Edison: Death-Wish {Fanfiction}

Media/movie fanfiction finds a dream-happy Edison-town designer become self-postured vigilante of the dark side of things post-trauma, offering an Earthling expression of a (simple) light.

Death Wish series fanfiction for your Manic Monday Autumn. Thanks so much for reading, 

DISCLAIMER: This work of fiction offers no commercial/explicit ties to the referenced franchise/films of inspiration and is (therefore) cast as purely a 'personal' expression for social art (for 'open' views/translations).

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It was in Edison (Homeland-Jersey area) where designer Amlan Satan, Slovak-Algerian Catholic American, thought his dream of regular/sane life was secured for pillows and cleats, for his wonderful work with blending classic fashion style work with modern street-pedestrian utilitarian friendly wearable/comfy women's clothing reflecting the modern Western world of fitness and keratin (Facebook-like).

FATHER WALLS: Truly pity you, Amlan Satan...we're all sorry.

AMLAN: Danica was my world, model-turned-wife; I'm bereft like Hell.

FATHER WALLS: May God afford you the speed of comfort for pillows earned, ok.

AMLAN: Maybe I need to transform myself, Father...seek wrought pillows for art.

FATHER WALLS: For art's sake...go with the soul, Amlan Satan (God-bless).

AMLAN: Thanx (for the prayer).

Amlan, Slovak-Algerian Catholic American, designer and half-idealist, was pale with horror when he discovered his model-wife, Danica, was beaten/raped and bloody-murdered in his Edison-town apartment, after gargoyles sent by a ruthless diamond-man who was tied to Amlan's fashion-fitness work that drew controversy-eye about the diamond-man's ties to smugglers-underworlds stretching all the way to populated Africa (wow). Mr. Satan (Amlan), once a happy-man of the world of commerce and magazines, felt now bereft like Hell and turned himself into a masked and sunglasses-wearing inventive gun-toting Edison 'super' hero, a Selfie-poised vigilante 'dark-fellow' with a death-wish for keratin prayers for the heavens (ok).

DETECTIVE BANKS: This guy smells like Captain America, chief.

POLICE CHIEF: This Editon-town's seen some immigration-talkies, for sure.

BANKS: We'll sure scare-away that American Dream chatter with this news, chief.

CHIEF: Whoever this gun-toting Selfie-poised vigilante is, he's all Edison-gossip.

BANKS: He's wiped-out that diamonds-operation, chief...maybe we like him, ha.

CHIEF: That's an American dream, detective...all's 'fare' in love-for-keratin.

BANKS: For Heaven/Hell, chief (thanx).

Detective Banks, a dashing Edison-town homicide detective, tracked the work-trail of the reborn Amlan Satan, destroyed Slovak-Algerian Catholic American designer with a once happy-dream, a work that was blood-stained and blood-furious (for the Ego!). Banks knew Edison (Homeland-Jersey) roadways now had a fierce crime-story in its midst...but Mr. Satan, avenging angel with a death-wish keratin, evaded/eluded overground policework; and cops honestly thought he was something like a cleaning-man (ok). Amlan understood bloody-well (now) that his consciousness was fated to be one of incomplete-arts for (all) things...onside (Facebook-like!).

"Doing well is the result of doing good. That's what capitalism is all about" (Ralph Waldo Emerson). 

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"Money is everything" (Ecclesiastes)