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Silence.

Truly silence was the most wonderful sound of all. Perfect and absolute, in true form itès smooth, even and unfaltering. However there was no silence to be found in the room now. Slowly pacing in the shadows around the safehouse, Onomatopoeia had watched his team mates interact with each other. How interesting their petty squabbles must seem to them, but they were of no relevance to Onomatopoeia. Amanda Waller was just as bad as the Bat and the Arrow. Making up for her lack of physical power, hiding behind her tools and government mask. Perhaps when this was all over, Onomatopoeia could expand his collection with Waller's own face. Pacing silently, concealed within the shadows, he examined each of his teammates one by one. Ultraman, Deathstorm, Metallo and Ocean Master were or no interest to him, powered individuals deserved the right to dress how they wished and enforce whatever misguided moral compasses they had. But the others, oh how desirable their masks were for his collection. 

While the Bat may be free to walk around, perhaps the Cat and the Owl would make suitable substitutes for the time being. The Cat would be easy to take out, no where near as skilled as the bat, one false move, one slice across the throat and that cowl would be his. The Owl on the other hand was the Bat's equal in every way, if not his superior. But did the lack of restraint truly make him superior, or was it that Bat who actually held the upper hand resisting the urge to kill every time his face broke the Joker's haunting grin. Either way, the Owl would be far harder but his cowl would look all the better on display. Walking past the matching set of Deathstroke and Ravager, Onomatopoeia just wanted to reach out and take both their masks without making a sound. A bullet each should do the trick, all the better if he do it would harming their beautiful facades. Take their masks, take their faces, their true identities, leaving behind only a dead hollow shell. 

Lastly there was the Captains. Though Boomerang sadly had no true mask to speak of, the grungy blue beanie would have to do. Perhaps Onomatopoeia could keep it in a drawer, then again he could always take the man's whole head when this was all over. The only question left was whether the ridiculous eyepiece or the parka counted as Cold's mask. Both were an equal identifier, perhaps he ought to simply collect both then. After all winter would come eventually and Onomatopoeia could use something to stay warm with. Stepping out of the shadows just as Captain Boomerang swung, Onomatopoeia spoke only a single word, perfectly imitated that sound of a closed fist slapping against a loose hanging cheek.

"[I]Thwap.[/I]"