Due to absence from Week 8 (Reckoning Arrives), tag number moved from 12 to 13. (Week 8 of 8)
Neon Havoc
Season Arc · Lone Wolf @ Dow James
1Every recorded result adds another step to this tag's season story.
Character Sheet
AI-written · FATE styleFormer nightclub bouncer turned vigilante after his family was killed in a drive-by shooting. When the corrupt cops refused to investigate, he took justice into his own hands, using his intimate knowledge of the city's underground to wage a one-man war against crime.
Wears a modified leather jacket with electroluminescent wire patterns, shock gloves that deliver debilitating charges, enhanced night vision, and combat boots with spring-loaded blades for dirty fights.
Serves as the Neon Knights' frontline enforcer, specializing in high-risk extractions and street-level confrontations while creating diversions for intelligence gathering.
Season Story
narrated by FlippyDue to absence from Week 7 (Justice Looms), tag number moved from 10 to 12. (Week 7 of 8)
Due to absence from Week 6 (Secrets Unraveled), tag number moved from 10 to 10. (Week 6 of 8)
Due to absence from Week 5 (Corruption Exposed), tag number moved from 12 to 10. (Week 5 of 8)
Due to absence from Week 4 (Vigilantes Regroup), tag number moved from 10 to 12. (Week 4 of 8)
Due to absence from Week 3 (Betrayal Strikes), tag number moved from 2 to 10. (Week 3 of 8)
As neon drizzle slicked Dow James' alleyways, <strong>Collin "The Accountant" Dyer</strong> stumbled upon <em>Neon Havoc</em> while dumpster-diving for his shanked Teebird. The cyber-raccoon's prophecy demanded a PDGA#90957 bearer - which Collin mistook for his W-2 form. Yet when he hyzer-flipped the tag into existence (literally, it stuck to his hoodie), streetlights pulsed to the rhythm of his 909 rating. "Congrats, vigilante accountant - you've just been promoted from TurboTax to tax evasion." But can this man who once three-putted a parking meter survive...squints at mission briefing...the dreaded 18th hole snack cart ambush?
Origin of <em>Neon Havoc</em>:
Born in the flicker of a busted streetlamp, forged from stolen police tasers and the shattered dreams of a city that never sleeps. This tag didn’t ask for justice—it demanded it, like John Wick if he threw putters instead of pencils. (Yes, we’re trapped in this edgy fanfic. No, we don’t get overtime.) Now it lurks in the shadows, waiting for some poor sap to "earn" it. Cool motive, still plastic.
Who’s desperate enough to wield this neon nightmare?