I'm coming to get you, Wacker.
You've crossed a line. Not in going over to Marvel -- many fools have done such things. I'm talking about the betrayal. Betraying me. I have a thing about betrayal, you see. Ever since I got screwed over by Luthor and the Joker (which I admit I should've seen coming) I've been particularly sensitive to the issue.
Why didn't you return my calls, Stephen? When we ran into each other at that eating establishment you assured me that you'd get me a role in 52 -- though I admit that the stainless steel cutlery held to your neck by my awesome magnetic powers probably had something to do with it. But I would think that would give you more incentive, not less. How convenient that you're no longer in a position to make good on your promise.
Do you think Magneto will protect you? Is that why you've crossed the street? You think that pathetic old man and his whiny offspring will be your saviors? For shame, Stephen. You should know that I do not fear that fool (and that I predate his first appearance by a significant amount of time).
Nothing can save you, Wacker. I'm coming for you. Whether it's cast iron or chromium steel, you're mine.
