#ghost-hunter

[comicwaren]

“Do NOT be alarmed! While you are SURROUNDED by ghosts, there is no NEED to be concerned!” – Ghost-Hunter

Cover art for Spider-Man: Noir #004, "The Gwen Stacy Affair, Part IV"

Art by Simone Di Meo

[nfcomics]

BATMAN no.113 • cover art • Jorge Molina [Sept 2021]

Ghost-Maker reveals a dark revelation about his past connection to Jonathan Crane while Batman puts together the pieces of Scarecrow’s master plan. Using the Unsanity Collective’s technology, the villain plans to detonate a "Fear Bomb" in Gotham City! Backup: Clownhunter has been dosed by the Scarecrow with a deadly fear toxin and is now traveling through his greatest nightmare of Gotham City. Will the Clownhunter center himself and strike back at Scarecrow? Or will he succumb to all his worst fears?!

(W) James Tynion IV, Brandon Thomas (A) Jorge Jimenez, Max Dunbar (CA) Jorge Molina

[dccomicsnews]

Review: Batman #107

Review: BATMAN #107   [Editor’s Note: This review may contain spoilers] Writer: James Tynion IV Artists: Jorge Jimenez, Ricardo Lopez Ortiz Colours: Tomeu Morey Letters: Clayton Cowles   Reviewed By: Derek McNeil   Summary Batman #107: Tensions are sky-high in Gotham City following the events at Arkham Asylum, and public opinion and unrest are starting to boil over. The Dark Knight has his hands…

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[comicwaren]

From Spider-Man: Noir #004, “The Gwen Stacy Affair, Part IV”

Art by Andrea Broccardo and Rachelle Rosenberg

Written by Erik Larsen

[underwood1923]

[underwood1923]

The Life and Work of the Renowned British Ghost-hunter: http://www.peterunderwood.org

[pseudomon]

He had the letter in his hand, he had the stubbed train ticket in his pocket. Night air in a new city. He took a deep breath, started to appreciate the faint smell of smoke and questionable liqueurs before he could discern them. Oh yes, he'll like it here. The big city, right where he belonged.

He took the steps down the platform, not small tentative steps, but practically flying down it and out the station. It was late, and what few people were there didn't seem to mind him, or perhaps too tired to contemplate what they saw. A teenager, barely an adult, wearing a long coat and carrying a broom and a bag filled with jars. What they didn't see was the ghost hovering on the boy's shoulder, silent and solemn, but still very much concerned.

He'd tell the boy to slow down lest he'll lose his footing, but he also knew the boy wouldn't hear him, also that the boy was nimble enough that he wouldn't. Practically the only reason he'll have to say it was because he was running out of things to say, needed something to start off the conversation. It's a big city. It has too many opportunities for a budding monster hunter like the boy. The ghost was terrified of it, of what it could bring, but he knew the boy was wild and optimistic and clever enough to give him a retort should he complain.

The boy stopped on his tracks when he was out the station, smelling the hinterland. It was late at night, and still there were cars pouring through the streets, lights blinking no mater where you look. Streetlights blazing, blinding. And people, even. The sort who took to the night air like most take to sunlight. The boy took out the piece of paper with the address on it, glanced at the expanse around him, put the paper back inside his pocket and began to walk in a direction as if he was sure of it.

"Do you know where you're going, Marion?" the ghost asked tentatively.

"Nope," the boy said, cheerfully. "But I got the address. Figure there'll be a map somewhere."

"I'm not so sure about that-"

"There it is."

A bus stop, a short walk from the small station. Benches, awning, and a map of the city at the back of it. One problem: it was unlabelled, a fact that the ghost quickly pointed out to the boy.

"You can't read it without knowing what the streets are called."

"Feh, easy." The boy took out the paper again, examined it. He took something from his bag, a flick of something liquid from one of his jars, and smeared a dot on the paper. Eager to show off his skills, the tapped the paper and the map, both to the same beat.

One second, nothing happened.

"Marion? Do you know what you're-"

"Yes, shush."

Five seconds, the map alighted. The little dots on it, at first a sign of stations, now showed multiple unearthly symbols. One in particular shone brightly.

"There it is," Marion said, proudly.

The ghost was less than sure, although he couldn't say he wasn't equally proud. "Are you sure?"

"Let's find out, then."

--

It is way past the time of the night when I’m sober enough to make sense of things, but I hardly ever feel content these days and right now I feel pretty okay. Figure I have to celebrate it by writing some nonsense and then I can get to bed without feeling like I’ve squandered it.