Magik had not come with Deathstroke because the half-year deadline was drawing ever closer, and Limbo still had a mountain of affairs to handle.
The war in Hell was still raging. Mephisto, currently the strongest power, was under siege by the other Hell Lords, while no one knew what role his escaped son, Blackheart, was playing in it all. Hell had become a complete mess.
Satana and her brother Hellstorm had also joined this protracted bloodbath with their own small territories, seeking revenge against their father. As their ally, Magik would likely be very busy from now on.
Using technology to teleport into a Magic Dimension was not entirely impossible. It was simply more prone to mishaps.
For example, someone might end up stuck inside a wall, or lose a few body parts during transport.
But none of that was a problem for Deathstroke. His Tenth Metal skeleton had no need to worry about such things. All that remained was the Boom Tube's ever-present deafening noise.
Teleported into Helheim, he steadied himself in midair with Cloak's help. He neither fell to the ground nor crashed into anything. The gloomy dark-green sky crackled with lightning as always, like applause welcoming his arrival.
"I hope recovering Z-Space this time lets Adjutant and the others make some progress in spatial technology. At least reduce the roar of Boom Tube Teleportation a little."
Floating in the air, Deathstroke identified his bearings while seeming to talk to himself.
"Eek."
Strangle conveyed its agreement. Though it was no longer afraid of powerful sound waves, that noise still made the Symbiote unhappy. It had suffered Sepulk's technological teleportation for far too long.
"Hela's underworld lies to the east, and the souls falling from the sky have stopped. We should head north." Deathstroke stroked the Black Bean Sprout