Late at night, the silence of Wayne Tower was suddenly shattered by men squealing like pigs at slaughter.
"No... my cryogenic Batsuit! I'll die without it!"
"Boo-hoo... my scales! I need those to get through winter! Please leave me some! Yamete, no!!"
At that moment, inside Bruce Wayne's office...
Mr. Freeze had been stripped of his entire Cryo-Batsuit, and Lynn had snatched away his signature weapon, the Cold Gun.
He hugged himself, curled up in a corner, and looked up, trembling as he stared at the gold-and-red figure before him.
The man was toying with his Cold Gun, repeatedly pulling the trigger at the floor and firing freezing beams.
Mr. Freeze gritted his teeth as he watched, his heart trembling.
Both the Cold Gun and the Cryo-Batsuit were equipment that had been with him for a long time.
In his eyes, they had long held the same standing as his wife Nora. But now this second wife was in Lynn's hands, firing freezing beams over and over under his caresses.
He nearly ground his gums to pieces.
You animal! You absolute animal! I've never even used the Cold Gun like that, and now this damned lunatic... he cursed inwardly.
Killer Croc, beside him, was even worse off. All his green scales had been peeled away, exposing greenish-white skin.
Where the scales had been stripped off, wounds were still faintly bleeding.
Killer Croc, Waylon Jones, sat in the corner clutching his thighs, his face filled with terror.
He was still mumbling unconsciously, "No... don't pull out all my scales. Boo-hoo, Auntie, don't!"
"Why did you use Scarecrow's Fear Toxin on him?" Pamela glanced at the terrified Killer Croc, the corners of her mouth twitching twice.
Did you know how jarring it was to see that kind of frightened expression on a