Why was it that once these hot-blooded types got fired up, they stopped listening to anyone?
Su Ming sighed helplessly and grabbed Sanders's clothes. "Sorry, Colonel, that monster isn't in our world, and I have no way to take you to find it."
A breeze swept over the swimming pool, stirring Sanders's snow-white hair. Even his eyes behind his glasses seemed affected by the wind, narrowing slightly.
He put away his cleaver and sharpening rod, then adjusted his white suit and black bow tie.
"Is that so? Looks like you want my exclusive fried chicken recipe. How about this? I'll show you around my factory and assembly line first."
"No."
Su Ming was pressed for time. Who had time to tour some factory?
"Sure, let's go."
Yet just as Deathstroke was about to refuse, Barry suddenly agreed from the side. He had wanted to visit a KFC factory for a long time, and now that production had stopped, a tour wouldn't interfere with business.
Could there be a better opportunity?
Like an elementary schooler about to visit a zoo, he could barely contain his excitement. In an instant, he pulled both Sanders and Deathstroke into Bullet Time, slung them over his shoulders, and ran straight to the factory entrance.
When they landed, almost no time had passed outside. It was still that same second.
Sanders revealed his trademark smile, as kind and cheerful as ever. As he pushed open the workshop's enormous sliding door, he said to Barry:
"The Flash, you're practically born for the fast-food business. You're so quick. I think highly of you. Want to learn cooking from me?"
Barry hesitated. Yes, he really did hesitate. He deeply loved all kinds of fast food.
Whether it was burgers or pizza, hot dogs or tacos, he loved them all.