Chapter 203: Ch.202 Finding Someone

Chapter 203: Ch.202 Finding Someone

Dr. Holloway had been reading the newspaper at home when he hurried to the crime scene, but by the time he arrived, the police were already there. The current attitude of the police toward heroes wasn't particularly friendly. If someone like him, a masked vigilante, showed up at a murder scene, he would surely become a suspect.

Thus, he decided to use his real identity to investigate.

The body would be sent to the New York Forensics Center for an autopsy, and coincidentally, Dr. Holloway was a well-known surgeon in New York.

He had a few friends in the medical community who could help him gain access to the forensics center to examine the body.

At the very least, he needed to know the direction from which the bullets had been fired—whether they hit the victim from the front or from behind.

Slipping off the roof, he headed to a deserted alley to change out of his vigilante suit, then drove back to the sanatorium. There, he would contact some people and offer to "help" the New York Forensics Department, perhaps by giving a lecture or something.

As he walked into the sanatorium, the receptionist nurse greeted him with a smile. "Dr. Holloway, someone is here to see you."

Dr. Holloway, young, wealthy, strong, and handsome, with a stylish mustache reminiscent of the famous Howard Stark, had long caught the attention of the nurses at the sanatorium.

In a time when the world felt increasingly insecure, every young woman dreamed of finding an ideal partner.

But unlike Howard, Holloway was polite, never losing his composure, serious about his work, and always kind to others.

Yet he never seemed interested in women, living like a monk. Lately, the nurses had noticed that he seemed even busier than usual.

No one knew what he was busy with. Was he out on house calls? Or maybe spending hours at the library? Either way, Dr. Holloway seemed to only do those sorts of things.

Dr. Holloway smiled politely at the nurse. His entire identity was concealed under the cover of the sanatorium. "Oh, thank you. Do you know who this visitor is?"

"No, but he doesn't seem like someone looking to stay here. He's very young, and he looks powerful. He arrived in a limousine I've never seen before."

The young nurse shook her head, her knowledge limited. Still, she knew that limousines weren't something ordinary people could afford. Even the cheapest ones cost tens of thousands of dollars.

Dr. Holloway frowned slightly, unable to think of anyone who would come looking for him. The limousine seemed too flashy; none of his friends drove something like that.

"Alright, is he in the lounge? I'll go see him."

Though Holloway was anxious to investigate the body, he maintained his calm demeanor. After thanking the nurse, he quickly made his way upstairs.

The young nurse clutched her chest, a dreamy look on her face as she watched him leave, blushing shyly.

Arriving on the upper floor, Holloway was greeted by the less-than-pleasant smell of the sanatorium. Even the freshly cleaned lounge had a faint smell of urine.

As both a doctor and a self-taught lawyer, Holloway was trustworthy, with the maturity to assess situations and make informed decisions.

He acted justly but wasn't rigid.

"My name is Slade. I'm a businessman. But as Two-Gun Kid may have told you, my codename is Deathstroke."

Holloway felt as if cold water had been dumped over his head, like he was running naked through the streets on a frigid winter night. A chill seeped into his bones.

The name Deathstroke wasn't new to him. It wasn't just Two-Gun Kid who had warned him; Holloway had grown up hearing legends about the "Devil of New York."

Two-Gun Kid had told him that, in the future, Deathstroke remained the most lethal assassin and mercenary, possessing unmatched combat skills. No one could defeat him in close combat.

However, Two-Gun Kid had also described Deathstroke as a great anti-hero, despite his brutality and bloodlust.

What did "anti-hero" mean? Holloway wasn't sure. Two-Gun Kid, coughing up blood, had explained it as someone who did both good and bad things.

This left Holloway confused. Doing both good and bad—did that make someone a good person or a bad one?

Didn't everyone who wore a mask choose to either do good or evil? How could someone do both? Such a character seemed too ambiguous for the newspapers to handle.

At this point in time, the concept of an anti-hero didn't really exist. People were still caught up in a more theatrical, black-and-white view of life, unable to grasp the reasons for a masked mercenary's existence.

Dr. Holloway hesitated for a moment before finally walking toward the sofa and sitting beside Su Ming. He licked his lips and glanced at the door, lowering his voice.

"Alright, so the legendary mercenary comes to me. What is it you need?"

"I'm investigating the murder of Phantom Bullet, and I think you can help," Su Ming said calmly. The air in the room wasn't great, so he wanted to get to the point and leave quickly.

If the murder was connected to German spies, Su Ming might find a lead. If not, he'd have to explore other avenues.

His goal was to figure out what had happened to Namor. If nothing was wrong, Su Ming could finally relax and take it easy.

Dr. Holloway frowned. "I don't know yet. I only got a glimpse of the body this morning."

"Do you want to find the killer? Or are you seeking revenge for him?"

Su Ming smiled faintly at the doctor, watching as Holloway's mustache twitched.

"Of course, I'm the Avenging Angel, aren't I?"