Barbara lunged forward and grabbed the burly man, pinning him against the wall behind him with her elbow locked around his throat.
She was not a powerhouse like Diana, so her petite frame formed a stark contrast with his more-than-two-meter height and body packed with bulging muscles.
The burly man wore a red tank top, military-green canvas pants, and high-quality combat boots. His arms were thicker than an entire gorilla, covered in all kinds of military tattoos.
Playing cards, Flaming Skulls, voluptuous women—those were all classic military tattoo designs. Some tattoos even belonged exclusively to certain units and included unit numbers, making them easy to identify.
His face was layered with scars, and his body was much the same. He had been shot plenty of times, and with his naturally fierce-looking face, he did not seem like someone to mess with.
Yet when he saw Batgirl and Robin, he was like a mouse seeing a cat. He did not even consider resisting, and his surrendering motions were so practiced that it was impossible to tell how many times he had rehearsed them.
"Do you remember me?! Tell me, who are you working for this time?!"
Perhaps because they were acquainted, Barbara did not immediately torture him. Choking him until he struggled to breathe was merely going through the motions, a way of respecting tradition.
"I don't know, really! I'm just doing a job for money, I swear! Please, don't let Deathstroke get near me!"
The burly man's face turned bright red as he answered with difficulty. He had seen the classic black-and-yellow armor slowly emerge from the darkness, its red single-lens eyepiece turning toward him.
A powerful urge to urinate struck him at once. Every cell in his body screamed, telling him, I'm going to die, I'm going to die.