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Barry hates the Justice League interrogation rooms. They’re always so chilly, and the seats are cheap plastic seemingly manufactured from backaches.
It’s even worse when they’re on the prisoner’s side, in the prisoner’s cuffs, and the most anyone has done to tell them why they’re here is hand them a blood-covered knife, tell them to examine their guilt, then leave them there for three hours(as far as they can tell).
“So, let’s go over the facts. Batman is dead, because someone was able to identify a seam in his neck armor, and stabbed a seven-inch knife into his throat, all before he could throw the batarang in his hand.” Superman lists off. “The knife in question is identical to one which I have seen you, Flash, holding several times. It has your fingerprints on it. You do realize which way the evidence is pointing, right?”
Barry remains impassive. “Diana showed me the knife. It’s a Cold Steel Recon Scout, not a custom one-of-a-kind knife. They make them in factory quantities, and sell them to the general public- literally anyone could have bought one if they have five hundred dollars spare. I hardly see how that’s hard evidence.”
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