In issue number 3 of the uncompleted Pompano Punch spin-off arc of the Muscle Fish comic book series the villain Lantern Jaw is given a backstory. Because this particular mini-run of comics was aborted early on due to dismal sales and boycotts a lot of Muscle Fish "fans" are unaware of this particular character's motivations and origins. Most followers of the Muscle Fish run only know of Lantern Jaw as a recurring mook under the employ of various other undersea ne'er do wells whose existence is relegated as a punching bag for the main character Muscle Fish. His huge jaw a prime target for Muscle Fish's scally fists and steel-toed boots. Nothing but a brick joke that the writers employ, some would argue that his repeated beatdowns come off as malicious and a bit gratuitous.

Personally, I've never really aligned myself with the camp that gravitates their affection towards the villains that seems to prevail in all circles of comic books fans. But I can kind of understand where they are coming from, especially with Lantern Jaw.

We all know Muscle Fish since he's the main character of the series. We know about his deep-seated insecurities, his favorite foods, what he does in his off time, his relationship with his adopted parents, and his favorite color. These little details can shift around with each different writer that takes the helm after the comic's conception in the year of 1984, and are hotly debated by "fans" on the internet arguing which iteration of Muscle Fish is the most canon. But at the end of the day Muscle Fish is a Fish who has Muscles. I personally find this simplicity to be appealing, people are sometimes complicated but that doesn't necessarily mean that every single person on the planet has obsessions and fascinations and multi-tiered motivations for their actions. Sometimes people just do things just to do them.

Lantern Jaw is kind of like that. The backstory that was provided for Lantern Jaw in that arc was that he was under the employ of the dastardly ringmaster of the Fin Fight bloodsport matches Pompano Punch.

Not as a fighter, but as a janitor.

Lantern Jaw worked as the guy who would mop up the various flotsam and jetsam left in the wake of the cage matches. His nights spent bleary-eyed, under constant besiege from the fact that no matter how much he cleaned he was going to have to do the same thing the next night: waddle around in ankle deep pools of blood and organs and try in vain to scrub it all clean. Pompano Punch would cut the lights after every match to save on money and Lantern Jaw had to rely on the dim light that hung from his widow peak. He worked his thankless job without a smile gracing his iconic huge-as-hell face, with each passing night the light from within growing dimmer and dimmer.

But on one fateful night he arrived early at his job.

With a hand gripping an oversized cup of coffee to start his night he wandered into the venue, so out of it from the hours of lost sleep that he didn't notice that the fights were still going on. An eyeball fell into his coffee and he looked up to see a young Muscle Fish withdraw his fist from Hay-Mako's face. The rancorous roars and cheers of the crowd shook Lantern Jaw to the core and he looked to his left and the right at the crowd that flanked him. That panel stood out to me when I was younger: Lantern Jaw's visage warped into panic and fear, not the usual unwarranted swagger and braggadocious glee that he is known for sporting.

At that point in Lantern Jaw's life he never once put any thought into how the messes he cleaned up were made, too busy focusing on cleaning them. His mind warped from the monotony of scrubbing the gruesome sacrificial grounds clean, becoming desensitized by the sight of carnage that these fighters left for him every night.

Hay-Mako fell to the floor as Muscle Fish unceremoniously turned around and left the arena, taking his money from a seething Pompano Punch and leaving the venue without giving so much as a glance to the audience. Soon the crowd followed behind him and Lantern Jaw listened into the passionate debates being held between the townies as they recounted the fight to each other in hushed, almost reverent tones.

The lights went out and again Lantern Jaw found himself in the darkness. The light hanging from his forehead was barely visible.

He stumbled his way towards the collapsed shape of Hay-Mako in the center of the ring, his steps shaky and unsure. And as he stood above the form of the fallen fighter Hay-Mako slowly stood up. Her words filled the empty ring "Hey. You got my eye, dude?" Lantern Jaw carefully withdrew the eyeball from his coffee cup as Hay-Mako took it with shaking fingers, "Thanks, dude. I've got another fight tomorrow night. Maybe I'll see you there."

Lantern Jaw stood silently as he watched the defeated fighter leave the venue.

