Everyone watched Deathstroke and Fury head toward a secluded corner of the laboratory. The man in black-and-yellow armor slung an arm around Black Egg's shoulders and whispered something to him.
The S.H.I.E.L.D. director thought for a moment, then shook his head in refusal and proposed his own terms.
But Deathstroke shook his head even faster. He took something from his utility belt to show Fury, then said a few more words.
This time, the director rubbed his neck with a grim expression. He seemed to have run into a thorny problem, even pacing back and forth on the spot and sighing repeatedly.
In the end, however, he slowly nodded at the smoking Deathstroke.
The two seemed to have reached some sort of deal before returning to the group. In the laboratory piled with corpses and awash in blood, Fury clapped his hands.
"Quiet, everyone. Mr. Wilson has some intelligence to share with us. Everything that follows is top secret, so I hope none of you spread it around. Also, Deathstroke being Mr. Wilson must remain confidential. Even if the Captain asks, you are not to tell him. Understood?"
The S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel naturally had no objections. As for the others, they had all been brought here by Deathstroke. They knew all about the little game between the bad Godfather and his good godson, and were simply waiting to watch the show.
So the speech had been unnecessary, but Fury merely wanted to show Deathstroke his attitude. Some things were not enough to simply do; they also had to be stated clearly.
Su Ming did not particularly care. Even if Steve learned the truth, he would be unwilling to believe it. Unless Su Ming appeared before him in person, it would be useless no matter who told him.
Of course, the urgent