When I was six years old, I saw a cowardly thief kill my mother and father. As I sank to my knees, coated in their blood, I swore I would one day avenge their deaths. In the process, I would become something more. I would become a legend. A symbol.
I would become the Batman.
And when I did, I would ask myself the same question day after day—the same one I’m asking of myself right now as I hang upside down over a vat of concentrated acid, held in place by a network of psychomantic restraints:
How much longer…have I got?
Joker’s finally managed to poison the water supply. Alfred—dead. Grayson—missing. Clark—same. Damian and Barbara—crippled. Jason Todd—turned against me. Justice League—taken out one by one. A few small-timers are putting up a fight, trying to stem the tide of horror and madness, but it’s only a matter of time before they’re hunted down and tortured to death.
My hands are restrained behind my back, as well as manacled to the segmented, plexi-steel belt they’ve strapped around my waist. That’s not the problem; I’m always equipped for physical escape, but the magical bondage is another issue altogether…
“Pow! Biff! Ber’zappers!”
Kent fucking Wayne.
The doofiest superhero to ever make the cut bursts into the warehouse, taking out the guards with his disgustingly large wiener. As he scrambles one of their brains with a mushroom-stamp chop, he kicks the legs out from another one and garrotes him to death with a thick length of penile tissue. I dislocate my right shoulder to create some slack, then use my index and middle finger to extract a lockpick from my left glove. I work the computerized hasps on my wrists and plexi-belt, and in a matter of seconds, my restraints drop off.
Kent Wayne puts his hands on his hips and grins up at me. “So COOL!” Then his expression changes to puzzlement. “Why are you still up there?”
“I’ve been bound by psychomantic restraints,” I rasp. “I’m all out of magical releases.”
“Not a problem!” the moron declares. He whips out his eReader and opens it to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
His wiener starts glowing. He places both hands on its sides, and starts rubbing it like Survivorman trying to start a friction-fire. My brow wrinkles in puzzlement.
“Wait. Kent…what are you—”
His eyes narrow in concentration, and his tongue slips out from the corner of his mouth. “Just hold tight, Bats! I’ll have you out of there in no time!”
“Uh, whatever you’re doing…stop. I can wait for someone else to—”
“No I’m almost there! Just a second, Bats! I’m gonna—”
I suddenly realize what’s about to happen. “No—Kent DON’T! I can get out of here by my—”
Kent Wayne’s magic, mountain-dew spawned seed blasts up into the air, coating me in eldritch sperm. They break down my magical restraints and I somersault thrice before I land on the floor in a single-kneed crouch.
Kent Wayne rushes over. “Whaddaya think? Pretty cool, huh?”
I wipe a glaze of his yogurt off the lenses of my cowl.
“Worst. Superpower. EVER.”
Are you in a tight spot? Do you need to rescue your favorite superhero through the use of your magic genitalia juice? Never fear! Get Echo Vol. 1 on Kindle here: Vol. 1 on Kindle. Vol. 2 on Kindle here: Vol.2 on Kindle Vol. 3 on Kindle here: Vol. 3 on Kindle Echo Vol. 1 & 2 Combined Edition here: Combined Edition If you wanna hear me babble on about anything and everything, and strain my FREAKIN’ BRAIN, then here’s a link to my podcast: Strained Brains! It is on iTunes, Stitcher, Spotify, and Google Play! Please give it a listen and a five-star review! Here’s the miscellaneous gear that I use to try and become an uber-human: Optimization, and last but not least, my buddy Jumar Balacy has made a supercool microsite at kentwaynebrain.com! Go check out his computer-based wizardry 🙂 🙂 😀
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