Multiverse: Deathstroke-Chapter 518: Everyone Leaves

With Natasha leading the way, things went much smoother. More and more girls stepped out to check the situation, immediately scrambling for the weapons on the guards’ bodies.

But Dottie and Anya, being older and with Dottie’s intimidating presence, held tight to their submachine guns.

"There are whistles on the guards. We were trained not to leave our rooms even if our cuffs were unlocked—only when the whistle blows," Natasha said, holding up a silver whistle she’d taken from a corpse.

"I figured there’d be something like that, but I’m not blowing it. Too dirty," Su Ming said calmly, pushing the whistle back as he looked at the crowded corridor. "If you want it, keep it as a memento."

Natasha might’ve considered keeping it, but after Su Ming’s comment, the whistle suddenly felt slimy and gross.

She tossed it away. The silver whistle rolled far, drawing the gazes of several girls.

It was a symbol of past authority, now overthrown. They didn’t know how to describe their feelings.

"That’s more like it. Humans communicate with language. Using shrill signals to command? That’s anti-human," Su Ming nodded, pulling off his helmet and lighting a cigarette.

The girls’ chatter filled the air, but when Su Ming removed his helmet, they fell silent.

If the black-and-yellow armor radiated fear and intimidation, his human face gave them more to read.

"What’s anti-human mean?" Natasha asked, unafraid. Some of her trust in Logan had transferred to Su Ming.

"Heh, doing things that make humans hate you," Su Ming said, inventing an explanation.

The girl who’d pretended to be Natasha, named Eva, was Natasha’s roommate and friend. She sidled up. "Everyone’s out, but what do we do next?"

Following orders was second nature to them. With no one telling them what to do, they were lost.

Su Ming smirked, blowing a smoke ring, ignoring Dottie and Anya subtly aiming at him from a distance.

"What do you want to do?"

"Usually, we wake up, wash, put on makeup, line up for food, then go to language class..." Eva tilted her head, reciting like a script.

"Tch, I’m asking you. What do you want? Forget those old rules. The moment I showed up, you were all free."

"Um... can I skip makeup and go straight to eating after washing?" Eva asked timidly.

"Of course. The kitchen staff’s dead, but you girls know how to cook, right?" Su Ming stepped aside from the staircase, signaling they could do whatever they wanted.

He was 100% sure the building was clear of hostiles. Stranglehold would’ve dragged out and crushed even a cockroach if it meant harm to its host.

The only reason it hadn’t touched Dottie, Anya, or the girls who’d attacked him earlier was because Su Ming ordered it not to.

Eva turned, her timid act vanishing. She shot Natasha a look—they could head upstairs to scout.

But Natasha stayed put. She’d learned in the Red Room that knowing too much or acting too clever got you killed fast.

Don’t speak what you know. Don’t show it.

She wanted out, but she couldn’t go back to Ivan.

That would only bring him disaster. Better for Leviathan to think she was dead so Ivan might live in peace.

Following this black-and-yellow armored stranger to see what he’d do with her was her only option.

The girls here were all sharp. The less clever ones were long dead.

When Su Ming stepped aside, none of them left. They just watched him, waiting for orders.

Su Ming frowned. He didn’t want robots blindly following commands. Puppets like that? He could get a dozen from Batman in the DC universe, no need to visit Cybertron.

Those weren’t useful people—they were assembly-line drones.

"I’ll be waiting at the top exit. The underground is completely safe. You’re free to move around," Su Ming said, calculating the time. "But I’m only waiting three days. After that, a supply team will arrive, and we’ll all be exposed. You’re smart girls—think it over."

With that, he hefted the two bags by the stairs and left.

"Nat, what do we do?" Eva asked, having pocketed a pistol from a corpse.

"Dottie, what do we do?" Anya asked at the same time, both armed with submachine guns and grenades—the most heavily equipped.

"We follow," they said in unison.

Despite the crowd, Natasha and Dottie’s answers aligned. Following was the only way to see more and decide what came next.

