Carol, still feeling dazed, voiced her question as she watched Deathstroke and the Guardians of the Galaxy getting along so happily:
"Why a hovercar? What do we need a car for?"
Deathstroke's expression turned grief-stricken again. He shook his head and sighed.
"Have you forgotten one of the reasons we came here? We need to rescue Captain America and the others—five people in total. Captain America, Iron Fist, Falcon, Hawkeye, and Black Widow. Four men and one woman. Steve alone is 1.88 meters tall and weighs a hundred kilos. The five of them together weigh over four hundred kilos. I'm guessing they're either sedated or injured badly enough that they can't move."
"Uh, so?" Carol raised an arm and struck a bodybuilding pose, showing off the bump of her bicep. "I can carry them."
"But we're going to snatch them from Zola. You saw the bioweapons dropped into the test city when we tested its defenses. Once we enter Zola's laboratory, we'll only face more enemies—and stronger ones—than those riot-control special police. You and I may both need to fight unknown powerful foes. Someone has to be the weakest person in the group and drive the vehicle away with the hostages when the opportunity comes."
At the mention of the weakest person, everyone silently turned to look at Peter.
He had the worst combat ability, and he was the driver. There was no one more suitable to drive during the escape.
But Star-Lord had been spinning in place the whole time. Now he was slumped on the ground nearby, dizzy and dry-heaving, so he did not see everyone's looks and naturally offered no rebuttal.
Captain Marvel lowered her arm, looking ashamed. "So that's how it is. Like in bank robbery movies—someone always has to drive and wait outside the bank