"You said you were short on medical supplies and food ingredients?"
To be honest, Su Ming thought they were doing fairly well. At the very least, they looked capable of holding out for another few months. They were entrenched in position, waiting at leisure while the enemy toiled, and now they had the "Relay Station pillbox," so defending the place was relatively easy.
It was just that the more than a hundred bombardments every day were rather annoying, and Slaanesh's aerial Flying Vehicles were so noisy they made it hard to sleep.
Yet the Wolf Lord came to him with a sincere expression and said that the medical supplies they had brought during the drop were used up, the warriors had finished all their alcohol, and he wanted Deathstroke to help think of a solution.
He had long had his own suspicions about Deathstroke's identity. He did not even need to seek confirmation face-to-face like Orpheus; it was more of an unspoken understanding.
You have secrets you do not want to tell, so I will not pry. Whether you are a Primarch or not does not matter, as long as you are an ally.
Well, he still regarded Su Ming as a Psionic with a dimensional pocket. After all, he had observed that while their two Chapters had been fighting the enemy hard these past few days, Deathstroke had been wandering around with the Sister, even having picnics on the terrace and occasionally pulling tasty food and drinks from his waist pouch.
As he spoke, those huge bell-like eyes stared right at Su Ming's pouch. His meaning could not have been clearer.
'The brothers are in trouble. How about taking out some medical supplies, food, and drinks?'
Su Ming did indeed still have plenty to eat and drink, including hot