Multiverse: Deathstroke

Commissioner Gordon snapped back from his memories. At this moment, he was driving back to the police station. 

The journey from Arkham Island back to the station was not short. It required crossing several bridges and tunnels, and the city districts along the way were not particularly safe. Among them, Two-Face and her crew were the most brazen.

Two-Face, Harvey Dent, before losing her mind, was Gotham's rising star — a renowned young prosecutor.

However, her extensive knowledge of the law meant that even when Batwoman captured her, she would soon be paroled. After all, Batman couldn't exactly testify in court against her.

Since Batwoman's departure, Gordon had remained on guard, but nothing had happened. Until last week, the station received calls from citizens saying that the Joker's gang had been rampaging through the streets, setting fires, and looting.

He immediately dispatched officers to maintain order, while he himself drove to Arkham. In the past, such actions from the Joker's gang usually indicated that the Joker was out again.

But when he arrived at Arkham and made his way past the many guards to see the Joker, there she was, still in her cell, calmly sitting cross-legged on the floor, napkin in hand, using a plastic knife and fork to delicately eat a roasted rat.

There was nothing to say to the Joker. Once he confirmed she was still locked up, he planned to return to the station to deal with the city's chaos.

Gordon was an old detective by now, and such circumstances didn't lower his vigilance. The Joker gang's movements made him feel something was off, so after that day, he visited Arkham daily, only feeling at ease after personally verifying the Joker was still inside.

Even though the Bat-Signal on the police station's roof remained lit, it was now just a deterrent for criminals. The Bat had left, and Gotham was unguarded.

Today's visit ended as usual; he didn't speak to the Joker. He merely stood there, silently observing her through the thick, bulletproof glass, as she doodled on the floor of her small cell. After every few strokes, she seemed to remember something and would burst into manic laughter, only to scribble some more and then dance around the room.

It made him want to rush in and beat her.

Yes, he hated her, but there were rules. He could only do so much.

On this matter, he and Batwoman were aligned, but it was worlds apart from how Deathstroke thought. People like Cindy and Su Ming never delayed revenge, not even overnight.

Gordon couldn't stay to see what the Joker was drawing today. He had already left the station later than usual. During the day, they had received a distress call saying ninjas had appeared in the city and attacked someone.

Gordon had spent the entire day and most of the evening investigating that.

But unfortunately, the heavy rain had washed away any clues, and even the police dogs couldn't pick up a scent.

It was now just past midnight. He should head back to GCPD, pick up Barbara, and head home. Maybe he could stop by the gas station to grab some donuts or burgers for the two of them for dinner. Though he wasn't sure if the fast-food place he frequented would still be open in this weather.

Driving in the pouring rain gave off an eerie feeling. The scenery ahead was barely visible, and all that could be heard was the monotonous sound of raindrops pelting the car.

Gordon turned on the radio, but he quickly turned it off again. The voice of the Gotham radio host, sharp and excited, reminded him of the maniac he had just visited. It made him think of the Joker.

Maybe one day he should investigate that radio host. She gave off the vibe of being part of the Joker's gang.

The lonely drive caused Gordon's thoughts to drift. He thought about how his young daughter was now confined to a wheelchair, and his heart ached with worry. Though she remained as kind and lovely as ever, her condition created inconveniences, especially in finding a partner.

The torrential rain continued to batter the car's windows, the sound of the water flowing like waves. As Gordon drove, his mind couldn't find peace.

Batwoman had mentioned the possibility of curing spinal cord injuries. What could she have meant?

And she had warned that danger was approaching. What could it be?

A few days ago, it was the Joker's gang. Today, it was the League of Shadows. What were these groups planning?

With these questions swirling in his mind, Gordon squinted through the rain, trying to make out the road ahead through the blurry windshield. He had to hurry and pick up his daughter. His car couldn't afford to break down in this weather.

But up ahead, near the turn at the intersection, he spotted a strange figure lying by the roadside in a pool of water.

Despite the darkness and the rain affecting his visibility, he was sure someone had collapsed, and the heavy rain was mercilessly drenching their body.

He slowed the car to get a closer look. There didn't seem to be any suspicious individuals around, and the buildings nearby were all tightly shut. Gotham's residents had long passed the stage of getting involved in others' business. No one would care about someone lying on the roadside, as it could be a scam or a trap.

However, in most cases, the people lying on the roadside were indeed dead, victims of various causes.

Frozen to death, starved to death, murdered… the list went on.

Gordon slowly stopped the car, unfastened his seatbelt, tightened his trench coat around him, and checked his gun.

As a cop, even a commissioner, he couldn't just ignore someone collapsed on the side of the road. That was his duty.

The wind and rain picked up even more. It hadn't been this bad when he left Arkham, but now, visibility beyond ten meters was difficult. The strong wind pushed against the car door, and he had to exert a lot of force to get out.

One foot stepped into ankle-deep water, and the coldness instantly struck him to the core.

"Hmph." The rain-soaked wind made Gordon instinctively lower his head, and his glasses were instantly drenched, distorting his vision like looking through a funhouse mirror.

He was reminded of how old he was. He could feel the decline in his strength and stamina, even though he hadn't yet hit sixty. The years of accumulated injuries made every joint ache on rainy days like this.

Closing the car door behind him, he shielded his glasses with one hand and rested the other on the gun holstered at his waist, trudging forward like an old man clutching his sore back in the storm.

He was getting closer now. He could see more clearly that the person on the roadside was a young woman, dressed in fur as if she were some sort of cave dweller.

Gordon wasn't surprised. When you have a friend who dresses up as a bat, drives around in a bat-shaped car, and whose gadgets are called batarangs, bat-belts, bat-gloves, and bat-capes, you learn to accept any bizarre attire. Gotham never lacked for strange people. Some were just heading to Halloween parties, while others were dangerous individuals.

