Multiverse: Deathstroke - Chapter 539: Ch.539 Saved

Chapter 539: Ch.539 Saved

“Deathstroke?!”

“Deathstroke?”

“Deathstroke!”

Peggy, Bucky, and Colonel Phillips reacted differently, though the name was the same. Their expressions and tones betrayed their thoughts.

Peggy was incredulous, Bucky saw hope, and Phillips felt dread.

“That’s me. Now, let’s talk about the fine for littering in the Arctic,” Su Ming said, tapping his oversized sword for emphasis. “Don’t you know the ocean is humanity’s shared home? Protecting it is everyone’s duty. Melting Arctic ice contributes to global rainfall. Polluting the Arctic pollutes the world. You’re practically criminals! Even if the plane didn’t hit anyone, it could’ve crushed a polar bear. And the fuel pollution…”

Su Ming ranted for five minutes, piling on repetitive accusations, demanding compensation on behalf of humanity.

With his massive weapon in hand, no one dared object. They just lowered their heads and got to work.

Some pulled Steve from the cockpit. Others checked if the bombs onboard were safely disarmed.

Su Ming had already defused them. When he caught the burning plane, he dunked it in the sea to douse the flames before hauling it back.

Why bring the whole plane? It was advanced tech neither the SSR nor Su Ming had. Howard would study it, and Su Ming could observe, indirectly advancing his tech tree. Congrats all around.

The SSR couldn’t use the plane without the Cosmic Cube’s blue energy cells for power.

But Su Ming had the Cube, retrieved for the Ancient One to study.

The energy materialization tech was with Zola, though. He’d need to snag it from S.H.I.E.L.D. later, maybe during Operation Paperclip.

By now, only Phillips was left listening to his nonsense. Bucky carried an unconscious Steve, with Peggy following anxiously. The other soldiers had scattered to their tasks.

“Did you know oil leaks harm seals and penguins? Their fur gets matted, and they die miserably. Sure, penguins live in the Antarctic, but who’s to say…”

Phillips clutched his head. He’d been moved, ready to thank Deathstroke.

But Deathstroke opened with money. Typical mercenary.

“How much do you want?”

“I hear Schmidt hoarded gold. Let’s see… saving Captain America, capturing a super-plane, and since we’re pals, I’ll give you a discount. I’ll take half the gold.”

Phillips scoffed. “Take what you can carry.”

Red Skull betrayed Berlin’s mustachioed leader, amassing gold in this base. But they were huge bricks, bigger than tank armor. Even with Deathstroke’s strength, how many could he lug?

Phillips gaped, despairing, as Deathstroke stuffed a door-sized gold brick into a small yellow silk pouch at his waist.

No matter how Phillips rubbed his eyes, the impossible happened.

Was he too old? Germany was collapsing; maybe it was time to retire.

The world was changing too fast.

People flew and did magic tricks now. Heh, heh…

Phillips wore a broken smile.

“Not quite a full set, but fine.” Su Ming, slightly dissatisfied, kept his word, leaving half for the SSR. “Thanks. I’ll put your name in the premium client column.”

He gave Phillips a warm farewell.

In the antiseptic-scented medbay, Steve jolted awake after Holloway jabbed him with a steroid shot.

“He’s up,” Vengeance Angel said to Bucky, a bit exasperated as Steve nearly headbutted the ceiling.

It was just minor cuts and an electric shock before.

But hitting the ceiling might add a concussion.

Bucky ignored Holloway. As Peggy hugged Steve, he piled on, the three embracing.

“Peggy.”

“Steve.”

“Bucky.”

“Steve.”

Holloway rubbed his eyes, watching them call each other’s names like idiots, and slipped out.

The war was ending. He’d return to New York, run his hospital, and don the Vengeance Angel mantle when the city needed him.

Crime-fighting would replace battlefields.

But seeing Su Ming outside, smirking mysteriously, Holloway sucked in a breath through his teeth.

“Hiss.”

He pulled Su Ming into an untouched pharmacy room, lined with German-labeled bottles from Hydra’s raid.

“How’s he doing?”

Su Ming lit a cigar.

“Lighter than Paris. At least I didn’t need rags to stop his bleeding,” Holloway said, shaking his head. His real concern: “Do you have a split personality? You’re great to your godkids normally, but as Deathstroke, you save his life and still demand gold from Phillips. What’s your deal?”

Su Ming patted the doctor’s shoulder, smiling. “When external enemies are gone, the SSR won’t disband. They’ll turn on internal ones. Trust me, keep your identity secret to stay safe.”

“What enemies?” Holloway frowned.

“Anyone who disagrees is an enemy. That’s how politicians think. Take my advice—take a long vacation.”

Su Ming grabbed a bottle, saw it was cod liver oil, dripped some in his mouth, and fed the rest to Stranglehold.

Holloway sighed. “I’m planning to run my sanatorium.”

“Ever thought of teaching? My school needs a medical dean. High pay,” Su Ming tempted. Old teammates were reliable for tasks others couldn’t handle.

Holloway rubbed his face. Why bring up money? Was his skill measurable in cash?

“Looks like I didn’t miss our date,” Steve said, holding Peggy.

“You didn’t.” Peggy pushed Bucky aside, leaning closer to Steve. “We can rehearse now—dancing, and… other things.”

Bucky rubbed his brow. He felt out of place. Steve had a girlfriend now? This world felt unreal.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelCet