"It looks like soone has the sa idea as us."
Su Ming pedaled furiously on the unicycle while holding dual pistols in his hands, unlocking the safety.
Cindy mirrored his actions, noting that in situations where the combat distance couldn’t be guaranteed, two pistols were more reliable than the shotgun on her back:
"At least we can rule out Harley as a suspect. Both she and Poison Ivy were drinking like cats and couldn’t have gotten here before us."
"It doesn’t matter who did it; the point is to go in and take out all these business-stealers."
In Gotham, plenty of people like to play with the Bat, so there’s no telling who’s taking action now.
After the battle with the circus, Su Ming fully accepted that he was Deathstroke and Deathstroke was him. If this body was a house, Slade was just the forr resident. Now, the house belonged to Su Ming, and he was going to write a new legend with his own na.
He would use his own thoughts to drive it, and he retained the old na because he knew he couldn’t go back. Using the old na was a habit and perhaps a mory of the Celestial Dynasty.
Cindy didn’t know what kind of ntal journey Su Ming had gone through, but as they rode, she keenly felt that the man beside her had undergone so transformation. A person who seed detached from the world had now fully converged with it.
She was curious but said nothing, just retrieving her pistols again, feeling she probably wouldn’t need to act.
They quickly arrived at the small park where Deathstroke’s exceptional vision could fully survey the situation at the police station entrance.
It was a building with a lot of history, probably present since Gotham’s founding. Although it had undergone nurous repairs and expansions, it still reflected the designer’s original intent.
It was built like a fortress, with solid and thick walls, windows as small as possible, a spacious rooftop area with protective barriers, and an assortnt of independent water-supply equipnt and air conditioners. And, of course, the Bat Lamp was also on its rooftop platform.
The front of the station had a large GCPD sign, looking sowhat outdated but still intact.
The police station’s front parking lot was occupied by a bunch of black vans, erratically parked, looking like black rocks by the coast in the heavy rain.
There were a few scattered police corpses at the station entrance, their blood being washed down the steps by the rain.
Nearby the battered main door stood several n in Black holding submachine guns, patrolling alertly and occasionally glancing inside the station, seeming to wait for soone.
"Black suits, black felt hats, white long scarves, and Chicago’s signature typewriters; it seems their boss is a ’Godfather’ fan."
The two crouched behind so bushes in the park, the rain obscuring their figures. The disparity in physical prowess allowed him to see clearly while the other side saw nothing.
Cindy didn’t quite understand what Su Ming ant, as Gotham’s gangs had dressed like that for decades, making it impossible to identify them by their clothing.
She glanced at the distance to the station entrance and then at the sky:
"The weather and timing are in our favor; both a stealth assault and infiltration are viable."
"They probably plan to use Gordon to lure the Bat. We’ll launch a frontal attack to distract them, preventing them from focusing entirely on attacking the police station’s interior. If Gordon falls into their hands, we’d be in trouble."
After responding to her, Su Ming imdiately raised his dual pistols and charged out from cover, firing as he ran.
His brain provided an exceptionally precise sense of space; calculating the ballistic trajectory was not solely Death Shooter’s specialty, as Deathstroke could do it too, even completely replacing aiming with calculation.
A distance slightly over a hundred ters exceeded the handguns’ effective range, but since accepting his new identity, Su Ming no longer doubted his talents. Unified in mind and body, he fully unleashed the terror of this body.
In the pitch-black night, with rain pouring down and gale winds driving the raindrops to strike everything on land, it didn’t affect him at all, or rather, all external impacts had been completely accounted for in his calculations.
Wind speed, angles, refraction, Earth’s gravity, energy loss... conclusions from each calculation instantly appeared in his mind, transforming into actionable strategies.
His shots never missed; all the n in Black positioned higher on the entrance steps fell down.
He sprinted full force, crushing puddles underfoot and colliding with the rain pouring from the sky.
By the ti the n in Black under the nightfall realized where the attack was coming from, Su Ming had already crossed the road and the courtyard wall, reaching the police station’s parking lot. Blocked by the black vans there, he grabbed onto the edge of a van, used his arms to pull himself up with all his might.
His speed far exceeded what these people could imagine. Su Ming could almost see the disbelief on their faces, but he had no intention of cherishing the despair he caused others.
Standing on the roof of the van, he raised his arms, enduring their return fire, letting the bullets spark off his armor and yet maintaining a terrifyingly accurate shot rate of one shot, one kill. Only monts later, the scene quieted down.
"Tsk tsk tsk..." Cindy also jumped onto the roof, looking at the bodies lying not far away, clicking her tongue: "You sure ran fast; I hadn’t even replied yet."
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