Perhaps the alcohol and magical leaves finally gave Starman courage. Though he swayed unsteadily a few times when he rose from the chair, he still stood up.
In the darkness, a streak of starlight flashed, and the golden Cosmic Staff returned to his hand.
"Old friend, perhaps this is our last adventure."
Even the bargain-bin Batwoman had said the plan had only a ten percent chance of success. No matter how inflated Starman's confidence was, he could not offer a more optimistic number.
As he spoke those melancholy words, Starman's hand stroked the weapon that had accompanied him through countless days and nights, slowly sliding along the staff from top to bottom as though caressing a lover's skin.
In truth, this was a process of praying to starlight. Ever since childhood, he had often looked up at the night sky, imagining himself traveling to the stars or riding through the air atop a five-pointed star.
Thinking back on it now, his childhood memories were all vague, and painfully naïve.
In such a dark world, was there truly a place for starlight? If there was, it was probably limited to Superman's side.
Starman gave a bitter smile. As an Alien too, he lacked Superman's strength, and even the brilliance of his humanity was beyond comparison. If he was starlight, then that man was like the sun.
Yet most of the starlight visible overhead came from distant stars, which were essentially no different from the nearest sun. What Starman needed to do now was bring the light closer.
"Hiss—puff."
He took one last hard drag from his hand-rolled cigarette, exhaled a foul breath, tossed it to the ground, and crushed it beneath his foot. His gaze immediately became resolute.
Then let the plan begin. It sounded incredibly unreliable, but there was still