Multiverse: Deathstroke

The heavy rain showed no sign of stopping. The dark clouds above them thickened, and the many corpses lying around gave Su Ming an indescribable feeling.

It was a mix of excitement and liberation, like he had broken free from some chains. He wanted to share this joy with Cindy, make a joke, but she was focused on the mission and ignored his attempts.

As Joker once said, "A person, a city, if you want them to fall into chaos and madness, all it takes is a little push from behind."

He had pushed Harley, pushed Two-Face, and now Su Ming was the one being pushed.

After the insane massacre, he felt incredible, like drinking an ice-cold beer on a sweltering summer day. Every cell in his body seemed to cheer.

He turned to look at the broken, lifeless bodies behind him, their eyes still wide open in death. Cindy, on the other hand, wasn't paying any attention to his unusual behavior, focused instead on finding the building's entrance.

The building Harley was in was full of nonsensical style as well. The door facing the street was painted on, but the wall itself was solid red brick.

"Well, there's no door. Guess we'll have to climb the wall."

Cindy pulled a grappling hook and rope from her belt. Initially, she had come just to talk to Harley, so she didn't want to make things too serious. Breaking through windows wasn't exactly the polite way to visit someone.

Su Ming snapped out of his thoughts and looked at the building. His experience quickly told him that Harley wasn't the only one inside.

"Let's go. Be careful. You never know what surprises a madwoman might have in her house."

They both tossed their grappling hooks, which latched securely onto the roof. With their immense upper body strength, they swiftly scaled the wall.

Su Ming couldn't tell what this building had originally been, but the first and second-floor windows were bricked up. Only the third floor had something resembling a poor excuse for a watchtower platform. It looked like the kind of place the circus freaks would use for daily sniper practice, shooting pedestrians or each other for fun.

With a flip, Su Ming landed quietly on the platform. The rain made everything loud, so his landing didn't make a sound.

Cindy arrived at the same time. Their black-and-yellow masks met briefly, and they gave each other a small nod.

"Crash!"

Su Ming kicked the window next to him, sending the entire frame and glass flying inside. Both of them entered one after the other, guns at the ready, scanning the surroundings.

"Clear."

Su Ming rolled his shoulders. The place had lights on, so it was easy to see the situation.

They were standing in what looked like a shabby university dormitory—long corridors with small rooms on either side, all with their doors closed. The floor was covered in dust and trash, as if no one had cleaned it in years. The rain from their gear quickly turned into little mud puddles on the ground.

"Do these lunatics ever take baths?"

Cindy shook her head, clearly not pleased with the smell around them. Her mask had a gas filter function, but it didn't block out the stench completely.

The helmets worn by masked assassins like them were specially crafted—scent was an essential part of the five senses in combat, so their gas masks were more expensive and sophisticated than anything you'd find on the market.

Su Ming smelled it too, something like rotting garbage, but he was more focused on the staircase not far ahead.

"Forget about that, let's head upstairs and find Harley."

"Wait, there's a trap."

Cindy pointed with her chin, signaling him to look. At the bend of the stairs was a faintly glimmering fishing line.

He walked over and dug through the trash on the other end of the line, revealing it was connected to a grenade.

The grenade was custom-made, all red instead of the typical green military ones, with a big white smiley face painted on it. It was clearly the work of Joker's gang.

Yes, this was their twisted form of entertainment—a game where they competed to maim or kill each other. This was the infamous "Joke Bomb" contest, where the winner laughs maniacally after blowing up their friend. It was their favorite pastime.

Whenever Joker saw them doing this, watching them gleefully tear each other apart in chaotic madness, he'd let out his signature deranged laugh, marveling at his own genius.

"Not good! Get down!"

Su Ming immediately reacted. When someone sets up a prank, they're bound to stick around and watch how their victim falls for it.

Since there was a prank grenade, it meant the circus freaks couldn't be far.

Sure enough, right after his warning, strange figures poured out from the rooms on both sides of the hallway. These lunatics, with their distorted makeup, charged at them with maniacal laughter, arms outstretched, bouncing toward them.

Neither Cindy nor Su Ming took this as a friendly greeting, especially since the moment they appeared, a hail of bullets and explosives rained down on them.

