The Death Knell

"Slade, what do you want from me?"

The projection communication was connected, and Bald Luther was dissecting an alien corpse. His hands were holding a bunch of liver-like organs and placing them on a tray. The creature's blood was like green jelly.

"I want to ask you about 'Clayface Plasma'. You should have time now, right?"

The sound of the death knell echoed in the bell tower. He squinted at the creature on the autopsy table and found that it seemed to be still alive, but was anesthetized.

So he suspected that Luther was cooking, maybe making an alien sashimi?

"Clayface plasma, yes, one of my discoveries, a few years ago, I got a piece of Clayface's fallen body part, I separated a liquid from it, combined with some radioactive mutagens, prepared something like That’s what the plasma thing is called.”

The bald man waved his hands and took the gauze handed to him by the skeleton drone to wipe his hands. He paused his work and looked in the direction of the death knell:

"Because it is not a serum, it cannot be injected and can only be used orally. According to experimental results, normal human males with ordinary physical fitness can temporarily have the ability to transform after taking a trace amount of clay face plasma. The duration varies from person to person. What, you Isn’t there a symbiote that can provide this kind of ability? Why are you asking about such a trivial gadget? It does have side effects.”

"Now I suspect that someone is going to use your gadgets for something. What kind of villain year did you have, and you have a lot of tails to clean up."

Su Ming took out a bottle of wine and took a sip. He handed the rest to Bobo and continued:

"But it's just suspicion at the moment. The suspect died in the police station. There are some coincidences in the whole thing. Let me tell you about it, starting with Zeus who returned to the public eye this time..."

Deathstroke roughly talked about what happened before and his concerns about the chameleon incident, because he even suspected that a certain race planned to cannibalize humans in this way, gradually replacing humans' position in the story.

The dead body in the gvpd headquarters hall looks like a clay face, but is the whole thing closely related to the reformed monster?

Could it be that someone behind the scenes deliberately threw such a thing to mislead Batman's sight and thinking, but Deathstroke happened to hit it?

It would be funny if we were looking for clues about Clayface and it turned out that the people behind the scenes were a group of magic shapeshifters. The investigation was going in the wrong direction, and I'm afraid people would laugh to death in the future.

There are so few clues about Zeus and Gotham's body, and so many possibilities...

So Su Ming needs Luther to provide some bald-headed wisdom, but it is only for reference and will not turn the three Zhuge Liangs into cobblers.

"Haha, Slade, you are really not like any Deathstroke I have known before. Look at you, you are actually worried about the survival of mankind?"

The bald man smacked his lips a few times, with a narrow smile on his face:

"Actually, there is no need for you to participate in this kind of thing. Let the Justice League take care of it. Anyway, even if humanity dies and only you and me are left, there is still a way to develop new humanity again. We are humanity's hope! Don't expect to be ignorant. Most of them, they are all a burden..."

"Stop, you're not afraid of trouble, but I'm afraid. If you don't want to use the existing human beings, do you want to create another one yourself? You still don't understand the relationship between human beings and dreams."

Su Ming was not used to this point of view and directly rejected it. He even threw a riddle to Luther but did not continue to explain, but said:

"You just need to tell me, did the man who died in the Gotham Police Department use Clayface plasma? Stop talking about your theory of destruction and reconstruction. I don't like to hear it."

"Tsk, I actually don't want to destroy human beings for a long time. It was a trial and error before...Okay, you used strangulation to take samples from the corpses, right? Teleport them over and let me take a look for you."

As soon as Deathstroke became tough, Luther surrendered on the spot. He stopped making dirty remarks and began to cooperate with the work.

The little bean sprout spit out a drop of yellow liquid, and the adjutant sent it over. Luther caught it with a test tube, then called Brainiac and started working.

Bobo hugged the bottle and drank strong liquor to warm up his body. On a rainy night in Gotham, even in summer, the coldness penetrated his internal organs like maggots in the tarsal bones.

The clock tower had been abandoned for a long time and had been in decline ever since the invention of watches.

Batman later bought this place and gave it as a gift to Barbara, who had just left the wheelchair at the time. It was like an adult building a tree house in the backyard for his children to use as a secret base.

Well, there may have been times when the children could not be found, but with the secret base, if parents look for their children, they can come to the tree house to arrest them without even thinking...

But on the other hand, since it is said to be a secret base, the appearance cannot be too conspicuous, so it has not been repaired very much. Instead, a secret space has been separated on the top of the bell tower to store high-tech equipment. It is the real core area of ​​the clock tower.

Now, Su Ming and Bobo were sitting directly under the secret base in a pile of groceries filled with historical items.

While waiting for the results of Luther's investigation, Bobo was a little bored. He walked around and found a handwritten collection of sonnets from an unknown pile of old things, and read it to the death knell in a funny monkey voice.

"...The queen in the palace likes roses, but His Majesty the King gave her a tortoise. The delicate stamens revealed the child's sin. But when I saw it when I was passing by, I could only say, bah!"

After reading for a short period, the orangutan laughed. He trotted over and poked Deathstroke's leg with his elbow, and said with a smile:

"Did you hear it, Slade? This is actually a poem about that shameful thing. Oh my god, if Petrarch saw it, he would probably have a soul duel with this poet in the kingdom of the dead. That’s it, quack!”

Francesco Petrarch was an Italian poet and the founder of humanistic concepts during the Renaissance. It was he who promoted the sonnet and attracted future figures such as Shakespeare to prefer this beautiful format.

However, Deathstroke just smiled contemptuously, as if he didn't like this kind of childish poetry at all. He lit a cigarette again and smoked, watching Luther in the projection conducting investigations and experiments, and said lightly:

"Do you think this poem is the lower limit of art? You still have little knowledge. In my hometown, a man once peed on the ground and made a small hole, so he wrote a poem to commemorate himself. There is a group of people who praise her and call it literature and art."

Hearing what the man said, the orangutan was stunned on the spot. He had a long face, and it took him a long time to say one sentence:

"...That's really a disease. What kind of magical world is your hometown?"

"Haha, so, I think this preschool diary you picked up? The poems in it are quite good. You should frame it in a glass frame and hang it in the Oblivion Bar to get some art for your shop. Atmosphere.”

Su Ming just laughed and gave Bobo some advice.

In fact, the bar can be decorated with some vulgar things, like colorful jokes on the wine table, which will make everyone smile knowingly and create a drinking atmosphere.

But the orangutan's head shook like a rattle, and he threw the notebook into a dark corner with his backhand, slapping his paws repeatedly, as if blaming himself for his weak hands:

"It's better to avoid it. I'm afraid that if I really do this, I won't be able to see Jim even if I die one day."

Although he is an orangutan, his artistic requirements seem to be quite high.

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