But when they reached the stairs, the man was gone. The instructors’ dorms upstairs were dead silent.

Guards lay dead in the corridors. Instructors were dead in their beds, faces calm, as if they hadn’t noticed a thing.

Natasha thought they were just sleeping, but Dottie checked a body. Their cervical spines were shattered, hearts long stopped, bodies cold.

The four girls grimaced.

They could snap a neck with their thighs, sure, but pulverize it? What kind of strength was that?

"I think we’re really free," Natasha said, relaxing first. She kicked the corpse of an instructor who’d beaten her. No reaction.

"What’s freedom?" Eva asked, confused. "That guy kept saying freedom, liberation, but I don’t get it."

Natasha was rummaging through an instructor’s closet, grabbing clothes for herself and Eva. If they were leaving, they’d need warmth—layering up couldn’t hurt.

She knew roughly what freedom meant but couldn’t explain the feeling.

After a moment, she said, "It means we can stay together forever and always have enough to eat."

"That’s awesome," Eva said, eagerly pulling on the clothes Natasha handed her.

Across the hall, Dottie and Anya were doing the same, looting instructors’ lockers and closets for supplies.

Hearing Natasha and Eva’s conversation, they felt a spark of hope.

This way, neither had to die. They could live together.

"Sounds nice," Anya said, slipping on stockings. At sixteen or seventeen, they could fit adult clothes, but the instructors were so bulky the stockings hung like buckets.

Anya tore open a pillow, stuffing the feathers into the stockings for insulation, then looked for pants to layer on.

Dottie was ripping bedsheets to wrap her legs like bandages. She nodded. "Hope it’s real. But can we really escape?"

Almost all the girls were doing the same, bundling up. When they reached the cafeteria, there was no food—just potatoes to boil. Quick and filling.

They swept through the upper levels, confirming the bad guys were dead. Finding plenty of clothes, they upgraded their gear, taking cans and bread.

The head instructor lay naked, dead in the chief scientist’s room. The girls felt no joy—only a glimpse of their own possible futures.

Would they end up like that? Naked, dead in someone else’s room?

Finally, they reached the surface shack. The black-and-yellow armored man was warming by an iron stove, roasting red strips on a stick.

The smell was tantalizing, the red fat dripping, making the flames dance.

Many girls swallowed hard. They’d never smelled anything like it.

"Took you 37 minutes. No need to rush—I said there’s no enemies left," Su Ming said, turning the spicy strips. He wasn’t planning to eat them; he just wanted to show the girls what he had. Follow him, and they’d eat well, live well.

Flashing dollars wouldn’t mean much—they wouldn’t get it. Food was the most direct lure.

But if anyone wanted to go home, he wouldn’t stop them. That was a principle.

"At least Eva and I are going with you. I don’t want to stay here a second longer," Natasha said, edging closer to the stove. She was still cold; the extra layers only helped so much.

"You’ve got another option—going home. This bag’s full of rubles, paper you can trade with. The numbers show their value," Su Ming said, passing the spicy strip to Natasha to try, then dragging over the bag from the corner.

"If any of you remember your families or want to go home, I’ll get you to a safe train station. Figure out how many stops you need, buy a ticket. These papers can get you food and water to survive."

The girls didn’t budge. Some might remember home, but they knew returning would doom their families.

The shack and the corridor to the underground stayed silent.

"Alright, looks like no one’s going home. I’ll take you to my school. You’ll live comfortably, learn useful things," Su Ming said, tossing the bag aside and spreading his hands.

"Learn to kill? That’s all we know," Dottie said. Anya tugged her arm—such a bold question was risky. They didn’t know this guy.

Su Ming shook his head, chuckling as he watched Natasha and Eva split the spicy strip, slurping and gasping.

"In my view, anyone alive can kill. But my place isn’t the Red Room. Until you figure out why you’d kill, you won’t touch a single killing technique. If any of you are interested in cooking, though, sign up now..."