Multiverse: Deathstroke

Harley couldn't remember how many nights of wild partying she had gone through.

A few days ago, her dearest "Puddin" sent her a letter through someone from Arkham. The envelope was scrawled with incomprehensible symbols and language, covered in red stains that looked like lipstick, or maybe blood.

But Harley knew it was real. This was their secret way of communicating, like a personal code or cipher, something only the two of them understood. Thinking about it filled her with warmth.

When the trembling prison guard handed Harley the thin letter, then ran away screaming from the circus grounds, Harley hugged the letter to her chest with joy, twirling happily around her room.

The Joker had been captured by the Bat and locked in Arkham for over half a year, and Harley missed her terribly.

The moment Harley received the letter, she was reminded of the joy of getting a Christmas gift as a child, the sweetness of tasting chocolate for the first time, and the giddy excitement of wearing high heels for the first time.

This happiness even made her forget her original plan to smash the messenger's head with a mallet—she had planned to disguise herself as a guard and sneak into Arkham to rescue her Jester.

Harley gently twirled a lock of her hair like a lovestruck schoolgirl, while her other hand pulled out a kitchen knife from somewhere, eager to open the letter.

But the joy didn't last long. The moment she opened the letter, it disappeared, and she couldn't help but scream, "Oh no! This isn't real!"

The letter from the Jester read:

"Dearest Pumpkin, how have you been? I have some good news for you: the world's going to end, and we're all gonna die! Isn't that exciting?"

"Oh, death, what a wonderful word. I've already dressed up for the occasion and am ready for the big date!"

"Today I ate a dry, shriveled goose. What about you?"

"Mr. Spoon hasn't spoken to me much lately."

"Before you die, can you bring the Bat to see me? I'd prefer to die with her. You can take a cab home."

"That's it. Hurry now, kisses!"

Though the letter didn't contain the Joker's signature maniacal laugh, the messy handwriting and nonsensical content made it clear—it was still her.

Scrawled between the crooked letters were strange doodles that looked like distorted, grinning faces. The paper was stained with what looked like dried mucus or spit, making it clear that the Jester had been very happy while writing it.

But Harley was not happy.

After waiting so long for this letter, its contents left her deeply disappointed.

Sure, the idea that everyone was going to die and she could revel in the ultimate chaos as people faced death gave her some twisted joy, but her emotions were mixed.

The Jester still had that pesky Bat on her mind. It was as if Harley were just a chauffeur or errand runner. They were supposed to be each other's treats, weren't they? Pumpkin and Puddin', together forever.

Laughing hysterically, Harley tore through the house, smashing things and setting fires to vent her frustration. But in the end, she still followed the Jester's instructions. After all, they were best friends.

Harley never doubted her. What's a little thing like the end of the world, anyway? It had to be true.

Not only did Harley believe it, but she sent the entire circus gang out to search for signs of the Bat all over Gotham.

But their usual tactics weren't working. No matter how much chaos they caused, all they got were boring cops. The Batwoman never showed up.

For three straight nights, Harley went out causing trouble as soon as it got dark, only dragging her exhausted body home at dawn. But it seemed like the Bat had disappeared. Not a single trace of her.

"Maybe she's on vacation, somewhere like Paris. I sometimes feel like going there myself," Harley mused.

She left giant signs at all the rooftops the Batwoman frequented. Each sign had cartoon hands pointing to her own hideout, knowing the Bat would eventually catch her scent.

Then she returned here, waiting for the Bat's arrival each night.

At first, she waited while reading, but that made her fall asleep too easily. That wouldn't do. What if the Bat came and she missed it?

So, on the second day, she added drinking to her reading.

By the third day, she was dancing while drinking.

Gradually, she seemed to forget her original purpose and turned her nightly parties into a new routine, celebrating the impending destruction of the world.

But the circus crew didn't dare join Harley in her fun, and they certainly didn't like getting their heads bashed in by her giant hammer.

Feeling lonely, Harley called some friends over, starting a 24-hour party at her place.

Meanwhile, back in the asylum, the Jester was growing more and more hysterical, waiting for news. She had no idea what was happening in the outside world, or why Harley hadn't brought the Bat yet. Her laughter grew more and more crazed in her cell.