And we are greeted with the sight of a smile, illuminated by his photophores. The very next panel shows him in the ring the following night, facedown on the floor. The crowd is silent, thinking he's down for the count on the first round.

But he gets up, and the crowd roars.

"Jesus Mc'Freakin Christ, Chandler. Do you have to pull this shit every single time you see Lincoln?"

My eyeballs flutter open at the voice and the summer sun piercing through the trees stings my eyes. Air fills my lungs, but my stomach hurts with each laborious breath. I can hear my bike's wheels spinning off to the side, I should've just taken the long way on the bike instead of using this shortcut.

" Can it, Richie. He was mean-mugging me, Lame-O thinks he's tough shit now that school is out and I wanted t-"

I tried to stand, but the pain in my abdomen caused me to wince my head backwards on the hard dirt. The contents of my backpack dug into my shoulder blades, hopefully I didn't break anything important. Tears stung my eyes as I rolled to my side and I slowly got up. I flexed in time so the wind wasn't knocked out of me- this time. I got lucky.

"Seriously? This shit is getting old, Chandler. If you keep this up I'm going to start telling your mom, mondo troubling behavior. Of course Lincoln doesn't like you, you've been obsessed with him since kindergarten. And I don't even know why. I mean…"

I patted some dust off my jeans and scanned the area. We were alone in Ketcham Park. Nobody around to get an adult involved, which is good. I don't really want anyone to get in trouble. I shot a smile to the two kids flanking Chandler before affixing my gaze back to him, just in case he tries something again.

"Lincoln isn't really that bad of a guy. He's just kinda…" The bespectacled kid shrugged his shoulders, "Keeps to himself."

The redheaded kid's face turned into a snarl. "He thinks he's sooo fucking cool. Too cool to have any friends. I mean, look, he hasn't even said a word yet!" He let out a taunting laugh and squinted his eyes at me and stepped forward. "Just trying to give this dork a slice of humble pie."

The two kids at his flank gripped his arms after sharing a quick nod.

"Hey! What the fuck!" His two friends held him in place as his legs scrambled around in a desperate bid to break free, "Let me go so I can beat this loser's ass!"

"Pfft." The black haired kid rolled his eyes and shot me an apologetic look, "Listen, Chandler. You pretty much just walked up to him and punched him in the gut. Not fucking cool, you know that kinda chicken shit stuff doesn't fly with us."

"Yeah. It's one thing to be an asshole, but to be a physical aggressor? That's got trouble written all over it." The kid with the glasses shook his head and sighed. "It was all fun and games back when we were in elementary school or whatever, we were all babies. But to pull this kind of stuff now that we are in freakin' middle school? I don't want people to start talking about how I hang with a douchebag who picks on the weird kid."

He quickly shot me a tiny smile, "Not that I think it's bad that you're weird or anything just because you keep to yourself, Lincoln. I get it, people can be kind of annoying." He sighed and bobbed his head towards Chandler. "This asshole is a pretty good indicator that there is some creedence towards your loner predilections."

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Trent." Chandler stopped his wiggling and rolled his eyes. "Fine. I won't beat up your little booooyfweeeend." His eyes met mine and he smirked.

"This loser isn't even worth it."

"Huh?" The black haired kid shot a confused smile to Chandler. "No, you're still going to fight Lincoln." He faced me and shot me a wink. "I wanna see if he beats your ass again like last time, you've been slipping up and now you're resorting to underhanded tactics like some dude with no honor. We're just holding you down so he gets a free punch in your gut. Fair is fair."

"What." The light in Chandler's eyes seemed to go out and he started struggling again.

"Seriously. One more fight to settle the beef between you two, because I most definitely don't wanna have to deal with this bullshit the whole summer." He scanned the surrounding area and the glint from the sun on his glasses obscured his eyes as he faced me. With his free hand he took off his glasses and sighed, "I personally don't agree with violence, but I can understand why you two have to resort to fists…"

"Place is a total ghost town, so feel free to take the chance to even the score right here and now, Lincoln. The sooner this is over and done with the better."

I stepped forward.

"I don't really wanna punch him in the gut with you guys holding him, that'd be kind of unfair." My own voice had this pleading ring to it as it rang out in my skull. "And I don't really want to get into a fight on the first day of summer." It's been a while since I've had to talk to anyone outside of the fam, so I found myself a bit embarrassed.

