My first conscious thought was the cold wind blowing past my face. I shivered, and blinked my eyes open. I was in... an unfamiliar room... A bedroom... in a large bed. The girl, Ravynwings, had disappeared, but the Joker was sitting in an armchair, his deep brown eyes observing my every move, every shift in my limbs, every twitch of my fingers, every search of my eyes. I shivered again, involuntarily, and he drew himself out of the chair.
Crossing over to the window, which I had now noticed was wide open, he shut the window and clicked the locks, all while keeping his eyes on me. His eyes were not evil, not menacing, but kindly, though I knew he was evil, and he was menacing. He sighed, and shifted to my bedside. I propped myself up, and cringed away from him, fear blurring my eyes, making all the colors shatter and run together. My fear in shattered color made my tremble as I tried to regain control of myself.
A slight chuckle from the painted face above my head, a slight smile of the red lips, a slight rustle of the dyed hair, as he watched me gain control of my motions. I took a deep breath, and looked up to meet his eyes. He smiled widely at me, and began to speak, the scars of his face creasing as he spoke.
"Well, your seeming better." He motioned to my torso, which had the shirt ripped off and a wide bandage along my chest. I raised my hand a touched it gently, and flinched. The wound, though stitched, was still painful, and I placed my hand back beside me.
He startled me by speaking again. "I'm afraid Ravynwings had to leave... She won't be back." Something in the tone of his voice made me feel like she couldn't come back. The colors around me began to piece themselves together and shatter simultaneously. He watched me, all too observant, so I did not allow any emotion to break onto my face. I kept my face a serene masquerade as he spoke once more.
"What an... amazing coincidence I would run into you. Here, of all places!" He spun around and held out his arms as he spoke. He stood near the window and addressed me. "The snow is so beautiful... the colors shattering off the white sparkles of winter... Makes you feel like you have... nothing to fear..." he trailed off. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood. I moved over to the door when he turned. I sat myself quickly in the chair beside me, and he chuckled.
"It's no use trying to leave, and you have a reason to stay!!" he whispered excitedly. "You can join me!! Since your... precious Batman is dead," he paused when I cringed, "Your available. I need someone like you, someone sacrificing, someone willing to do... anything." He grinned widely at me, his scars twisting as his sick smile decorated his face. His brown eyes searched mine as I crossed over to him beside the window and looked outside.
"Well," I murmured, "that's certainly an option..." I turned to him, knowing exactly what to do. I drew a breath, and...
Showing posts with label batman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label batman. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Theme Thursday - Snow/The Tenth Daughter of Memory - Threshold/Happy Birthday, Mum!!!!!!!!!!
As I stared up at the painted face of my, as clichéd as it may sound, nemesis, my mind was busy making plans for escape. Ducking back under the water, swiping his legs out from under him, jumping and running away, swimming away. None of these plans made very much sense, so I just stared stupidly. His face started to become confused, and he watched me with dark, puzzled eyes and a small smile playing on his lips. I tore my eyes from his, with enough difficulty, to look past him.
His figure blurred as I focused on a castle in the back. Looking back up at him, I realized I had a stone in my fist from when I had clenched the snow - it must've snowed recently, there was a light dusting on the ground - at the shore. Asking fast, on impulse, I threw the stone, along with several clumps of dirt, into his face. While he was turned away, trying to dislodge the dirt in his eyes, I launched myself onto the land and sprinted towards the stereotypically gloomy castle, perched atop a small hill.
Whilst I ran, I felt the pain in my chest from where the weapon stabbed me. I realized the sword was out of my body, and I also realized I don't remember it being in my chest when I was in the water. Was it possible they had taken it back out of my body? The wound was no longer bleeding - the cold water had stopped that. Still hurt, but I couldn't focus on that right now.
As I pushed myself up the winding path towards the door of the castle, I looked over my shoulder frequently, watching for him. I knew that was useless, because the Joker wouldn't directly follow me, but it was an instinct to watch my back. I saw my footsteps in the newly fallen snow, but not his. I jostled the doorknob of the castle, to find it unlocked. I launched my body through the threshold - was this symbolization, perhaps, as the threshold I had crossed into my new life without Mr. Wayne? - into the vast space of a foyer and up the stairs, where I collided with a brunette woman. She fell backwards, and looked frightened.
