My Own Reflection

Just as he headed for the stairwell door leading downstairs, That Door burst open with a bang, and a highly imposing figure came up through it.

Su Ming's first reaction was that the person Deathstroke had arranged to meet had arrived.

But a gust of wind swept through, parting the dense curtain of rain. The neon glow of Wayne Tower illuminated him—and the newcomer as well.

He realized something was wrong.

The person opposite him wore exactly the same armor, with identical weapons and equipment. They were only slightly shorter, around five-foot-seven.

The atmosphere immediately turned grave.

As if by instinct, guided by his body's memories, he reached behind his back and drew the baton. With a twist and a press, the collapsed short staff extended sharply from both ends. He gripped it steadily and assumed a fighting stance.

This was Deathstroke's favored weapon. The two ends of the staff were fitted with powerful electric shocks and tranquilizer darts. Employers often preferred Deathstroke to take targets alive and bring them back for their own amusement.

And the person opposite him made the exact same move!

If he had not watched that person come through the doorway, Su Ming would have thought he was looking into a mirror. Their movements were too perfectly synchronized—the speed at which they assembled their staffs, even their stances, were identical.

"Who are you?" ×2

Both spoke at once. Their voices, distorted by their masks, sounded like the hoarse whispers of demons.

"I'm Deathstroke." ×2

Once again, they spoke the same words. The atmosphere between them grew even more rigid. Weapons in hand, they began circling an invisible center.

Rain poured down, yet neither spoke again. Each was deep in thought, maintaining distance and silence. Carefully observing one's opponent before a fight was the habit of a Combat Master.

He had no idea what the other person was thinking, but Su Ming was certain he had more to think about.

What's going on? Another me? Or did a whole bunch of people get transported here, and everyone became Deathstroke? Or is this the real Deathstroke, while I'm just a cosplay enthusiast? But my physical abilities and thought speed are unquestionably superhuman.

Of course, there was no shortage of people in the DC Universe with such physical capabilities and fighting skills. There were even a few better than Deathstroke in close combat. But they all had their own identities; there was no need for them to wear yellow-and-black armor and impersonate Deathstroke.

Thanks to his legendary thought speed, nine times that of an ordinary person's, Su Ming considered and discarded countless possibilities in less than a fraction of a second.

The situation had reached a stalemate. Backing away would destabilize his footing and make it easy for the other side to land a strike. Turning around and leaving was even more impossible. Showing one's back in Gotham only led to one outcome.

So we can only fight? If I take them down, I can leave!

Needless to say, the same thought arose in both their minds at once and was immediately accepted, causing them to make the same move simultaneously.

Bang!

Their metal staffs collided in midair. Their strength was evenly matched, and both took a step back. Water splashed beneath their feet as they moved quickly, the tips of their staffs pointed at each other to guard against a follow-up attack.

Su Ming secretly let out a breath. Fortunately, he had inherited Deathstroke's combat experience as well. It was as natural as moving his own limbs, allowing him to fully unleash the body's fighting power. With these skills and techniques, at least his life was secure.

He had no idea what the other person was thinking, but they did not pursue. It seemed they were considering tactics just like him.

If the person opposite is whole and merely wearing a Deathstroke-style helmet, then the lack of vision on the right would be extremely difficult to adapt to. I should focus my attacks on their right side, striking from their blind spot. Because the nose blocks the view, the right foot is the best target!

A tactic instantly formed in Su Ming's mind. He spun his staff, flourished it, and swept toward the other person's right foot.

Whoosh!

Whoosh!

The staffs tore through the air. Cold metal sliced through the rain curtain, smashing droplets into fragments in midair. Two dark shadows wrapped in neon colors carved out twin planes of vacuum and struck each other.

Smack!

Their staffs collided again in midair. Clearly, both had chosen to attack the other's right foot while guarding their own, so this exchange ended in another draw.

Since both had put considerable force into the blow, they used the momentum to turn in the opposite direction and bleed off the force. Then they crouched low, one hand on the ground and the other holding the staff behind their backs like a scorpion's raised tail, ready to use the tranquilizer gun built into the staff.

But when both kicked up muddy sprays of water and saw the other assume the same posture, they knew their plan to use tranquilizers for a surprise attack had failed.

Damn it. I just arrived in the DC Universe and ran into something this inexplicable. It's obvious we're both Deathstroke—even our memories and habits are the same. Maybe we can talk? We're both enhanced humans and Combat Masters. If we fight, we might not settle it even after three days and three nights, and it'll make a huge commotion. Su Ming thought, deciding to set aside their differences. The plan to knock the other down and escape was no longer viable.

"Wait!" ×2

Once again, they spoke at the same time. Su Ming rolled his eyes inwardly. It seemed the other person had concerns too and did not want to keep fighting. More importantly, nobody had paid a fee to deal with such a powerful enemy. A mercenary could not take on a losing business deal. No grudge or emotion was more tangible than crisp green dollars.

"Put down your weapon. Let's talk!" ×2

"You put yours down first!" ×2

"Together!" ×2

Su Ming was helpless. Everything they did was synchronized. It was creepy as hell.

He was clearly just an ordinary man from another Earth, not the real Deathstroke. What was with this mysterious rapport? How much had Deathstroke's original self influenced him? Had even his way of thinking become the same?

No. I've never experienced a true fight to the death with someone. Back when I was a street punk, I was more like a confused bystander drifting through life. I've never dealt with things that truly belonged in the darkness, so I'm relying on Deathstroke's accumulated experience and adopting his ways of thinking and methods. I'm still myself. At least right now, my understanding of myself is clear and objective.

