Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics-Chapter 4546 - 3628: Edge of Tomorrow (37)

"Hello? Hello?! Is anyone listening?!"

On the electronic screen that lit up again on Diamond Street, a woman's face suddenly appeared. She wore heavy makeup, her mouth like a gaping wound, a head of white hair tied into pigtails, constantly swaying in front of the camera.

"Alright, look at this crap you all made." The sound coming from the electronic screen was somewhat intermittent, and it was unclear whom she was complaining to.

"Aha!" She suddenly pressed up close to the camera, almost sticking her eye to the lens, rolling her eyeballs with a mumble, then suddenly jerked back and exclaimed, "Alright! It's ready, they can see me now!"

"Good afternoon, Gotham! Uh, I mean, this brand-new Gotham! Brand-new and boring as hell Gotham—forget about that. I'm here to tell you, Harley Quinn is in town! Hahahahahahaha!"

The woman tilted her head back, letting out a series of laughs, then suddenly wiped her lipstick, leaving a long streak on her cheek. She opened her mouth wide, moving her lips vigorously, as if suddenly enraged, staring coldly at the camera.

"Alright, I heard someone here has a little tiff with my dear Puddin'. His revenge comes swiftly, doesn't it? But now I can't find him, I can't find him!"

"And so—" Harley stepped back a few paces on the screen, revealing the scene behind her. Behind her was a giant chemical pool, and three people were tied back to back, suspended over the chemical pool.

"These people are his enemies. Is that right? I don't know," Harley said with a wave of her hand, "I just nabbed three unlucky guys from the street. But I did it in a very short time, without anyone noticing, and I even had time to buy a coffee. He'll be proud of me, right?"

"No!" Harley suddenly looked up, addressing the air, "Even if I don't do this, he will surely come to find me! These damn stupid pigs don't know how romantic and thoughtful he is. I'll kill them all! Right now!!!"

"And you," Harley turned back to the camera, "and you idiots, I'll blow you all to smithereens too! You motherless bastards, just you wait!"

With that, she angrily reached out and turned off the camera.

As the screen went dark, Amanda couldn't help but hold her forehead. At this moment, they were sitting in a place that looked like a screening room. Amanda pointed to several people sitting in the seats and said:

"Is this the result of your patrol work on Diamond Street?"

"We didn't hear anything on Diamond Street," Pamela said, "I'm sure she didn't storm into Diamond Street to kidnap these people, but used some method to trick them away."

"More and more strange people," Deathstroke couldn't help but sigh.

Batman's expression was very serious. Recently, all they received were bad news. First, a mysterious Professor chose to cooperate with Brainiac, now suddenly a Harley Quinn appeared.

Clearly, this universe's Harley Quinn isn't exactly Harley Quinn, so who is this crazy woman on the electronic screen in Diamond Street?

However, Batman, who had previously clashed with Harley Quinn, knew that this madwoman had some uncanny abilities. Even though it seemed like she didn't have powers, she could inexplicably appear in places where she shouldn't be.

If I can come to other universes through Battleworld, then it's not impossible for her to arrive here. But now the problem is, the Joker isn't dealt with yet, and now there's an efficient helper, making it even harder to handle.

"Let's rescue them first," Batman said. He knew, too, that there weren't good people on Diamond Street, but even so, he couldn't allow these madmen to judge them in private. Furthermore, Harley Quinn didn't seem to intend to sentence them, she mostly wanted to use them to attract the Joker's attention, so their fate would likely be miserable.

Amanda rested both arms on the table in front of her and said, "The budget we submitted to Congress has passed its preliminary review. Meanwhile, two mysterious employers also agreed to spend a fortune for us to protect Diamond Street's security. If this task is done well, each of you will receive a bonus."

"Then what are we waiting for? I think we can set off right now," a black-haired girl sitting on the edge spoke up. The two mice on her shoulder squeaked in cooperation.

Pamela turned to look at her, recalling what happened this morning when they went to the training field.

New Jersey State FBI training base. 7:00 PM.

The faucet turned on, toothpaste squeezed onto the toothbrush, into the mouth. Pamela yawned with her mouth full of foam, running her hand through her hair.

Bzzz—bzzz—

She went to the bedroom with the toothbrush in her mouth, picked up the vibrating phone and put it to her ear, listening to Amanda's voice:

"Meet at the central training ground at 8:00, better not be late."

"Don't worry, I'll head over after breakfast."

After brushing her teeth, she splashed her face with cold water twice. Pamela sloppily put on some makeup to maintain her villain persona, didn't wear that complicated dress, instead, she donned a hoodie and jeans before going out.

Arriving at the restaurant, Victor had already ordered. Pamela walked over and they sat face to face.

