"So that was your goal."
Unfortunately, before he could enjoy that realization for even a second, Deathstroke spoke as he snatched all the cigarettes and alcohol off Zha Kang, tossing them into a small pouch on his belt.
"You've got some nerve. Was I gone for one month, and you took the chance to find someone on the black market to transplant a bear's gallbladder into you?"
"What? Is that supposed to be funny? Give it back!" Zha Kang reached for Deathstroke's pouch, but Strangle suddenly emerged from the armor's beetle and snapped its sharp teeth shut with a clack, nearly biting off those filthy fingers.
Su Ming knew this was another one of Hellblazer's tricks, so he smiled and shook his head.
"At first, you said demons were at work. That was an easy lie for me to see through, but that first lie was only a smokescreen. You expected me to expose it, so when threatened, you acted scared and then offered a second, seemingly truthful suggestion? If it had been someone else, you might really have fooled them."
Sigh. Dealing with smart people was always a little exhausting. Over in Marvel, probably only Doctor Doom and a handful of others were worth Deathstroke taking seriously.
It wasn't like the DC Universe, where there were simply too many clever people—including people like Zha Kang, who screwed over everyone without distinguishing friend from foe. No, he should say that Zha Kang specialized in screwing over his own side.
The biggest flaw in their conversation was that Constantine had never feared death, not to mention that he knew Deathstroke would not chop him up.
"No, what are you talking about? Heh, I was sincerely giving you advice." Constantine shook his head repeatedly, his greasy smile returning as he rubbed the