As Su Ming thought, both he and the person opposite dropped their weapons.

Clang, clang!

Both long staffs were tossed decisively into the rain, landing in the filthy water on the rooftop. They stood facing one another as the downpour ran down their masks like miniature waterfalls.

"Talk." ×2

When they once again spoke the same words at the same time, Su Ming immediately tried to break free from Deathstroke's fixed patterns of thought. He raised one palm and pressed his other hand against it.

"Stop, stop. Let's stop doing this mind-reading act. This is the creepiest thing I've ever experienced. I'll speak first, okay?"

"That would be for the best." The person opposite him visibly relaxed as well. At least they could finally communicate.

"I'm a mercenary. My codename is Deathstroke, and my real name is Slade. But you can also call me Su." Su Ming briefly described his background. Since he could not determine which Parallel World this was, he could not explain any other details.

"Interesting. I'm also a mercenary, and my codename is Deathstroke too. My real name is Cindy." The other Deathstroke seemed deeply uncomfortable as she touched her helmet.

Deathstroke was unlike other masked figures. The black-and-yellow color scheme of his gear carried more of a warning-color meaning, like that of a bee. He made no effort to conceal his identity. Everyone knew that Slade was Deathstroke, the legend of the mercenary world.

It made sense. If he made himself too mysterious, how would he get work? At the very least, wealthy prospective clients needed to be able to find him.

"What's going on? Did the military use my blood to make another clone?"

Su Ming knew that Deathstroke had a military past, and that his Genetic Modification had come from the military. Not to mention that the DC Universe had Clones everywhere, with countless factions possessing cloning technology.

"No, I don't think we're related as clones. The person who gave me my biochemical modifications died long ago, and there was only one dose of the enhancement serum."

The Deathstroke who called herself Cindy felt around the lower-right edge of her mask, flipped it back, and removed it.

Su Ming's head immediately began to ache. This Deathstroke named Cindy was actually a woman.

She had short blond hair and a cold yet beautiful face, the classic look of an American beauty. The only unfortunate thing was that her right eye was covered by a black eyepatch as well. It appeared she was blind in that eye.

What Su Ming could not understand was that she was only in her twenties, not an old woman.

If she was the female version of himself, she should have been in her fifties too.

As he thought that, he felt around beneath his own mask. Sure enough, there was an almost imperceptible sliding clasp. He pressed it and pushed it aside, and his helmet came off.

Cindy was equally shocked. Clearly, there was something she could not understand either.

Su Ming lowered his head to look. The rain-disturbed puddle did not allow him to see the details clearly, but he could still tell that he was very young. He had short blond crew-cut hair, a handsome yet unruly face, light stubble, and a black leather eyepatch over his right eye. He touched it and could feel that there was no eyeball beneath the patch. He had undoubtedly inherited Deathstroke's younger body.

That raised a problem. In the old stories, Deathstroke's right eye had been shot out by his wife. In the New 52, it had been gouged out by Batwoman's son Damian. But no matter what, Deathstroke in his twenties should still have been an unmarried grunt in the military.

What was going on with this Worldline? And how had he gone blind?

"A man? You're a man?" Cindy's expression remained cold, but her tone revealed utter disbelief.

Su Ming was the one feeling frustrated. Deathstroke turning into a woman was what made no sense, wasn't it?

"Is being a man strange?"

"A man as strong as you is extremely rare. Among Superhumans, I only know of Wonder Man."

Cindy walked beneath the huge "W" of the Wayne Enterprises logo, took out a cigar, lit it, and began to smoke. She felt she needed some nicotine to properly think through what was happening.

Su Ming walked over. They could no longer fight. Their separate questions had become a shared confusion. From the pocket where Cindy had taken out her cigar, Su Ming found a small cigar case in the same place on his own body. He took one out too. Standing together, the two silently puffed smoke into the rain.

The moment he heard Cindy mention Wonder Man, Su Ming basically knew which world this was.

One of the DC Universe's many Parallel Worlds: Earth-11, a world ruled by the Amazons, where both Super Villains and Superheroes were female versions.

Batwoman had become Batwoman, Superman had become Supergirl, Aquaman had become Aquawoman, The Flash had become The Flash, and Cyborg had become Cyborg. Joker had become Jester, Penguin had become Penguin, Two-Face had become Two-Face, and the League of Assassins had become the League of Assassins.

The key was that famous people who had originally been women were still women. Harley Quinn was still Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy was still Poison Ivy, and Black Canary was still Black Canary. It was just that, instead of being lovers or partners with the original Superheroes or Super Villains, they had become best friends.

No one knew how this bizarre world had been created. The DC Editorial Department really knew how to let their imaginations run wild.

In any case, men had always held lower status in this world. Only in modern times had people begun speaking of gender equality, but women generally built careers outside while men managed the household. There was no helping it: the world's highest ruling class was made up of Amazons, and they were all women. Government officials were women as well. They held greater strength and authority, far surpassing men.

The only oddity was that the original Wonder Woman had become a man in this world. He was called Wonder Man and was the only male Superhero known to the public.

Unfortunately, having been raised by the Amazons from childhood, he seemed extremely bizarre to Su Ming. Could anyone imagine Wonder Woman's outfit worn by a muscular man?

In Su Ming's eyes, he could not even hold a conversation with a man dressed like that.

The Cindy beside me appears to be this world's real Deathstroke. I must have brought that other Deathstroke's body from another Parallel Universe, and because I crossed the barrier between worlds, the temporal fluctuations made me younger.

He immediately formed a hypothesis in his mind. At present, it seemed highly likely.