The distillery's enforcers sent their elite this time, led by Gin, flew to the United Kingdom, and started working overtime to assist Holloway as soon as they landed. Not only did they have to do the heavy and hard labor, but they also had to cover up so that the British wouldn't discover their poison gas production.
Fortunately, these veteran distillery workers had once roamed the sewers of New York, and their experience translated well to the sewers of London.
Producing poison gas... seems somewhat like brewing alcohol, with the chemical reaction happening faster, though it's more dangerous. But it's all for the boss.
A figure walked up to Deadpool and the others, dressed in a protective suit, nodding to the three of them first, before leaning in to shout down the big pit.
Through constant battering, the big pit had sunk, but its bottom had been compacted, hard as steel, and waterproof.
"Boss? Are you okay?"
"Is that Gin? I'm doing alright. How's the business been lately?" Even though the anti-toxic mask altered voices, Su Ming could still discern his subordinate through the tone.
Gin lay down, facing the bottom of the pit: "The domestic alcohol sales remain stable, but other exports have been heavily impacted lately. The Germans have come up with some unusual things, and maritime routes are nearly cut off. You'll see for yourself when you get out."
Doctor Sinister struggled desperately, but the symbiote's power nailed him to the ground, resigning him to listen to Deathstroke discussing business. He felt he might truly lose this time.
Though a biologist, he was adept in chemistry and had certainly heard of the poison gas Holloway was making.
Those two toxins mixed, forming a liquid that is insoluble in water at room temperature but vaporizes with slight heating, causing the poisoned to experience a fate worse than death, suffocating, foaming at the mouth, their brains numb, instinctively tearing at their chests to pull out their lungs.
Key to the poisoning was the uncontrollable vomiting, making it hard to distinguish lungs from the stomach, and on the poison gas battlefields of WWI, the corpses couldn't even be collected, it was too gruesome.
Though no gas had yet been released, the mere thought of the potential agony filled Doctor Sinister with dread.
Still, a small part of him clung to hope—what if he could endure it? Or what if the others were just bluffing without any toxin?
So he struggled while letting his thoughts run wild.
A few words between Gin and Su Ming, and the preparations were all in place. Using hundred-liter barrels like the old brewing days, dozens were brought in, enough to cover the pit in a layer.
If the venom vaporized, it could affect London above, so this was the maximum; Holloway and Monac would not allow any more.
"How much did this cost?"
"A lot, boss." Gin got up, dusting himself off: "I never realized how expensive large chemical equipment could be, air freight was exorbitant, and I cashed in some favors, burned a few bridges. This cost more than money."
"No worries, I'll find a way to earn it back. Let's start now."
"Certainly, boss."
Gin turned around, signaling the heavily armed men. Except for Deadpool, who feared nothing, even the mage and the doctor retreated quite a distance.
The enforcers rolled the barrels across the ground with a rumbling sound, reminiscent of the weight on Doctor Sinister's heart.
Then they pushed the barrels to the pit's edge, prying off the tops with crowbars, and over ten streams of green venom poured into the chasm like waterfalls.
A pungent smell reached the noses of the two, but the toxic elements were filtered by Su Ming's helmet, leaving him with a faint chemical scent akin to chalk.
Doctor Sinister was not so lucky. His whole body felt aflame as the vaporized liquid's smell tormented him.
His eyes burst from their sockets into bloody mist, regenerating through the healing factor, only to explode again.
And the trachea and lungs, which he felt an urge to extract, but Deathstroke held his arms tight, leaving him to scream as they withered inside.
His back skin immersed in the venom felt like it was seared, continuously blistering.
His throat was corroding and then healing, making his screams intermittent, sounding like the song 'Excited,' to Su Ming's ears.
Su Ming was also submerged in the venom, but thanks to the symbiote, it posed no threat to him.
These toxins were severely harmful to human organs, but the symbiote had none of those—it didn't breathe nor had skin. The venom was merely an unusual liquid to it.
"Stop!... Ah!!!! I surrender! Wuu... I surrender!" Doctor Sinister's body rotted and regenerated, his ashen face shedding to expose muscles and membrane before self-healing to a face again. Unable to raise his hands in surrender, he pleaded in despair with Deathstroke: "Let me go! Ah!!! I won't retaliate! And I will stop aiding the Germans! This hell! Ah!! For Heaven's sake!"
Under the mask, Su Ming raised a brow. It worked; Deadpool's suggestion proved effective. Could it be his own tolerance wasn't low enough?
"Letting you go is impossible. I need to keep you confined for peace of mind."
The venom had begun to rise, nearing Doctor Sinister's mouth; it would certainly be delightful if it flowed into his stomach.
"Alright! I surrender! Ah!!!!"
Torment from venom burns and erosion were unlike being cut or beaten; it was annihilation of every cell with no escape from the pain.
Both frost and fire, itch and ache, relentless, endless torment, yet held down unable to struggle.
Doctor Sinister ultimately broke down; he lost to Deathstroke and his little cousin after seven days.
But in the end, he realized surrender meant relief, leaving behind the hellish venom pit and away from the red-black Joker's annoying mouth for solace.
"Excellent, Monac, prepare the magic contract to seal his power."
Su Ming used the symbiote to lift the two out of the venom pool, pressing Sinister by the pit's edge.
Monac approached, casting magic, over ten types of dark magic cast in succession, littering dead rabbits everywhere, while during the process, Doctor Sinister bore a relieved smile without resistance.
"Finally... hehe... hehe..."
Deadpool sidled up, pinching his chin: "Huh? He's drooling now, Cousin, did you break him?"
"I don't think so?" Su Ming released Sinister, watching him squirm around like an insect on the ground, indeed perhaps just a bit...
"Ahem, let's first lock up Doctor Sinister in a safe place. I'll go talk with the London Temple's masters to temporarily hold him at the London Temple."
Monac straightened up, wiping tears from his face, thinking of the poor fate of the rabbits.
Asking to use the London Temple's dungeon wasn't an issue, it was usually a place for experiments anyway, so the London Great Mage gladly accepted Doctor Sinister.
Doctor Sinister sat in the magic array serving as a cell, watching the demons' backs gradually recede; he finally breathed a sigh of relief.
"Feigning madness was worth it; they've lost interest in me. I better avoid Namor's project, now to think about escape..."
Just then, an elderly man with a fully white beard entered the cell, looking kindly and understanding he was the great mage of the London Temple, scrutinizing Doctor Sinister through semicircular glasses.
"So you were feigning madness, clever boy, haha, I have something interesting to show you."
In the dark cell, dazzling purple lights unfolded, prompting another scream from Doctor Sinister...