Multiverse: Deathstroke

Chapter 444 - Ch.444 Thunderbolt Tactics

The Oblivion Bar has portals leading to every corner of the world, and it can also very conveniently connect to the underground Dark Justice League headquarters beneath the Hall of Justice. It's just that Gorilla Grodd and Zatanna are currently busy dealing with corpses, completely unaware of what's happening in the outside world.

Bobo recalls his previous actions.

When Wonder Woman came to find him, he originally thought it was his time to shine like a true hero.

He was brimming with ambition, taking his late best friend, the Nightmaster Jim, as an example, planning to write his own heroic legend.

However, things didn't unfold at all like he'd imagined.

Wonder Woman didn't stay conscious for long, and even when she was awake, it was Deathstroke who called the shots in the team.

Then Bobo's suffering began—his tasks were to fetch Deathstroke's phone, clean up vomit and trash, and sometimes act as a living Wikipedia.

That was it. His imagined path to heroism amounted to just that.

Thinking about it made him feel bitter.

He decided he needed to seriously train his abilities. He'd thought having deduction and case-solving skills would be enough, but now it seemed mastering a combat skill was just as important.

Starting today, he planned to set aside four hours every day to go to Asia and learn swordsmanship from someone.

If he trained for a decade or two, wouldn't even a gorilla like him become a super-skilled master?

His lifespan was infinite—he had all the time in the world, provided Earth still existed that long.

At that moment, Zatanna was prepping the bar counter, selecting some aged bottles from the cellar to bring up and fill, while Bobo was still hauling a mop, struggling to scrub a humanoid black stain off the floor.

It was the mark left by scorched flesh branded into the ground—extremely tough to clean.

"Wonder Woman still says it has nothing to do with Deathstroke, but no matter how I look at it, something's fishy," Bobo grumbled to Zatanna while wiping the floor. "Sometimes Wonder Woman doesn't even listen to Batman's orders, but she has no objections to Deathstroke's commands."

Zatanna was wiping a glass with a handkerchief. Now that magic came with a cost, she didn't dare use it for everything anymore, finally acting more like a proper bartender.

But she clearly wasn't too happy about it—it meant she couldn't slack off at work anymore.

"Yet the Queen still got knocked out. Twice. If Deathstroke suddenly stabbed you in the back someday, boss, I wouldn't even be surprised."

Gorilla Grodd leaned on the mop handle with both hands, straightening up to stretch a bit, flashing a teasing expression. "Have you ever seen a hero or villain kill an animal?"

"Uh..."

Zatanna squinted at the ceiling, thinking back. It seemed like there really weren't any—everyone was an animal rights activist.

The boss's disguise as an animal was pretty sly!

Bobo, on the other hand, knew of a guy with the codename "Dog-Welder," who'd weld dogs onto targets' faces with special equipment.

But he was mainly about killing people—the dogs were just collateral damage.

So as long as it wasn't some Earth-destroying catastrophe dragging him into it, who'd go out of their way to kill a gorilla like Bobo?

Just then, the phone rang. Deathstroke's phone.

Bobo knew Deathstroke wanted to shake off Batman's surveillance, so when they split up, he didn't mention the phone at all, playing dumb and bringing it back to the bar.

Right now, Batman was probably still listening to his conversation with Zatanna, so he'd keep playing dumb.

He was from the circus, after all—acting clueless was second nature to him.

"Hello?"

Zatanna picked up the phone from the counter. Answering calls now required her hands instead of magic—how annoying!

"Let your boss take the call."

A cold, raspy voice came through immediately, and Zatanna felt like she was standing stark naked on the Antarctic ice plains, with a 70-kph chill wind blowing past, sending an icy shiver through her core.

This world was downright bizarre. They'd just been talking about Deathstroke, and now Deathstroke's call came through.

The bar boss reached over and took the phone. After Su Ming gave Bobo a quick rundown of what had happened since they parted, the black chimpanzee grew serious.

"No matter what, meet up at the Oblivion Bar first. Do you know La Rinconada?"

"I do. A small town in Peru," Su Ming recalled in an instant. "It's in the Andes Mountains, 5,100 meters above sea level."

"As the highest town in the world, there's a portal to the Oblivion Bar there. I'll wait for you."

"Good. I'll be there soon."

Bobo put down the phone, grabbed his hat, and put it on, ready to head out.

A city at 5,100 meters altitude would have enough time to prepare before being submerged.

It was a mining town, not exactly suited for human survival. Originally, it only had a population of 50,000—aside from miners, no one wanted to go there.

But now, it had somehow become the safest place in the human world.

This world really was insane.

"Boss, are you seriously still getting involved in Deathstroke's plans?"

"This is grown-up stuff. Kids shouldn't meddle," Bobo lit a cigarette and headed for the door.

"Fine, Nightmaster," Zatanna turned away, her face showing a sulky expression.

She was clearly looking out for him, and he didn't even appreciate it.

"I told you, don't call me that!"

La Rinconada was buzzing right now. It wasn't just Bobo who knew it was safe—there were plenty of smart people in the world, and naturally, some had figured it out too.

Some billionaires had evacuated there on their own, and it was also one of the evacuation spots Batman had chosen. Countless heroes were relocating civilians to high-altitude cities around the globe.

So when Su Ming arrived above the town, what he saw resembled a Black Friday frenzy—countless people scrambling to buy essentials in the few supermarkets available.

Food, water, warm clothing—anything that could be bought was being snapped up.

If it weren't for the many superheroes in town, patrolling back and forth in their uniforms, it probably wouldn't have stayed at just panic-buying.

Su Ming disengaged the cloaking on his aircraft. He wanted Bobo to see where he and his crew were.