I stopped, and observed the character at my feet. She was small, maybe 5 feet tall, with curly brown hair and deep chocolate eyes. She seemed kind, so I turned my back on her to run and shut the door. I slammed the door shut, and paced back over to her. She had pulled her self back up, and was watching me with curious eyes. I quickly explained my story to her while she watched with her wise eyes. When I finished, she stood, and whispered to me, "I'm glad you found fit to trust me with this."
She turned around, and I saw the words written on her back for the first time. "Ravynwings". That didn't sound familiar at all. Was she like me? A crimefighter? A hero? She walked to the far wall, and pulled down a sword. I realized there was blood encrusted along the sword, and she turned to face me. "What are the odds," she whispered, "That you would end up here?"
My curiousity of her actions turned to black suspicion, and the enormous door I had entered through opened. I jerked backwards, stumbling, and turned around. The Joker stood there in the doorway, and 'Ravynwings' crossed the floor over to him. She handed him the sword, and he tsked. "Such a mess you made of my sword, Robin!!" he scolded me. I gasped and moonwalked backwards to the wall, and ran my hand over to the mantle, and grabbed a small, solid statue. I advanced towards them, statue held high, when the Joker looked up and noticed me. His dark eyes watched me move, and when I raised the statue above my head - a clown, figures - he jabbed the sword back through the wound in my chest, and, for the second time, I collapsed. The last thing I heard was faint giggling.
(Happy Birthday, Mum!!)
His figure blurred as I focused on a castle in the back. Looking back up at him, I realized I had a stone in my fist from when I had clenched the snow - it must've snowed recently, there was a light dusting on the ground - at the shore. Asking fast, on impulse, I threw the stone, along with several clumps of dirt, into his face. While he was turned away, trying to dislodge the dirt in his eyes, I launched myself onto the land and sprinted towards the stereotypically gloomy castle, perched atop a small hill.
Whilst I ran, I felt the pain in my chest from where the weapon stabbed me. I realized the sword was out of my body, and I also realized I don't remember it being in my chest when I was in the water. Was it possible they had taken it back out of my body? The wound was no longer bleeding - the cold water had stopped that. Still hurt, but I couldn't focus on that right now.
As I pushed myself up the winding path towards the door of the castle, I looked over my shoulder frequently, watching for him. I knew that was useless, because the Joker wouldn't directly follow me, but it was an instinct to watch my back. I saw my footsteps in the newly fallen snow, but not his. I jostled the doorknob of the castle, to find it unlocked. I launched my body through the threshold - was this symbolization, perhaps, as the threshold I had crossed into my new life without Mr. Wayne? - into the vast space of a foyer and up the stairs, where I collided with a brunette woman. She fell backwards, and looked frightened.
I stopped, and observed the character at my feet. She was small, maybe 5 feet tall, with curly brown hair and deep chocolate eyes. She seemed kind, so I turned my back on her to run and shut the door. I slammed the door shut, and paced back over to her. She had pulled her self back up, and was watching me with curious eyes. I quickly explained my story to her while she watched with her wise eyes. When I finished, she stood, and whispered to me, "I'm glad you found fit to trust me with this."
She turned around, and I saw the words written on her back for the first time. "Ravynwings". That didn't sound familiar at all. Was she like me? A crimefighter? A hero? She walked to the far wall, and pulled down a sword. I realized there was blood encrusted along the sword, and she turned to face me. "What are the odds," she whispered, "That you would end up here?"
My curiousity of her actions turned to black suspicion, and the enormous door I had entered through opened. I jerked backwards, stumbling, and turned around. The Joker stood there in the doorway, and 'Ravynwings' crossed the floor over to him. She handed him the sword, and he tsked. "Such a mess you made of my sword, Robin!!" he scolded me. I gasped and moonwalked backwards to the wall, and ran my hand over to the mantle, and grabbed a small, solid statue. I advanced towards them, statue held high, when the Joker looked up and noticed me. His dark eyes watched me move, and when I raised the statue above my head - a clown, figures - he jabbed the sword back through the wound in my chest, and, for the second time, I collapsed. The last thing I heard was faint giggling.
(Happy Birthday, Mum!!)
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Theme Thursday - Friend
As I lay unconscious in the bubbling brook that surrounded my broken body, I had flashbacks. You know, people always say your life flashes before your eyes - I think people do it on purpose, so they can remember everything, in case there is something after this. In case they die. Or, maybe, they remember it so they don't think, "Why did I live simply to die now?" and remembering is their way of saying, "That is what I lived for, and it was worth it."