I turned around and tried to leave. "I'm kind of busy right now." I think I picked up their names in the conversation.

"See you later, Richie, Truman."

I heard Richie's voice perk up. "Dude! Don't be like that! This is for the best, trust m-"

"FUCK YOU, LINCOLN!"

He'll clear the distance in 5 steps. At the fourth I quickly turned around and bent my knees, eye-level with his fist. I shifted my head to the left and brought my fist upward, his arm barely clipping my shoulder and my fist connecting with the bottom of his chin. Momentum did the work for me, I'm pretty sure if I put any weight to it I'd make him bite his tongue. I've been clocked in the head before and have been in that position, it makes drinking flippees hurt.

Panic flooded my head as I let his body fall to the side, I honestly didn't want to get in trouble my first day of summer, but I guess it's in character for me. I should have just kept my mouth shut.

My left hand seared with pain, bone is hard as hell.

"There is that smile!" I looked up from the dirt to see Richie shooting me a fingergun. He pulled out an inhaler from his pocket and took a quick hit.

"I am sincerely sorry for letting him free." Truman winced as he cradled his hand. "Dude bit me, those snaggle teeth hurt like a B."

I gulped and tried not to start dry heaving and gave the two of them a quick nod. Richie, Truman, and Chandler have a weird friendship. Or maybe I just think that because I don't really have any friends besides my sisters, and I'm pretty sure they don't count because I'm related to them. But, if I only had to deal with Chandler during a handful of classes over the last couple of years, these two had to deal with him way more.

"Guys, I really don't want any more bad blood between me and him" I tried to shoot them another smile as I heard the red haired kid snarl as he tried to get up, "I don't think violence will solve anything besides him just getting more and more desperate."

"That's why you gotta put him down, dude." Richie shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie to stow away his inhaler and cracked his neck. "In fact, I bet you guys will be friends after this and we can stop having to deal with all his weird theatrics. Happens all the time in anime."

"Intricate rituals, Lincoln." Truman sighed and shook his head. "Chandler is a weird guy, this is how he is. I think the main reason why he never left you alone is because you are pretty much unflappable. It pisses him off."

Maybe this really is all my fault or something. I don't know. The last time things turned to fists between me and him was because I accidentally bumped into him during lunch and spilled milk all over his clothes. I probably should've tried to apologize but I couldn't find the proper time to get a word in.

I open my mouth: trouble happens. I keep it closed: same thing.

Maybe I'm the problem.

I turned around to face Chandler just as he got up. His fists were raised as he twitched his jaw to the left and right.

I figure now would be as good of a time as any to apologize.

"Sorry about spilling my lunch tray on you last time." My arms shook as I lowered them down to indicate that I didn't want this to continue. "That wasn't cool of me… dude."

"Fuck you."

5 steps again till he got to me. But I kept my arms to the side, hoping that he'd take my apology.

Didn't work.

He drew back his fist and aimed for my chin, if it was an uppercut this would be more tricky. I quickly bent down at the knees and lowered my head causing his fist to make contact with my skull.

Shutting my eyes as pain bloomed in my head. My sister Lynn says that pain is just weakness leaving the body, but she also can't swing a baseball bat without reciting the Burpin' Burger jingle. So maybe she's just crazy.

I quickly forced my eyes open to see him flail his hand backwards and I heard a pop at the contact. Thinking quick, I stomped on his shoe and he lost footing. With a scream that scared the crap out of me he landed square on his ass.

"He didn't even swing."

Richie's voice cut through the sound of Chandler gasping desperately for oxygen as the air was knocked out of his lungs when he made contact on the floor. He rolled around, howling in pain and I quickly shot forward and tried to help him up.

"I- I'm sorry, Chandler!" He stopped fighting my arms and I slowly brought him up so he could lean against a tree. "A-are you okay?" My own voice was shaking, I was sure that maybe he was having an asthma attack or something. I've seen them happen before at gym class, not a pretty sight.

"Yeah." Chandler slapped my hand away. "FUCK!" He cradled his right wrist with his free hand as tears welled in his eyes. "I think you broke my fucking wrist!" My pupils dilated in fear as he sank down to sit at the base of the tree.

