Everyone got out of the car. Cyborg was ordered to transform into a huge camping lantern—the kind with adjustable lamp heads, reading tubes, and power bank functionality, sold at Wilson Supermarket for 9.9 US Dollars for outdoor camping.
The only odd thing was that this emergency lamp had arms and legs.
But its light was extremely bright, illuminating a great distance and providing everyone with decent visibility amid the sudden black sandstorm.
"Did something just slip past behind us?"
Pulling up his cloak to cover his mouth and nose, Damian vigilantly looked behind him. Deathstroke had criticized him earlier, but he had not actually wanted to cry. Looking mournful was simply a tactic for winning sympathy.
He had received the League of Assassins' full training. He was not completely cold-blooded, but his heart was still as hard as steel.
One tactic the League of Assassins used to train children was pretending to be pitiful—disguising themselves as little beggars, flower girls, and so on. Once the target lowered their guard at the sight of a child, it was time for a dagger through the heart or a volley of shuriken.
Damian felt that he had made a big mistake and needed the other teammates to speak up for him, so he put on that mournful face. That was why Bobo's sympathy overflowed.
Though the gorilla usually claimed to hate children, hate the barmaid working at his place, hate this and that, he was actually very softhearted.
When Deathstroke got in the car earlier and patted Damian's head a few times, the boy knew he had been forgiven.
Of course, he knew Deathstroke could see through such little tricks. But seeing through them without exposing them was another matter entirely. His father had even approved of his little tactic, patting his head