Multiverse: Deathstroke

Chapter 267: Ch.266 Deception

Chapter 267: Ch.266 Deception

Su Ming didn't bother trying to figure out what Nick was thinking. It was still a long way before he would become the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. Nick wasn't yet the king of spies, and for a Black man to be truly recognized, it would take at least a few more decades—and only after he completely lost all his hair.

As Su Ming casually walked through the members of the Howling Commandos, they remained highly vigilant around him. They had all heard stories about Deathstroke interfering during Captain America's experiment—stealing the serum and kidnapping the doctor.

Was he an enemy or an ally? It was hard to tell.

Su Ming paid attention to the soldiers around him and realized he didn't recognize anyone. No Bucky, no Dum Dum Dugan, no Gabe Jones.

These were the most recognizable figures, and if they had been here, Su Ming would have known them immediately. Aside from Captain America and Nick, this seemed like a squad of cannon fodder.

In the dark sewer, these ragged soldiers looked more like homeless vagrants than military personnel.

As for the French resistance fighters, they stood by, illuminated by their flashlights, gazing at Su Ming with a mix of curiosity and fear. They probably wanted to thank him but were too shaken to move.

The sewer was clogged with bodies, and all of this carnage had been caused by the armored man in less than two minutes.

Su Ming ignored their reactions and walked directly over to where Steve Rogers lay, kneeling down next to him. He ruffled Steve's hair; Captain America was still unconscious.

Peggy Carter stood nearby, warily watching him like a protective cat guarding its food.

"Who would've thought I'd meet our English Rose down here in the sewers? Quite the surprise," Su Ming teased, his gaze sweeping over Peggy's hand as she clutched her gun.

Peggy, focused only on Steve's safety, had no interest in dealing with Deathstroke.

"You should be saying that to Sergeant Lorraine. After she met you, she couldn't stop talking about you."

Indeed, ever since that encounter, "Little Rose" Lorraine had frequently pestered Peggy with questions, often subtly asking how one might kill a super soldier.

At first, Peggy had thought Steve and Lorraine had gotten involved, which deeply upset her. She couldn't believe Steve would be that kind of man. But she later realized that Lorraine actually wanted to kill Deathstroke, not Steve.

Peggy had simply told her that such a wish was practically impossible. Even Captain America had been flung aside by Deathstroke with one move—what could ordinary people do?

As a result, the two female agents had grown closer, often chatting about super soldiers. Lorraine had even retired from field duty, choosing to work as a secretary at the base.

Still, Peggy and Lorraine's shared frustration had brought them together, and they had even moved into the same dormitory, becoming as close as sisters.

Su Ming had already forgotten about his casual flirting with Lorraine back then. It had been just a fleeting joke, something he'd forgotten immediately afterward. But now, hearing that someone was obsessed with him didn't seem like a good thing.

With Peggy mentioning it, Su Ming figured Lorraine was probably still trying to dig into his true identity, possibly attempting to recruit him for SSR's schemes. Did they really think he'd fall for such a basic honey trap?

You've underestimated a tactical genius from the DC Universe. I've seen darkness you can't even imagine. But... when does that honey trap arrive?

"Oh? What an honor. Once I'm done with my current job, I'll pay a visit to your headquarters to see her."

Su Ming lifted the hem of Steve's uniform, examining the wounds on his abdomen. His internal organs were heavily damaged, and Steve would remain unconscious for at least a day and be unable to move freely for three days.

Whatever the Strategic Scientific Reserve (SSR) had been planning, their mission had essentially failed.

Peggy opened her mouth as if to say something but didn't know what. You're coming back? she thought. After the chaos you caused last time, that would be insane. If you hadn't just saved everyone, you'd definitely be treated as an enemy right now.

Satisfied that Steve's life wasn't in danger, Su Ming briefly checked the others. Most of them were in need of medical care.

"You've been shot?" Su Ming asked, nodding toward Peggy's injured arm.

"What do you intend to do?" Peggy shifted slightly, her expression full of righteous determination, as if preparing to defend herself. After all, last time, Deathstroke had flirted with Lorraine and mentioned looking for her. Could it be...

Su Ming immediately understood her expression and realized she'd misunderstood. After all, Steve was his "nephew," and he wouldn't harm the woman his nephew admired.

"I have no other intentions. It's just that since I happened to be here, I figured I'd help out." Su Ming stood up, addressing the nearby resistance fighters in fluent French. After Deathstroke had sheathed his weapons, they seemed to relax a little, gathering around him. "Bonjour, bonjour."

Though his voice was altered by the helmet's modulator, making it sound eerie, it was still a friendly gesture.

The French fighters didn't care about the grudges between Deathstroke and SSR. To them, Deathstroke was a savior.

"Praise the Holy Virgin Mary, thank you for your help," one Frenchman said, stepping forward to pat Su Ming on the shoulder. He looked exhausted but still spoke with a strong voice. He had a scruffy beard, wore a blue cap, and a pair of overalls—the typical attire of a laborer.

"No need to thank me. A beautiful city like Paris shouldn't fall into the hands of the Germans. The citizens of Paris won't stand for it, and neither will I. All the world's resistance fighters must unite!" Su Ming spouted lies without hesitation. He needed the French Resistance's information, and they had just delivered themselves to him.

"Yes, you're absolutely right. Paris won't surrender. We will drive out the invaders," the bearded man declared passionately, his expression firm as he pounded his chest with a clenched fist.

"Parisians" was a terrifying term. They had a habit of revolting, of stirring things up. They'd already toppled multiple kings and queens. And they took pride in it.

"We will succeed. Long live free will!" Su Ming shouted a slogan, and instantly, the resistance fighters swarmed him, shaking hands enthusiastically and calling him a true friend.

These resistance fighters were easy to manipulate. Just mention "free will" and they were sold.

Peggy watched, numb, as Deathstroke mingled with the crowd. He looked like a presidential candidate at a rally, shaking hands and smiling warmly at everyone.

Even the Howling Commandos seemed a bit out of sorts, exchanging puzzled glances. Weren't the resistance fighters supposed to be their allies? Why did it seem like they were here to welcome Deathstroke instead?

And what was with Deathstroke's fluent French? Was he actually French?

Nick Fury was the first to regain his composure. He realized that, despite his irritating attitude, Deathstroke wasn't acting hostile. If anything, Deathstroke could have just stood by and watched them die instead of saving them.

Nick watched as Deathstroke, arm in arm with the resistance fighters, led them in a haunting rendition of the "La Marseillaise." It filled Nick with a deep sense of dread. What kind of person could instantly infiltrate a group and turn them into his allies?

When the resistance had initially greeted Nick and the Howling Commandos, there had been a formal, business-like air about them. Fighting alongside them felt forced. But now, they welcomed Deathstroke with genuine enthusiasm.

Was having power the key to doing whatever you wanted?

If Deathstroke ever became their enemy, Nick thought, that would be terrifying.

Nick gestured for the Howling Commandos to gather weapons and ammo from the fallen bodies. Then, as he hoisted Steve onto his shoulder, his mind continued to churn.

There's no way Deathstroke was in Paris' sewers without a reason. But what could that reason be?