Montgomery, Alabama.
After finishing tonight's evening prayer, Dr. Jin lingered at the church for a long time, still discussing with friends how to quickly rescue the young black woman who was imprisoned, so much so that by the time he returned to his doorstep, the night was already deep and silent.
The city remained as quiet as ever; no one here knew anything about what was happening in the outside world.
All the radio stations were broadcasting light-hearted programs, but it seemed like all the announcers had been replaced, and the English sounded somewhat like German.
Maybe it was just an illusion? Dr. Jin didn't think much about it. As he drove home, he didn't pay much attention to the radio but pondered how he and his fellow men should proceed into the future.
"Father! Please talk to us!"
Just as he got out of the car and was about to enter his house, suddenly several black men emerged from the darkness not far away, calling out to him. In the winter night, their faces seemed to be frozen stiff, and their smiles looked fake.
Seeing that they were his compatriots, Dr. Jin did not feel any rejection. This was his parish, and a priest is always willing to help others.
"Come inside to talk, it's too cold outside, my friends, I'll go prepare some hot drinks."
He opened the door and warmly invited them in for a chat, even though it was very late, they had waited until this time, which indicated they had urgent matters.
He was organizing his black compatriots to boycott the Southern states' bus companies; the Southern states were responding en masse, but in some places, violent methods were being used, such as smashing and burning others' property.
Dr. Jin opposed this point; perhaps internal disunity had caused confusion among people, and he needed to clarify his stance.
"No, Father, we'll just say a few words."
Several black men exchanged imperceptible glances, then the leader began talking to Dr. Jin.
As the conversation deepened, Dr. Jin sensed something strange; these men consulted him not about race issues, but about the process of holding a wedding at the church?
Was a wedding question worth so many people waiting until three in the morning?
But fulfilling his duties as a priest, he patiently answered their questions. He personally neither supported nor opposed same-sex relationships, but they also had the right to marry at his church, and collective weddings were acceptable.
This is true equality.
The faces of the black men darkened even more, as if this answer insulted them, but the colors in their eyes went unnoticed by Jin.
"Thank you, Father, for answering our doubts. This is our little gift to you."
Speaking very kindly, the leading young man took out a long box from his bosom, opened it, and handed it to Dr. Jin; inside was a cigar that looked very high-end.
Not only was the rolled leaf completely intact, but it was also complemented by a small black and yellow ribbon, a high-end product from Wilson Enterprises' Skywalker Smoke and Alcohol Company.
"I just did my job, I don't need your gift, God loves everyone, no matter their color or gender." Dr. Jin gently refused the gift box, unable to accept gifts from strangers.
"No, this was hard for us to pool together money to buy, take a sniff, such a fragrant aroma."
The leading young black man said, and picked up that small stick, about to shove it under Dr. Jin's nose, while the others subtly surrounded Dr. Jin.
Just when he could no longer refuse, suddenly a golden light flashed through the night, and a golden boomerang appeared from nowhere, not only severing the young man's hand but also piercing through the cigar on its return, bringing it back to the street corner.
"Really? Is it that fragrant? Let me have a sniff."
The golden boomerang transformed into a curved blade, spun by the newcomer who flashed a flourish, and the spiked cigar was unabashedly brought under the mask. The black and yellow armor was seen taking deep breaths as if inhaling vigorously.
A red monocular lit up in the darkness, and almost the next instant, Deathstroke intervened among the crowd, separating the shocked and blood-splattered Dr. Jin from the others.
"It doesn't smell nice at all, not only does it have a mushroom scent, but also a stench of cold-blooded reptiles." A devilish whisper sounded: "Not only are you selling fakes but trying to trick me? Tell me, how do you want to die?"
"Hail Hydra!"
Faced with Deathstroke, they knew escape was hopeless, so they shouted slogans preparing to self-destruct.
But shouting "Sea Claw" takes at least a second; do ordinary people have a second to perform idle tasks with Deathstroke at close range?
The Hydra is successful because of its faith, defeated because of its faith; shouting slogans before dying is absolutely the most failed aspect, let alone the longer version "cut off one head, two grow back."
A flash of brilliant golden blade light, and the heads of the few all swiftly moved homes; the brilliant glow was so fast that it appeared as if a full moon rose before one's eyes on the retina.
Godslayer instantly severed the connection between their brains and spinal nerves, death came swiftly.
"No!"
And as the heads fell onto the snowy ground, Dr. Jin's words of protest were just about to be spoken.
Su Ming turned around to look at the legendary Black Man in front of him and shrugged helplessly: "You're too late."
