Chapter 23: A World of Powerhouses

"But that's just for now. We still have no idea what Falcone has planned for the League of Assassins. For all we know, it could be a bioweapon that'll take all of Gotham with it," Cindy remarked, raising her bottle in a toast with Michael. She sighed, knowing that if Falcone had taken Gordon to lure out Batman, there was a real possibility that the entire city was in danger.

Ten years ago, Gotham had been Falcone's empire, but now it was run by lunatics. He had every reason to go insane, watching the city he had painstakingly built as a haven for organized crime crumble to pieces. He was old, out of time to rebuild his dark kingdom. It wouldn't be far-fetched for him to take the city down with him before he died—an act of final vengeance.

As for why he involved the League of Assassins? Ra's al Ghul had long believed that Gotham was the source of the world's corruption. The League had always wanted to destroy the city, but Batman had been in their way. Now that Batman was absent, both Falcone and Ra's had an opportunity. But Gotham could only be destroyed once—so who would get the honor?

Though Cindy didn't voice all these thoughts, they lingered in her mind as she considered the grim possibilities.

"We can't enter before the assassins do. The only option is to stake out the area. Once the ninjas make their move, we'll follow them in," Michael said with a wry smile as they toasted. It was a plan that wasn't much of a plan—more like an inevitable course of action.

"Let's hope it's Talia leading the League this time. She's at least somewhat reasonable. If it's anyone else, even if we take down Falcone, we'll probably have to fight the League too," Cindy said, gulping down several swigs of whiskey. The golden liquid dripped down her neck as she wiped her mouth with satisfaction. She knew the potential fallout, especially if the League's orders were to kill every living being they encountered. That would include Gordon.

Michael shared her concerns. Even if it were Talia, there'd likely be a fight before she could be reasoned with. The League only respected strength; they valued proof of one's resolve through combat. Only then might she reconsider her orders. Otherwise, they'd face endless assassination attempts.

If it came down to facing the League's assassins, they'd need to protect Barbara—an essential asset in their mission.

"Couldn't we use some extra help? Reliable help," Michael mused, thinking out loud. "Do you have any mercenary friends in Gotham?"

Cindy snorted, rolling her eyes. "Friends? In this line of work? It's all business, Michael. No one's truly your friend in this business."

Michael gave her an exasperated look. "No wonder your business is drying up. Ever heard of playing the long game?"

"Yeah, well, when the fish you catch are like slippery octopuses, what's the point of a long game? Besides, I prefer my business clean and fast," Cindy shot back, completely unbothered.

Michael sighed and changed the subject. "Speaking of new talent, have you heard of a mercenary called 'Silence'? She's been making a name for herself in Gotham back home—an expert in assault tactics, demolitions, and firearms."

Cindy thought for a moment before shaking her head. "Never heard of her. Either she doesn't exist here, or she's too small-time. I don't know what things are like in your world, but here, when people think mercenaries, they think of me. Right, Barbara?"

Barbara, still processing the bizarre conversation between Michael and Cindy, blinked in confusion when she was addressed. "What? Uh... sure." She wasn't entirely sure what was going on—Michael talking about alternate worlds and other Earths—but Cindy seemed to take her stunned response as confirmation, smugly puffing out her chest.

"Lady Shiva," Michael said suddenly, dropping the name like a bomb.

Cindy's confidence visibly deflated. Lady Shiva was an undisputed master assassin. She hadn't always been known by that name—Shiva was the Hindu goddess of destruction, but her fighting prowess had earned her the title.

Michael had seen DC's official RPG rulebook stats. Batman and Bronze Tiger had a martial arts rating of 14, Deathstroke had 15, but Lady Shiva? She was at 16.

In the rulebook, 16 was defined as "universal-level combat skills." A mortal who had pushed her abilities to cosmic heights. Even though it was just a game, it reflected a deeper truth—Lady Shiva was not someone to mess with.

"Shiva's an assassin. We're hired killers. Not the same thing," Cindy muttered, looking away as she made an excuse.

It wasn't entirely wrong. Deathstroke's assassinations were often flashy—swords drawn, guns blazing, relying on modern weaponry and advanced tactics. Lady Shiva preferred more subtle methods, often killing with nothing but her hands. A single strike or a finger jab, silent and lethal.

"There are others, you know. Just as skilled or maybe even better than Shiva," Michael continued, ticking off names. "Like the Aikido master Sa'ar, Shiva's own teacher O-Sensei, the leader of the Twelve Brothers in Silk, and the old man known only as 'Sensei.' There are more out there, and that's not even counting the superhumans."

The DC Universe was vast, and its depths were terrifying. Even with Michael's newfound strength, he knew there were limits. His current abilities, though enhanced by Slade Wilson's body, were just the beginning.

Cindy nodded, swallowing hard. She'd only ever heard of O-Sensei, but the other names were entirely new to her. A part of her hoped they didn't exist in their world.

In reality, they probably did. The multiverse was a vast, complicated place, and in a universe where Gotham existed, so did its dark underbelly and its master fighters.

"Right. Just something to keep in mind. Most of those people are in Asia, so as long as you steer clear of that continent, you should be fine." Michael tried to lighten the mood, though it was hard to shake the weight of knowing these dangerous individuals could be lurking anywhere.

"Fair enough. We've got enough on our plate already," Cindy agreed, downing another swig. She had decided: if they made it through this, she'd find some quiet place to hone her own martial skills. If people like Shiva were out there, she had some work to do.

With no reinforcements to count on, the best option for now was to focus on the task at hand—getting to Indian Hill before things went from bad to catastrophic.

Cindy stood and made her way to the staircase, likely heading up to Wayne Manor to raid the kitchen for supplies. Michael watched her go, then turned to Barbara, who was still deep in thought.

"While you're at it, see if you can run a search on Bruce Wayne and his butler Alfred," Michael said quietly.

Barbara's suspicion was immediate. "Why? What are you planning?"

Michael gave a casual shrug. "It's business. You heard Cindy—she could use some new clients."

"You're not doing anything shady, are you? Because I'm not helping with that," Barbara said, turning her wheelchair away in defiance.

Michael chuckled softly, not at all offended. Barbara, like her father, was a stickler for ethics. Even when faced with Gotham's darkest realities, she still held on to her principles. But while she'd rolled away, she hadn't shut down the system. Her laptop was still plugged into the Batcomputer.

Typical Gordon behavior—if I don't see it, it's not my problem.

As she moved off, Michael couldn't help but admire her resolve. She was beginning to understand the darkness that lurked in the world, but she hadn't lost herself to it. She still had hope, a sense of right and wrong.

He wondered how long that would last.