I look out the misted window. It's dark. A feeling of immense foreboding comes over me. From the shadows, I see you stir. Your face is pale under the greasepaint, and the dim outline of an unsheathed katana faintly visible. Your left arm moves in a blur. The last thing I see is the faint gleam of a ninja star in the unreal orange glow of the streetlight.
So, I think, as the blood from the wound in my forehead pools in my eyes, running into the creases left by my rueful smile. So, this is what it is like to be watched by AMAComics.