[ Brian was in a concentration camp in 1941, and prior to his escape heâd seen things that most men couldnât dream of in their darkest nightmares.
Heâs fought some of the most bizarre and horrifying monstrosities Nazi Germany could conjure, from vampires to robots to genetically mutated freaks of science, and stood unflinchingly alongside the Invaders in some of the bloodiest engagements of the Second World War. He's seen death on a scale that few would ever be unlucky enough to witness themselves.
But the sight of the Whizzerâs body, unexpected as it is, sends a wave of bile washing into his throat. The costume appears perfectly intact, the vibrant yellow of the fabric a ghastly contrast with the buttermilk pallor of Frankâs skin.
The Whizzer is a hero, a veteran of the Second World War and a member of the All-Winners Squad, the Invaders and the Liberty Legion. To see his body exhumed, restored to a mockery of its prime like some kind of gruesome museum exhibit is nothing short of sickening.
Then the body starts to move, and his blood turns to ice water. Already shaking with barely-suppressed anger, a sudden fear grips him, and unused as he is to the sensation, his words tumble messily out of his mouth. ]
Frank- Whizzer? What in Godâs name- what- what is this? How are you- what are you doing to him?!