In the brightly lit Safehouse, the stagnant air was a little murky. Countless motes of dust floated in the light like plankton in the sea.
So many people had been crammed into the small space that the smells had become complicated too: tobacco and alcohol, the artificial scent of Spam Luncheon Meat, Deadpool's stench, gun oil from the weapons, and more.
All those scents mingled together, easily bringing the apocalypse to mind. The chaos and disorder seemed to urge everyone to make a decision quickly.
Thanos was not nervous, but he did not respond to Deathstroke's request either. No matter how the human's hand opened and clenched before him, he acted as though he had not seen it and showed no reaction whatsoever.
"Come on, Thanos, why are you pretending to be deaf and mute?" Su Ming turned toward the Purple Sweet Potato and smiled as he pressed him. "You're a Super Soldier, so naturally you have super hearing. You heard that, right? Cockroach needs something Death has used. Take out a few things for us to use, and we'll return them immediately. This Cockroach isn't dirty. Even if he touches Death's things, they won't be tainted."
"Hmph! I don't have any!"
Thanos, who had been perfectly fine moments ago, seemed to be suddenly enraged. He impatiently slapped away Deathstroke's hand, turned, and walked off to one side as though he had no intention of dealing with anyone.
"What do you mean, you don't have any?" Su Ming stroked his chin, looking deeply suspicious. "Every time I saw you before, you were either bringing Death something fun or giving her flowers. Did she really never give you anything in return, something presentable that you could take out?"
At that, the purple giant turned back. He looked sternly at Deathstroke and