What should you do when the fish did not bite?
The answer was simple: cast the line again and see how his luck was this time.
Su Ming did the same. He put away his teapot, table, and chairs, slung Kitty over his shoulder, grabbed his cousin by the collar, and set off to search for the next piece of the puzzle.
"Lucifer is dealing with Hand, and Michael is dealing with Foot. That's what the guys told me." Deadpool, who had been stopped from taking off his clothes, told his cousin all the intelligence he had gathered from outside. He looked smug, as though he was proud of his information network.
"Where exactly?" Su Ming was annoyed just looking at his cheap face and casually rapped him on the head. "I know who they're fighting too, but where are they?"
"I don't know that. Anyway, they definitely aren't on Earth." Deadpool scratched his head and turned his gaze toward empty air, as if he saw something there. He nodded before saying, "One of the guys said their battlefield is a place where space is distorted, really mysterious. Got any ideas?"
"That's way too broad, meow. Forget Deathstroke—even I can think of thousands of places with those characteristics." Kitty joined the conversation. Perched on Deathstroke's shoulder, it now had a lofty angle from which to look down on Deadpool. "Isn't there any more precise intelligence?"
Hypertime's conceptual scope encompassed nearly everything. There were too many places that fit the description. The simplest example was the Speed Force Plane, where space was distorted—but would the targets be there? Obviously not.
Dream of a Thousand Cats had been conservative. Those thousands of places it mentioned were only the ones whose names it knew. The nameless ones were countless.
Perhaps some empty pocket