Multiverse: Deathstroke

The night in Gotham seemed like it would always remain the same. In the skyscrapers of downtown, high-end restaurants and nightclubs were never short of customers, all indulging in spending wads of cash to buy physical or mental pleasures. This included dining on meals that could cost half of what the poor saved in their lifetime, or toying with young men of the night.

And just not far from these buildings, in the dark alleys, there were occasional screams and gunshots, where crime and darkness reigned.

In Gotham, you could witness any kind of crime, no matter how bizarre or unimaginable the act or the criminal was. This city was a living museum of modern crime history.

Chaos and order were always intertwined here, and the black-and-white distinctions were long gone, leaving only shades of gray.

Gotham's nights never changed, at least they never got any better.

James Gordon, after working in this city for thirty years, deeply understood this.

He had started as a simple homicide detective, became captain, and now held the position of commissioner. As a man, it had been an incredibly difficult journey.

It wasn't just because there was some level of discrimination against men in the workplace in this world, but also because everyone knew he was an honest man. In a city like Gotham, truly innocent people were rare. Everyone, to some extent, was tied to something shady in the darkness.

The mayor was a frequent guest at Penguin's Iceberg Lounge, senators were secretly selling Arkham's pharmaceuticals to Scarecrow, judges had ties with Two-Face, and Black Mask blatantly used Gotham's research institutes, using chemical factories as a front for drug production.

In such a city, the fact that Gordon managed to become the police commissioner without being killed sometimes felt like a miracle.

But reason always reminded him, it wasn't really a miracle. There was always a shadow behind him, protecting him from the dark.

A shadow that moved swiftly through the night, one that loathed evil with an undying passion.

What the law couldn't handle, or what the police were powerless against, that shadow would handle. People had tried to kill Gordon before, but there was always someone in a Bat-suit who would dissuade them.

Fear.

Yes, anyone with darkness in their heart feared the Bat in the shadows. She was meticulous, swift, and ever-present, never showing mercy.

Back when Gordon was still a captain, Batwoman first appeared. At first, Gordon wasn't keen on this masked vigilante.

He thought, "Just because you say you're a good person doesn't mean I'm going to let you run around the city in a mask, beating people up. I need to see if what you do actually helps the city, or if it's just making things worse."

In those days, Gotham wasn't as bad as it is now. The Falcone crime family ruled much of the city, and even half of the police force was corrupt.

Drugs, smuggling, firearms, slavery—if it made money, the mob did it, protected by a web of bribed officials.

Gordon tried to bring these mobsters to justice, but he constantly met with resistance. That's when Batwoman helped him. Using violence, she obtained evidence, brought down corrupt officials tied to the mob, and gave Gordon the legal grounds to prosecute them.

In the end, when Gordon had his final confrontation with Falcone, Batwoman destroyed Falcone's confidence, completely breaking the crime boss and letting sunlight shine upon Gotham.

Since then, Gordon's attitude towards Batwoman became more lenient.

Her actions truly benefited Gotham and its citizens. As for dressing like a Bat? Maybe that was just a personal quirk.

Thinking about those days brought a faint smile to Gordon's face.

"Captain Gordon, it's said that the criminal who robbed the bank last night was taken down by a woman in a Bat costume. What's the police department's stance on this?" Reporters had surrounded the police station's entrance. At the time, Captain Gordon was escorting a criminal from a police car.

"Absurd! Ridiculous! There is no such thing as a woman in a Bat-suit running around Gotham," Gordon declared righteously.

"But we have footage, we have evidence," the reporters persisted, claiming they had proof.

"Fabricated! All of it fabricated. I, on behalf of the Gotham Police Department, express serious concern and strong condemnation!" Gordon responded with unwavering seriousness.

But after locking up the criminals, he would sneak to the rooftop, into a small storage room, to secretly call Batwoman and complain, saying things like, "You've blown it up again this time. Next time, can't you avoid the security cameras?"

Back in those days, Batwoman was still reasonable and kept a relatively low profile.

