novelhk Chapter 51: For Whom the Bell Tolls
Chapter 51: For Whom the Bell Tolls
Overall, the Shadow Particles, which have absorbed the energy of green kryptonite, are evolving at a rate far exceeding Lucas's expectations.
After all, how much time has passed?
As the energy components within the kryptonite continue to be broken down, the power of the Shadow Particles may be further enhanced.
Pulling his mind away from the abyss, Lucas looked at Rachel beside him.
The girl, whose entire body seemed to glow with whiteness, whose skin was so delicate that even the pores were invisible, and who also had a gothic style, was intently reading the latest edition of the school's "Torch Newspaper," seemingly scrutinizing the wording of some of the reports.
I've already watched these episodes of Lucas's show, and there's nothing noteworthy about them.
As for Clark, he was idly gazing out the window at the slowly rising red sun.
Lucas looked away and continued to ponder his other major problem.
money.
He needs a lot of money.
This is to support research on kryptonite.
Walter White has already paid a large portion of the money, almost all the money he has earned over the years, but it is clearly a drop in the ocean for the study of extraterrestrial civilizations.
If the research is shelved, it's as if all the previous efforts have gone down the drain.
Lucas naturally didn't want to see this outcome.
But how can I make money faster?
After much thought, he felt that there was only one path that suited him.
That means going to rob.
Compared to all the gangs in Gotham City next door, Walter White is practically childish, like playing house.
Especially the top-ranked gangs, who have who knows how much money they have hidden away. They only need each gang to "support" them with a sum of money, and they can quickly become rich.
...
...
Gotham.
Thick, leaden-gray clouds pressed down heavily over the city, and a cold rain drizzled incessantly.
Rows of Gothic skyscrapers pierced the fog, their jagged forms rising and falling, gleaming with a dark, cold light in the rain.
In a dark alley next to a skyscraper marked "Wayne," a series of rhythmic footsteps broke the silence.
Immediately afterwards, a figure slowly emerged from the darkness of the alley.
The opponent was covered in fine metal armor of yellow and black stripes, even his head was covered by a full-coverage mask with fine chainmail around the edges, making him look like a burning orange flame in the darkness, or more like a ghost in the shadows.
Slade Joseph Wilson.
Former U.S. Army Major.
Of course, he now prefers to be called Deathstroke.
Raindrops pelted the sturdy metal armor plates, splashing up tiny, cold water droplets that produced a continuous, subtle crackling sound.
Ahead of the alley,
A disheveled figure was frantically running away.
The other party is the leader of a gang in Gotham South who embezzled Black Mask Roman Sienness's goods in a recent transaction.
The employer offered a commission that tempted Deathstroke, but the boss's hiding place was very well concealed, and it took him many days of investigation to finally find him.
The cold wind whistled through the alleyways, seeping between the tall buildings.
The leader was soaked to the bone. Ignoring the slippery soles of his shoes on the flooded road, he didn't dare to look back and just ran towards the brightly lit main road.
They attempted to blend into the nearby crowd and escape.
But the footsteps behind him were like the second hand of a countdown, impossible to shake off, and getting closer and closer.
Before escaping to the main road, the gang leader suddenly turned around and pulled out two Sig Sauer P226s.
Without hesitation, the other party pulled the trigger, emptying all the bullets in the magazine.
boom! boom! boom!
The piercing gunfire instantly tore through the rainy night, and the dense firepower covered the alley.
But the alley was already deserted.
The instant the gun fired, Deathstroke leaned against the wall, using the building's shadow and his armor for protection, and moved nimbly to avoid all the bullets.
The next second, the black shadow suddenly magnified rapidly in the head's line of sight.
The death knell is already at hand.
Before the other party could raise his gun again, his right hand, clad in metal armor, suddenly shot out and precisely grabbed the other party's wrist holding the gun.
A crisp cracking sound was drowned out by the sound of rain; the pistol slipped from his hand and rolled into the puddles.
The man screamed in agony, his face turning deathly pale.
"The idea is good, but unfortunately the movements are as slow as an old man's, and the marksmanship is terrible."
Slowly picking up the pistol, Deathstroke looked down at the other man.
"No, don't kill me! I'll give you money! Double! Triple! I'll give you all my money!"
The other person collapsed to the ground, struggling helplessly and begging for mercy incoherently.
"The contract is finalized."
"No one can change the price."
The moment the words left his mouth, Deathstroke, without hesitation or delay, swiftly and decisively ended the futile escape.
In the distance, a dense array of neon lights is shrouded in the sprinkling mist, resembling a city that never sleeps, symbolizing the decadent and extravagant lifestyle of this place.
No one knew that another corpse had been found in the dark alley.
Maybe someone will see it, but so what?
In Gotham, no one ever calls the police for witnessing a murder.
Moreover, on this rainy night, this isn't the only person who has died inexplicably.
Following the flow of people and disappearing in front of Wayne Tower, Deathstroke arrived at his temporary residence in Gotham.
After removing his mask to reveal a resolute, one-eyed face, Slade sent the photos of the scene to Black Mask before opening another message.
It was a highly confidential message; there was no sender, only the time.
He knew very well that this was a clandestine mission from the authorities.
Investigate the mysterious deaths of experimental subjects in Smallville and solve the case of the culprit.
Although it wasn't the first time he'd looked at this mission, the content still puzzled Slade.
He knew about those experimental subjects.
A while ago, a strange virus broke out in New York.
An ancient parasite called the bloodworm can infect humans through the bloodstream and transform normal people into grotesque, bloodthirsty monsters within just a few days. It spreads rapidly.
The official term for this event is the "Vampire Incident".
He had faced those monsters directly; those monsters were much stronger and faster than ordinary people, and were numb to pain.
The disaster was averted because Ephraim Goodwinzer brought back a special antidote from Smallville.
However, Deathstroke knew very well that ARGUS had included biochemical research in Ephraim Goodwinzer's antidote research.
The authorities believe that if that ancient virus is used properly, it might be possible to create a batch of obedient biological weapons.
No one expected that all the experimental subjects secretly sent there, including a high-level experimental subject, would be inexplicably killed by a mysterious person. The elites who followed Ephraim Goodwinzer investigated for a long time but did not get any useful clues.
"My job is to kill, not to investigate cases for you, especially not these clueless ones, you cold-blooded bitch!"
Slade couldn't help but curse Amanda Waller in his heart, but he had no choice but to do as she said.
His daughter, Rose, is still in the enemy's hands.
After thinking for a moment, Slade replied to the official message with a message:
[Depart immediately for Smolder.]