When the group arrived at the restaurant, there weren't any heroes there, just the Minotaur chef waiting quietly.
"What the heck, there's no one, right?" Captain Boomerang sprawled on a nearby bench, putting his feet up on the table, relaxing with the air of a big shot.
Ron wouldn't admit that he used his psychic ability to notify others that the Suicide Squad was coming, resulting in the heroes not wanting to be around them and leaving early.
Death Shooter's visor had a thermal analysis device, so he knew there were quite a few people here before; residual heat remained on many tables and chairs.
Though there was no need to expose this fact—they weren't very popular—he took off his helmet and quietly sat aside with Flame Demon, the silent man.
Frost Killer and Samurai Sword sat at the bar, chatting here and there, while Harley kept her eyes wide open, constantly pointing to food on the menu.
"Burger, I want two. Are they like the ones from Wisconsin, the triple-decker type? And this, hot dogs, add a lot of mustard and ketchup, make it as red as if you scooped it from someone's chest, hmm, let me see what else I want...."
Ron looked at Su Ming, who casually took a can of soda from a vending machine and sat at the bar drinking.
For some reason, Deathstroke seemed to fit in better with these people.
"Sorry, I need to leave for a bit; you can put all of your bills on my account." Ron floated away, gradually disappearing into the air.
Su Ming shrugged; Ron was afraid of fire, and the kitchen was not friendly to him. He always cooked at home using a microwave.
"Put our bill on Batman; Mars Hunter doesn't have much money." Su Ming instructed the Minotaur chef, though the chef seemed to answer in ancient Greek, a language Su Ming finally didn't understand.
Not long after, before they finished ordering, Wonder Woman walked into the restaurant, drenched in sweat, no one knowing what she had been doing.
"Dai Dai!"
Harley jumped from the bar stool, happily hugging Diana; she had a good relationship with Wonder Woman because one was a sadist and the other a masochist. Harley enjoyed being tied up with the Lasso of Truth, letting Diana ask her questions.
She called this only truth, no dare.
The restaurant's lighting was very warm, a kind of yellow-white hue; if it weren't for the darkness in the distant hallway, it might have felt like a family gathering.
"Harley..." Diana hugged Harley, lifted her up, and then gave Su Ming a complex look.
Su Ming knew she was asking why he was mixed up with the Celestial Eye Association. Of course, there was no need to answer that; it was certainly for Batman's money.
Harley touched Diana's arm, which was so wet it soaked her hand: "What were you up to? Why are you sweating so much?"
"I'm renovating my room; I want it to look like the Amazon Temple, so I was moving marble columns just now."
Diana answered Harley, while Su Ming just watched them; Harley was visibly smaller than Diana.
"Can I go see it?" Harley was distracted; she wanted to play at Diana's place.
She then looked at Deathstroke, and Su Ming just nodded: "As long as you don't go beyond the Hall of Justice's boundaries, you won't have to worry about your head being blown off."
Diana took Harley away; maybe when Harley returns, she will gain a lot of intelligence from Diana.
Next comes the waiting; it's unknown when the mysterious forces will launch their plan, though it should be tonight.
This restaurant didn't serve alcoholic drinks, so everyone just had a normal meal and rested here.
In the middle of the night, Sea King appeared once, looking quite wistful at Su Ming for a while before taking his food and leaving.
He also was constructing his room underground, having an Atlantis-styled castle with an underground lake as a swimming pool.
However, until the sun rose again, nothing unexpected happened during the night. Not only Su Ming but even Death Shooter and Boomerang didn't detect anything; people skilled in long-range attacks usually have good eyesight.
Su Ming could be 100% sure his judgment was right, so the only explanation was that they launched their plan without anyone noticing, but how could that be?
Moreover, currently, it seems like nothing's out of place.
Looking out the windows here, one can see a fully realistic external environment; these windows are actually huge screens letting the heroes feel like they're above ground while underground.
At this moment, the fountain in the square was turned on, and quite a few people had come to visit the Hall of Justice with their families.
They wore smiles on their faces, a rare sight in the DC universe.
The Justice League indeed brought them hope and belief.
A black shadow suddenly appeared before Su Ming, sitting across the table from him—it was Batman, his facial muscles tight, mouth turned down.
"Deathstroke."
"Hmm?"
"You disguised as me and fooled Gordon and Lucius."
"Haha, because...I'm Deathstroke."
Wanting to learn the secret of the Symbiote? Well, don't expect to find out soon; it's about dangling this unimportant question before Batman.
Bruce took a suitcase from beside his seat and opened it on the table before Su Ming.
Inside were stacks of green bills.
"I think this covers last time's fee; now answer my question."
"Five million? It's a bit low, but as the first deal with you guys, let's consider it a discount; next time, it will be much more expensive." Su Ming also noticed the envious gaze from Death Shooter and Boomerang; they never thought they'd earn money from Batman: "As for your question...aren't you a detective? Then go detective."
Batman squinted, pondering, but Su Ming's mental speed was no slower than his.
"The Riddler's answer is seven." Batman recited in a deep voice, even though it was bright outside; he leaned back into the chair, merging with darkness.
"So you interrogated that poor guy once again?" Su Ming chuckled, shaking his head; the number seven could be the mastermind's direction or the Riddler's own play—hard to determine now.
"You left my symbol on him, and that won't have a positive impact."
"Time, Batman, time." Su Ming raised a finger, wagging it: "Until the Gotham citizens forget the shape of the Riddler's butt, he won't appear again. About perception memory, short-term memory, long-term memory—I don't want to go over the principles again—but I predict the Riddler won't dare show his face for at least a month. If Earth lasts another year, that's one-twelfth; if it lasts half a year, that's one-sixth...."
"....." Batman began mimicking the Commander-in-Chief's posture, propping his head on the table, applying pressure through his shoulders and gaze.
"What the Justice League lacks now is time, am I right?" Su Ming calmly placed the empty can on the table, leaning his head close, fearlessly meeting Batman's eyes.