The moment he stated that condition, the other side fell silent for a long time—so long that Su Ming began to suspect Songbird had disconnected or crashed.
But he was in no hurry. He had confidence in the Adjutant's communications capabilities, so he merely rummaged through the pouch at his waist, took out a bottle of liquor, and poured a mouthful down his throat to wet it.
He was extremely confident in the condition he had proposed, because for a bird in a cage, freedom was the greatest wish. Nothing could be more tempting than that.
The half-cybernetic woman was probably calculating frantically right now while attempting to trace the Adjutant in reverse. But all of that was bound to be futile. The methods Deathstroke used were beyond the understanding of anyone in this world.
After a long while, he heard her sigh in his mind, followed by her voice:
"I want to agree, but this simply isn't realistic. I'm currently in the most classified area beneath Secret Service headquarters. There's an entire company of soldiers assigned specifically to guard me, and I have tracking devices and all kinds of restrictive programs installed in my body. There's no way you can get me out."
Perhaps the woman had been too lonely. Although she did not know who had hacked into her, she wanted to talk, wanted to vent, as if she were exchanging messages with an online friend.
She had once been very familiar with that feeling, but she had not experienced it in a long time.
After being placed under disguised house arrest, all her communications had been monitored and blocked, making it seem as though her existence had been erased from the world. That was how Superweapons were treated.
No one knew where she was, and New America