Judging by the condition of the person lying there, Gordon figured she belonged to the latter group.

"Ma'am! Can you hear me? I'm James Gordon of the Gotham Police Department."

Having determined that the person might be dangerous, the first step was to call out. Hopefully, the person would drop the act and get up, leaving the scene.

After shouting, if the person still refused to cooperate, Gordon was ready to shoot in particularly dangerous situations.

That was Gotham's law enforcement protocol.

The woman by the roadside remained motionless, showing no response. 

Gordon moved closer to observe. The woman's pale face indicated she was already dead, her body slightly swollen from the rain soaking into her.

There was a massive wound on her side, clearly made by a sharp weapon. The blow had destroyed about a third of her internal organs, causing her to bleed out and die.

Based on the current situation, this wasn't where she had been killed. She had been moved here. There was no mud under her fingernails, and her feet bore no cuts, indicating that she had died in a dry, clean location. Judging by her attire, it was likely some high-end club.

But the heavy rain had destroyed most of the evidence. This was all Gordon could deduce. Her lifeless eyes stared blankly at the sky, her expression frozen in death.

Gordon sighed. This meant more work for the police. Gotham wasn't just plagued by psychopaths; ordinary people killed for various reasons too.

He couldn't yet identify the deceased, so he would have to call in the coroners. Gordon turned and began trudging back to his car to make the call.

But just then, the doors of the surrounding buildings suddenly swung open, and a group of people poured out. They were dressed in black suits, wearing old-fashioned soft felt hats. They quickly surrounded Gordon, pointing a multitude of submachine guns at him.

"Commissioner Gordon, our boss invites you for a visit."

The lead woman wore a fake smile as several black vans pulled up behind her. She gestured for Gordon to get in.

Gordon removed his glasses, trying not to let the rain hinder his vision, though his nearsightedness was still an issue.

"Who's your boss? Penguin? Black Mask?"

Only their lackeys would look so unremarkable. Though he had been kidnapped, at least these people were reasonable. Maybe he could…

"Oh? Commissioner Gordon, it seems you've forgotten an old friend and only remember the new ones?" The woman smiled but then bared her teeth and punched Gordon hard.

Gordon was knocked to the ground, kneeling in the muddy street. The corpse nearby still lay there, but now Gordon felt like it was staring at him.

"She—that woman over there—did you kill her too?" Gordon clutched his stomach, glaring up at the woman in black.

The woman sighed, glancing around at the heavy rain.

"You're worried about a dead body right now? We already have another team going to fetch your daughter. You should be more concerned about whether she'll end up like that corpse. Take him away!"

She barked the order over the sound of the pouring rain.

Several burly women seized Gordon, dragging him into one of the black vans. One by one, the vans roared to life, and soon, everyone disappeared from the street.

All that remained was Gordon's car and the fur-clad woman's body, gradually being hidden by the rain.

At the same time, Su Ming and Cindy were still pushing through the storm on their unicycles. Their enhanced physiques meant they weren't feeling any fatigue, even after riding for about 30 kilometers in just ten minutes.

Riding a unicycle at over 150 kilometers per hour was something only Deathstroke or other enhanced beings could manage. If it weren't for the rain, Su Ming figured the axles on their unicycles would have been smoking by now.

Through the dense rain, they could make out a tall building in the distance. The faint silhouette of a beautiful dome came into view — Gotham's courthouse. Across a small park from it was GCPD.

The streets were empty. This was the central business district, filled with high-end office spaces and usually considered one of the safer areas.

On a normal day, people liked to bring their families to this park, or office workers would come here to eat lunch.

But at night, it was a different story. Even with the GCPD across the street, shady deals often went down in the park.

Su Ming felt as cold as the environment around him. The temperature was only a few degrees above freezing — typical for a rainy spring night. Water was seeping into every seam of his armor, while the wind quickly sapped his body heat.

Cindy was a few steps ahead, leading the way, likely feeling just as chilled as he was.

"In hindsight, knowing the rain was going to get worse, we should have stayed at Harley's for a few more drinks before heading out. At least we'd be warmer," Su Ming muttered, touching the bottle of alcohol in his backpack, one he had stolen from Wayne Manor.

Cindy sighed as she rode her unicycle. "It seems we think alike. I don't just want a drink right now; I'd love a hot dog too."

"The vending machines at the station should have something. We'll just smash one open. Your world has microwaves, right?"

"Of course we have microwaves — they're household appliances."

Su Ming still didn't understand this world. They had all the usual gadgets and communication tech, but no flying machines. It was like they had forgotten that branch of the tech tree.

But they were already planning their meal for when they reached the station. As long as they knocked everyone out, kidnapping Gordon would be easy.

With how chaotic the city had been lately, given Gordon's dedication to his work, he was sure to be working late.

Su Ming's plan was simple: kidnap Gordon, then storm a TV station. On live television, they'd use Gordon's safety as leverage to force Batwoman to appear.

Would Bruce really leave Gordon to die? Impossible. Even on Earth -11, before Gotham's destruction, Bruce wasn't so different from other Batmen in the multiverse.

In fact, being this world's only superhero, Bruce's sense of responsibility was even greater. Eventually, that overwhelming guilt would crush her when everything fell apart.

"Wait, did you hear gunshots?"

Through the wind and rain, Su Ming could faintly hear something coming from the direction of GCPD. There hadn't been any thunder, so those continuous booms had to be explosions or gunfire.

Cindy took off her helmet and listened closely, her blonde hair instantly drenched by the rain. Her expression grew serious.

"Yes, and there was a grenade explosion too, inside the station."

They realized something was wrong and quickly picked up the pace.