In a vast, dark expanse, several figures stood atop the ruins. After a suffocating silence, the white-haired man in green robes finally spoke:
"Anyway, that's the situation. We've lost contact with the Yongjia People, and The Last 52 Legion was ambushed in Gotham as well. We have to launch the plan ahead of schedule."
"I told you not to ignore Deathstroke. Treating him like an ordinary human was a mistake from the very beginning."
An aged voice said this, but its owner kept himself concealed, his face covered by a white cloth.
"Cough, cough, cough. I'll deal with that other me." Deathstroke, leaning against a crumbling wall, laboriously sat up. His armor let out a piercing scream. "Only Deathstroke can deal with Deathstroke. The rest of you are all trash."
Having said that, he did not wait for anyone's response. He raised a hand, opened a black wormhole, and cast a spell to leave.
"He doesn't even know where the other Deathstroke is, yet he says he's going to deal with the enemy? What empty boasting." A bald man laughed and patted the S emblem on his chest. "Then I'll activate the plan. You'd better cooperate properly."
"Of course. I've arranged people on Earth to receive you." The old man in white replied, his beard trembling slightly. "After Hecate's death, that divine power of witchcraft should belong to me. Damn Deathstroke."
"No one here gives a damn about your witchcraft. No one's going to fight you for it. I only want to destroy Earth!" The man in green suddenly became agitated, clawing and tearing at his hair. "Whenever I see them laughing, the pain is unbearable. I hate them. Why was my world doomed to perish? Why do they get to survive?"
"Enough. Stop talking useless nonsense. Do more work.