Phone numbers actually have a lot of uses. Even in the event of a global blackout, they're key to pinpointing specific locations.
Normally, as long as a hacker breaches the telecom company, checks the electronic contracts and records, they can find the corresponding address. People's landlines can directly lead to their homes.
In the information age, people's privacy is actually decreasing. But compared to credit card information theft, email leaks, illegal data sampling, etc., personal information leakage caused by the telecom industry is considered an old trick.
The head of the spy provided an address in Chicago, and the trio's current target is to go there, find the corresponding telecom supplier, and locate the specific address from the paper files.
Yes, using old classic methods, checking the phone book Yellow Pages.
Although in the information age, apart from the British being a bit nostalgic, the Yellow Pages are practically obsolete in the United States.
However, as a telecom company, even if there's just one for show in the office building, they must have it.
It's like the rotating sign in front of a barber shop, the neon light at the nightclub entrance, and the shopping cart outside the supermarket. Even if customers don't use them, these traditional representations of business must be present.
In a pitch-black city, sneaking into a telecom company is no hard task, especially when all security equipment is down, there's no need to be discreet.
So the trio broke in through the window, and now they are sitting on the company boss's desk, drinking and frantically flipping through pages.
For things put up for show, whether or not other places have them is uncertain, but the boss's office will definitely have them.
Su Ming still had smoke and alcohol, with two small black arms extending from his shoulder, holding a thick tome in front of him, swiftly flipping the pages for him.
"Hmm, come to think of it, we drank quite a bit in the past few hours today." Su Ming said with a laugh to the other two, while his eyes were still fixed on the pages flipping like money in a counting machine.
Oliver widened his eyes and puffed his cheeks to blow a breath: "Yes, if you guys are going to drink every chance you get to sit down, then please excuse me."
Su Ming shrugged at Diana. Although he was an ordinary person, the Miracle Cure potion along with Strangulation essentially made him immune to alcohol, now drinking was just like having a happy beverage, merely to experience different tastes.
Diana was even beyond that, she was a demigod.
The only thing that could make the two drunk might be Dionysus's treasure, the first wine in the world, drinking a bit would make ordinary people laugh wildly to death.
"Have you ever thought of out-drinking other giants in the Justice League? At least gaining an edge in some aspect?" Su Ming asked Oliver, but Strangulation still swiftly flipped the pages for him.
"Then you have to look at who else is in the Justice League beside Diana—Superman, Mars Hunter, Sea King—alcohol doesn't affect them at all. Steel Bone doesn't have a stomach, Batman can hypnotize himself into not having one, Hawk Woman's contemporaries' stomachs are in jars in pyramids."
Oliver quickly flipped through the Yellow Page in his hand. There was more than one phone book here; every customer possibly had one, so the three split some among themselves.
Diana looked innocent, flipping through the book with high-speed reflexes. The evening breeze blew in from the shattered floor-to-ceiling windows, her hair flying in the wind: "At least you could out-drink Hal. I heard from Guy that Hal's tolerance is quite average, as a pilot he only drinks beer."
"Provided he returns from Oa, otherwise I can't even find him."
Oliver's book-flipping was at a mere mortal's speed, and mentioning Green Lantern was quite helpless too. Hal was his good brother, and his position in the Seven Giants was unshakeable.
Even if he's off Earth for a long time, other Green Lanterns can take over, which is unimaginable.
If Diana skips work, Batman would never let Donna take over. Even if Ron isn't around, Megan wouldn't be eligible to take over either.
Why does everyone in green receive such disparate treatment?
A tentacle extended from Su Ming's body, patting Oliver's shoulder: "Don't worry, haven't I already pointed out a clear path for you? You're now the Magic Shooter within the Justice League, this role is enough to get you noticed."
The Justice League hasn't been without magic-type characters, indicating they need a warlock; just that the one who joined back then was Shazam.
After all, he's a kid, too immature psychologically to handle world crises.
So Batman had Diana establish the Dark Justice League. Unfortunately, apart from Bo Bo and Human Bat being quite cooperative due to the subsidies at the Hall of Justice, others completely ignored the orders and weren't that different from each other.
Since arriving in DC till now, Su Ming hadn't even seen Lady Shangdu's face. She's completely like a goddess missing, perfectly avoiding all crises.
When Green Arrow is linked to magic, the effect is certainly greater than 1+1. After all, he's already proven his reliability in the past, and acquiring new skills has filled his strength gap.
Using magic means he will infinitely approach the Magic Realm.
