THE DEATH KNELL

Cindy's cooking skills left much to be desired. In fact, she openly admitted it herself. Rather than following a recipe, she had simply tossed every vegetable she could find into the pot, resulting in an unidentifiable, chaotic stew.

Slade Wilson, also known as Deathstroke, took a spoonful, his expression twisting with barely concealed disgust. He had eaten all kinds of food on battlefields, in the wild, and in survival situations, but this? This was something else entirely. He could swear it was the worst thing he had ever put in his mouth. And to make matters worse, it was supposed to be a Western sweet soup.

The only saving grace on the table was the leftover turkey from Batman's stock. Alfred, no doubt, had prepared it. Though it carried a faint scent of the refrigerator, it was still edible.

The three of them ate in silence. The tension in the air was thick, unspoken words weighing heavily on them. The storm outside continued its relentless assault against the walls of the Batcave, an eerie reminder of the darkness closing in on Gotham.

Victor had been searching for protective gear but had come up short. Instead, he had stumbled upon a few bat masks.

"Not exactly high-grade armor," Slade mused, examining one. He had no idea what Batman had used them for, but after running a few tests, he discovered they had built-in anti-virus filtration. A small silver lining.

With nothing better available, they all donned the masks.

Slade rummaged through the Batcave's arsenal, but there weren't many weapons left behind. Batarangs were plentiful, but he had no use for them—he wasn't a fan of throwing knives or darts. Instead, he stocked up on a few smoke bombs. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

Once they were as prepared as they could be, they returned to the car. No one bothered to clean up the mess they left behind. There was no point.

Slade blindfolded their eyes again, taking precautions before Cindy drove them away from the Batcave's hidden entrance.

As they emerged onto the open road, the wind outside had weakened slightly, but the rain had intensified. Sheets of water poured from the sky, obscuring visibility, turning the streets into rivers. The car's tires sliced through the flooded pavement, sending waves splashing to either side. The downpour smothered the city, shrouding them in an oppressive silence.

Slade leaned back in the passenger seat, arms crossed, his mind working through calculations and possibilities.

Black Mask and Ra's al Ghul—those two could be dealt with. They were dangerous but ultimately within the realm of human threats. However, the Laughing Bat and Barbatos were an entirely different matter. They remained in the shadows, lurking like predators waiting to strike.

In the comics, Slade had seen their plan unfold. But this wasn't the comics. This was reality. And in reality, anything could change.

His very presence in this world was a disruption. A foreign element. A variable in a story that was never meant to include him. The butterfly effect of his actions was impossible to predict.

His knowledge of the comics was now a double-edged sword. It gave him insight into the strength and tactics of his enemies, but it also made him aware of his own limitations.

If it came to a direct fight against the Laughing Bat, he and Cindy could win. But Barbatos… Barbatos was a different beast entirely.

A god. A monster born from the darkest depths of the multiverse.

A single warrior—even one as skilled as Slade—could not hope to defeat something of that magnitude.

In the comics, Barbatos could only be harmed by something special—certain metals infused with cosmic power.

These metals acted as bridges between the light and dark multiverses. Barbatos planned to use them to tear open a pathway to the main world.

According to the original timeline, these metals were already seeping into Batman's body.

Amber gold, an alchemical substance controlled by the Court of Owls. Batman had unknowingly ingested it during one of his battles with them.

The Bacchus Factor, a volatile compound present in the Joker's blood. It had entered Bruce Wayne's system during one of their countless brutal clashes.

Nth metal, a mysterious material connected to Hawkman and Hawkwoman. Batman had been exposed to its energies, his body absorbing traces of its latent power.

Promethium, the metal used to craft Deathstroke's armor. Batman had incorporated it into his technology as well, creating an automated surgical machine for emergency self-repairs.

And finally—Bat Gold, a rare element buried within the tombs of an ancient bat-worshiping civilization in Egypt.

Once all these metals fused together, the Batman of the main world would transform into a gateway, a living portal to the Dark Multiverse.

Through this portal, the Laughing Bat—the twisted version of Bruce Wayne from Earth -22—would step into their reality.

And when that happened, Barbatos would follow.

The Dark God would spread his influence across Earth-0, performing rituals to accumulate power. His ultimate goal: to drag the entire multiverse into eternal darkness.

Nth metal could harm him, but it wasn't enough to destroy him.

To end Barbatos once and for all, they needed the rarest substance in existence—X-metal. The tenth metal of the cosmos.

But X-metal only existed in one place.

The World Forge.

A realm hidden somewhere deep within the Dark Multiverse.

Slade had no idea how to get there.

No idea where to start.

Even if they managed to save Earth -11, it would only be a temporary victory.

If the Light Multiverse fell, everything would be lost.

Barbatos didn't understand the true balance of the universe. His plan was flawed.

The 52 bright universes and the 52 dark universes existed in harmony, like opposite ends of a cosmic scale. One side bathed in light, the other cloaked in shadow.

They were two halves of a greater whole.

If Barbatos took too much from one side, the balance would tip.

The consequences would be catastrophic.

Flashpoint Paradoxes. Infinite Crises. Time loops and fractured realities.

And if he took everything…

The scales would break.

Existence itself would collapse.

If Slade Wilson wanted to survive, he had only one option.

He had to reach the Bright Multiverse.

He had to find a way to stop the darkness before it was too late.

Because if the Justice League followed the same script as the comics, there was no telling what would happen.

Slade couldn't leave his fate in their hands.

But he wasn't a sorcerer. He was a soldier, a mercenary.

How the hell was he supposed to cross dimensions?

He had no answer.

For now, he could only take things one step at a time.

Cindy glanced at him from the driver's seat. She didn't know what was going through his mind, but she could tell something was different.

Slade was quiet. More so than usual.

The rain intensified, flooding the roads. The car waded through knee-high water, pushing forward like a boat caught in a storm.

Apart from their group, the only other passenger was the corpse of a Shadow Dancer. Wrapped tightly in black garbage bags, it lay in the trunk, an unpleasant reminder of the world they were dealing with.

Black Canary sat in silence, her face unreadable. Every now and then, she stole glances at Slade, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly.

Victor was busy fixing her makeup, adjusting her gas mask in the mirror, ensuring she looked perfect. She had a feeling tonight would be one for the history books.

Pete, on the other hand, was still in shock.

They were the only vehicle on the road.

In the distance, Gotham lay in darkness. Most of the city had lost power, save for a few surviving pockets of light.

And above it all, piercing through the storm

The Bat-Signal still shined.