As I pondered these deep thoughts I never really considered, I was reliving the happiest moments of my life. Coincidentally, they all happened when I was with Mr. Wayne, my best friend. My only true friend, really. It was really a shame I had had to trick him. Me, Jason Todd, unwilling "victim" of the Joker. The Joker wanted to get to Mr. Wayne by getting me - told me he'd kill him if I didn't leave his life. I knew this would hurt him, but nobody dies this way and everyone could keep Batman. Why Joker didn't kill me, I will never know. Maybe to keep me with the pain of knowing I could've stayed, wondering what could've been.
In my dream-like state, memories passing in front of my eyes like a slide show, I slowly began to feel cold spreading through my body, like I swallowed ice water. I began to feel pain, in my chest, my fingers, my knees, my head, especially. I suddenly recognized I was moving, in the water, not on top, underneath the surface, hovering in a midway. My face, above the surface, my mouth gasping for air as it spits out water in return, felt the hot sunbeams. I felt the strange urge to duck my head back underwater to avoid the scorching sun, but I fought it, unable to breathe in the first place.
I struggled to move my limbs in a swimming formation for any surface I could reach, any land, any rock, any branch. A fish, even, would be useful. I squirmed between two rocks and grabbed hold of one. As I lay, gasping for air, I heard a familiar chuckle. No, not a chuckle - chuckles are light-hearted, good-humoured. This was an evil sound, a dark-humoured one. I forced my eyes open, blinked in the blinding sunlight, into a familiar painted face. The scarlet lips moved, in a hypnotizing way, in an all-too-familiar, rasping voice, "Robin!!" He grinned, as though delighted to have found me, "We meet again!!"
The Joker had come back.
(teehee, I cheated and posted this December 6)
As I pondered these deep thoughts I never really considered, I was reliving the happiest moments of my life. Coincidentally, they all happened when I was with Mr. Wayne, my best friend. My only true friend, really. It was really a shame I had had to trick him. Me, Jason Todd, unwilling "victim" of the Joker. The Joker wanted to get to Mr. Wayne by getting me - told me he'd kill him if I didn't leave his life. I knew this would hurt him, but nobody dies this way and everyone could keep Batman. Why Joker didn't kill me, I will never know. Maybe to keep me with the pain of knowing I could've stayed, wondering what could've been.
In my dream-like state, memories passing in front of my eyes like a slide show, I slowly began to feel cold spreading through my body, like I swallowed ice water. I began to feel pain, in my chest, my fingers, my knees, my head, especially. I suddenly recognized I was moving, in the water, not on top, underneath the surface, hovering in a midway. My face, above the surface, my mouth gasping for air as it spits out water in return, felt the hot sunbeams. I felt the strange urge to duck my head back underwater to avoid the scorching sun, but I fought it, unable to breathe in the first place.
I struggled to move my limbs in a swimming formation for any surface I could reach, any land, any rock, any branch. A fish, even, would be useful. I squirmed between two rocks and grabbed hold of one. As I lay, gasping for air, I heard a familiar chuckle. No, not a chuckle - chuckles are light-hearted, good-humoured. This was an evil sound, a dark-humoured one. I forced my eyes open, blinked in the blinding sunlight, into a familiar painted face. The scarlet lips moved, in a hypnotizing way, in an all-too-familiar, rasping voice, "Robin!!" He grinned, as though delighted to have found me, "We meet again!!"
The Joker had come back.
(teehee, I cheated and posted this December 6)
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Theme Thursday - Telephone
As I slid down the pole into the dark lair, a flood of childhood memories trespassed into my thoughts. Sliding in here time after time on my pole, and once on the other (Mr. Wayne was none too happy... that never happened again...), to slip into our costumes and go off to "fight crime", as the city so lovingly dubbed our wars with the evil of the world. For some reason, the evil of the world always seemed to place itself in the heart of Gotham.
Moving towards the Batmobile, against one wall, beside the coffins of two men I had loved, I saw a small pedestal with a gift box on top. Black wrapping paper with yellow ribbons and a vibrant sun-colored bow fixed on top. With a grim grin, I moved to lift the box, but failed. A red cord, curling into a crack in the cave wall, stopped me. I yanked the cord from the wall and skittered away from the coffins of Mr. Wayne and Alfred.
