Deathstroke's red eyepiece shifted to his face: "Some people don't care how long they live; they just want to live an exciting life. That's hard for Hydra to understand, right? After all, you guys spread that nonsense about the so-called True God of Hydra, pursuing that eternal life in another world or whatever."
"That was Hive's suggestion. He disguised himself as this so-called True God to win over those with low levels of education. Given the widespread cult of personality during World War II and the generally low level of public education, I think the strategy was successful."
Zemo answered honestly; there was nothing to hide about it.
Su Ming nodded: "When the average education level of people around the world increases in the future, will you change your propaganda, maybe to something like establishing absolute order, letting everyone live in a guiltless world?"
"Who knows, I don't care about that. Generally, these issues are decided in meetings. After the defeat, various Hydra branches have scattered and gone underground. Even I don't know if there are still nine leaders." Zemo took a deep breath and turned around: "I know what you want to ask. That person is at the place you call President Mountain."
"I figured. I checked; he's not at the White House, nor at the Goddess Statue. That really only leaves a place that represents the United States." Su Ming learned where Lady Nine-Heads was headed, and she really wasn't afraid of death.
Zemo nodded and pulled a beautiful Luger pistol from his chest, handing it to Su Ming: "I've always felt there's someone behind her and Faust. For the possibility of you helping me deal with Red Skull in the future, I think you should be careful, so you don't end up dead."
"Haha, Deathstroke is someone who crawled out of Hell. You only need to do your job and provide the agreed information regularly," Su Ming said. He took the pistol and swiftly fired two shots into Zemo's arm and shoulder.
Zemo gave him a long look, covered his wound, and ran off: "Goodbye."
Su Ming showed no reaction. He tucked away the ivory-handled Luger pistol and turned to walk towards Howard, who had been alerted by the gunshots.
"Oh, my love, the enemy is already at the factory door. Let's go quickly," Howard gazed passionately at the woman in front of him, speaking in a lyrical tone.
The woman showed an emotional expression: "No, I'm an actress; the set is my best refuge. Go on, carry my hope and live on."
"I won't leave you, Ruth. Our love is so genuine that death cannot part us!" Howard stepped forward two paces on tiptoe, embraced the woman, and smiled down at her.
"Oh, Howard, I love you, mwah mwah mwah..." The woman, deeply moved, immediately embraced Howard passionately.
Seeing such a melodramatic play, Su Ming, from beneath his Holy Image armor, developed dead-fish eyes, and as he emerged from the darkness, he coughed twice: "Ahem ahem!"
It meant someone arrived.
"Mwah mwah mwah mwah mwah..."
The result was that the couple paid no heed to his presence, focusing wholeheartedly on their self-scripted fiction, kissing with smacking sounds.
Logically speaking, when the Prince and Princess kiss, even if the Great Demon King is present, he'd just watch, right?
The bad guys need to give time for affection, allowing the protagonists to exchange emotions, and after spewing a lot of gibberish, the male lead suddenly turns the tables.
That's how almost all stories and scripts are written.
Yet Su Ming tore off a Concussion Grenade from his chest, flicked off the pin with his thumb, and threw it at the couple.
"Bang!"
"Ah!!!"
The two, held together by the powerful vacuum, separated, clutching their ears and rolling on the ground.
"Haha, seems your love isn't that genuine. Forget about death; even a Concussion Grenade near-miss can separate you." Su Ming grabbed Howard by the collar and pulled him up, mischievously poking his head with his finger.
Sadly, Howard, whose ears were ringing, couldn't hear a thing. He barely managed to open his eyes, his dirty hands smudging his face with streaks.
Through teary eyes, he didn't see a charming beauty, but the black and yellow Holy Statue Armor.
"Damn Deathstroke, I was so close to scoring!" Seeing it was Deathstroke, Howard felt relieved, then started shouting loudly.
When people can't hear, they tend to speak louder, like when they want to argue with property management.
Su Ming extended his arm like picking up a cat, distancing him a bit. After the side effects wore off, he said, "Are you really willing to die for a woman? If I wasn't the one who came, but a real enemy, wouldn't you have turned into fertilizer?"
Howard's gaze became distant, gazing up at the set's ceiling, where the pair had been hiding in this dirty, chaotic place:
"You don't understand. This is love. There's an old saying in the East, 'What is love in this world, to make one promise life and death?'"
"Talking Chinese to me? Please. She loves your watch, and you love her face. That ain't love. Settle your accounts with her, and I'll take you for a ride."
Howard brushed off the hand on his collar, adjusted his suit lapel: "You're really good at ruining people's beautiful dreams, aren't you? She's different from other women; she's not after my money."
"So, is the audition still on? Howard? I heard this film has a big budget, right? Can I become famous for this?" The woman asked Howard, still looking at Deathstroke with curiosity.
Someone in black and yellow armor. Armor, in this era. In Hollywood, it must be acting, right?
World War II ended already; where would a German be from? Mr. Stark really knows how to play.
The script is quite coarse; the actress felt thrilled.
Howard painfully closed his eyes, took out his checkbook, wrote down a series of numbers, tore out a page and threw it to the woman, waving silently.
She was indeed beautiful, but hopelessly foolish. Not recognizing real and fake gunfire having never been on a battlefield was forgivable, but she just ate a Concussion Grenade and immediately asked about her role.
Very disappointing.
Su Ming faced Howard and shrugged, meaning the answer was obvious: "Seems like another realistic dream, but if you keep taking your checkbook everywhere, driving your fancy black luxury car, you'll never see the day when your beautiful dream comes true."
After saying that, without waiting for Howard's reply, he grabbed him and flew directly out of the studio, shooting straight into the sky.
The strong wind from the flight blew into Howard's mouth, making his entire face look especially unpleasant for some reason.