The view returned to Gotham City. Su Ming and Thomas were still sitting in the mezzanine of Wayne Tower, drinking, though their only snack was Spicy Strips.
After the others had left, Thomas and Deathstroke remained there, looking over the dust-covered room as they chatted idly and drank without stopping.
Seeing that Deathstroke seemed ready to open yet another bottle, Thomas reached out to stop him and asked the crucial question.
"Are we just going to do nothing?"
Su Ming shrugged, continued twisting off the cap, and drank by himself. Alcohol had almost no effect on him; even the strongest liquor was no more than Otaku Happy Water to him. He drank only for the taste.
"Doctor Wayne, things aren't that simple. Aside from dealing with another insane Bruce, we also have to deal with a bald man and his subordinates. If you want to ask who the other enemy is, just ask. There's no need to beat around the bush like this."
"But if you used magic to transport them, there shouldn't be any risk of exposure."
Thomas had indeed wanted to ask what the others had gone off to do. Su Ming leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, setting the bottle on his thigh and tilting his head back as he said weakly, "Magic comes at a cost. I paid a great deal, and now I'm mentally exhausted and aching all over."
Thomas did not believe that nonsense at all. Magic requiring a price was entirely possible. Though he was not part of the Magic World, he understood the concept; alchemy had once been popular in Europe and America, after all, and its principle was equivalent exchange.
But this Deathstroke was no conventional wizard. During their previous operations, he had tossed out spells as though