But some people got excited the moment they spotted a Justice League flyer. They wanted to demand answers from the Justice League about why the world had turned out this way—had the superheroes brought in yet another external enemy?

Last time it happened, nearly all of humanity got strapped to Darkseid's Black Spires, all because Batman had drawn in the Dark Knights and Barbatos.

In the past, Superman had lured Zod here, Green Lantern had brought the Lantern Beasts, and the Justice League had attracted Darkseid.

When you thought about it, it almost seemed like Earth would be more peaceful without heroes.

The ship landed on the town school's playground, and some people had already prepared protest signs, as if they were ready to hurl dung and rocks the moment the Justice League stepped out.

But when the door opened, out walked Deathstroke.

Crowd: "..."

Su Ming: "???"

Su Ming, stepping out, was mildly surprised. Were there actually people here to greet him? The world was ending, and they were still this enthusiastic—pretty decent of them.

But then he saw their signs, and it clicked.

Some torn curtains and bedsheets bore blood-red letters:

"Justice League, Murderers."

"Give Me Back My Family and Loved Ones!"

"Justice League Sucks!"

These ideas were popular among civilians in both DC and Marvel.

Without heroes resisting invasions, people could avoid the fallout of war—everyone would be safer.

That's how governments spun it too.

But would Barbatos abandon his plans just because no one fought back?

Would Thanos not snap his fingers if no one opposed him?

Some villains came to Earth because of personal grudges with heroes, sure, but most were just chasing their own desires.

Without heroes, people would either be slaves to cosmic tyrants or turn to ash without even knowing it.

Su Ming didn't play the hero. He'd rather trade a good reputation for tangible—or intangible—benefits. But he wouldn't let anyone undermine the heroes right now.

Saving people was hard enough already, and being misunderstood added too much psychological strain. Some second- or third-tier heroes might not handle it.

Su Ming didn't care personally, but when he was out on missions, other heroes had to hold the fort—morale mattered.

Undermining the heroes' morale right now was the same as opposing Su Ming.

What were these people doing with a protest at a time like this? Brainwashed by freedom and democracy?

No, at a moment like this, even an idiot wouldn't do that—it'd only lead to mutual destruction.

Who benefited from destruction?

Thus, it could be deduced that there were Lex Luthor's spies among them, stirring up the crowd, exploiting human nature—classic moves from Luthor and the Joker.

"Venom, dinner's about to start."

Su Ming smirked coldly, drawing his Godslayer sword. If there was even a hint of suspicion, he couldn't let it slide now.

Venom never minded extra food. It immediately hefted the heat weapons on Su Ming's body, opening fire on the crowd.

Who to kill, who to eat—it didn't matter to Venom. When the host gave an order, it followed. But to avoid ruining the brain's taste, it didn't aim for heads.

The Doctor Strange Cloak of Levitation didn't care either. A candidate for Sorcerer Supreme planning to wipe out some natives in another world—what did that have to do with a Marvel magical artifact?

If all the aliens and otherworldly natives Ancient One had killed held hands, they could circle Earth several times! She was still Sorcerer Supreme.

Su Ming flipped out of the hatch, charging into the crowd with intent to wipe them all out immediately.

There were maybe a hundred ordinary people. With ranged and melee tactics combined, even if they scattered in different directions, it'd take no more than a dozen seconds to finish them off.

But a red-and-blue figure swooped in to stop him, blocking all the bullets and sealing off his path forward.

"Superman, don't get in my way. These people have to die."

Su Ming used the cloak to lift off, chasing the now-scattering crowd.

"For what? Because they're protesting the Justice League?" Superman kept blocking him, standing with arms crossed, showing no intent to fight. "We can listen to others' opinions. Their timing and methods might be off, but it doesn't harm us. If there's a misunderstanding, we can explain."

Su Ming sighed. Why hadn't he grabbed some Kryptonite when he passed by the Batcave earlier? His plan to snag Batman's "Five-Finger Death Punch" technique climbed higher on his list.

"There are Lex Luthor's spies among them," Su Ming said, starting to think of other approaches while memorizing every protester's features.

"Maybe, but you have no proof. Even if you did, it's not a death sentence," Superman countered, unmoved by the argument. He had his own code. "Listen to me—we don't have the right to decide who lives or dies. When this is over, we can hand them over to the law."

Su Ming sighed again. Superman's near-stubborn morality really didn't mesh with him. He holstered his weapons, and Venom tucked the guns back into their holsters.

It looked like he was giving up.

"Maybe the Justice League does have a good lawyer who could make them rot in jail, but I won't take the risk of what spies might bring. That's an uncontrollable variable."

"No, Batman will screen their identities and monitor them. Everything's under control," Superman said, relaxing a bit as he landed and approached Su Ming.

He thought Su Ming was upset on behalf of the Justice League, so aside from Deathstroke's methods being a bit extreme, he was somewhat touched.

Su Ming took off his helmet, lit a cigarette, and slung an arm around Superman's neck, acting chummy.

But his face only showed a cold smirk and the look of a plan succeeding.

"Batman's too busy. And you've already got the best prosecutor, jury, judge, and executioner in the world—me, wearing all those hats."

He locked his arm around Superman's neck tight. Venom rooted into the ground like tree roots, and the cloak kicked in, pinning Superman in place.

"What are you doing?!" Superman struggled, but now he faced a dilemma.

Without full strength, he couldn't break free. But if he used full strength, he'd hurt Deathstroke—a no-win situation.

And Deathstroke clearly had a plan to deal with those people. He was forcing Superman to choose between him and those "suspected spies."

He'd put himself on the scale as a bargaining chip.

"Relax. Just watch."