deep in the lush green rainforests...

of the Congo basin, the forest floor is littered with moist leaves, moss-covered trunks of fallen trees and massive roots of the still-living trees. here and there a few saplings poke their way through this layer of decaying vegetation. only a few stray shafts of light peek through the almost inpenetrable foliage of the forest canopy; it is dark, gloomy, hot and humid. the sluggish atmosphere is almost claustrophobic.

it is nearing noon, the hottest time of the day and the only signs of life are a few butterflies flitting about and a line of ants snaking up a tree. but the whole forest is teeming with life; the background sound of life is deafening- crickets chirping, wings fluttering, unseen frogs croaking, rustling of leaves, punctuated by shrill howling of some unknown tree-dwelling animal.

and then...a man(?) in purple tights walks out from behind the trees. he is wearing shining black leather jockeys over his figure-hugging tights. innerwear with built-in holsters (and guns) worn on the outside. his eyes are covered by a black mask that looks like a pair of bikinis with slits cut out.

he is the Phantom. he is known by many names including Kit Walker, but to the people of the forest he is the Ghost Who Walks.

i call him stark raving mad. anyone who walks around a hot and muggy rainforest in this kind of an outfit needs to talk to men in white lab coats. soon.