"Why was I the first to die? No, I mean my synthezoid."
In TVA's banquet hall, several people sat around a round table, eating and drinking as they watched a projected recording in the middle of the table.
Cassandra had known nothing of Deathstroke's dark plan before this. After arriving here and learning about it, she had voiced her opposition, because she did not want to be separated from Tony.
They had been apart for so many years and had even stood on opposing sides for a time. They had finally reconciled and were still in the honeymoon phase, only to be forced into another tragic separation?
Unfortunately, her protest was useless. Deathstroke could ignore even Maria's opinion, much less that of an ordinary girl like her.
There was no helping it. If she could not resist, she could only enjoy it. It was a strange feeling: watching Tony interact with another fake version of herself, Cassandra felt a little jealous and wished that counterfeit would die immediately so she could take her place at Tony's side.
But when she saw her synthezoid explode into a cloud of bloody mist without even leaving behind any last words, she suddenly did not want the fake to die after all. At the very least, she should not die like that.
"You don't understand, little beauty. Hehehehe." A strange man reeking of stench suddenly appeared behind them, speaking in a voice that sounded as though his mouth were full of shit. But he was not speaking only to Cassandra. He abruptly turned toward empty space, wiggled his brows through his mask, and said, "It's New Year again, my dear audience! I missed you all so much!"
"Bleurgh."
They had only heard his voice and had not yet seen him, but the rich aroma