❝ nice digs you got here . ❞ sure, it was by no means EASY to track down this particular hideout, but Bart had time on his side . and a healthy dose of density shifting through walls . somehow, impulse always found a way to worm his way into places he didn’t belong .
❝ I’m sure you’re happy to see me, but I got questions . ❞
A silence that most often spelled death, the shimmering halls of what one would describe as catacombs made to temporarily hold the beast of man. The man who stood tall, the origin of so many, and the one who held the sword that sliced through one too many great beasts.
The man who many failed to keep their blade thrusted through his chest. It was never enough to keep him down, never enough to extinguish the flaming comet that powered his blood, his body. He, the wolf that howled and became estranged, to tear the bear's throat out through teeth and claw.
Few could muzzle this wolf, nor trick it with false senses. The immortal's gaze barely moved to acknlowedge the speedster. The boy--a pup that had learned to run, but not to use those teeth--was entertaining. He sung his little words more like a bird tweeting than a wolf howling, then ran off. Perhaps Savage got a stab in--on the surface for 'fun', with intention for observation.
Never, would Vandal Savage want to waste a perfectly good tool, one that could make him reach his goal, his crown.
How did he even get in here, anyway? That was the most interesting part of anything he had done or said so far. When he heard the proposition of questions, the old tyrant snorted, then knelt down to a desk--what was beneath it was a drawer. Which he so easily unlocked while he spoke.
" you have all the time in the world to ask questions, or to have it all cut short. "
Savage snorted, a brief smirk on his face while his hands tightened around a metal band out of sight. What could train a pup better, a muzzle or a leash?
" what do you want, brat? "