"These agents live too lavishly," Victor lightly tapped the plate edge with a knife and said, "The steak is way tastier than the school cafeteria's, the butter for the bread is a top brand, and the coffee beans are great."

"Wasn't my persona a vegetarian?"

"No, you're Poison Ivy, you should be a carnivore."

"Forget it, doesn't matter." Pamela grabbed the menu and randomly ordered a few dishes. While waiting for the food, she whispered, "Coming here was definitely the right choice; they use Lancome soap, and the bathtub is so comfortable that I nearly passed out soaking in it."

"The bedding is pretty nice too," Victor said, "The mattress is super comfy, I really want to ask them what brand it is so I can buy two for my place."

"Why buy it? Just have Amanda put the mattress on her budget sheet."

"Is that appropriate? Can we really list mattresses as combat supplies?"

"Why not? Deathstroke even listed the laundry detergent he uses at home. I also claimed 500 boxes of colored ink to use for my lab's printer. That stuff is crazy expensive, and if I don't seize this chance, do you think I want to buy it myself?"

"You guys are ruthless," Victor said, "500 boxes of colored ink could fill a whole room, even if used for printing combat maps."

"Please, this is our tax money. It's only right to spend it on ourselves," Pamela said, "If you don't submit a claim, give your reimbursement share to me. I overspent on my water bill for the backyard last month, and I might as well report it now."

As they were chatting, the restaurant door swung open again. This time, a few particularly distinctive people came in: leading them was an elderly man with white hair, followed by a young man covered in colorful spots, a man in a blue vest, and a woman with an ordinary appearance but a somewhat restrained expression.

The group went to sit at another table, seemingly engaged in a low-voiced conversation about something, but their topic was undoubtedly more serious than what Pamela and Victor were discussing; it seemed they were discussing combat plans.

A while later, El Diablo showed up. He saw Victor and recognized him as the one who unfroze him yesterday. He hesitated for a moment, then walked over.

"Hello, Dr. Fries."

"Hello. What's up? Are you feeling unwell?"

"No, not at all, I just wanted to say, you're amazing. Your freezing technology." The other person was clearly not a man of many words, speaking in a jumbled way, but Victor could tell it was a sincere compliment.

"Thank you," Victor smiled back at him.

This smile seemed to encourage him. He sat in place, clenching his fists on his knees, and said, "I really like this approach."

"What?"

"I mean being able to defeat them without harming them," El Diablo said, "It's a great combat method. If only all wars could use this kind of weapon."

Victor realized that this man, covered in tattoos and looking like a gang member, wasn't as violent as he appeared. He was somewhat quiet, seemingly a pacifist.

"Actually, I'm more interested in you," Victor said, "I heard your beliefs come from the Indian Ancestor God, can you tell me about him?"

Mentioning this, El Diablo naturally had a lot to say. They started chatting until two Batmans walked in.

In fact, nobody here was really fond of Batman, because they were the Suicide Squad, not the Justice League. The people working here had all sorts of motives, but justice wasn't one of them.

And a person as obviously aligned with justice as Batman didn't fit in with their atmosphere. His probing gaze was uncomfortable.

Fortunately, Batman had no intention of warming up cold shoulders. The two Batmans sat at their own table. Breakfast ended in a relatively peaceful atmosphere.

Afterwards, everyone gathered at the central training ground. The central training ground was outdoors, spacious like a stadium, but with rubber surfaces and various training equipment.

Amanda stood in the center of the training ground, her hair flying wildly in the wind. She clapped her hands and said, "This is the first gathering of Team 2. I need you to describe and demonstrate your abilities to familiarize others with them, and then we'll proceed with simulated combat training to prepare for possible upcoming crises. Starting from the left, Deathstroke, you're up first."

In light of the 50-year supply of laundry detergent, Deathstroke didn't refuse. He stepped forward and said, "I'm Deathstroke, you've probably heard my name or at least about me in the news..."

"Oh, yes," the Polka-Dot Man chimed in, "you took down the head of the Soviet Union, you're absolutely amazing!"

Amanda shot him a glance, and he sheepishly retreated.

"I'm just an ordinary mercenary," Deathstroke said, "If I have any strengths, it's that I can use many types of firearms, my shooting skills are decent, I'm skilled in close combat, and I can devise tactical plans. That's about it."

"Now isn't the time for modesty," Amanda said, "I borrowed some instructors from the Federal Bureau of Investigation just for you to showcase your skills on them. But try not to kill anyone, understood?"

As soon as she finished speaking, a few very strong agents walked out from the door beside them, wearing tight shirts with the FBI logo. Whether in their gait or their words, they exuded an intimidating aura.

Then, within five seconds, Deathstroke floored them all.