Then came an awkward problem.
Wade stepped over the guards' bodies, pushed open a door like a bank vault's, and ran through a sewer to the outside. He dropped into a sliding knee pose in the rain-soaked mud, threw his arms wide, and embraced the sky.
"Freedom!"
He slid several yards, leaving three parallel tracks in the mud: two deep, one shallow.
But after his declaration to the heavens and a happy little dance from Singin' in the Rain, he realized he had no idea where he was.
How remote was this place? There wasn't a damn thing out here.
A pitch-black wilderness stretched to the horizon beneath the night sky. An animal howled somewhere—probably a wolf—but the downpour obscured his vision, and he couldn't spot any suspicious green eyes.
There was no city behind them, either. Just a small town, entirely swallowed by darkness.
"Where are we?"
When he didn't know, he asked. There was no point pretending in front of his cousin. Wade got up and looked at Deathstroke.
"Put this on first." Deathstroke handed him a red-and-black mask. Next to his cousin's yellow-and-black suit, it looked like a matching outfit for a couple. "We're outside Whistler, a town in British Columbia, Canada. You might not see it at night, but there are snowcapped mountains to the north."
"Oh, right. I've heard of this place. It's a ski resort, isn't it? The season's a little off, but are we going to have some fun, Cousin?" Wade put on the mask and pinched his chin between two fingers. The white eyes narrowed, as though that would let him see the mountains through the dark. "I'm kind of cold, though. My snot's about to mix with the pus running down my chest. Sniff."
Su Ming wouldn't have minded skiing while