….something shuffles out of sight…
…something sucks the stale air…
…and hisses.
Gliding with ancient grace…eyes gleaming, untouched by love or joy or sorrow…breath hot with the taste of fallen foes…the stench of dead things, damned things…
surely the fiercest survivor…the purest warrior…glaring, hating…
…claiming me as your own.
©1986 DC Comics. Frank Miller’s The Dark Knight Returns