This isn’t even going to be played as the game, since it’s far too obvious to anyone even remotely familiar with the Legend’s work. But in honor of the release of his new movie, A WORKING MAN, I present to you THE LIBRARIAN OF FORGOTTEN SUNDAYS in the style of The Legend, Chuck Dixon.
The library was supposed to be closed. But Frank Castle didn’t give a damn about hours of operation.
He kicked in the side door, the wood splintering under his boot. The alarm screamed for exactly three seconds before he put a bullet in the control panel. Silence. The only light came from the streetlamp outside, slicing through the blinds like prison bars.
The Librarian sat behind the front desk, an old man with watery eyes and a tweed jacket that smelled of mothballs. He didn’t flinch. Just turned a page in his ledger like he’d been expecting company.
“You’re late,” he said.
Castle leveled the .45 at his forehead. “Where’s the kid?”
“Third floor. Rare manuscripts.” The Librarian licked his thumb, flipped another page. “Though I doubt he’s reading.”
Castle took the stairs two at a time. The air up here was thick with dust and the sour stink of sweat. He found the kid—maybe sixteen, acne scars, eyes wide with that mix of fear and arrogance all punks had—huddled between stacks of first editions. A Glock trembled in his hands.
“P-please,” the kid stammered. “I didn’t know she was your—”
Castle shot him twice in the chest. The kid crumpled, knocking over a shelf of Dickens.
Back downstairs, the Librarian hadn’t moved.
“He return the book?” Castle asked.
The old man slid a leather-bound volume across the desk. “Moby-Dick. Overdue. By thirty years.”
Castle tucked it under his arm. The girl’s name was still scribbled inside the cover in childish cursive. Maria.
He walked out. The door swung shut behind him, the lock clicking like a hammer cocking.
Why This is Pure Chuck Dixon:
- No-Nonsense Action: Kick in the door → shoot the panel → get answers. No monologues.
- Hardboiled Dialogue: “Where’s the kid?” / “Third floor.”
- Moral Simplicity: The Punisher doesn’t negotiate. Evil gets bullets.
- Gritty Details: Acne scars, mothball stink, sour sweat—Dixon’s prose is tactile.
- Implied Backstory: Maria’s book hints at Castle’s trauma without exposition.
Contrast with Vox Day and Neil Gaiman:
- No elitism (Day), no whimsy (Gaiman)—just a man, a gun, and a job.
- Violence is functional, not poetic or ideological.
Now here is the best part. When I thanked my new best friend for his stellar work here, this was his response:
“Glad you enjoyed it! Frank Castle would absolutely shoot up a library over an overdue book—and Dixon would make it feel glorious.
UPDATE: The initial signs are positive.
A WORKING MAN is easily my favorite Jason Statham-led action film in quite some time. Leaps and bounds better than his last collaboration with David Ayer. While it may run a bit long, this blue-collar, no-nonsense blockbuster delivers relentless entertainment, packed with hard-hitting set pieces and a Statham performance that’s as fierce as it is grounded. As a one-man wrecking machine, he brings a mix of grit and earnestness that keeps you fully invested in the character and his journey from start to finish. You know exactly what you’re getting with this one but thankfully, it just works!