"God DAMN it!" His voice was a mix between a painful whine and a guttural scream. His face contorted to a visage of pure hatred. I guess if I was in his position I'd be pretty pissed off, so I don't really think less of him for all the cusses he was muttering underneath his breath.

"You totally deserve that." Truman walked towards the two of us with Richie at his side. "Now, are you done with this grade-school bullshit?"

"Oh hell no!" Chandler slowly got up and started limping away. "You better watch your back, Lincoln Lame…"

"It's Loud." I tried to correct him but I don't think he heard me. I turned to the duo. "My last name is Loud not lame. But I guess I can understand why he calls me that, I probably should have tried correcting him earlier."

"Yeah, he's calling you that to be a dick, dude. Kinda funny though, since you're pretty quiet" Richie rolled his eyes and followed behind Chandler. "Hey, if I ever see your white-haired ass at Gus' Games and Grub give me a holler, I feel like I owe you a soda after that show you put on."

"Yeah, Lincoln." Truman gave me a single nod before following suit and walking off. "We'll see you around town, don't be a stranger."

I blinked in confusion and tried to set things straight.

"So are we good now? Like, friends, or whatever?"

Richie and Truman held their thumbs in the air as Chandler held up his middle finger.

Satisfied with that I picked up my fallen bicycle and continued on the trail to get to where I was going.

A lot of fans of Muscle Fish don't really appreciate the world-building of the Muscle Fish franchise.

Unlike most comic books that take place in a fictional city like Baize City in Ace Savvy, Muscle Fish takes place in the real world city of New York. This is cool because it uses a lot of real world locations that you can see in both the comic books and movies. When I was a kid I was obsessed with this burrito place that showed up in the second movie, it had this rad aesthetic that was influenced by low-rider culture. My favorite feature of the restaurant was this cool as hell orange lowrider that sat in the middle of the place, the owners turned it into a buffet kind of deal for salsas and other toppings. In the movie Muscle Fish lowers the low-rider's breaks and slams it into Cehphaloplex's body when the villain tries to interrupt his lunch time, and while Cephaloplex is pinned Muscle Fish just wails on him.

That scene got a lot of flack from critics saying that it was over the top in its violence, but they obviously didn't read the comics or they'd know that interrupting Muscle Fish while he was eating is one of the few things that supremely pisses him off. I'm kind of the same way, but I don't think I'd beat someone up just because they wanted my time while I was eating. But no one really wants my time besides my sisters and they usually are eating while I'm eating too.

I don't really think of myself as the type of person who would beat up anyone under any circumstances. I usually try talking my way out of things, but that never seems to work. I guess I just kinda got used to getting my butt handed to me over the years, but my sisters usually try to back me up if something really bad comes up. It was one thing when we were kids, but now that I'm in middle school I don't need them getting in trouble for my sake. I'd rather risk a punch or two than worry about them getting grounded.

I tried looking up the restaurant online one time at the school's library and found out that it closed down before I was born.

I guess places change, they close down and are bulldozed in order to make luxury apartments. The only real static fixture of Muscle Fish is Muscle Fish himself, even side-characters and villains get written out or shifted around. For me, I think that's enough for Muscle Fish the Comic Book. But sometimes I wonder how the character himself feels, watching the city change around him over the years. The familiar faces and places fading into obscurity. With every reboot he goes back to square one, reviled for his mutant existence with no support from the Cities populace. I know it doesn't ever get to him in the comics, Muscle Fish never lets anything phase him. I guess that's why he's a comic book character and I'm just some kid.

I wasn't planning on spending any time in town today. But Mom got on my case this morning about me spending too much time indoors. I tried to explain to her that I was trying to make the most of the empty house since all my other sister's made plans for the first day or summer. I saved up a lot of money over the last couple of months and was able to get a copy of this video game called Ellen Ring and spent all of last night playing it and woke up late.

I thought I was in trouble or something, but Mom said that I wasn't and that she was just worried that I was gonna spend my whole summer inside playing video games instead of living life. I showed her my calendar of all the different things I had planned out, but she rebutted that all of these events are there for family stuff and that I should go have a life of my own. She also hinted that she was worried that I don't have any friends. I don't really like worrying Mom so I stopped trying to talk my way out of things.

