That was all well and good, but they still needed to ask Cyborg for information. He had once been controlled by Darkseid, and now he could hear beeping in his head again. There was a good chance the two were connected.
This was the advantage of maintaining good relations with Doom Patrol. While Deathstroke said he wanted to drink tea, Negative Man and the others were incredibly enthusiastic, voluntarily offering to take the three of them down to the underground laboratory to see Chief's treatment methods.
They understood as well that if Cyborg truly could not be cured, they would have to return him to Deathstroke and let them take him away.
Deathstroke had just given everyone a good idea. Now that he needed something, they naturally had to lend a hand.
Give and take—that was what human relationships were all about. The Patrol was merely a little insecure, not Autistic One.
Thus, under their warm invitation, Deathstroke reluctantly set down his teacup and followed them toward the basement.
The manor was vast inside, and its rooms were laid out rather intricately. Winding this way and that, it resembled a maze. The beautiful wallpaper on the walls was somewhat old, looking a little dim beneath the yellowish corridor lights.
After several turns over thick carpets, Robotman led them to the basement entrance. It was located in a corner of the kitchen, presumably a place that had once served as the manor's wine cellar or storeroom.
The moment the door leading underground opened, a blast of cold air surged upward, even forming a cloud of mist.
Barry immediately shivered and rapidly rubbed his arms.
"It's way too cold down there. The air conditioning is cranked up! Did Chief used to work in a slaughterhouse freezer?"
The members of Doom Patrol exchanged