A few days later, a mysterious tape recording found its way out of her cell, passed from guard to guard until it ended up in Deathstroke's hands. Cindy took on the mission of finding the Bat, which led to her encounter with Su Ming. That's what had happened up until now.

Breathing heavily, Harley clung to the pole, locking eyes with the person on the couch, and then both burst into laughter. Harley laughed so hard her legs gave out, and she flopped onto the sofa, seemingly eager to play around with her friend.

That's when she noticed there were other people in the room. Even in the psychedelic lights, she could make out figures wearing black-and-yellow armor—nature's most famous warning colors.

Someone had been watching her from the shadows all this time. The red eye on the helmet reflected an ominous glow, and even Harley couldn't help but exclaim:

"Uh-oh…"

As a world-renowned assassin, Deathstroke showing up at your house was never a good sign.

"Deathstroke? Why are you in my house?" Harley asked, shaking her head. Her flushed face suggested she'd had quite a bit to drink.

"I need an answer to a question, and maybe you know it," Cindy said without any pretense. "I'm looking for the Bat. Where is she?"

"Everyone's looking for the Bat. What's so great about that dumb Bat?" Harley didn't answer. Instead, she ran to the sofa to embrace the other person, as if seeking comfort.

Su Ming stepped out from behind Cindy, whispering, "Looks like the Joker sent her out to find the Bat too. Same situation as us."

"Why don't we just storm Arkham and ask the Joker directly?" Cindy frowned under her mask. If they thought the Joker knew, why not just get a straight answer from her?

"No need. The Joker doesn't know. I was wrong before," Su Ming said, coldly retracting his earlier theory, watching Harley roll around on the couch. "If it were just your mission being vague, or if it was something you didn't understand, maybe it was intentional. But if even Harley doesn't know, it means the Joker gave her the same wild-goose chase."

Cindy nodded slightly. "So that's why you wanted to come to Harley first, to figure out if the Joker knows anything about the Bat? You're right—Harley is much easier to read than the Joker."

That compliment didn't make Su Ming feel any better. The situation was now at a dead end.

In the comics Su Ming had read, there was no such plotline about Bruce Wayne going missing. The panels only showed her hiding in a secret base, watching Queen Arthur land for peace talks on a big screen, then deciding that the so-called negotiation was a ruse. She went on to ambush Queen Arthur, setting off a chain of events.

But Cindy had already checked the Batcave, and Bryce wasn't there. So where was this secret base?

There were no clues. They said a cunning rabbit has three burrows, but Batwoman was much more elusive than any rabbit.

Waiting for Bryce to come out on her own would be too late. Su Ming had no idea how she managed to infiltrate Queen Arthur's army and assassinate her in the middle of it.

In other words, even though he knew Atlantis would attack Themyscira, he didn't know when or how. The best bet was to corner Batwoman in Gotham.

His foresight from the comics had its limits. The scenes he remembered were too vague to be useful as clues.

Harley suddenly remembered she had Deathstroke to deal with. She stood up, her messy hair bouncing as she yelled:

"I don't know where the Bat is! You've got the wrong place! Uh, wait, why are there two Deathstrokes?" Harley rubbed her eyes, blinking again. Yep, still two. Her jaw dropped. "Either I've had too little to drink, or way too much. Oh no, I totally forgot that Jester asked me to find the Bat. She's gonna hate me!"

It was like she sobered up in an instant. Harley suddenly remembered why she had been waiting these past few days—it wasn't for fun or to enjoy the end of the world's chaos. She was waiting for the Bat to come find her.

"Hmm… Did the Bat ever show up?"

Harley put her hand under her chin, tilting her head as she tried to remember. But after all the partying, she had spun around the dance floor so much that there was no way she'd have noticed if Batwoman had stopped by.

"Ugh, you could have reminded me!" After racking her brain to no avail, Harley slapped the person on the couch in mock anger.

"You never told me! How could I remind you?" The person on the couch sounded exasperated. Judging by the sultry voice and tone, she was probably a very attractive woman, with a hint of seduction even in her casual speech.