Su Ming ducked behind the stairwell corner while Cindy jumped back out the window, landing on the wooden platform outside.

A series of explosions followed, and Su Ming felt like he was trapped inside a giant popcorn machine, the deafening noise pounding against his eardrums.

The powerful blast swept through everything near the detonation point, and he had to grip the stair railing tightly to avoid being blown away. He even saw bomb shrapnel painted with exaggerated smiley faces scraping sparks off his shoulder armor.

The circus freaks kept advancing. The explosion had killed some of their own, but they didn't care. In fact, they seemed to laugh even harder.

They were like machines running on blood instead of fuel. It didn't matter whether it was their own blood or someone else's, their insanity was the engine driving them forward.

Su Ming shook his head, his helmet covered in bits of debris from the blast. The hallway was now swarming with Joker's minions, running at them with exaggerated, twisted movements.

"About forty people, armed with light firearms and melee weapons. Looks like they've used up all their explosives," he mentally assessed after peeking out. The battlefield was imprinted in his mind like a photo, with every enemy's position, direction, speed, and gear instantly memorized. His brain simultaneously came up with a plan.

He pulled a smoke grenade from his suit and tossed it out. At the same time, he vaulted over his cover.

The smoke quickly filled the area, turning everything into a thick, white fog. The hallway's lights cast chaotic black shadows, and the Joker gang descended into confusion.

They couldn't see the walls or the people around them. As they bumped into each other and tripped, they screamed and cursed.

This was Su Ming's chance. He swiftly pulled his shotgun from his back and charged into the smoke.

Cindy was outside the window behind him, so anyone inside the smoke was an enemy.

Having let go of his hesitation, he didn't hold back. Muffled gunfire and bursts of light turned the pale smoke red.

"Not bad, 42 enemies in 6 seconds. As expected from another version of me."

Cindy jumped back in through the window and perched on the sill, mimicking the gesture of checking a watch. Of course, she didn't need to check. Her superhuman brain could precisely keep track of every second.

Su Ming, meanwhile, was reloading his shotgun. His state now was far bloodier than before—intestines and blood splattered all over him. That's just how close-quarters combat went.

Corpses were scattered everywhere. None of the lunatics had survived, their heads blown open or their guts spilling out. In such a confined space, the shotgun's power was devastating. A single pull of the trigger sent several people flying.

"You had time to count. Maybe next time, you could help me by firing a few shots?" Su Ming slung his shotgun back over his shoulder and bent down to wipe the blood off himself with a brightly colored rag.

"They were just small fry. It would've been a waste of resources if we both took them on." Cindy's response was completely unserious as she nonchalantly started walking upstairs.

"Well, at least offer me a cigarette or ask how I'm doing afterward."

Su Ming sighed and followed her. This was the first time he had taken a blood bath, and although he strangely enjoyed it, he wanted to ask if she had ever felt the same.

"All right, since we're teammates now. Men are so needy, aren't they? How are you doing?"

Cindy tossed him a cigar with the tone of someone humorously humoring a child.

"I'm great, thanks!" Su Ming grumbled, taking the cigar and tucking it into his case. Cindy really did have some kind of gender bias. "Except for the brain matter that somehow got down my collar and the sticky feeling on my chest, I'm fantastic."

"Pfft," Cindy snorted without turning around, as if mocking him. "Just like all the other men—so obsessed with cleanliness and looking good. I thought your world was a patriarchal society."

Su Ming shrugged. This wasn't about cleanliness, was it?

"Yeah, it's a patriarchal society, but not everyone's into taking blood showers... Although I did find out that I kind of like seeing the blood and guts. What about you?"

Cindy held her gun as she continued up the stairs. The fourth floor was eerily quiet. While Su Ming had been busy dealing with the firefight earlier, Cindy had been keeping an eye on any movements on the fourth floor, making sure no enemies came down from above to ambush them.

"We are basically the same person from different worlds. Do I really need to explain the parallel universe theory to you? Although there may be some minor differences, everything you like, I like as well," Cindy said.

Cindy was puzzled as to why her other self would ask such a question. To her, liking the warmth of fresh blood and enjoying watching others die wasn't anything strange. That's just how people lived in Gotham.

"So how do you deal with these bloodthirsty urges?" Su Ming asked. He could accept killing, but he didn't want to kill just for the sake of killing.

