Robin King was a child. That appearance had its advantages and disadvantages for him. The advantage was that it made him seem exceptionally distinctive, and when he wore certain crazed, evil expressions, he looked especially terrifying.
The disadvantage was that once the aggression drained from him, when his expressions were no longer so exaggerated and even took on weariness and haggardness, he could easily start to look somewhat pitiful.
Humanity's instinct to protect its young was written into its genes. Studies had proven that humans liked small animals such as cats and dogs because their facial features resembled those of human children.
And a sleepy child's face was arguably the least aggressive thing in the world. On another child's face, it would seem like a rare moment of peace and tranquility. On Robin King's face, though, it was a disaster.
Without question, Robin King, who had insisted on battling the illusion to the bitter end, had just suffered inhuman mental torment. Everyone who had gone through such things displayed the same traits: scattered attention, numb expressions, stiff movements, and a pronounced loss of vitality.
When their outward-facing channels shut down completely, it became difficult for them to display intense emotions. For a villain who had clamored about being crowned king of Gotham and even destroying the entire world, that was a devastating blow, because he was no longer stylish enough.
The previous Robin King had looked a little like an edgy teenager, but even that was far better than looking like an exhausted office worker whose edges had been worn away by life. That utterly extra-classmate sort of image was completely out of place in Gotham.
"Tell me what the hell is going on with that doctor!!!" Robin King's roar sounded like the cry of despair from an employee who