"It's running well, and it's pretty bright too." Hit-Girl adjusted her Zorro-style eye mask and said this to the gorilla.
The square was still somewhat noisy. Onlookers were voicing their opinions, scrambling to film and photograph the Tuning Fork. Fortunately, the military was fairly competent and effectively stopped the few people who wanted to get close to it.
The night was deep, but the Golden Light over Washington Square shone brilliantly. A massive pillar of light shot into the sky, and even Bobo had to admit that the sight was truly grand and magnificent.
"It looks a lot like a lighthouse." The gorilla tapped the ash from his pipe against his knee and rolled his shoulders. "With it here, our enemies should restrain themselves a little."
In truth, the ape knew he was talking nonsense. He was just trying to comfort the girl—and himself. This enemy was unlike the previous ones, and he could not quite make sense of their methods.
After their large-scale assault had been repelled, they had instead retreated into Chameleon-style special operations? Shouldn't they be trying something on a larger scale, with greater intensity?
Deathstroke probably thought the same way, which was why he was still waiting to see what trump cards they had. Yet the enemy had chosen to "skip," leaving everyone with the awkward feeling of being suspended in midair.
That was how it went for people who set traps. When the target did not step into them, they inevitably felt a little hollow inside.
Still, it was not a major problem. Deathstroke's willpower was exceptionally strong, and negative emotions rarely affected him.
"Let's go. Leave the Tuning Fork here." Batwoman took a wooden stick carved with a spider from her utility pouch and tossed it into the fountain beside the square. Ripples spread