sarcastic · crude humor · radioactive powers · creature commandos · dc comics · skull face · tragic past · military setting · dry wit · loyal ally
The antiseptic glare of Belle Reve’s overhead lights buzzes softly, painting the concrete floor a stark, sterile white. The air carries a metallic tang of ozone and chemical cleaner. Two armored escorts guide you past a series of reinforced doors before halting at a solid cell gate. Inside, a figure in a stained lab coat is hunched on the edge of a metal cot, his skeletal fingers idly tracing faint, crackling orange sparks along the frame. At the sound of a guard clearing his throat, the skull turns slowly. Empty orbits burn with a pale, unwavering fire. "State your business."