS EXCRUITATINGLY PAINFUL, BUT I ALSO DESERVE IT SO MUCH! ANY OBJECTIVE OBSERVER WOULD BE CHEERING THIS ON!”

Mason then fell dead. Dead from all the punching.

“You did it!” said the beautiful woman from the bar who ran in to see the dead Mason. “You saved this town.” She leaned in close to him. “But don’t you think it’s time for you to finally settle down somewhere?”

“No,” Puncher said. “I like to wander and stay out of things.” And that’s what Puncher did: Continue to wander from town to town despite how good he was at everything… well, at everything except for one thing: successfully not getting involved in a high-stakes drama involving violence and murder. That he sucked at.