"He said I'm not Deathstroke. Heh heh, Cindy, did you hear that?"
Su Ming smiled and flicked away some ash, resting the shotgun on his shoulder in a Terminator-like pose as he addressed the other Deathstroke beside him.
"I heard it. That joke was decent enough." Cindy leaned on her greatsword, removed her helmet, and ran a hand through her hair. "So I'm guessing he doesn't recognize me either."
He obviously did not. It was clear from his microexpressions. The instant the helmet came off, Doctor Santo's pupils first contracted, then dilated as he looked at Cindy. That meant he had been frightened at first, then fallen into confusion.
Who knew how long he had been holed up on this Soybean Earth doing research? Had he somehow missed all the major events of the past half year?
Of course, it was also possible that Su Ming had kept too low a profile. The credit for everything he had done had been pushed onto the Justice League, so outsiders had no way of knowing what Deathstroke had accomplished.
"Brutus still has some use, so I let him run. But you..." Su Ming raised his gun and aimed at the bald man's chest, doing his best to avoid the glare from that Mediterranean Sea hairstyle. "You're better off dead. Come on, please accept your Kick the Bucket Package."
"Wait, let's talk—"
Boom! Crack!
The shotgun blasted the bald man straight backward. The enormous kinetic force of the slug round tore a massive hole through his thin chest. Doctor Santo still wore a trace of incomprehension on his face, but the light in his eyes had already gone out.
"There's nothing to discuss. Not just any stray cat or dog gets to talk to me, much less an ugly old man like you."