Robbed

Holding her wineglass, she led the two of them to the study next to the reception room. There was no need for words—the floor bore a trail of black footprints stretching behind the bookshelves.

Several black handprints remained on the piano keys, left by filthy gloves.

"Uh-oh."

Barry Allen knew he had stumbled upon another crime scene—and this one was in Batwoman's home. Even if it was a Batwoman from a Parallel Universe, this was far too unusual.

Bliss narrowed her eyes at the footprints. They had been left by the specialized combat boots of a uniform, with no discernible tread, just sections of flat metal.

Of course, she remembered those footprints. Usually, though, she saw them in blood. This time, it was only mud.

"Deathstroke?! How did she get in here?" Bliss bristled at once. Having an annoying killer sneak into her home was hardly a pleasant thought. "Alfred, call the police department. Ask what Deathstroke has been doing in the city lately."

Barry Allen was not particularly tense. Hearing Deathstroke's name did not seem to bother him much; if anything, he looked as though he had encountered a savior.

"Oh, your world's Deathstroke? Give her my regards, haha." He examined the black handprints Cindy had left on the piano, then calculated the stride length. "Looks like she took the turkey. Look at how far the muddy water splashed beside these footprints. With the same stride length, it means she was lighter when she came in and carrying weight when she left—probably no more than the weight of the missing food."

"I know. I'm just wondering why that psycho killer came to my house." Bliss pressed those piano keys, and the bookcase slowly opened without a sound, revealing a pitch-black passageway.

"Huh? Isn't Deathstroke supposed to be on our side?" Barry scratched his head, finding it strange.

Back on Earth-0, many Heroes and villains had merely fled from this crisis. Only Deathstroke, the Mercenary, had taken the initiative to come help. Why did things seem different here?

Bliss was even more surprised. "Your Deathstroke is one of you?"

That question put Barry in a difficult position, because Deathstroke's actions were truly hard to define.

"How should I put it? First and foremost, he's on money's side. I guess that part is the same."

Bliss nodded, agreeing with him.

"He's done plenty of bad things and killed a lot of people. Half the unsolved cases I have, I think he was responsible for."

Bliss nodded again, indicating that was correct.

"But many times, he's also taken part in saving the world. He helped the Justice League drive off alien invaders and enemies, risking his life and braving danger time and again. So he's actually a complicated person."

This time, Bliss did not nod. Instead, she pinched her chin, the corners of her mouth turning downward as she sank into thought.

A moment later, she came back to herself and motioned for Barry to follow her to the Batcave. As they walked, she said, "Our Deathstroke probably doesn't know about this world-ending situation yet. If I tell her, what do you think the chances are that she'll help us?"

"One hundred percent, Batwoman. As long as you can persuade her, she definitely won't stand by and do nothing. If persuasion seems difficult, you could fill out a large check instead." Barry understood what kind of person Slade was, but he knew nothing about this world's Deathstroke, so that was the only conclusion he could offer.

"For now, I won't hold the stolen turkey against her. But I need to know what she did in my base?!"

Before Bliss had even finished speaking, her eyes widened.

The Batcave was a complete mess, with signs of smashing and wrecking everywhere. Footprints of all sizes covered the cave floor, and used dishes had been tossed all over the table. Her beloved giant dinosaur had even had a hole punched through its head, occasionally spitting out a spark or two.

The system used to monitor the city had been hacked. The large screen still displayed constantly changing surveillance feeds, while a length of data cable protruded beneath the mainframe, showing that Deathstroke had used a physical connection to breach the system.

She was not surprised at all that Deathstroke could deal with the mechanical dinosaur. It had been designed for petty thieves, not a world-class killer like Deathstroke. But she had never known Deathstroke was also a computer expert—one even better than herself.

A flash of lightning streaked by, and Barry appeared atop the dinosaur's head. He bent down and examined the traces left on it.

There were footprints on the dinosaur's head, black handprints around its eye sockets, and water stains on its tail. He swiftly deduced Su Ming's tactics and replayed them in his mind.

Yet that only further proved that only Deathstroke could carry out such scalpel-like strikes against weaknesses. Many who could pull it off would never think of such tactics, while many who could think of them lacked the physical ability to execute them.

Then he examined the other traces on the ground.

A woman in high heels, a burly man in sneakers, and someone in a Wheelchair—they really had come here to camp out. The tabletop was littered with cups and plates, including the expired turkey.

The only thing he could not understand was that there were two kinds of Deathstroke footprints. One was slightly larger and heavier, while the other was slightly smaller and lighter.

He bared his teeth, unable to make sense of it, and returned to Bliss's side.

Only three seconds had actually passed. She was still pondering how her system had been breached. Barry told her what he had found, but even Bliss could not figure out what had happened.

Alfred hurried up from behind. He descended the stairs, pressed several buttons on the system, and switched to a news channel.

"Miss Bliss, I believe you should see this. I was unable to contact the police station just now, but I saw the news on television."

The television was replaying Su Ming's recording. The station executives, terrified for their lives, had pulled all the evening news and replaced it with Deathstroke's interview. Although the city was suffering a massive blackout, as long as even one person could still watch television, they did not dare refuse to air the program.

Then came the scene of Su Ming shooting Barbara.

As the gunshot echoed through the Batcave, the old butler and Barry both flinched and involuntarily closed their eyes.

"That makes no sense. Deathstroke has absolutely no reason to kill Oracle."

Barry shook his head repeatedly, refusing to believe it. Oracle was worth more than an ordinary Superhero. Deathstroke would never simply kill Barbara like that. Back in the Main World, that one shot would mean more than a billion dollars down the drain.

"Mr. Allen, we are talking about Deathstroke. She is a Mercenary who kills for money. She does not care whom she kills." Alfred corrected him. He had once served the government and was a Warrior with convictions; in his eyes, Mercenaries like Deathstroke were madmen without any principles.

Warriors needed a cause, while businessmen cared only about profit.

Bliss leaned over the control console and used the supercomputer to slow the footage down twentyfold. She was not saddened by Barbara's fate; instead, she focused on the bullet.

"Barry is right. Deathstroke didn't kill Barbara. That bullet was just a forced-perspective shot. It actually passed one centimeter behind her neck."

"Then she brought Barbara here and had her crack your system. The Wheelchair tracks left here match the axle spacing and tire circumference of Barbara's Wheelchair in the broadcast." Barry nodded. He wiped away the black handprints Su Ming had left on the console, then looked at the ground beneath their feet. "I'm not surprised at all that she could crack your system."

Bliss still held her pointed chin as she quietly watched the replay on the large screen. The computer was automatically slowing down the news footage, and she spotted something strange.

"However, there is still something that surprises me. The person wearing the Iconic Uniform is not actually our Deathstroke."

As she spoke, she pressed a button. The image froze on the screen, displaying a close-up of Deathstroke. That scarlet single eye stared at the three of them from the screen, and the air fell silent.