A change of plans? That was his best explanation? Dark smiled, even ventured a soft laugh at Dick. Why! He was so very amusing.
"I see," he repeated, casually unclipping his cufflinks and stuffing them into his coat pocket as well, first one wrist and then the other. "No, Mr. Grayson, they're not formed overnight but we have deliberated, spoken and ignored each other for several weeks now. However, I am glad to see that you have reached a decision at last." He smiled faintly and began rolling up the sleeves on each of his arms, pausing at the elbow as they headed in the direction of the light.
"Do you want to see a trick?" Dark smiled a little bit brighter, then turned on a somber expression as he gazed at Dick. Extending a hand out into the midst of the light, Dark exposed the colorful agonizing stories of his freaks. Their faces were painted on his skin in illustrations of their capture, and when he flexed his hand and clenched his fist the images moved.
"You see, Mr. Grayson," among the faces were Mr. Cresswell, Clint and a load of other anonymous individuals. They were Dark's freaks, his people! And they were trapped.