Su Ming rolled his neck. When Vishanti's phantom had flashed through the void just now, he had felt as though Hoggoth had glared at him. Was that an illusion?
It had to be. A tiger's eyes were always round, weren't they? Otherwise, why call it a hanging-eyed fierce tiger?
He pulled out a lighter and lit cigarettes for the Prince and the Old Steward, then smiled and patted their shoulders. "The agreement's signed, so we're all on the same side now. Tell me, how do you want to put down this rebellion? Would you prefer something gentler, or something rougher?"
Jason was unfamiliar with tobacco, an Earth specialty. He imitated Deathstroke and took a deep drag, only to cough violently. The Old Steward hurriedly patted his back.
After a long while, Jason wiped away his tears and finally recovered. "War can be gentle or rough?"
"Given this situation, I have more than a dozen plans to solve it. But I want you to choose, unless you don't like having a choice." Su Ming took out some liquor and gestured for the two of them to find somewhere to sit. They could talk this over slowly; the global war down below would not end anytime soon. "This is your first time meeting me, so you probably aren't familiar with my style. Put simply, my enemies usually have only three endings—euthanasia, a miserable death, or kicking the bucket."
"Aren't those all death?" The Old Steward asked the perfect straight-man question. He truly did not understand the difference between those deaths.
Su Ming smiled faintly and slowly nodded. "You're right. They all end in death; only the process differs. How does Prince Jason intend to deal with these rebels? Skin them all and hang their hides from the orbital station? Chop them into