Cindy leaned in close to Su Ming and whispered, "If things go bad, be ready to bail. I didn't bring any herbicide this time."

Suddenly, the woman on the couch jumped up like she'd been shocked, wrapping her arms around Harley as they turned to face the two at the door, staring at them with cold, unblinking eyes.

Now Su Ming could see what she was wearing—or rather, what she wasn't. She was covered in nothing but leaves. Green leaves and vines covered her most important parts, her bare body on full display like nature itself had only given her underwear.

Slender arms, long legs, a flat stomach, and a smooth back, all exposed. Purple eye shadow and lipstick, her wavy red hair adorned with flowers—everything about her exuded seduction.

It was Poison Ivy, Harley's best friend, the famous botanist, extreme environmentalist, and one of Gotham's biggest threats.

To call her an environmentalist would be inaccurate; she was a plant supremacist. She didn't care how polluted the air was as long as it didn't affect plants' photosynthesis. She didn't care how dirty the water was as long as it didn't hurt her flowers. Even if Gotham were nuked, as long as her plants were safe, she wouldn't mind.

Unlike most of Gotham's crazies, Poison Ivy was a genuine superpowered being. She could create, accelerate, and control any plant to serve her purposes. She could summon giant vines to crush buildings, spread deadly toxins through citywide blooms, or even implant lethal spores inside people.

On top of that, she was a genius with multiple PhDs, and all of her bodily fluids were poisonous, each with different effects. She could control minds, drive people insane, or kill them with blissful dreams.

Her body had been altered by plants and toxins, giving her rapid regenerative abilities. Even if mortally wounded, burying her in soil and watering her could make her sprout back to life.

In the comics, Poison Ivy had even controlled Superman in some parallel worlds. The only known person immune to her mind-control toxins across the multiverse was the Batman from the New 52 universe.

Batman's strong willpower allowed him to resist mental manipulation, but his mortal body couldn't withstand her other poisons. In many comics, Batman had come dangerously close to death from Ivy's various toxins, only to be saved by Alfred or Robin's antidotes.

Facing a real superhuman like Poison Ivy without preparation was a nightmare. Of course, Cindy was feeling uneasy. It was time to leave.

What Cindy had said about needing herbicide was basically like calling out a bald monk for being bald—it hit too close to home.

"How did she hear that?" Cindy was stunned, her hand slowly moving toward her weapon.

"All the lighting here, the lamps around us, are controlled by vines. Ivy can sense even the slightest vibrations through them, allowing her to hear everything we say," Su Ming explained, raising his hands in a non-threatening manner as he stood between Cindy and the two women, trying to de-escalate the situation.

"The other Deathstroke is right. Sound is just a type of vibration."

Poison Ivy relaxed a little, and the small snake-like vines recoiled back into her body. If she could help it, she didn't want to fight Deathstroke, let alone two of them.

"We're both working for Jester, so we share the same goal in finding the Bat. How about we sit down and have a bite to eat?" Su Ming offered, knowing that their mission to find Batwoman had little to do with Jester's task. Their real mission was to save Earth-11, but there was no need to explain all that to Harley and Ivy.

His mind raced as he removed his helmet.

In a direct fight, Harley wasn't much of a threat, but Poison Ivy was. And her attacks couldn't be blocked by a helmet. It was better to show his face, to ease the tension and redirect their attention.

This was Earth-11, after all. A male supervillain was probably a rare sight.

"A man?!"

"A man?!"

Just as Su Ming expected, the moment he revealed his face, both Harley and Poison Ivy exclaimed in shock.

"Hmph." Cindy snorted and took off her helmet as well, stepping up beside Su Ming. Apart from their genders and appearances, the two looked identical.

Same missing eye, same armor, same weapons, same taste in style.

Their methods just happened to differ.

Harley plopped back down onto the sofa, her eyes darting between Cindy and Su Ming, curiosity brimming in her large eyes.

"Well, now we're more interested in your story. As for finding the Bat, if we can't, we can't. I'm not about to mold one out of clay and send it to Jester," Harley said with a shrug.