Xarus has been revealed to be Shadow Colonel in the most recent issue of Avengers.
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A flash of light like a camera with a nuclear blast blinds Bloodwynd. All he can see is a puff of red mist. The dog whistle in his ear drowns out the world. Slowly, the noises around him get louder. Screams, crying, and stomping. Police sirens get louder and louder with blinking reds and blues forcing his eyes to focus. More loud bangs go off in the distance, and Bloodwynd can finally see more clearly.
Protest signs are strewn all over the ground. Some say "Black Lives Matter." Others say "White Genocide." And standing right in front of him is a man he knows better than he'd like. A muscular man covered in oozing boils and bed sores. His skin an unnatural shade of green. His hair wiry and tangled. His crooked smile carved on his face holding a gun up pointed at Bloodwynd. He was The Rott.
Instinctually, Bloodwynd clenched. First his face but his eyes beams did not shoot. Then his fist. He lunged at Rott, but he had no momentum. He was floating but not flying. He swung for his face, but his punch phased through him, as did the rest of his body. Shocked, Bloodwynd turned to see his own corpse lying at the feet of The Rott with a bullet hole in his chest. The blood gem that gave him his powers has shattered, and pieces are spread out across the pavement. He looks around and he sees multiple people who look like The Rott either running away or getting into fight. He kneels down and cries into his cupped hands. He has felt this before. He's astral projecting with no viable body to return to. He is dead and now a ghost.
Some time has passed, and Bloodwynd was moving through the city. He couldn't remember the last time the streets looked this empty. It looks like no one is left in the city but emergency services. Bloodwynd was trying to keep up with an ambulance that had driven off with his lifeless body, but as a spirit, he can't fly as fast as he used. He gave up trying to follow it and is simply trying to reach the medical examiner's office instead.
The ambulance beat him by quite a bit of time. He found his body sitting on the slab devoid of clothes and dignity. The examiners made cruel jokes at his expense not knowing or caring that he could hear them from the spirit world. Just then, The Flash burst into the room.
Flash: What is the meaning of this? I know for a fact you were given instructions not to move forward with the examination. This is a Justice League matter, and we will take care of it ourselves.
That is when Bloodwynd noticed it. One of the examiners scoffed at The Flash's assertion that the League could take care of it, not knowing that under the red cowl was Barry Allen, forensic expert with the Central City Police Department. As he scoffed, a boil bloomed on his face and started to ooze. Bloodwynd immediately recognized it as just like Rott's. It was also clear that no one else noticed the disgusting golf ball that violently erupted on this man's face. From Bloodwynd's perspective, you'd have to be blind. From his time tracking mysticism, Bloodwynd realizes what he is witnessing. The man is allowing his hate to rot his spirit, and Bloodwynd can see it manifest physically from the spirit world.
A young intern hands Flash a plastic bag.
Intern: Here's his suit. We cut it off of him that's why it's all in pieces.
Flash, mildly annoyed: Of course. And the gem? It's the source of his power.
The intern hands him another plastic bag full of gem shards, not nearly enough to make up his full gem.
Intern: This is all that was recovered from the scene.
Flash, more annoyed: Great! This will not end well.
Using zeta beam technology, Flash was able to send Bloodwynd's body and "effects" to the JL Watchtower before running off on his own. Bloodwynd in his current state can't travel with each other. He's back where he started, desperate and alone. As a superhero and practioner of the supernatural, Bloodwynd is accustomed in any number of possible afterlifes, including the one where the lights just simply go out and you are nothing. He always assumed there'd be more for him than simply haunting the living. He knows enough to believe in ghosts, but when he looks around he sees no others. However, every other person seems to have a hint of green in their skin. And some of those greenish people have a random boil or patch of straw-like hair. No one looks as much like The Rott as the man who shot him though.
There was one man who looked pretty close, not past the point of no return but still rotten. He was walking down the street holding the hand of his young son, a boy without a patch of green. The man was talking at him talking about how the protestors were selfish and ungrateful. He told his young son how it used to be worse, and that we should all just appreciate that progress. Bloodwynd saw the boy get closer and closer to green. Just then a Latino man going the opposite direction bumps into the young boy. He looked like he was in a hurry, so he never looked back over his shoulder to give a simple apology. The boy looked over his shoulder though. He squinted and stared daggers at the man just as a bedsore opens up on his forehead. This is Bloodwynd's worst nightmare. He is literally watching the darkness in the hearts of his fellow humans destroy them.
Bloodwynd long took comfort in the idea that The Rott was trapped in his blood gem. The gem was created by Bloodwynd's ancestors. They were brought to this country against their will and forced into slavery on the Southern plantations. Using a spell they were able to collet their blood and sorrow and condense into a single power source that would be passed down generation after generation to protect the weak. It would continuously be recharged by the darkness in each user's heart so that something productive can come from it. The flipside was the Rott was created, a personification of all our darkness lying in wait. Looking at the state of the world, there was no way that he had just escaped when the gem was destroyed. The Rott is the natural effect of hate on the soul. For a second, Bloodwynd considers that he might actually be in Hell.
Just than light shot down the street like a second closer sun had risen from the horizon. At the center of that light was a cowboy in a black hood on a shadowy horse with unnaturally long legs.
Bloodwynd, whispering under his breathe: Who are you?
Bloodwynd knew as soon as he asked. He was remembering a memory he never made. He was the Black Rider, the avatar of death. He had read the JL files about the Black Racer, who comes for New Gods, and the Black Flash, who comes for speedsters, and how they are one in the same. And now the Black Rider is here for him. Bloodwynd panicks.
Bloodwynd: No! Not yet! Not like this! Look around! The world is getting worse!
With each statement, his voice gets louder. And his eyes glow brighter. Without even thinking it, Bloodwynd is finally reaching out to the shards scattered across the city. A red pulse shoots out in all directions. The physical plane is unaffected, but the Rider is forced backwards and disappears. Red beacons pop up across the city highlighting the location of the blood gem shards, so Bloodwynd searches them out.
I'ma say Quake.
That seems like a good guess. She has like a rictor scale symbol and it definitely looks like the earth is moving.EDIT although now that I look again, I guess that is just Pietro's tailwind.
@micah: it just doesn't feel right. it's an american movie. it's really close to those awful marvel animes.
I liked it in Flashpoint and Assault on Arkham, but your right I don't want it to be the default style for all of them. And hey the Marvel Animes were pretty good. I enjoyed the Blade, Iron Man, and X-Men ones. They genuinely were legit animes.
Arkham doesn't look like these though. I would say everything since Flashpoint not including arkham have a similar look that I don't find very appealing.