Multiverse: Deathstroke

In the vast expanse of the Batcave, the only sound echoing was Vika's excited shouts as she continued her performance in front of the camera. She had already decided to mark today's date as her lucky number for the future.

Not only did she survive Deathstroke, but she also uncovered a lot of dark secrets she never thought possible. The news she had gathered today was more significant than what she had gotten over the past year. She was in an incredibly good mood, and her resolve to continue her career in journalism had never been stronger.

Unfortunately, Barbara wasn't in such high spirits.

She used to think of Batgirl as the hero of the city, but the reality was different.

Batgirl had a dark heart, trusting no one. Just knowing that gave her a glimpse of what kind of life Batgirl led.

Seeing this machine, monitoring everyone in the city, left Barbara with a sense of disillusionment, as if her idol had shattered before her eyes.

Su Ming noticed she was completely lost in thought, but everyone was still waiting for her results. He waved his hand in front of her face to snap her out of it.

"I mean, if you want to mourn your teenage dreams, now isn't the time. Shouldn't you be looking up that license plate? Gordon's still waiting to be saved."

"Uh, right. Just a moment."

Barbara snapped back to reality and began inputting the license plate number Gordon had etched onto his glasses.

Yeah, whatever Batgirl was, she was just another person in a costume. Barbara had been foolish to think of her as the city's hope. 

Whether Batgirl's obsession with surveillance was normal or not, her tracking program was certainly top-notch. Almost immediately, the car's registration information appeared on the big screen.

The car owner's name didn't matter—it was likely a fake anyway. What was important was its movements today.

If there was no record from today, then past movements would also work, like where it had stopped, where it had refueled, the areas it frequented. With all that, the system could narrow down the search area enough for them to find some clues. Professional mercenaries would surely be able to pick up a trail.

No one could escape so many hidden cameras; people left traces wherever they went.

Barbara pulled up all the footage and cross-referenced it. The large screen was divided into countless smaller screens, all playing footage frantically. The program would filter out anything useful based on image recognition technology.

The worst-case scenario Su Ming had envisioned didn't happen, because the car's movements today were quickly summarized by the system, marking its final destination on the map.

"No, not here."

Seeing the blinking red dot on the map, Su Ming shook his head helplessly. In a city as vast as Gotham, with so many hiding places, why did it have to be the one place he least wanted?

"What? What's wrong with this place?"

Barbara pulled up the information for this area. According to the records, it was called Indian Hill, located near the eastern docks of Gotham, in a scrapyard.

Long before Gotham City was built, this place had been an Indian reservation, hence the name. But with the continuous push of urban development, the indigenous people eventually succumbed to the power of capital.

They sold the hill where their ancestors were buried for a check with a long string of zeros, then left Gotham. Rumor had it they went to Las Vegas to open a casino and became rich tycoons.

No one remembered who had bought the place or what they intended to do with it. They only remembered that, a long time ago, probably after the invention of the automobile, it had become Gotham's junkyard for scrapped vehicles.

Before the old cars were crushed into metal cubes and sent to the steel mill for recycling, they would be piled up like bricks, forming small mountains there.

Nowadays, Indian Hill was more like the Hill of the Homeless, a place where countless vagrants liked to make a nest inside the old cars to survive the cold nights. Maybe they could build a fire and cook some leftovers found in the trash cans.

At least it was a place no gang cared about, with no profit to be made. Even the soil there was as barren as the people living in it, unable to grow anything. Even thieves and robbers who roamed the night wouldn't go there because it was a waste of effort.

What could you gain from beggars and vagrants? Fleas and bedbugs?

Barbara didn't understand why Deathstroke showed such reluctance upon seeing Indian Hill. He and Cindy had mentioned Arkham and Blackgate Prison with casual ease, as if they could come and go as they pleased.

But how could a scrapyard compare to those other places?

Cindy didn't get it either. Could Su's cleanliness obsession have reached a pathological level, making him itch all over just hearing about vagrants? That couldn't be it; if that were the case, he'd be screaming every time he breathed in Gotham's air.

Su Ming looked at the two women, fiddling with the armor plate on his elbow, wondering how to explain.

He wasn't a native. He knew deeply what Indian Hill, under the guise of a scrapyard, really was.

In the DC Prime Universe, it was a secret research center set up by the U.S. government after World War II, studying biochemical weapons.

Judging by the nature of the Dark Multiverse, things could only get worse. So, in this world, Indian Hill was likely the same kind of place.

Any kind of biochemical project you could think of could probably be found there. The only difference was that the owner had changed from the U.S. government to the Amazon Council.

Cyborgs, mutants, genetic monsters, lethal viruses, doomsday weapons...

He and Cindy should be fine, but the eight million people in the city were all in danger.

If Gotham were destroyed, no matter who was responsible, the Bruce of Earth-11 would turn into a supervillain.

If Atlantis flooded Gotham, she'd become "Drowned"; if Gotham were destroyed by Amazonian bioweapons, she could turn into something like "Toxified." If Gotham were lost for some other reason, she might become something like "Scorched" or "Crumbled."

No matter what name she took after turning dark, as long as she fell into darkness, Barbatos' plan would succeed, and his Dark Knights would gain another member.

Meanwhile, Falcone had already prepared a big gift for the League of Assassins there, luring them in.

If Su Ming and the others went in before the ninjas, they'd undoubtedly be walking into a trap. But if they went in too late, Gordon could be in danger, leaving him uncertain.

His mind was racing, calculating and hypothesizing.

The two women saw him staring blankly at the big screen and exchanged a puzzled glance. But they also knew Su Ming wouldn't be this cautious without reason, so they quietly waited for an explanation.

In the end, Su Ming sighed and told them what he could, only mentioning that in his original world, it was an underground biochemical research lab, and some pretty nasty things had escaped from there.

"What do you mean by 'nasty things'?"

Cindy's expression turned serious as she asked. Any experiment connected to the military often resulted in weapons, like Deathstroke himself.

"Your world uses magic in the military too, right? So when technology and magic combine, I don't know what's inside. Maybe zombies with magical abilities? Or magically enhanced Black Plague viruses."

Hearing this, even Barbara was stunned. Cindy also froze, realizing that they had thought Joker was the world's craziest person. But it turned out that politicians and generals were even crazier.

Gotham had eight million people, and they'd been living for decades on top of a giant toxic barrel, completely unaware.

"This... is tricky," Cindy said, baring her teeth unconsciously as she thought about Su Ming's earlier question. She pulled out a bottle and took a swig.

"If you're looking for good news, there is some." Su Ming pulled out his own bottle, bit off the cork, and, seeing Barbara looking at him, frowned. "You can't drink this; you're underage."

Barbara gave him a look that said, 'Are you kidding me?' "I'm waiting for your good news, not your drink."

"I know, just kidding." Su Ming tilted his head back, downing half the bottle. It didn't give him any special feeling; his mind was still perfectly clear. "The good news is, it should've stopped operating in the '90s. If something inside has gone rogue, Falcone would be the first to face it, and for now, it seems he's still alive."