Multiverse: Deathstroke

Chapter 146: Ch.145 Hawaii

Chapter 146: Ch.145 Hawaii

The bird with a red body, black wings, and a sharply curved long beak was called an 'I'iwi, a type of Hawaiian honeycreeper. Slade's memories contained information about this bird.

It perched on a tall tree, looking down at the black and yellow figure below with its gem-like black eyes, shimmering with curiosity. This bird was very beautiful and extremely rare, with a beak shaped like a straw, belonging to the honeycreeper family, and it was the only one with entirely blood-red feathers.

Its rarity was due to the fact that it only lived in one place in the entire world.

That place was Hawaii.

The Hawaiian archipelago consists of 132 islands, located in the central Pacific Ocean, renowned for its beautiful scenery and pleasant climate, making it one of the world's most famous tourist destinations.

Su Ming had indeed once thought of earning money to vacation in Hawaii, but... that was in DC's Hawaii.

Now, after being tossed here by Manhattan, he had indeed arrived, but without the money.

The island he landed on wasn't small; during the descent, he roughly estimated it to be around 100 square kilometers. He specifically chose a larger island—if the island were square, it would be a 10 km x 10 km area.

But the problem was, there were no luxury yachts on the surrounding sea, no tourists on the island, and with so much usable land, would the Hawaiian government just let that money slip away?

"It seems that the time in this world is not synchronized with the real world."

If it were Hawaii in 2018, as a world-renowned tourist destination, this time of year should see the sea full of private yachts.

But if the current time was before 1778, then he had arrived in Hawaii even earlier than British explorer Captain Cook, when the island was inhabited only by cannibalistic natives.

Su Ming certainly didn't want it to be that early; famous heroes and villains wouldn't have been born yet, and the world would be far from lively.

The immediate task was to find a living person and ask them. He had gathered enough information from the external environment; more details would need to be obtained from human society.

Mercenaries, assassins, whatever their role, they all relied on human society to live.

The island wasn't large, but it also wasn't too small for Su Ming's legs. Once he deliberately quickened his pace, he quickly found the location of the port.

It was a small port, with only a few wooden houses and a simple pier. Some dark-skinned sailors were working on the dock, moving pineapples and coconuts.

This was an artificial sea channel, forming a small port that extended into the island, surrounded by dense jungle that hid it from view, with trees extending over the water like a corridor. This also made the small port invisible from the air, quite concealed.

Luckily, the seagulls were also making a living here, circling in the sky and occasionally diving down to steal human goods. Su Ming used them to determine the direction of the port.

The good news was that the port, though small, had a small cargo ship docked at the pier. The ship had an internal combustion engine, with faint heat rising from it.

"At least it's not a sailboat or a raft."

Su Ming looked down at his uniform; both the waist and shoulder areas were damaged. This armor clearly clashed with the surroundings. However, since this was a seaside island, he could easily walk around shirtless in just shorts.

He stripped off his armor and all his weapons, both light and heavy, and found a place in the jungle to dig a hole and hide them. He only took his bag, which contained a pistol and some grenades.

That was enough to handle any small surprises.

He now looked like a swimmer who had just come ashore, though his skin was a bit too pale.

His target for gathering information was a man fishing near the port, a white man who, from behind, looked quite sturdy.

"Aloha."

Su Ming greeted him in Hawaiian, but his sudden appearance startled the fisherman, who nearly dropped his fishing rod into the sea.

Su Ming quickly stepped forward, caught the fishing rod, and placed it back in the man's hands.

"Oh, aloha."

The fisherman, a white man in his forties or fifties, had a face marked by years of weathering, the kind only the sea's winds could create. Su Ming's previous guess was correct.

At this moment, the man looked at Su Ming with curiosity, or more precisely, at the scars all over his body.

These were war wounds from Su Ming's time before his cybernetic enhancements. Although the enhancements gave him a healing factor, they didn't repair these scars. Scars are a part of the skin's connective tissue, something the healing factor, which came later, didn't bother to fix.

There were dozens of bullet scars alone on his body, along with numerous shrapnel and knife wounds.

The fisherman could sense danger from Su Ming, much like the feeling of an approaching storm at sea. He had seen many soldiers, but he had never encountered someone who could inspire fear with just their presence.

However, seeing him all wet, the fisherman assumed he must be a tourist on vacation in Hawaii—perhaps swimming or surfing?

Su Ming squatted beside him and naturally switched to English, aiming to learn the exact date and the way to the nearest big city from this man.

If he were a native, his knowledge might be limited, but a white sailor was likely well-informed.

"My name is Slade, American. And you?"

The fisherman had calmed down a lot, refocusing on his fishing line, the red and white bobber floating with the waves.

"My name is Baird, a former British sailor."

Su Ming raised an eyebrow. This man's eyes were clear, and his fingers were clean, indicating no smoking or drinking habits. He was clearly more than just an ordinary sailor.

He was missing a leg, the withered pant leg concealing a wooden peg leg, the paint on the wood at least five years old.

"Where's your ship?" Su Ming asked casually, sitting beside him and looking at the pier as if they were just chatting.

"It sank eight years ago."

He answered calmly, as if the matter had long passed, but the fishing rod in the water trembled slightly, creating ripples on the surface.

"Sank in battle?"

"Hit a mine near our home port, so I'm not sure if it counts as battle-sunk." Baird gave a bitter smile, full of self-mockery.

Su Ming narrowed down the time period further. A mine capable of sinking an iron ship would have been from a relatively recent era.

"What was the name of your ship? Maybe I've heard of it."

Baird smiled and shook his head, his expression numb.

"She wasn't famous. She did make the newspapers when she was built, but you're too young to have heard of her."

"The war is over."

"Yes, the war is over, and I retired early."

Baird lifted the fishing rod, noticing that the bait at the end of the line was gone. He reached into a tin can beside him, pulling out a red worm and hooking it.

The shiny fishhook pierced through the worm's body, causing it to wriggle in pain. With a flick of his wrist, he cast the bait back into the water.

"She was called the Swordfish, an A-class destroyer. Launched in 1897, she lasted only 20 years before sinking—a new ship by any standard. I was her captain."

Su Ming understood. The A-class destroyer classification, sunk in 1917, meant that the war in question was World War I. Adding eight years since the sinking, it was now the summer of 1925.