And Batman wouldn't want the Justice League's ace being too close to Deathstroke, so he must rope in Green Arrow, and what he can offer is surely something Green Arrow desires—voting rights in the Justice League.
Su Ming isn't afraid of Batman seeing through it; even if he sees through it, he would still do so, if he doesn't want to let go of Green Arrow.
But there's no need to bring up these schemes, as long as Oliver fully senses Su Ming's goodwill.
Oliver clearly didn't think that far ahead, he's still in the phase of accustomed guilt, but his willpower and mindset are enough to cope with this sudden change; he's been preparing for a long time.
So when Su Ming talked to him, he also raised his head: "Thanks, brother, you've helped me a lot."
"What about me?" Diana raised her head, looking eagerly at Oliver.
"Of course, and you too, thank you, Her Majesty the Queen." Green Arrow bowed his head; although Diana didn't seem to have done much, just being here was good enough.
Diana nodded contentedly, this was more like it, although she mainly wanted to follow Deathstroke in action...
So she flipped through the phone book in her hand, pointing her finger to a place: "Gentlemen, please allow me to introduce — Mr. Thirteen Detective Agency."
Strangulation threw down what was in his hand, and Su Ming leaned closer to Diana; she had a bit of a bloody scent, but also a faint fragrance, smelling somewhat like cherries.
"Did you find it?"
Diana placed the yellow pages on the desk for display, using the Lasso of Truth for illumination: "Yes, after all, the Inquirer is just a mortal; he has to spend money on food and lodging, so he has his own little business."
As an old hand detective, he naturally also relies on his signature skills to make a living.
However, the number thirteen is considered ominous and sinful in Western countries, naming his detective agency this way feels somewhat like a tantrum, being the only one who doesn't believe himself guilty in this trinity of sin.
About half of Westerners have a taboo against the number 13; if 'the 13th' happens to land on a Friday, it's considered even more unlucky.
This is way worse than encountering a black cat on the way or finding a dead rat in the cupboard.
The origin of the hatred for 13 is mainly religious education; it is said that Judaism considers Friday sundown to Saturday sundown as the day of rest, called the Sabbath.
According to Judaism's Pentateuch, every time this day comes, 12 witches have to hold a night revelry, with the 13th monster appearing at the climax as Satan.
And some interpreters of the Bible believe that Adam and Eve tasted the forbidden fruit on 'Friday the 13th,' and Cain, Adam and Eve's son, also killed his brother Abel on 'Friday the 13th.'
Of course, Judas was the 13th person at the Last Supper, which is also considered a source of this number's ominous nature.
Anyway, that's what the book says, whether it's the truth can't be explored.
"Great, note the address, let's go."
Su Ming gave Diana a smile, recalling the map of Chicago in his mind to find the corresponding routes.
A silent night, a dead city — if there is any city in the United States that resembles Gotham besides Star City, it would be Chicago.
Gangs, corrupt officials, all kinds of crime, vibrant nightlife — apart from not having a particularly famous villain, it's the ordinary people's struggles that represent the real darkness here.
Many things aren't something ordinary people can achieve.
It's not about lacking power, but rather it's a matter of mindset. Whether intending to be a superhero or a villain, people in this city seemingly lack interest.
In the Main World under such circumstances, masked people are running all around in various places in the US, with their news being broadcast on TV programs.
Yet Chicago is entirely different, seemingly isolated from the world and produces no masked heroes.
Speaking of other cities, Su Ming can name their superhero rosters, like in many obscure cities such as Coral City or Hub City, there are representative figures.
But talking about Chicago, it's really hard to think of anyone else all of a sudden.
To perform Zorro accurately, Su Ming invented a Strangulation Transformation Horse that runs through the dark night; the crisp sound of horse hooves colliding with the pavement echoes in the streets, with some people really peeking from behind the curtains.
Perhaps due to frequent incidents on Earth, these people have become overly cautious.
No superhero with superpowers means no one can offer powerful help if an incident occurs in this city; these people don't even have a dependable villain — that's the real tragedy.
Diana herself is flying around, while Green Arrow is constantly mastering his newly acquired teleportation technique, appearing at one moment on the street side and the next moment on the rooftop, always ahead of the other two, looking very active.
However, the distance is naturally limited, and still, the three of them arrived in their own ways at the intended location: the second floor of a dilapidated apartment building, with the sign for number 13 Detective Agency crookedly hanging on the outer wall, swaying constantly in the night breeze.