But over time, word of a Batwoman started to spread throughout Gotham, attracting copycats. Unfortunately, most of these masked individuals were villains or lunatics, quickly worsening the city's crime situation.

After that, Gotham wasn't plagued by simple bank robberies or home invasions. Instead, it faced large-scale catastrophes, where madmen would threaten to blow up the entire city just to duel Batwoman or kidnap hundreds of hostages from skyscrapers to play a deadly game of riddles with her.

Luckily, Batwoman always managed to resolve these situations. But inevitably, opposition grew within the city. Some people believed it was Batwoman who attracted all the villains to Gotham.

Batwoman never bothered to explain or justify herself. She continued doing things her way, her methods growing more ruthless.

By then, Gordon had become the commissioner. He immediately ordered a Bat-signal to be set up on the roof of the police department. There was no more hiding. Whenever the Bat-signal lit up, it meant Gordon had something to discuss with Batwoman, and it meant a new lunatic was in town who needed dealing with.

Yes, from that point on, the criminals that emerged were beyond what the police could handle. They had to rely on Batwoman. The police's role was to wait for Gordon's orders and then clean up after Batwoman, collecting the unconscious or crippled criminals she left behind.

At least, back then, Gotham was dangerous, but people still had hope.

Until Batwoman's greatest adversary arrived.

No one knew where she came from. She had green hair, a ghastly pale face, and a grotesque smile carved into her features. She even liked using knives to carve that smile onto others.

She made a series of grand gestures, showing the world her madness and teaching them that madness was a wonderful thing.

No more worrying about death. No more worrying about hunger and poverty. All you had to do was laugh every day!

She planted the seeds of madness deep within Gotham's citizens and waited with a mischievous grin, occasionally nurturing those seeds, just for fun.

She and Batwoman became entangled in a never-ending dance, getting captured countless times, only to escape again. It was as if the entire city had become their stage. All she wanted was Batwoman's undivided attention.

Then, six months ago, the Joker came up with a new game, intending to make Gordon play a part. But during the kidnapping, something went wrong, and Gordon's daughter, Barbara, was shot in the spine, leaving her paralyzed from the waist down, bound to a wheelchair for the rest of her life.

In the aftermath, the Joker was captured by Batwoman once again. Gordon wanted to kill her to avenge his daughter, but Batwoman stopped him, telling him not to be fooled by the Joker, not to let madness take over, not to lose his principles.

In the end, Gordon put down the gun and chose to follow the law. And the law doesn't sentence the mentally ill. It sends them to Arkham for treatment.

But who could possibly treat the Joker? One of her former therapists had even been swayed by her, becoming today's Harley Quinn, who not only helped the Joker escape but also created the monstrous Two-Face.

Since then, Arkham had stopped assigning doctors to the Joker.

This time, the Joker seemed to have grown tired of playing. She quietly stayed in Arkham for a long time, without any signs of activity.

From past experience, when the Joker was captured, Harley would become completely docile, as if losing her purpose. So when they failed to capture Harley last time, neither Batwoman nor Gordon cared much. In fact, it was probably for the best—putting both of them in Arkham at the same time would only spell trouble.

Roughly half a month before Su Ming arrived, Gordon, as usual, woke up in a panic from a nightmare. Shaking his head, he fumbled for his glasses. He realized he wasn't tied to a roller coaster in some funhouse, forced to face a nightmarish scene created by the Joker. He was in his own bed at home.

Cold sweat drenched the sheets, and the wind howled through a window left ajar. The curtains were flapping wildly.

The bedside clock showed it was just past 4 AM. He had only been asleep for two hours. But in his dreams, all he saw was Barbara lying in a pool of blood while the Joker laughed endlessly.

Gordon's first wife had divorced him, leaving Gotham and their daughter behind, never to be heard from again. His second wife, also a police officer, had been killed by the Joker during a mission to save some infants.

The Joker often appeared in his nightmares, alongside the memories of his deceased wives. Now, his only remaining family, his daughter, had been left crippled by the Joker.

Gordon had more reason than anyone to lose his mind. But he didn't. He still upheld justice and the law.