I trudged over to the waterfall on the far side of the cave and slumped against the wall. I pulled the cord through my fingers as I examined the texture, trying to locate one of my repressed memories that was telling me what this familiar object was. With a heavy sigh of failure, not being able to remember the object's name, I yanked on one of the ribbons and watched as all of them slid off the box, landing on the damp floor with numerous, light "thumps".
Eyeing the box with renewed suspicion, trying to determine what the old man could've left me, knowing it must be something either utterly ridiculous or boringly sane, I tugged on the bow taped delicately to the top of the box. Throwing it to the floor beside me, I ran my finger under the tape and one side fell open.
I dropped the box to my lap, and all four sides fell down. The lid balanced on top of the mystery object, then slid off to the side. I shut my eyes, and remained still for several minutes. Slowly, ever so slowly, I opened my eyes and glared down at the object. The Batphone. With a smile, I stood up, kicking the remains of cardboard, wrapping paper, and ribbons into the water below.
As I turned to leave, I heard a scuttling in one of the far reaches of the cave. Sitting, the vivid garnet-colored phone beside me feet, I crept along the wall. When I reached the corner, I leapt around the side, crying "Ahhh!" as I whirled around, looking for the threat. Seeing nothing, I shrugged, and moved back over to the Batphone and bent over to pick it up.
As I reached down, I heard more footsteps behind me. I spun around quickly, but not quick enough. A heavy figure launched it's sharp weapon - a sword, I believe - into my chest, and pushed me. I tumbled backwards down the waterfall, into the sharp rocks below, bleeding profusely.
Everything went black.
(Ta-da! Keep reading these - I love writing them! And here's a picture I stole from Picture Is Unrelated that fits the theme "Telephone", but has nothing to do with the story. Hope you enjoy the picture, and hope you enjoyed the story even more! Happy TT!!)
Moving towards the Batmobile, against one wall, beside the coffins of two men I had loved, I saw a small pedestal with a gift box on top. Black wrapping paper with yellow ribbons and a vibrant sun-colored bow fixed on top. With a grim grin, I moved to lift the box, but failed. A red cord, curling into a crack in the cave wall, stopped me. I yanked the cord from the wall and skittered away from the coffins of Mr. Wayne and Alfred.
I trudged over to the waterfall on the far side of the cave and slumped against the wall. I pulled the cord through my fingers as I examined the texture, trying to locate one of my repressed memories that was telling me what this familiar object was. With a heavy sigh of failure, not being able to remember the object's name, I yanked on one of the ribbons and watched as all of them slid off the box, landing on the damp floor with numerous, light "thumps".
Eyeing the box with renewed suspicion, trying to determine what the old man could've left me, knowing it must be something either utterly ridiculous or boringly sane, I tugged on the bow taped delicately to the top of the box. Throwing it to the floor beside me, I ran my finger under the tape and one side fell open.
I dropped the box to my lap, and all four sides fell down. The lid balanced on top of the mystery object, then slid off to the side. I shut my eyes, and remained still for several minutes. Slowly, ever so slowly, I opened my eyes and glared down at the object. The Batphone. With a smile, I stood up, kicking the remains of cardboard, wrapping paper, and ribbons into the water below.
As I turned to leave, I heard a scuttling in one of the far reaches of the cave. Sitting, the vivid garnet-colored phone beside me feet, I crept along the wall. When I reached the corner, I leapt around the side, crying "Ahhh!" as I whirled around, looking for the threat. Seeing nothing, I shrugged, and moved back over to the Batphone and bent over to pick it up.
As I reached down, I heard more footsteps behind me. I spun around quickly, but not quick enough. A heavy figure launched it's sharp weapon - a sword, I believe - into my chest, and pushed me. I tumbled backwards down the waterfall, into the sharp rocks below, bleeding profusely.
Everything went black.
(Ta-da! Keep reading these - I love writing them! And here's a picture I stole from Picture Is Unrelated that fits the theme "Telephone", but has nothing to do with the story. Hope you enjoy the picture, and hope you enjoyed the story even more! Happy TT!!)
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Theme Thursday - Castle
Wandering the empty halls of my forgotten castle, I stroked the dusty walls, leaving finger lines in peculiar patterns where I touch. The empty rooms leave behind people's spirits, the ghosts of furniture, and the shadows of memories from years before.
An end table stands pressed against the wall, an end table that had been left behind when the old man passed. Opening the drawer, I noticed the familiar extra items he used - tools for his job. In case he ever ran out - he was always prepared.
