Smoking and drinking every day was hardly healthy. Even as a Super Soldier with a Healing Factor, Su Ming could not avoid getting dry mouth and throat.
So while waiting for the two mages to come back to themselves, he stroked the cat in his arms and brewed himself a pot of tea. Green tea was nice—bitter, but it stimulated saliva and quenched thirst.
"Their brainwaves are changing violently, Uncle Slade. This may be a sign of an impending mental breakdown." Little Rich still wore that device over his eyes that looked suspiciously like a combat power scanner. Looking at the two people seated nearby, he warned Deathstroke that things seemed to be taking a bad turn.
He himself had endured those "stimulating truths" in the memories only because he had grown up in the Cancerverse. If nothing else, he had built up quite a resistance to indescribable things.
Maybe his resistance was not as strong as Uncle Slade's, but he could easily rank in the top three among all humans in the Omniverse. Yes, Deadpool might be second, because he himself was an indescribable thing.
In short, the two mages were not doing well right now. Little Rich was reminding Deathstroke that perhaps they should interrupt them.
It might be difficult for others to control what someone else thought about, but it was no problem for Deathstroke. Plug the Symbiote into someone's spine, and he could play cartoons in everyone's heads if he wanted.
"Tsk. Was something like this really still too stimulating for spellcasters?"
Su Ming smacked his lips and set down his teacup. He could not let two Great Mages go insane just like that.
He had clearly filtered out many secrets he felt were unsuitable for sharing while transmitting the memories, but apparently he had underestimated