"Checkmate!"
"Checkmate!"
"Checkmate!"
Who would have thought that these dozens of fake Deathstrokes would dare refuse to surrender before Superboy-Prime? They were even shouting chess terms as they escalated into violent resistance.
Dropping their empty Rocket Launchers, they drew long blades and short swords, leaping down from the rooftop opposite as if they intended to settle things with Little Superman in hand-to-hand combat.
Little Superman immediately brightened up. He quickly cleared his throat and rose into the air.
"Ahem, I admire your courage. Then let's have an honorable fight! Don't rush. Form up first, then come at me together. Be careful not to trample your own men."
Green Arrow's sneaky ways had clearly been stifling Little Superman for far too long.
What he craved was a blood-pumping battlefield, a grand spectacle of all-out combat. Hiding behind a dumpster was really beneath him.
So when he saw these Imposters planning to fight head-on, he couldn't have been happier. He even kindly reminded them to watch their step when jumping down and not land on anyone else.
Though they all looked like Deathstroke, their brains seemed underdeveloped. After landing, they did not immediately attack. Instead, they gathered together and whispered among themselves.
"Superman told us to form up first. What does that mean?" one Deathstroke asked, nudging the one beside him with an elbow.
"I-I don't know. Do any of you know?" The questioned Deathstroke scratched the top of his head with his sword hilt, looked toward the others, and repeatedly shook his head.
"We're all the same. If you don't know, then naturally I don't either." Another Deathstroke shrugged and spread his hands.
"Yeah, this is a problem. What do we do if we can't understand the enemy?" One Deathstroke became anxious and kept stamping his feet.
"Forget it. Checkmate." At