Whether the other side had anything to confess was not important. Su Ming merely walked over to the unconscious woman, took the phone from her pocket, and tossed it to Barbara.
"Good thing you didn't smash this too."
"It wouldn't matter if I had. As long as the memory wasn't damaged, I could still read it." Barbara let out a breath. Nighttime activities always made her heart race. She pulled out a few small devices from her Bat-Belt, connected them to the woman's phone, and began cracking it.
After looking at the soybeans, Damian returned to Deathstroke's side and looked down at the woman from above.
Because of his height, the only chances he had to look down on others were after he had knocked them down.
"Are you going to kill her?"
There was no emotion in the question. He sounded calm, and Damian had no objection to it. Whatever Deathstroke chose was fine.
He was learning—learning how his biological father handled situations.
Although Su Ming had personally orchestrated Damian's misunderstanding about their blood relationship, he had no intention of teaching the boy to become a homicidal maniac. He simply retracted his mask, smiled, and asked, "What do you think we should do?"
"She is well dressed. The clothes she is wearing are beyond what an ordinary company employee could afford, but she has decent fighting skills. The knuckles on both hands bear marks from handling firearms. Other than calling your name, she has not said a single word. Therefore, she is a professional Mercenary, like the bodyguards around her."
Damian immediately launched into his deduction, looking at Su Ming through his mask like a child handing in homework for a parent to inspect. "Therefore, I believe there is no need to kill her. There is not even a