"Anyway, you're all my prisoners now. Lychee, durian, or bayberry—pick one."
Su Ming stopped pretending and laid his cards on the table, appearing before the Jaspers in his true form with his legs propped up on the desk.
The couple clearly still remembered Deathstroke tearing Jude apart with his bare hands, and they shuddered the moment he spoke.
And what were those fruit names supposed to mean? Different ways of dying? Names for certain tortures?
They had once heard that in medieval England, there were punishments where people were strapped to execution racks and had their feet tickled with feathers, or smeared with honey for goats to lick, making them laugh themselves to death. Those were called feather torture or goat torture.
But they couldn't imagine what kind of darkness fruit could represent.
"What does that mean?" Mrs. Jasper was somewhat calmer. After all, she had seen many scientists here who were supposedly dead.
Although these people had been trapped here by Deathstroke, they seemed to be in fairly good spirits.
"I made myself very clear. You may be prisoners, but don't expect to eat and drink for free here. If you want food or clothes, grow fruit and trade it." Su Ming tapped the table and pulled out three different fruits, placing them before them. "As a former Leviathan agent, you probably understand, right? That's right. This is a labor camp."
Labor camps were nothing unusual to Polar Bears. After World War II ended, Comrade Steel had tossed all those prisoners of war into several labor camps in Siberia to chop wood and mine coal.
Fifty degrees below zero in winter, wearing only an overcoat while chopping trees in deep mountain wilderness? Fewer than one in ten thousand survived.
Escape? Go ahead and run. For tens of thousands of