Time ticked by, and the chaos at the Courthouse Entrance continued.
The police officers searched everywhere for a possible shooter, while reporters shouted into their cameras, broadcasting the news at top speed until their voices went hoarse.
Whoever spoke faster and more clearly was the bigger hotshot. Field reporting looked glamorous, but it was actually brutally competitive.
The bells of Flushing Quaker Church, not far from the New York High Court, began to ring. To Su Ming, the sound seemed like a sigh. The next second, vast quantities of black snowflakes suddenly filled his view, immediately blanketing the entire Earth.
The snowflakes were genuine goose-feather snow, each one like a feather that could drift through the air for a long time. They were an utterly pure black, so smooth that their surfaces reflected light.
The instant they appeared, Little Rich and Adjutant began working. They needed to determine where the snow had come from and why it had taken this form.
Only Deathstroke and the cat continued watching the screen. The latter's fur stood on end, as though its animal instincts had sensed something humans could not perceive.
Su Ming did not ask why, because the moment the black snow landed on human bodies, he knew the answer.
The people in the streets—police officers, reporters, and protesters alike—did not notice the strange snowflakes at first, until one landed on someone's head.
A piece of that person's head vanished instantly, as if an eraser had rubbed it away. The missing portion was exactly the size of the snowflake.
It sank in through the crown of his head and fell out behind his ass, still drifting and fluttering as it quietly landed on the ground.
Yet the man who had lost part of his body did not die. He did not even