On the path forward, wave after wave of the Men in Black fell before the two, and Vico was quite pleased with this. If possible, she wanted to expand this news into a documentary.
She had already thought of the name: Deathstroke on the Blade.
The dazzling scene before her, paired with her professional commentary, made her believe she would surely become famous. She had already thought of the lines, such as:
"When the first ray of spring moonlight spilled over the land of Gotham, the person in black and yellow armor set out from home with a sharpened long knife. She passed through roads littered with corpses and entered another world filled with blood to frolic. This is an ancient assassin custom and a daily pastime for Deathstroke..."
"Corpses are undoubtedly the joint creation of biology and great assassins, the tacit cooperation between flesh and blade allows the warm passionate innards to burst and then immediately shatter, leaving only the simple aroma and empty shell...."
"Spring has arrived, and Deathstroke in Gotham has slaughtered hundreds more; in the south, Black Arrow chooses to use a bow and arrow; not far away, Death Shooter prefers a sniper rifle; while to the east, Lady Siva chooses to use her own hands, with assassins in different regions having their own preferences...."
Watching Su Ming and Cindy showcase their flowing and water-like killing techniques among the crowd, she deeply understood the aesthetics of blood and violence, and those markings on the walls began to seem like paintings with self-volition in her eyes.
Every line of blood, every patch of red moisture, every piece of visceral fragment, seemed to express something, something from a higher level of spirit and telekinesis.
If Su Ming knew this thought, he would surely give her a White Dove and encourage her to become a director and make films.
................
The current enemy was already powerless, and the two Deathstrokes had completely shattered their will to fight.
Actually, for Su Ming, whether they came charging all at once or in groups of dozens, it made little difference. The number of ordinary people was just a trivial issue.
Even in the various calculations in his mind, the number of these mobsters could not even constitute a variable. In his mind, there was only a constant, 'the speed of advance when facing a group of ordinary enemies.'
No matter how many there were or what weapons they held, the pace of Deathstroke's advance was set, unstoppable.
Finally, after eliminating the last group of enemies, they arrived at two massive doors, beautifully crafted, clearly from a high-end hotel. Pushing the doors open, inside was a hall resembling a study, with a fireplace blazing, but no one inside.
The room carried the scent of cigars and alcohol, apparently indicating that Falcone had hosted Gordon, though what they discussed was unknown.
"There were three people, and a cat in the room," Cindy said, using the tip of her knife to lift a long black hair off the sofa, with blood dripping into the cracks of the armrest, staining some white long hairs.
"Why a cat?" Vico questioned, wanting to analyze the next victim's story from a different angle.
Su Ming paused for a moment, aware despite his headache that something seemed off when they had entered the room.
He sat on the sofa with a smile, removed his helmet, took out two teacups, poured the tea from the pot, and tasted it, concluding it was average. Foreigners didn't brew tea right; this tea's origin might be South Asia, with a faint curry flavor.
The water was still lukewarm, indicating they hadn't left long ago. Without urgency to pursue, he calmly answered Vico:
"Because a cat is a predator, even if it becomes a pet for thousands of years, it still embodies feline traits like silently observing, decisively striking, and noiseless killing, aligning with the mafia's self-perception."
Cindy agreed with his perspective, sipping tea alongside Su Ming, but unlike him, she seemed pleased with the tea: "Dogs wouldn't do. Dogs are pursuers, canines being savage and fierce, noisy and wild, acting in packs. Only biker gangs prefer them to flaunt their fierceness. When you reach the Romans' level, you need more to display tenderness."
Su Ming glanced at Cindy with some disdain; even this tasteless tea was palatable for her. Turning away from her savoring the tea, he remarked, "So we determined it was a cat here. You wouldn't think a crime boss like Falcone would cuddle a rabbit or a goat every day, right?"
Even in a feminist world, crime bosses wouldn't embrace such creatures; herbivorous animals do not mesh with organized crime.
Vico recorded her realization, gaining new insights into mafia psychology, but she was puzzled as to why the two suddenly sat to drink tea.
"Why did you stop suddenly? This room should have a secret passage or something, shouldn't you search for it?"
She questioned them, and Su Ming pushed the teapot to Cindy, picked up a bottle of alcohol, switched cups, poured a full cup, and drank it all at once.
"You noticed we found the hair and cat fur, but didn't notice how we found them, did you?"
"Hmm?"
"Because when we came in, both the hair and cat fur were swaying on the sofa like seaweed. Our armor wouldn't cause such a reaction, nor would the gadgets you have. We generally call this phenomenon what?" Su Ming drew the knife off his back, placing it on the table.
"Large-scale static electricity." Cindy mirrored his action, only placing the knife on her leg.
Su Ming nodded, smiling as he scanned the room. The fireplace illuminated only a small area, with most spaces remaining dark.
"Static electricity is generally caused by friction, but if you're fast enough, a human magnetic field cutting through Earth's magnetic field can also produce similar effects."
"Indeed," Cindy raised her gun, pointing to another corner of the room, which was nothing but darkness: "I've been contemplating her disappearance because Batwoman was never one to run away. Knowing danger, like a paranoid, she confronts her enemies."
Su Ming glanced at her, making no defensive move: "Anyone passing by leaves a trace, yet Batwoman did not, making me speculate... Given my access to many pieces of intel, I had numerous conjectures. Until now, seeing the static electricity, I understood how Bat moved without hiding and remained undetected."
Back before entering the lab, in a small supermarket, he and Cindy exchanged thoughts on the Multiverse. She felt that if Su Ming could reach Earth -11 from a parallel world, others could too.
This statement reminded him, the Multiverse being a whole — what he accidentally achieved, others could intentionally do too.
The room was silent as though he was conversing with air; cameras scanned every corner, yet didn't reveal even a glimpse of Batwoman, even at the angle Cindy aimed her gun.
"Using high-speed movement to render oneself invisible is a good ability. But Barry, with the world on the brink, are you sure you want to engage two Deathstrokes now?" Su Ming sighed, signaling Cindy to lower her gun, he poured another drink and placed it on the table: "We have explosives, limiting your choices in such a tight space, while my blade will await on your trajectory."
He stood up, tore apart the pillow he casually grabbed earlier, pulled out the feathers, and tossed them into the air. Despite being extremely subtle, they accelerated visibly in descent, as if being drawn by something.
"Since you all pursued as I expected, yet chose only to hide without initiating, I conclude you have good intent. So, will you come out and have a drink with me? Or do you wish to be stabbed like your nephew?"