WCW: The Comic Book was published in the early 90s by Marvel Comics. Nobody in wrestling or comics paid it much attention, and after 12 issues, it was cancelled and lost to the ages. Until now.
On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, @tomblackett will post a new page of the WCW comic with his comments and we’ll read through it together. We’ll be there for each other, through the good (Vader! The Steiners! Sting! Cactus Jack!) and the (Johnny B.) Badd.
WCW: The Comic (Issue Three, Page 6)
WCW: The Comic is probably the property of Marvel Comics / WWE, though I’m not entirely sure. This website makes no claims to own it; all panels and images are posted in the spirit of fair use and are the property of their respective owners and creators.
Tom: Alright, hold up a second here:
1) Sting, you’re wearing sunglasses, your eyes should be fine.
2) BRO YOU ALREADY IDENTIFIED ‘THAT STUFF’ AS CHEMICAL FOAM ON LITERALLY THE PREVIOUS PANEL.
Come on, WCW comic! Get it together! Continuity inconsistencies aside though, this page is more greatness, with The Ghoul proving to be the WCW version of The Riddler (and by the ‘WCW version’, I of course mean he’s kinda low-rent and stupid):
HMM, I SHOULDN’T HOLD OUT HUH. THIS IS A REAL STUMPER, WHEREVER COULD IT BE. Sting doesn’t give a FUCK about shitty riddles though, and we get this amazingly bad-ass panel:
BRING STING ALL YOUR WET PAPER, HE’LL TEAR IT ALL UP, HE’S OUTTA CONTROOOOOLLLLLLL. However, his nice suit is totally wet from all that chemical foam, so what’s the logical thing for him to do when he knows he’s got a limited amount of time to find a bomb?
That’s right, not only did he go and get changed into his ring gear, but he also took the time to flawlessly apply his facepaint. SERIOUSLY.
So, in the context of the comic, either our hero Sting cares more about his appearance than the safety of himself and hundreds of other people OR he’s got some kind of psychological condition where he’s literally unable to let the world see him in his ring gear without also applying his facepaint. Forget Cactus Jack, I know who the real psychopath in this story is.