He grabbed his gun from under his pillow, closed the window tightly, and carefully checked every room, ensuring no one had broken in. Finally, he came to Barbara's door.

Gently pushing it open, he saw his daughter peacefully asleep in bed by the moonlight. Only then did he relax, tucking the gun into his waistband and heading to the kitchen for a drink.

There wasn't much in the fridge. When Barbara was healthy, she had taken care of the housework, but Gordon had been too busy to even go grocery shopping since.

After some searching, he found half a carton of milk that hadn't expired yet. He took a swig to soothe his throat.

As he closed the fridge, a figure appeared from behind it, nearly causing him to drop the bottle.

"Next time, close your windows before going to bed," the figure said.

"Damn it, Batwoman! Can't you make some noise when you show up? You nearly scared me to death!" Gordon spat out his milk in shock, while Batwoman nimbly dodged it, her cape staying completely dry.

"Because... I'm Batwoman," she responded in her usual deadpan, her voice clearly altered by a modulator.

"I know who you are. I know exactly who you are. I just don't say it!" Gordon grumbled, looking for a cloth to clean up the mess. "It's 4 AM, all the crazies are locked up, and you can't let me sleep for once? Don't you have anything else to do at night?"

Batwoman ignored his complaints. Everyone in town thought Bruce Wayne was just a rich, spoiled playboy who partied every night, but in truth, those parties were just cover stories, enacted by paid actors.

Batwoman got straight to the point. "I have to leave Gotham for a while. If I stay, I'll be a danger to everyone."

"Oh? Who's the lunatic this time? I'll call the station," Gordon sighed, setting down the rag and reaching for his phone.

"I don't know yet. I'm still gathering clues."

Batwoman shook her head, disappearing into the shadows. Her bat cloak blended perfectly with the darkness, but Gordon, familiar with her, could imagine her expression.

"Then how do you know it's dangerous?" Gordon asked, confused.

"Someone told me. In some ways, he's very reliable." Batwoman seemed to be fiddling with something in her pocket but didn't take it out to show him. "You and Barbara should come with me immediately. Otherwise, those crazies will use you to draw me out."

Gordon was silent for a moment before shaking his head. "No, I'm Gotham's police commissioner. I won't leave. Whoever wants to cause trouble in Gotham will have to kill me first."

"Are you sure? From what little I know, this is far more dangerous than anything we've faced before," Bruce warned. "Maybe you could take a month off, and we could take Barbara to see some doctors worldwide."

"No, I won't leave. You take Barbara and go. I'll stay here." Gordon was resolute. If Batwoman left and he left too, Gotham would fall apart. His thirty years of work would be for nothing. "Even if they kill me, you must not return."

"I won't leave either. If my dad stays, then as a woman, I have no reason to run away," Barbara suddenly spoke up.

It was Barbara. Ever since being paralyzed by the Joker, she had struggled with sleep, often waking at the slightest noise, her body constantly in pain. Hearing the conversation in the kitchen, she had wheeled herself out of her room.

"Barbara, you should think about this. Maybe..." Batwoman started.

"No need. The Joker couldn't kill me, and no one else will either. I'll stay here with my dad. I can help in the police communications room, put my computer skills to use."

Barbara firmly refused, declaring she would stay in Gotham till the end.

Batwoman hesitated for a moment. Seeing how determined both of them were, she even considered staying herself. But the mysterious informant had warned her that if she stayed, not only Gotham but the entire Earth would be in danger. She had to leave.

With a swirl of her cape, she vanished from Gordon's home, heading to meet Alfred, who was waiting for her.

Gordon held Barbara and wept for a moment, solidifying his resolve. He spoke solemnly into the darkness.

"We're not leaving, Batwoman. Go do what you have to. I—wait, she's gone again? Why can't she ever let me finish a sentence?"

Gordon was exasperated. Once again, just like the hundreds of times before, Batwoman had disappeared as abruptly as she had appeared. He never got to hear a proper goodbye.

"Because that's just how Batwoman is, Dad. Now, can you help me back to my room?" Barbara asked, covering a yawn.