In the brightly lit communication room, there was a scene of disarray, with many chairs and tables overturned, while Cindy expressed her dissatisfaction with Su Ming's lack of progress.
Even through the mask, Su Ming could feel her disdainful gaze, as if mocking his inability to deal with a little girl.
He felt helpless. Was he supposed to harshly interrogate a disabled underage girl? Maybe the former Deathstroke would have done that, but he wouldn't.
He pulled up a chair and sat opposite Barbara. The single red eye on the mask stared at her.
"Now the phone and internet are up and running. You can give him a call. Don't worry, I won't kill him this time."
Barbara was skeptical: "You're merely her lackey. I need her to promise me in person. She's a mercenary; she should know to keep her word, right?"
"Pfft..."
Cindy couldn't help but laugh. Seeing Su Ming treated as her lackey made her very pleased. She couldn't help but think Barbara had good judgment; after all, between the two, the woman was stronger.
If she weren't disabled, Su Ming might have been forced to open up a debate about that: "Can't you tell I'm the one in charge here?"
Barbara gave the two a scrutinizing look. They wore identical equipment, had identical tones, and even the bloodstains on them looked the same; how could one tell who was in charge?
So she shook her head and honestly said, "I can't tell..."
Su Ming sighed deeply, stood up, and went to stand guard at the door, signaling Cindy to speak, needing some quiet.
Cindy, unashamedly, sat in the chair he'd vacated, proudly removing her helmet and lighting a cigar, as relaxed as if she were on her living room sofa:
"Alright, I promise you, not only will I not harm Director Gordon, but I'll also try to ensure his safety."
Having received Cindy's assurance, Barbara took out a small red phone from her pocket, dialed a number, but as the busy tone sounded from the other end, her face turned grim.
Relentlessly, she dialed several more times, but the response remained the same: The user you're trying to reach is unavailable.
Cindy had expected this; it seemed things were indeed as Su Ming had said. Since these Men in Black came to kidnap Barbara, they would certainly target Gordon too. From a societal value standpoint, Barbara was merely a high school girl, whereas Gordon was a significant figure in the city.
"How could this be... his phone must not be with him." Barbara continued pressing the redial button.
Cindy leaned back in the chair, leisurely smoking a cigar, interjecting: "Go ahead and try; but it's just a waste of time. With each passing second that Gordon remains kidnapped, he's in more danger."
Barbara's hand froze on the phone, momentarily at a loss, but soon she put the phone aside, placed the laptop on her lap back on the table, and began furiously typing away.
"What's she up to?" Cindy watched as Barbara seemed to fall into a frantic typing frenzy, wondering if this could really locate Gordon.
Su Ming stood by the door, cleaning his stick, having been a bit heavy-handed while knocking out those sniveling men, leaving some vomit on it.
"She's probably hacking into Gotham City's mobile communication company servers, and then using triangulation through signal base stations to pinpoint Gordon's location," Su Ming said.
"Oh?" Cindy touched her eyepatch, feeling a bit upset that Su Ming knew something she didn't: "Is technology popular over there?"
Su Ming wasn't clear which number Earth this Deathstroke belonged to. As for himself, he'd watched many serials while working as a security guard, where they did things like this. Even though he didn't know how to operate, he'd at least seen pigs run if not eaten their meat.
"There's nothing much to it; we all have our different specialties. I'm sure your knowledge of mythology is way stronger than mine."
Su Ming offered her a word of comfort, as working together with complementary skills was a good thing.
Sure enough, Cindy didn't dwell on it; even as a Super Soldier, there's no need to know everything.
But then she cheekily complimented: "Mm, your methods really aren't like another Deathstroke's. Your moral standards are higher than mine; truly a little angel."
Little Angel....
Such a sappy word; is it used for men in this world? That's too frightening. Su Ming really wanted to go home, back to a male-dominated society that he was accustomed to. It wasn't that he was a male chauvinist; it's just that he always felt a sense of chaotic inversion.
Even Barbara, who was frantically inputting code, glanced at them. So this was the kind of relationship between the two Deathstrokes?
It seemed she'd discovered some extraordinary detail.
But once something aligned with her specialty, she was extraordinarily focused, never pausing the rhythmic tapping of the keyboard in her hands.
A few minutes later, she pressed the enter key, and the attack command she just programmed smoothly hacked into the communication company under Vayne Corporation, the service provider for her dad's phone.
She flexed her shoulders, waiting for the program feedback results, her expression less tense, continuously rubbing her fingers in anticipation.
Cindy suddenly spoke again, holding a cigarette in one hand and pointing at the computer on the desk with the other, now understanding: "Welcome to the family of criminals; if I remember correctly, hacking into someone else's company system uninvited is at least an espionage crime."
Barbara's face stiffened, having Deathstroke call her a criminal gave her a sense of shame, as if being seen through.