My Costume is Fucked Up

My costume is all fucked up.

The outer layer is scorched and melted, and one of the ballistic ceramic plates in the back is shattered. I’m going to have to send it to My Guy to get it fixed, which means wearing my spare costume, which means chafing in the groinal region.

A little bit about my costume:

My costume is your basic nightstalker body armor with a cowl, with sculpted bulletproof muscles. It’s sort of like the Batman costumes in the movies, except there are no pointy ears or cape or nipples and I can move my neck. I love the first Batman, the one with Michael Keaton, but can I say how fucking funny it was that he couldn’t move his neck? That killed me. He looked like he was in a neck brace or something.

Anyway, the whole suit is sheathed in a matte nylon mesh which I guess I will now describe as somewhat fireproof, as opposed to fireproof. I wear these cool goggles that switch to nightvision, which is pretty key when you haunt the night. Instead of a cape I wear a blue velvet shoulder cape that makes me look big. I know what you’re thinking, but the blue velvet thing is actually very masculine. I think I pull the whole look off pretty good.

Oh, and on my body armor I have a shiny Velvet Marauder badge on my chest. I know an artist, a guy who designs web pages, who made the logo for me. It’s a big stylized blue V.M. I think it looks pretty cool. Helps establish and reinforce the brand.

I’ve been thinking about changing my name, but more on that later.

I’d better pack this burnt costume into a box and send it off to My Guy.

Fucking Exploder.