After the doctor admitted his secret identity, Su Ming knew he was willing to cooperate.
Su Ming could actually act alone, but to accomplish more in a limited time, he needed a few helpers.
Steve had already gone to sell instant noodles for him, and now everyone's attention was on Captain America, the perfect decoy. Having Captain America around allowed Su Ming to work in the shadows conveniently.
Right now, New York is full of masked heroes and villains, but the only ones truly useful to Su Ming are the Avenging Angels and Torchbearer.
Among the others, although Mr. E and his team were quite decent, they were detectives, while Su Ming's team was heading for the battlefield.
"I suspect that foreign spies are influencing Phantom Bullet's death. Are you willing to investigate with me?"
Su Ming went straight to the point; once they started, swift action was essential.
"Of course, I would have continued investigating even without your appearance..." Dr. Holloway nodded, but was somewhat puzzled: "But you're a mercenary... who hired you?"
To be honest, there was no employer for this job. Su Ming was merely concerned about the future.
He lived for the freedom to do as he pleased. Be it Xiaohuzi, Hydra, or even U Demon ruling the world, they were all mad with authoritarian control, and such a free life would bid farewell to Su Ming.
Raise the right arm, raise both fists, or pat the chest—are there any differences?
Unless he hid in some place like Kama Taiji or Antarctica, but that wouldn't be a normal life.
Even those places weren't safe; U Demon could flood the world at any moment.
So when the doctor questioned him, Su Ming simply gave a mysterious smile, raised a finger pointing upward, and let the interpretation be as it may.
You could think of it as God's will, or a heavenly opinion, depending on the doctor's belief.
Dr. Holloway squinted, thinking he understood.
The other party's actions were due to secret orders, perhaps from high-ranking military officials, or maybe the White House.
With Captain America as a cover, their super soldiers had been active for over a decade.
Perhaps in these years, and in the future as mentioned by Dual Gun Hero, the people Deathstroke killed were all at the state's behest, he was the cleaner of the high echelons.
Sly, politicians truly are sly...
But the reason sufficed. Asking too much might lead to Deathstroke killing him to silence him later.
The doctor nodded, giving Su Ming a knowing look, while Su Ming responded with a smile; only a ghost knows what he understood.
"Shall we go to the morgue to examine the body?"
Su Ming stood up and adjusted his coat; he didn't want to linger in the urine odor. With the Avenging Angels joining, they could begin action.
"Then please come to my office. I need to make a few calls and organize a bit," Dr. Holloway intended to walk to the door.
"That's too troublesome the way you do it; let me teach you how to do it."
Su Ming grabbed the doctor's arm and guided him down the stairs by the neck.
Although the doctor wanted to resist, the arm locked him like a steel ring, leaving him no choice but to bid farewell to the receptionist nurse, claiming he needed to visit another city, and advising the sanatorium to hire a familiar doctor to replace him for a few days.
The excuse was good, so putting him in the car with peace of mind was no problem for Su Ming.
"Gin, New York City Forensic Center."
"Okay, boss."
In the car, Su Ming released the doctor's neck, letting him look around freely.
Meanwhile, he pressed a few buttons, causing the central compartment of the car to rise and like a cabinet, slowly slide open to reveal its contents.
In the light was a black and yellow uniform, surrounded by various equipment.
An automatic rifle, shotgun, handgun, grenades, props, a golden curved dagger, and a pitch-black giant sword.
Su Ming rapidly took off his clothes and donned the uniform, soon after securing his mask, with strings of numbers rapidly flashing across the scarlet lenses.
Dr. Holloway watched with some envy.
He lacked such a good car and such complete equipment, even his weapons were inherited.
But he wasn't about to work for money; it wasn't compatible with his values. He wore the mask to uphold justice.
"He just called you 'boss', your cover identity is a businessman."
"That's right, and I remember you're one of my loyal customers."
Su Ming's voice, through the voice changer, altered to a hoarse, terrifying frequency.
"I don't recall hiring assassins before." The doctor rolled his eyes upwards, pretending to recall, as he always refrained from using underhanded tricks; hiring killers was excessive.
"God bless you, what are you thinking?"
Su Ming shook his head with a smile, casually closing the cabinet, and from the space below, pulled out a bottle of alcoholic beverage, tossing it to Dr. Holloway.
In the speeding car, Dr. Holloway grabbed the swiftly thrown bottle with one hand; upon seeing it, he immediately understood.
Skywalker's alcohol.
This further convinced him that the other party worked for the president, known for Old Luo in the White House's firm stand against Prohibition.
Skywalker's alcohol emerged in 1925, initially spreading widely in New York.
If there wasn't a large political family backing it, how could it persist, even crushing almost all mafia operations back then to persist today?
The doctor had already conjured up a grand scheme from the president's youth: using alcohol for wealth accumulation, a presidential campaign, eliminating political rivals, and a series of big dramas.
Dirty, those who play tactics are dirty at heart.
Su Ming: "???"
He was just surprised to see the doctor stunned by receiving alcohol; sure, his car had fine alcohol, but is it enough to move someone to such an extent?
In truth, his ability to track down the doctor's residence and workplace came entirely from the shipping address of the distillery.
The information he had from comics was inaccurate, so he had to verify through real-world investigation.
Fortunately, Dr. Holloway drank, and in New York, who hadn't called Midnight Express for alcohol?
Of course, Midnight Express was now misnomer; they made deliveries during the day and didn't have to crawl through manholes anymore.
Su Ming quickly found the address on their delivery notes; not only did Dr. Holloway love a drink, but he had refined tastes.
For instance, Skywalker's 25-year-old vintage, Skywalker Supreme Venerable Whiskey, Skywalker's Invincible Rum Package...
These ridiculous names were all coined by Su Ming, but they proved that the names of products from beyond the times paired with advertisements worked. The brewing industry continued to provide him with a steady stream of money.
It's just that in recent years, female customers became the mainstay, mostly pitiful women who'd lost husbands or children.
"Drink up, no need to be shy. I've got plenty of alcohol." Su Ming brought him back to reality, pulling out a set of armor from another cabinet, handing it to Dr. Holloway: "Lost your old uniform, right? I got you a new one."
In truth, the new uniform was nothing special—merely thin chain armor made of steel, sprayed with a layer of quick-dry blue paint. It had some weight, but Dr. Holloway could handle it with his physical fitness.
The current heroes lacked even a bulletproof vest—how could they go onto a battlefield?
The Avenging Angel's current uniform looked like blue autumn clothes, for aesthetics alone, switch to chain armor, right?
"I'll drink later; let's prioritize business. But I do accept the uniform; please thank your employer for me. I won't overstep boundaries and please keep my identity confidential."
Again, the doctor completed his mental deduction. To him, this uniform acted as recognition and hush money from above...
They know who you are; we have the power and wealth. It would be wise for you to collaborate and contribute to the nation with us. If a 'no' comes out, ha, they kill but don't bury.
Dr. Holloway had no intention of opposing the government. Contributing to the nation was his desire as well, so amid all the misunderstandings and deductions, he quickly accepted this mission.
Su Ming cared little about his thoughts; as long as he covered it up, wasn't it? And moreover, the doctor seemed to have defaulted to Deathstroke's leadership. This too was good news, wasn't it?