Shutting the end table drawer, chuckling to myself, I walked down the hallway with my hands in my pockets, remembering when I used to run down these long halls and skid with my socks at the end, pretending I could glide like the old man could.
I come upon my old room - the one I stayed in for brief periods of time when I could, and extended periods of time when I had to. I really had no problem with staying here, but I'm 50 years old now, and the memories seem faraway. Part of someone else's life, so long ago.
I push back the familiar door, hearing the creak of the hinge I always promised to oil, but never did because of that old-feel noise, I walked into the small room. Computer in the corner, cot against the wall - I didn't want a bed, it made this feel too homey - and my old dresser.
Crossing the room to the dresser pressed up against the wall, pressed so tightly it seemed like it was trying to get away from me, I pried open the ancient drawers and peered in. The outfits, folded neatly, ready to be worn, sat there. They looked like Halloween costumes - bright colors, flashy designs.
Chuckling under my breath, I pulled the solitary mask out from the side of the drawer and pulled it around my skull. Acting like I would have in my younger days, I spun around, and chopped at empty air as though I believed there was an unseen attacker lurking in the dust motes swirling about.
I stopped suddenly, remembering that's not who I am anymore. I pulled off the old mask with a slow sigh, and tucked it back in the corner of the drawer. I softly pushed the drawer back into it's place, and turned to leave.
I reached my original goal - the place I had been trying to reach, where the old man had told me he left something for me. I hadn't come for it for so long, and now I should find it. Turning to the familiar desk, pulling back the top of the bust and pressing the button - something I had always wanted to do as a child - and seeing the bookcase pull back.
I looked around me, checking to make sure nobody was watching - no unseen attacker or curious visitor - and jumped down the pole as I had so many times before. I missed Mr. Wayne, but I would always have these memories.
I am Robin.
(Hehe another stretch for another Batman post but so worth it! Don't be all like, "Ooh, Robin died!" and enjoy the story! Happy TT!)
An end table stands pressed against the wall, an end table that had been left behind when the old man passed. Opening the drawer, I noticed the familiar extra items he used - tools for his job. In case he ever ran out - he was always prepared.
Shutting the end table drawer, chuckling to myself, I walked down the hallway with my hands in my pockets, remembering when I used to run down these long halls and skid with my socks at the end, pretending I could glide like the old man could.
I come upon my old room - the one I stayed in for brief periods of time when I could, and extended periods of time when I had to. I really had no problem with staying here, but I'm 50 years old now, and the memories seem faraway. Part of someone else's life, so long ago.
I push back the familiar door, hearing the creak of the hinge I always promised to oil, but never did because of that old-feel noise, I walked into the small room. Computer in the corner, cot against the wall - I didn't want a bed, it made this feel too homey - and my old dresser.
Crossing the room to the dresser pressed up against the wall, pressed so tightly it seemed like it was trying to get away from me, I pried open the ancient drawers and peered in. The outfits, folded neatly, ready to be worn, sat there. They looked like Halloween costumes - bright colors, flashy designs.
Chuckling under my breath, I pulled the solitary mask out from the side of the drawer and pulled it around my skull. Acting like I would have in my younger days, I spun around, and chopped at empty air as though I believed there was an unseen attacker lurking in the dust motes swirling about.
I stopped suddenly, remembering that's not who I am anymore. I pulled off the old mask with a slow sigh, and tucked it back in the corner of the drawer. I softly pushed the drawer back into it's place, and turned to leave.
I reached my original goal - the place I had been trying to reach, where the old man had told me he left something for me. I hadn't come for it for so long, and now I should find it. Turning to the familiar desk, pulling back the top of the bust and pressing the button - something I had always wanted to do as a child - and seeing the bookcase pull back.
I looked around me, checking to make sure nobody was watching - no unseen attacker or curious visitor - and jumped down the pole as I had so many times before. I missed Mr. Wayne, but I would always have these memories.
I am Robin.
(Hehe another stretch for another Batman post but so worth it! Don't be all like, "Ooh, Robin died!" and enjoy the story! Happy TT!)
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Theme Thursday - Collection/The Tenth Daughter of Memory - Trapped
Going wandering aimlessly down the halls...
Tall shelves alongside me, books staring down...
Running my fingers along the dusty spines...
Breathing in the musty air...
Dark shadows walk alongside my feet...