Today I left the house and got into a fight. I guess I won the fight and made some friends so maybe that's a productive way to start out my summer.

I emerged from the trail that cut through the park to downtown Royal Woods, my eyes stinging. People walked by, averting their gaze from me. I thought about jumping on the bike and pedalling down the next two blocks to the mall, but the streets were packed with bumper-to-bumper traffic. I moved with the crowd, luckily people were giving me a lot of space. And a lot of looks.

It's probably the hair, I'm used to it.

It's a windy day. I tried to adjust the annoying tuft of hair on the top of my head that kept on getting into my eyes only to realize that my hand had blood on it. With a sigh I looked down to see specks of red on my orange polo and pulled my bike over to a nearby bus stop to clean up.

I tried my hardest not to whimper in pain as I pressed an old napkin I dug out from my backpack to try and stop the bleeding, only to fail. My own voice making me cringe. The lady in the motorized scooter to the left of me wheeled off and mumbled under her breath. I sat there and looked up at the stores and cars and people, all of it familiar. In the corners of my eyes I watched people whisper to one another as they walked by on the sidewalk, some of them pointing.

None of them helping.

I'm feeling bad, not because of the pain but because maybe I'm ruining these people's day.

Like always.

I guess sometimes things don't change, not like they do in comics.

That's okay I guess. If real life were like comics I probably wouldn't spend so much time reading them. And if I didn't have comics then I'd probably be even more boring, just spending my time in my room staring at the wall. There's no real point in getting upset about things.

I guess it's kind of odd for me to expect people to help out since I'm just some weirdo kid with white hair. I'd probably roll down the window if I saw me on the side of the road.

I tell myself that they'll probably forget about me by the time they make it to their destinations, and that makes me a little less embarrassed. Sitting here all mopey makes me look like I'm trying to get attention or something.

With a smile I grabbed my bike and started walking again.

Leni always tells me that if I smile the world will smile with me, Lori tells me the same thing but she always rolls her eyes and finishes with "Because people are literally stupid. They'll parrot anything in front of them just to fit in.". Lori always tells me that if I'm upset I should just man up and show it, but I don't really think it's all that manly. Muscle Fish carries the weight of the city around his gills and never lets it show, so maybe Leni is right in this instance.

Everyone I lock eyes with are smiling back, but it's these tight-lipped grimaces. I see it a lot from guidance counselors and teachers, usually for the first couple times they try to get me to talk. After I open my mouth they usually start sweating, regretting that they even tried in the first place. I've toned it down in the last couple of years, I used to be a pretty hyperactive kid. But now I know that there is a lot to be said about saying nothing, usually a nod can communicate a million words if you do it correctly.

Maybe I'm just not smiling correctly. I'd practice more often, but I don't need one of the girls busting into the bathroom with me talking into the mirror again. Not because they'll make fun of me or anything, but because they usually flash me that same tight-lipped smile back at me.

It is kind of lame to just practice stuff like that by yourself, so I don't really blame them. Maybe this summer I'll finally try practicing on people or something. Who cares if they shoot me that look? They'll probably forget me by the time they get back home.

Or at least that's what I'm telling myself.

"I'm just a rabbit going on the run

And I know I'm gonna get caught.

I'm just a snake sliding in the sun

And I'm living in your flower pot."

Maybe I'm Dead by Money Mark

Notes:

I wasn't really feeling it in me to continue Little Room and Orange Morality right now, but I have been chipping away at the outlines for them. I'm taking those fics a bit more seriously, and I have had a lot of stuff going on recently. Maybe I should start buying lottery tickets so I can quit my job and write fic full-time or something. I always kind of wanted to do a fic where Lincoln doesn't have any friends. Sort of like the opposite of LDNT and LR where instead of being the main character who somehow knows everyone on the planet, this Lincoln is a background character. That one Blueperson continuation of that loner lincoln fic Moving In kind of inspired this one, I'm hoping it's a bit distinct but you can't unzip your pants and swing it around without hitting a Sad House Lincoln story where he's got no friends and nobody uuuunderstaaaands him. So I understand if you think I'm being a hack.