Killing without reason would turn him into a beast, no longer human.

"When we meet Harley in a bit, you can ask her yourself. After all, she's Gotham's famous psychologist—well, she was, before she went insane," Cindy said, taking slow, cautious steps up the stairs. The layout of the fourth floor was much the same as the lower ones. "As for me, I prefer green over red."

As she said this, Cindy held out her hand, rubbing her thumb and forefinger together in front of Su Ming.

Well, in psychology, this is called displacement. She transferred her craving for blood to money. That's probably why, in every parallel universe, Deathstroke always ends up becoming a mercenary and an assassin.

Doing this kind of work lets him enjoy the thrill of bloodshed while also making money. It's a win-win situation.

Su Ming wasn't here to see Harley for therapy; he was here to get information about Batman. And besides, if Harley treated him, he'd probably end up even crazier than before.

"No thanks, I'll just rest when daylight comes. The fourth floor is clear."

Su Ming followed Cindy down the hallway. The rooms on both sides were empty, though the walls were covered with Joker symbols—pale white faces with X's over the eyes, and the walls were painted in a riot of colors like a mad circus.

The rooms were mostly filled with junk, nothing useful—just more 'prank' tools like TNT, Joker Gas, automatic rifles, and a bunch of oversized red rockets that looked like fireworks.

"Harley is upstairs. The music is coming from right above us," Cindy said, pointing to the ceiling.

"Strange. We've been making enough noise to bring the whole building down, and she hasn't reacted at all? It sounds like she's still dancing," Su Ming tilted his head, listening. Sure enough, he could still hear the rhythmic clatter of high-heeled boots on the floor above.

Cindy didn't comment on that. Living in Gotham had taught her one thing: never try to figure out what goes on in a lunatic's mind.

Gotham, a city rich with talent, had produced plenty of lunatics: Ventriloquist, Dr. Hugo Strange, Zsasz, Professor Pyg, Mime, Crazy Quilt, Egghead… the list goes on, and they were all madmen or insane criminals.

Suddenly, Cindy realized that more than half the people on that list were her former clients. No wonder some of her past jobs had been so bizarre and incomprehensible.

Honestly, while she had accepted Mick's explanation earlier, Cindy didn't believe Harley would have any key information. Harley was more of a close-up spectator of Joker's magic tricks rather than an actual participant in the magic.

If Cindy had her way, she'd rather go seek out Talia al Ghul from the League of Shadows. The relationship between Talia and Batwoman was... strange, and she would probably know where Bruce Wayne was. Even if Talia didn't know, she had the entire League of Assassins at her disposal, and they were experts in gathering intelligence.

"Let's go up. Since we're already here, there's no harm in asking," Cindy said, moving ahead of Su Ming toward the music's source.

They followed the hallway until they reached a large, closed door.

The two exchanged a glance before pushing the door open.

Behind it was a room that looked like a circus-themed nightclub. Multicolored lights spun wildly in sync with the music, and the corners of the room were piled with circus props and random items like inflatable dumbbells, oversized funhouse mirrors, large circus balls, and flaming hoops.

In the middle of the huge dance floor stood none other than Harley Quinn. She was gripping a pole, spinning around it with incredible flexibility, performing moves that showcased her extreme agility.

The spotlight was on her, and as she spun, beads of sweat flew off her in the air. Her red-and-blue pigtails fanned out like blooming flowers.

She wasn't wearing her usual red-and-black costume. Instead, she was dressed in a short-sleeved T-shirt and denim shorts, revealing her slender figure and smooth, soft skin. Her eyes were closed, and she looked lost in the joy of dancing, her face radiating happiness as if she owned the whole world.

She twirled around the pole like a butterfly in flight, while Cindy scoffed at the sight. She had no respect for such "girly" displays. A grown woman, dancing on a pole like some man? She's completely lost it.

Cindy elbowed Su Ming, who seemed entranced, and leaned closer to whisper:

"Look at the sofa, four o'clock. There's someone sitting there."

Su Ming had already noticed it. He was just about to tell her. On the sofa sat someone with their back to them. The high backrest of the couch only allowed a small part of their head to be visible, and they were nodding along to the music. It seemed Harley had invited an audience for her performance.