Multiverse: Deathstroke-Chapter 520: Enrollment

After Su Ming left for a while and Gin had answered a slew of questions, Lorraine finally arrived at the meeting room.

No helping it—she’d been fast asleep. Being in the U.S., far from the front lines, with a new, ridiculously comfortable bed, she was practically sealed in her blankets.

Just a few days off the front, she felt herself slacking, lounging around daily.

Life here was too good, like living in a fairy tale—beautiful surroundings, total freedom.

This was no teaching gig.

At first, she wore her military uniform for a few days, but the academy had only the ever-reading principal and Wilson Enterprises employees.

No one cared about uniforms or regulations.

She quickly switched to casual clothes—a stylish Wilson Enterprises coat. This was civilian life.

Lorraine adapted fast, but idling was boring. She’d been waiting for her students.

A midnight call told her they were arriving. She jumped up, threw on some makeup, and rushed out.

But the teacher’s dorm was too far from the auditorium. The academy was massive. Even running at agent speed in heels, she arrived late to the welcome.

No sign of Mr. Wilson, but that made sense. Why would a big-shot boss handle things in the middle of the night?

She fixed her hair, flashed a smile, and walked in. But seeing the "students," her heart skipped.

"What’s with their eyes? Why do I feel like they’re sizing me up for a kill?"

Her thoughts didn’t slow her down. She was ex-SSR, after all.

She stepped onto the stage, adjusting her skirt and blouse.

"Girls, this is your teacher, Lorraine. She’ll teach you and handle your daily needs," Gin said.

"She doesn’t look like she’s killed anyone," a girl piped up.

"Ha?" Lorraine grabbed Gin, pulling him from the mic to whisper, "What’s going on? Where’d you recruit these kids?"

"Long story. Let’s just say they were rescued from a warlord, meant to be trained as gladiators," Gin said, dodging the truth. Mentioning Leviathan would tip off an ex-SSR agent.

Slaves, then?

Lorraine bought it. In parts of the Middle East and Africa, slavery still thrived. Some cruel types loved gladiator games, chasing Roman Empire vibes.

These girls were pitiful.

Their tattered clothes and instructors’ oversized gear made her heart ache.

If Peggy were here, she’d have spotted clues—the instructors’ clothes, though not uniforms, bore Zodiac pins.

But Lorraine missed that, fully trusting Gin. With his kindly face, he seemed like a good guy.

"Kids, I haven’t killed, though I know how. You don’t need to either. Here, you’ll have cozy rooms, nice clothes, tasty food—no killing required," Lorraine said, leaning into the mic, looking at them like lost lambs.

"Do we still have to sleep with men?" another girl asked, raising her hand.

"Presence above! What kind of place did you come from? What did they teach you?" Lorraine gasped, covering her mouth. The girl was so young—how could she ask that?

"Ahem, Lorraine, it’s late. Let’s save it for later. Can you assign the kids dorms?" Gin coughed, cutting off the topic.

"Oh, right, Mr. Gin. Where do they stay?"

Lorraine scratched her brow. The topic was better discussed girl-to-girl. With men around, it felt off in this conservative era.

"Up to you. There are sixty empty dorm buildings. Mr. Wilson gave you full authority to use any facility and manage their lives," Gin said, handing her a campus map. Hamir nodded in agreement.

"Hm."

Lorraine studied the map. The place looked even bigger on paper.

"I want this one, east by the sea. Lots of sunlight, less oppressive. They need to forget their past," she said.

"Good choice. Mr. Wilson calls it Oceanview Villa. He loves it there," Gin said, smiling. "I thought you’d pick the north by the swamp or south by the woods—quieter. But like I said, you’ve got full authority. I won’t meddle."

"Thanks. Before I take the kids to bed, does the principal have anything to say?"

Hamir stiffly approached the mic, unused to it. His sleeve grazed it, causing a screeching feedback.

Gin steadied him, stopping the noise.

Hamir said one thing: "No killing."

Lorraine’s mouth twitched. What kind of school was this? Weird students, weird principal—why did working here feel more intense than the SSR?

Natasha lay on a soft new bed, under fresh, fragrant blankets.

She still roomed with Eva. This place was leagues better—no cuffs on the headboard, plus a big window overlooking the sea.

The moon’s reflection shimmered on the waves. Snow clung to the cliffside, but the room stayed warm.

Each dorm had a bathroom with colorful bottles and jars. Natasha hadn’t figured them out yet.

But Eva had used something labeled "shampoo" to wash them both, now wrapped in a towel, staring at the sea through the window.

"Nat, asleep?"

"Nope. We just woke up, and no cuffs? Feels weird," Natasha said, gazing at the ornate chandelier.

"I’m watching the sea, the moon. So cool," Eva said, tracing the moon’s reflection on the glass.

They’d never seen the moon at the Red Room, let alone the sea.

Natasha had, but living so easily in a warm place felt unreal.

"We don’t have class tomorrow. No idea what to do," Natasha said.

Eva flopped onto her bed, giggling and tickling her. Their wet red hair nearly tangled. "Who cares? We’re free, like you said. Good food, always together."

"Lorraine seems different from the head instructor. She’s got a gun, military background, but feels... normal," Natasha said, recalling earlier.

"She tried digging into our past, but everyone kept quiet," Eva said, playing with their hair. Trained to act like clueless kids, they’d stonewalled. Lorraine had pressed Dottie and the older girls instead.

"We stick to the story Gin gave. No mentioning the Red Room," Natasha said, hugging Eva, rubbing her cheek, feeling safer.

"You were too busy eating in the cafeteria. We used signals—nobody’s talking," Eva said, sighing. She shifted into a comfy position, like a giant plush toy in Natasha’s arms.

Distant waves lapped. They chatted aimlessly, topics jumping, and soon fell asleep.

Scenes like this played out in every dorm. They’d finally found peace, able to sleep with hands tucked under blankets.

Su Ming wasn’t in this world.

He’d returned to the Hasbro universe—not for Transformers, but to hunt for a storage bag.

Storage items had options. The easiest was hitting up a God of War universe, learning Kratos’s "fourth-dimensional chrysanthemum" trick.

Su Ming vividly recalled Kratos stashing any divine weapon, pulling it out at will, despite wearing just a loincloth.

But that likely tied to world rules, not universally applicable.

So, traditional storage bags or belts were the go-to.

He first considered World of Warcraft. Their bags were top-tier—weight didn’t matter, size didn’t matter, everything took one slot.

A 16-slot traveler’s backpack could hold full armor, weapons, and still have room for bread stacks.

But there was a catch. Grenades, flashbangs, shock bombs, incendiaries—different items. Different caliber bullets? Also different.

Great bags, but limited.

What about DND bags? Usually weight-based.

A Bag of Holding, say, 30 pounds—stuff anything in, as long as the total weight didn’t exceed. Infinite, in a way.

Su Ming decided to grab a few of each.

He brought gold from HQ and headed to the Forgotten Realms. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

Too many gods here. Breaching the world barrier was tough, even with the Nightfall sword sawing slowly.

He was nearly pegged as an outsider demon or godspawn, almost drawing Helm’s attention.

No clue what a mid-tier god’s power level was, but he wasn’t here to wreck worlds or fight gods. With the cloak’s help, he slipped away.

First stop: Waterdeep.