The Chief had never been a good man. Living people were little different from lab rats in his eyes; they were all experimental materials.
Amanda Waller was as rotten as that black fat woman was, and he was about equally rotten. The difference was that her fig leaf was, "I'm a patriot," while his excuse was, "Your sacrifice is for science."
It was only after he grew older that his temperament changed somewhat. He returned to his hometown and formed the Doom Patrol, drove the first-generation members insane, and turned himself into a paraplegic through his own antics. Only then did he gradually rein in his ambitions, instead gathering disabled people and forming the current second-generation Doom Patrol.
And now that his legs had recovered, who could guarantee that his mindset had not reverted as well?
Better to knock him out and save the trouble.
A disabled man who could sprint around, gave up searching for Cyborg to hide in the sewers and play with cockroaches—he had far too many strange behaviors, and Su Ming was no expert on mad scientists.
Fortunately, what the Chief knew, the Cockroach Prophet knew too—and it knew even more.
As for how to communicate with a cockroach without Strangle, that was simple. The Red could do it. Besides, they had an all-purpose Swiss Army knife with them; he could have Charlie transform into a representative of The Red.
But the cockroach saved them that step. It stood up in Deathstroke's hand, supporting itself on two thin hind legs, and waved its foreclaws as if greeting him.
"No need to trouble that young lady. I can speak English."
The American cockroach-like insect spoke in a standard London, Britain accent. If one could not see its body, one might have thought some Brit was hiding in