"Who paid you to come here?"
Yang Ming pressed his fingers against the artery in Deathstroke's neck.
Blood seeped through the gaps in his Armor and ran down his shoulder blade.
Deathstroke didn't answer.
He suddenly opened his mouth and bit down hard.
Crack.
The sound was faint.
Yang Ming's expression changed.
"His mouth."
He seized Deathstroke's jaw and forced his teeth apart with his thumb.
The black capsule had already broken.
Clear liquid slid down the back of his tongue into his throat.
"A Poison Capsule," Bruce said quietly.
"You only just noticed?"
Yang Ming slipped a scalpel into Deathstroke's mouth, pinning his tongue with the blunt edge, and took a syringe from his Storage Ring.
Deathstroke's left arm was pinned behind him and his right arm had gone numb, but he still drove his knee up.
Bruce stepped sideways to block it.
Yang Ming seized that instant to plunge the needle into his jugular vein.
He pushed the drug in.
Deathstroke's Adam's apple bobbed, and his eyes began to turn bloodshot.
"Don't move." Yang Ming held his head down. "The poison's already in. Snap your own neck now, and you save me some trouble while making yourself suffer."
Deathstroke ignored him.
He clenched his teeth, his muscles tightening inch by inch.
Yang Ming took out a Laryngoscope and forced his mouth open.
"Ivan, light."
Ivan held a hand over his faceplate, coughing as he leaned against the Blast-Proof Workbench.
"I'm not a doctor."
"That's why I told you to hold the light."
"You just said my capacitor wasn't worth anything."
"Now it's worth a life."
Ivan swore and tossed the Work Light over.
Yang Ming caught it by the handle and bent down to examine Deathstroke's throat.
"A fragment of the Poison Capsule is lodged at the base