My back bent, hunched as I shuffle along...
Turning my crooked neck up to look at my books...
My collection...
Looking at the toolbelt randomly strung on this shelf...
The collection of peculiar tools just sits there...
Stopping here, at this book, this shelf...
This has happened before...
Where am I...
I can't remember anything...
I'm trapped...
A prisoner of my own mind...
Feeling along the walls...
Attempting desperately for anything...
Anything at all, anything to let me out of this prison...
A bat swoops down from the ceiling...
Brushes the top of my nearly-bald skull...
Back to reality...
Looking at the bookshelf again...
Why is this so familiar...
One book at eye level has a strange title...
Adventure, it screams at me...
Adventure...
Touching that book, it feels odd...
Trying to pull it out...
The book won't come out of it's spot...
Looking over to my desk...
A bust sits on the tabletop...
Waddling over to the escritoire...
Suddenly, I remember...
I pull the top of the bust back...
And press the button...
My shelf pulls back, revealing a cavern, black as pitch...
That's why that book felt odd...
Suddenly, I remember...
And I look down the poles that flow into the basement...
My hidden sanctuary, my cave...
And I remember everything...
My memory isn't what it used to be...
But I remember now...
I'm Batman.
(Sorry this has nothing to do with Collections or being Trapped!!!!! Just had a random idea!!!!!)
Tall shelves alongside me, books staring down...
Running my fingers along the dusty spines...
Breathing in the musty air...
Dark shadows walk alongside my feet...
My back bent, hunched as I shuffle along...
Turning my crooked neck up to look at my books...
My collection...
Looking at the toolbelt randomly strung on this shelf...
The collection of peculiar tools just sits there...
Stopping here, at this book, this shelf...
This has happened before...
Where am I...
I can't remember anything...
I'm trapped...
A prisoner of my own mind...
Feeling along the walls...
Attempting desperately for anything...
Anything at all, anything to let me out of this prison...
A bat swoops down from the ceiling...
Brushes the top of my nearly-bald skull...
Back to reality...
Looking at the bookshelf again...
Why is this so familiar...
One book at eye level has a strange title...
Adventure, it screams at me...
Adventure...
Touching that book, it feels odd...
Trying to pull it out...
The book won't come out of it's spot...
Looking over to my desk...
A bust sits on the tabletop...
Waddling over to the escritoire...
Suddenly, I remember...
I pull the top of the bust back...
And press the button...
My shelf pulls back, revealing a cavern, black as pitch...
That's why that book felt odd...
Suddenly, I remember...
And I look down the poles that flow into the basement...
My hidden sanctuary, my cave...
And I remember everything...
My memory isn't what it used to be...
But I remember now...
I'm Batman.
(Sorry this has nothing to do with Collections or being Trapped!!!!! Just had a random idea!!!!!)
Friday, May 8, 2009
Amalgam Comics
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dark_Claw
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amalgam_(comic_book)
^Do not just click the link, copy and paste it, even the last parenthesis... Tread lightly, young one!
Okay, so, Wings introduced me to Amalgam comics, a joint venture by DC and Marvel in the 90s to combine their characters into new 'amalgamated' versions. I really do think this is interesting, and rather enjoy DARK CLAW, a mix between Batman and Wolverine. Batverine? The Flying Wolvie? Wolverman? All would have been great ideas... and then, there is Dark Claw. The Dark Knight mixes with... Claw Man? If anyone has any idea of what Claw might be besides just a nickname about his claws, speak now or forever hold your peace. Or, it might be just that. Just a thing for Wolvie's claws. Ah, well. Ice Bear approves, and that's about all you can ask for, right?
Right.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amalgam_(comic_book)
^Do not just click the link, copy and paste it, even the last parenthesis... Tread lightly, young one!
Okay, so, Wings introduced me to Amalgam comics, a joint venture by DC and Marvel in the 90s to combine their characters into new 'amalgamated' versions. I really do think this is interesting, and rather enjoy DARK CLAW, a mix between Batman and Wolverine. Batverine? The Flying Wolvie? Wolverman? All would have been great ideas... and then, there is Dark Claw. The Dark Knight mixes with... Claw Man? If anyone has any idea of what Claw might be besides just a nickname about his claws, speak now or forever hold your peace. Or, it might be just that. Just a thing for Wolvie's claws. Ah, well. Ice Bear approves, and that's about all you can ask for, right?
Right.
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