“And just so you know,” Clash said, turning to Van Troes, “the glass we put in is reinforced and bullet-proof.” “Oh, that’s…” began Van Troes. “Deadshot,” Clash cut in, looking over Van Troes’ shoulder, “give him a demonstration.” “No, really…” Van Troes stammered, turning to Deadshot and holding his hands up, “that’s not neces-WAAH!” The businessman ducked as the assassin pulled out two guns and began to fire at the windows. As promised, the glass remained intact, the spent bullets plunking to the floor. “Not a scratch,” Deadshot grinned wryly as she slipped her guns back into their holsters. “Wha—” Van Troes blurted, still on floor. “While you’re down there, Mr. Van Troes,” continued Corporal Clash as if nothing unusual had happened, “you might notice that the new carpeting is made of a high tech blend of fibers that renders it completely flame resistant.” Van Troes heard an ominous clicking sound coming from Mighty Man. He looked up to see the mechanized man pointing downward with what appeared to be a flame thrower mounted on one of his arms. “NO!” screamed Van Troes.