Multiverse: Deathstroke-Chapter 509: Ancient One’s Recommendation

"Well done, the design is impeccable, and it leaves room for future expansion," Su Ming said, glancing at the blueprints. It was a bit of an afterthought, though, since the actual building was already complete, just waiting for the school to open.

The only question was whether America had enough orphans to fill it. They might need to look to Europe for more.

"Yes, boss, I knew you’d like it," Garth replied with a nod. Having worked with Su Ming for years, he knew his tastes inside and out, even down to the architectural style.

Su Ming didn’t ask for much in buildings: sturdy, practical, understated but with depth. A humble exterior like a farmer’s shack was fine, as long as it felt like home inside. But with Wilson Enterprises flush with cash and loans backing the school, they could afford something grander. The campus was practically a collection of manor-like buildings. 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

"Good work, old friend. Let’s check it out tomorrow morning," Su Ming said.

"Of course, boss," Garth grinned. "We were looking for you earlier because the school still needs a name. It’s a private university, so it doesn’t have to be tied to a location."

Here came the part Su Ming dreaded most—naming things. War Academy? Hardly. It fit the WWII era, but this wasn’t a military school.

"Hmm," Su Ming mused, swirling his glass under the light. "Since it’s for orphans, let’s call it Legacy Academy. A bit of a mouthful, maybe, but I trust these kids won’t let the company down."

Garth nodded, understanding the name wasn’t about loyalty to America but to Wilson Enterprises—and to Su Ming himself. "Got it, boss. They’ll answer to you alone."

"Let’s hope so," Su Ming said. "But every group has its traitors. To keep their heads straight, I’ll have Joss train some silver-tongued political instructors."

"I’ll let him know," Garth said. "Everything else is running smoothly, so I won’t keep you. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning."

The next day, Su Ming was eating breakfast when Garth arrived. Despite his high rank in the company—second only to Su Ming—Garth still insisted on personally driving him around.

The company headquarters wasn’t far from the school, but Long Island’s roads were rough in this era. It was practically the countryside. Only after the war, with America’s growth and an influx of immigrants, would it become a haven for the wealthy.

"The roads are a mess," Su Ming said, sipping from his glass as the car jostled. "Fix them. Build a straight shot to headquarters with the best asphalt. But don’t waste money—two lanes are enough."

"Yes, boss," Garth replied.

After a bumpy ride, Su Ming finally saw the school. It was breathtaking: surrounded by sea on three sides, with only the entrance facing land. The academic buildings seemed to rise from cliffs, backed by a dense forest teeming with wildlife. The sprawling campus, with its tiered architecture, felt like a small city, as Garth had described. High walls gave it the air of an ancient fortress.

Just past the entrance stood a statue of Su Ming, carved in a pose reminiscent of the Lincoln Memorial: seated on a sofa, hands on the armrests, dressed in a sharp suit, gazing calmly into the distance. Flowerbeds surrounded it, though snow dusted the planters in the cold weather.

"It’s weird," Su Ming chuckled to Garth. "Feels like I’m some kind of legend."

"You are a legend, boss," Garth said as they walked deeper into the campus. "We’ve made plenty of money, sure, but we’ve also supported countless people. A free school for orphans? The kids should see your statue and photos every day to know who’s giving them this chance."

Su Ming considered it. Garth had a point. He wasn’t exactly hard on the eyes, and fostering loyalty meant making sure the kids knew his face. But when he entered the buildings and saw his portrait in every room, it was too much.

"One portrait per building at the entrance is enough," he said. "Every room? The cafeteria? The bathrooms? That’s overkill. It’s creepy."

"My apologies, boss," Garth said. "The decorators got carried away. I must’ve put too much pressure on them."

"Everyone makes mistakes," Su Ming waved it off. "The furniture and teaching facilities look great. Now, let’s check the dorms. No sardine-can setups. Boys and girls separate, two to a room, and the campus and entrances guarded by our most trusted people."

Garth led the way. "Understood. This way. If we have time after the dorms, we can check the marsh out back. It’s fenced off, but you can sometimes spot alligators."

"Alligators underwater? Very educational," Su Ming quipped.

He was thoroughly impressed with the facilities and environment. The problem? No students and, more critically, no teachers. While they’d pick younger orphans, some desperate teens would be more loyal to their "savior." But finding teachers was another issue. None of Su Ming’s current crew could teach beyond elementary level, and they’d need to pull from workers or managers.

Then there was the principal. Joss was a smooth talker and trustworthy, but he was swamped as the company’s PR and liaison director. Su Ming’s old bootlegging buddies lacked the education or were already stretched thin in factories.

No good candidates.

In the car on the way back, Su Ming mulled it over. A principal like Professor X came to mind—the most famous educator in the game. Su Ming could probably recruit him, but he didn’t want a school full of do-gooders. He needed elite agents, loyal to the core. Professor X was out.

Someone like Nick Fury—cunning and pragmatic—would be ideal, but he was a patriot through and through, set on leading SSR agents.

"Don’t head back to the office yet," Su Ming told Garth. "Take me to the old distillery."

Garth knew what that meant. The distillery, now a company museum, was a cover for the New York Sanctum above it. He didn’t know what Su Ming was planning, but he followed orders.

In the biting wind, Su Ming stepped out, adjusting his coat as he eyed the invisible sanctum. "Head back, Garth. This might take a while."

With that, he climbed the pristine steps, vanishing from view.

"So, you’re here to convince Kamar-Taj to relocate?" The Ancient One asked, lazily skimming tea leaves with the lid of her cup.

"Yeah," Su Ming said, holding his own cup, watching the tea leaves swirl. "The school’s perfect. Kamar-Taj’s environment is harsh. My campus has a marsh—great for your initiates to train in. Plus, I’ve got alligators."

When did The Ancient One start drinking tea from a lidded bowl?

"If you take the Sorcerer Supreme mantle now, everyone would follow your orders," she said, not so subtly.

"Uh, the world’s still at war. I want to do more for society first," Su Ming deflected.

"Fine," The Ancient One sighed, sipping her tea with a contented hum, watching snowflakes drift past the window as incense smoke curled in the room. "The alligators are nice, but I’ll pass. Kamar-Taj is the core of the protective array."

Su Ming sighed internally. The Ancient One would’ve been a great principal—educated, powerful, and with the Time Stone to manage everything. But she’d never take a mundane job like that. He’d hoped her vast connections, like introducing him to Monarch, might yield a recommendation. She knew plenty of warriors from the East, even Kunlun’s fighters were her juniors.

Seeing his frustration, The Ancient One smiled. "I do have someone in mind for your principal. Well-read, kind-hearted, exceptional in magic and martial arts—a perfect fit."

Su Ming perked up. She’d clearly been waiting for the right moment to place someone at his side, likely to nudge him closer to her role. "Who? Have I met them?"

She raised a hand, drawing a glowing portal. "Come through. Meet the one you’ll serve."

When the figure stepped out, Su Ming rubbed his face. "You forgot to mention he’s Kamar-Taj’s best cook."

The Ancient One smiled, closing the portal with a gesture. "See? I knew you’d recognize Slade."

The lean man bowed with clasped fists, silent. He didn’t look like a mage—more like a herder from the highlands.

"I know you, Master Hamir," Su Ming said, half-laughing, half-exasperated. "The Ancient One’s guardian."

Why did it feel like The Ancient One had played him? The Sorcerer Supreme’s seat was looking closer than ever.