If you asked what dream a sadistic interrogation expert might have, it was probably that the prisoners in his hands would be tough enough to survive.
Too many people simply could not endure torture. The executioner barely got to use thirty or forty percent of his skills before the target was gone. What a letdown.
The current situation was ideal. As long as Kang himself did not want to die, this space would not let him die. It was perfect for Su Ming to practice the techniques he had learned from Batwoman on him.
Batwoman was very good at inspiring fear in others. Her method was to inflict pain, whether physical or psychological. She was quite skilled at both.
But dealing with Kang required changing a few details. After all, what he feared most was another group of himself—things beyond his expectations, the possibility of becoming someone unlike himself.
Those were psychological weaknesses, so the work of tormenting him still had to rely on Strangle. Its tentacles could manipulate other people's memories and thoughts, turning them into useless wrecks.
The process could not be too fast. Kang had to feel it himself, feel himself slowly becoming an idiot, becoming insane, wanting to stop it yet being powerless to do so, until nothing remained but fear.
All Su Ming needed to do was turn himself into another Kang, fold his arms, and stand nearby directing Strangle's work.
Time had no meaning here. Everything stretched on endlessly, and so did pain and fear. They were like a black vortex, sweeping away the prisoner's sanity and slowly eroding it.
No one knew how long it had been. Even Deathstroke, seated on Thor's stiff back, was getting sleepy when Strangle suddenly sent him word. Kang had finally let go, willingly changing the nature of