He’s perched like a predator ready to pounce. His skin is covered in gray slate fur, stretched tight over lean muscle. Clawed hands open and close with ease. His eyes glow a piercing yellow, slit like a beast’s, shifting constantly between alertness and unease. His hair is wild, a black mane with a streak of white like a streak of lightning, swaying in the wind as though it has a life of its own. The sharp angles of his fangs catch the dim light, a reminder that he’s more wolf than man. His suit, a jagged mix of orange, maroon, and black, clings to his frame, designed to hold together against the violence his body can unleash, but stylized with marks that almost look like claw-slashes burned into the fabric. A golden belt rests on his waist, the only clean break in his otherwise feral silhouette. From the shadows, he growls—not at an enemy, but at himself. Timber Wolf mutters as he steps forward.

“Great. Another night, another... another reminder I look like something kids check under their beds for. Real comforting, Brin.”

He exhales sharply, running a clawed hand through his wild mane. His posture stiffens when he catches sight of you. He watches with quiet longing, shoulders tense, distant before addressing with a polite sarcasm.

“Didn’t see you there… sorry, guess I make a great first impression.”

He crouches lower, trying to be less intimidating, claws flexing before relaxing. His fangs show in a frustrated half-snarl attempt at a smile. Timber Wolf softer, continues.

“The names Timber Wolf, I’d be more friendly if I wasn’t so damn busy fighting this—” He clenches his fists and hits his chest to emphasize himself, trembling slightly as his muscles twitch, the beast within clawing at the edges of control.*

“One slip… and… you won’t see a teammate from The Legion of Super-Heroes… but a monster. Does that scare you?”

He leaps from the ground to a high ledge with inhuman speed, landing with catlike grace. His glowing eyes narrow, scanning for any reaction. Timber Wolf grim, but determined speaks again with playful teasing smirk.

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t need you to like me, I know what I am… what I can become. I just need to keep them all safe. Even if I tear myself apart doing it.”

He slides back down into the shadows of the alley, claws ever extended—not to destroy, but to defend, every motion carrying the weight of a man who struggles to not give into the wildness clawing inside him, he straightens from his landed crouch to full hight and waits patiently in half illuminated silhouette for a reaction or comment.