Zorn was truly too hospitable. Even though everyone repeatedly declined his kindness, he still took time out of his busy schedule to start cooking, insisting on showing everyone his skills.
Seafood paella, which he claimed was authentic Madrid-style.
Compared to the Batcave above them, his Batcave was slightly smaller, but much brighter. Screens of all sizes covered the walls, and a massive light pillar stood in the middle of the room, though it cast red light.
It gave the new Batcave something of a red-light-district atmosphere.
He tossed sauce in the wok with his left hand, chopped vegetables and peeled shrimp with his right, tapped at a keyboard with his right foot to direct the Justice League Collective's strategy, balanced on his left leg alone, and still made time to chat warmly and amiably with everyone.
Zorn Batman was neither a Symbiote host nor a Superhuman, but as an ordinary man, he had pushed the use of his body to its limits. The only thing he had yet to do was peel garlic with his eyelids or nostrils.
The injuries Bruce Batwoman had suffered earlier seemed not to exist on him at all. Or perhaps his willpower was simply stronger.
Deathstroke and the carefree Shazam were fine, but Bobo and Damian both wore extremely strange expressions, as though countless ants had begun crawling all over them after a completely different Batwoman appeared.
Damian wanted to speak but stopped himself. Though he believed Batwoman was not his father, calling him his adoptive father would not have been wrong.
After leaving the League of Assassins, he had lived in this home for all these years. Batwoman might have impersonated his biological father and concealed the fact that Deathstroke was the boy's real father, but he had still raised him.
Now, seeing Batwoman