Multiverse: Deathstroke

Chapter 206: Ch.205 Clues

Perhaps he was looking for a bullet fragment or a scratch on the bones—he wasn\'t sure what he would find, but the tools for taking life were relatively simple in this era.

Su Ming stood nearby, smoking, watching as the silver blade cut through flesh and fat. Over the years, he had only managed to control his bloodlust through limited killing and music, but soon he would be able to indulge. He found himself eagerly anticipating it.

Dr. Holloway, focused entirely on his work, didn\'t notice the strange expression on Su Ming\'s face.

Phantom Bullet had been shot five times in the chest. There were no signs of burning around the wounds, indicating that the shots were fired from a distance.

The bullets had hit a concentrated area, with all five shots landing in a spot no larger than the size of a fist. This showed the killer had impeccable aim.

One shot had pierced the heart, followed by four more that hit the aorta or pulmonary arteries, finally bringing down Phantom Bullet.

All of the bullets entered from the front and exited through the back, which gave the doctor some relief—it meant the hero wasn\'t killed by someone he trusted.

However, there was no explanation for Phantom Bullet\'s look of surprise or why he hadn\'t been able to return fire. There were no traces of gunpowder on his hands, meaning he hadn\'t fired a shot.

Fortunately, the doctor wasn\'t working alone. His time as a masked hero had been too short to even consider that masked individuals could collaborate with others.

Su Ming\'s appearance had opened a new door for him, showing that a small team of like-minded masked individuals could band together, complementing each other\'s strengths and weaknesses.

Of course, cooperation with a government cleaner like Su Ming was best kept to a minimum.

Now, all Dr. Holloway needed to do was gather his findings and share them with Su Ming, then see what conclusions he would draw.

After stitching up the body, Dr. Holloway moved quickly, using a spray nozzle to clean various parts of the corpse and collecting the rinse water for chemical analysis.

The entire process was swift.

Su Ming had given him half an hour, but it only took a little over ten minutes for Dr. Holloway to place the body back into the storage unit.

"Do you have results?"

Su Ming took the stack of papers that Dr. Holloway handed him. It was a professional quirk of the doctor—he could have just spoken the results, but instead, he produced a full report.

What did all these charts and numbers even mean? Who could understand this stuff?

Dr. Holloway shrugged, realizing he had acted out of habit, following the proper forensic procedures, only to remember that he was still wearing a mask.

"A professional hitman, shooting from the front. A modified firearm fired five shots in rapid succession. The bullets were likely 9mm. Clean and efficient—there\'s nothing inside the body that provides any clues." He paused, glancing again at the storage drawer where the body lay. "There are signs the body was moved—this isn\'t where he was killed. But I found clues in his hair and on the soles of his shoes."

Su Ming raised his chin, signaling for them to head back to the rooftop to make their escape. "Go on, what did you find?"

"His cape brushed against some rust. I analyzed it and found halogen elements and traces of dead algae cells," Dr. Holloway explained seriously as they hurried through the empty stairwell. "And on the soles of his shoes, I found traces of a compound called carbamylurea."

Su Ming stubbed out his cigarette, reaffixed his mask, and said, "If I\'m not mistaken, isn\'t that a type of fertilizer?"

Dr. Holloway nodded. Not many people would recognize the compound, but Su Ming was right. "Yes, CN2H4O, commonly known as urea."

"Interesting. Fertilizer has many uses, but nitrogen-based fertilizer is most famous for being used in explosives. Maybe he discovered something big, either by the sea or on a ship."

They reached the rooftop again, and Su Ming threw out the grappling hook, allowing them to swing between buildings once more.

"It doesn\'t necessarily have to be by the sea or on a ship. New York is a coastal city, and these algae cells are found in various bodies of water. I\'m not an expert on algae biology, so I can\'t give a more specific breakdown. And if there were heavy rain or strong winds, the algae could have been blown almost anywhere."

Dr. Holloway added another thought, suggesting that if they wanted to follow the trail, it might be easier to trace the batch of fertilizer, which would be more straightforward than tracking down algae.

Su Ming shook his head. He had hoped to find something more directly incriminating on the body, like a distinctive weapon or method that would point to the killer.

But algae and fertilizer? These were like needles in a haystack—useless given their current technological limitations.

"We\'re not following either of those leads. The first clue you mentioned is the most useful."

Su Ming had seen the name of the reporter in a comic once, but it was worlds apart from the current situation.

He could only selectively rely on past intel. He had only approached Dr. Holloway and the Human Torch after confirming they were who he thought they were through multiple checks.

Now, only the information they uncovered themselves could be trusted.

Dr. Holloway mulled it over. "You mean his true identity?"

"Exactly. I didn\'t know him personally, but I worked with a different reporter once. She liked to jot things down in a little notebook, even though she had a camera and a voice recorder."

Su Ming and Dr. Holloway returned to the car, and Gin drove off, the city\'s scenery flying past the windows as they both changed out of their uniforms. They needed to stay under the radar.

"What\'s a voice recorder?" Holloway asked, confused. Was he talking about a movie camera, one of those big, clunky things? And what on earth was a voice recorder? Recording and pens didn\'t seem like they went together at all.

"Don\'t worry about those details," Su Ming waved him off, not wanting to explain things further. If Two-Gun Kid hadn\'t mentioned those gadgets, there was no need to introduce them now. "The point is, it\'s a habit of reporters—they always carry a little notebook to jot down notes and tasks."

"I didn\'t find anything like that on him," Holloway said, now more animated. Reporters did tend to carry notebooks during interviews.

"That\'s why now that you know his real name, we can track down his address. If the notebook isn\'t on his body, it\'s either at The Daily Bugle\'s office or in his home."

Su Ming switched back into his suit and coat, adjusting his hair, reclaiming his air of wealth and sophistication, and raising a glass of liquor to toast with the doctor.

Dr. Holloway raised his glass as well, taking a sip to steady himself.

"It\'s almost certainly not in the newsroom. Office politics are cutthroat. If you leave your news notes in a shared office, that scoop won\'t be yours for long."

The doctor offered this reminder, knowing how intense the competition in any industry could be, and even more so in news, where timeliness was key.

News was money, and without a story, you starved. The competition was fierce.

Su Ming nodded in agreement, appreciative of Dr. Holloway\'s independent thinking—he was much sharper than the members of the Justice League. At least this man could think for himself.

He smiled, raising his glass of golden liquor to toast with the doctor, saying, "Exactly. So, now let\'s head back to my place and see if this unfortunate reporter happens to be one of my clients."