"Why? Why do you want to kill? It's a sin." Dr. Jin sighed, not afraid of the murderer, as he was a priest, although not often, he did encounter a few murderers in the confessional at church every year: "They just wanted me to smell their cigars."
Su Ming's expression under the mask was strange; how did that sound ambiguous?
Nonetheless, he put away his scimitar and picked up a head from the ground, dead-eyed, and began to examine it: "The cigars were poisoned, I saved you, it's that simple."
"How do you know?" Dr. Jin did not back down; his eyes were full of distrust.
"I won't explain to you; believe it or not, it's up to you. Go home; this is not something you can get involved in." Su Ming raised his hand and peeled off a mask from the deceased's head, revealing the blonde-haired, blue-eyed original appearance.
Despite saying he wouldn't explain, he still tossed the mask and the blonde head into the priest's arms. Fortunately, Dr. Jin was still wearing a black robe, which did not show dirt.
Dr. Jin was kind but not foolish; seeing that these people were indeed hiding their identities and approaching him at night with ill intentions, he sighed and believed half of what the assassin said.
However, he felt that the other party was too ruthless: "Who are these people? And who are you?"
"We have nothing to do with you; continue your current endeavor as if nothing happened today." Black tentacles extended behind Su Ming, as Dr. Jin talked to the host, the Strangulation handled the corpses and read their memories.
The black slime flowed over, taking some things away, leaving the street clean in an instant.
"How can I pretend nothing happened?!" Dr. Jin held the head, unsure whether to drop it or keep it; nightmares aren't usually this real, are they?
Su Ming nodded, as if understanding something, and took away the black human skin mask and head, hiding them behind him, in fact, handing them over to Strangulation for processing.
"Now it's better, but remember my words: don't chat with strangers on balconies or roads; this habit will lead to your death. Don't judge a person by skin color; many are black-skinned and white-hearted; they oppose slavery only because they are not the masters but the slaves."
Dr. Jin was silent; he knew how the current situation was, and his equality movement would inevitably bring others' hate.
But at least someone supports and helps him, allowing him to keep going.
"Why are you helping me? Even at the cost of committing murder?"
Su Ming was not specifically there to help him; he just couldn't let Black-White tensions explode at this moment. He slowly floated up, flying higher and higher, as the corpses and bloodstains on the ground vanished, even the accumulated snow seemed to melt away.
"Don't ask me the answer; ask yourself what your dream is? Go realize it."
After saying that, he accelerated, disappearing into the night; the Strangulation had already retrieved crucial intelligence, it found Faust!
The movement of Deathstroke's slow flight, the Golden Light's shining weapon, the black shadow spreading like wings, and the ability to come and go without a trace, all left Dr. Jin with his mouth agape.
Is this an Angel?
The legends say angels are White, but God exhibited another possibility before him!
It turns out people of black and yellow mixed descent can also be Angels; Blacks and Asians have the same right to ascend to Heaven. It must be so! This is the divine revelation God gave him regarding equality!
Dr. Jin returned home, his heart surging, closed the door, and did not go to the bedroom to see his sleeping wife, but went to the study on the third floor, looking out at the night sky where Deathstroke disappeared, murmuring to himself:
"Dream... I have a dream..."
............
Little did he know, the one he took for an Angel was now using devilish means to manipulate a group of people.
When Su Ming found Faust, this refined Hydra Leader was waiting for news at a farm not far away in the suburbs. Perhaps he felt that after deploying business in Washington D.C. and SSR, it was entirely okay to fly here and carry out tasks.
An ordinary person, even if representing many Black leaderships, is still just an ordinary person.
The mushrooms brought from Africa were originally one of Voodoo materials, carefully cultivated over dozens of generations to enhance their ability to hypnotize humans, and make people act like living corpses obeying orders.
So he waited at the farm, waiting for his men to bring Dr. Jin.
As Su Ming approached, he discovered this was a sizable farm, probably for growing corn, many withered corn stalks still standing in the snow like dense curtains.
While Faust's men had set up many lighting fixtures across the farm, powered by generators, lighting up every part of the farm as a defensive measure.
The central two-story small building in the farm was Faust's temporary command post, surrounded by a few tents newly set up, looking a bit abrupt in the snowy field. The barn in the distance was locked; unknown what it stored inside, people patrolled around there, with some lookouts hidden.
Hiding in the Darkness, Su Ming stroked his chin.
Farm, night, many generators, this scenario felt familiar, it seemed Faust indeed was considerate, preparing a nice game for Deathstroke.
It's just that it's not yet dawn, not perfect, but let's just start a round anyway.