Word Filler (Skip)

superhuman brain? But the memories should have come with his own soul, right?

This body was now filled with an explosive sense of power, something he had never felt before. It seemed that he had been possessed by a soul, and this was Deathstroke's original body.

"He stood on the rooftop of a skyscraper, with the sleepless city below his feet, lights illuminating every corner. In the night's neon glow, he could see the dense heat rising from manholes, tinting the roadsides red.

This was an early spring night, and the bustling city was shrouded in haze, with a chilling wind carrying the scent of industrial emissions and wastewater.

What he saw was a world of luxury, fame, and power, a world of bright lights and debauchery.

But in the more distant darkness, in places beyond his vision—perhaps in dim alleyways filled with discarded trash cans, maybe in sewers hiding homeless souls, perhaps under overpasses where gangs gathered.

Those casually discarded firearms and bodies, the eerie laughter and screams in the dark, the black, dried-up bloodstains—all of it constantly reminded anyone who came here that beneath the city's glamorous façade lay boundless sin and madness. Anyone who underestimated it would be mercilessly devoured.

Where was this? Maybe just by listening to the descriptions of the citizens, someone might guess.

The residents of this city liked to describe it using names of villains they were familiar with.

Some said it was like a killer crocodile because it always lurked in the darkness and devoured people suddenly, leaving no trace behind, maybe just a splash or a bubble, but no one cared.

Some said it was like Two-Face because its ruthless choices, whether it was between good and evil, order and chaos, were constantly spinning in a frenzy. Fate, like a coin, was tossed up and down, leaving people no choice.

Some said it was like the Scarecrow because no matter what beautiful dreams one had, it could turn them into nightmares, digging deep into people's darkest fears until they went mad, drooling and wandering the streets and alleys.

Some said it was like the Joker because this city was fundamentally insane! Haha, hahaha!

Of course, there was a good chance that this citizen might suddenly go berserk in the next moment, sticking a pencil or a fork into the eyes of an outsider and then, with innocent, wide-open eyes, curiously asking the twitching corpse, 'Why so serious?'

As an otherworldly visitor, he didn't need to ask any of the citizens. Just by looking up and seeing the bright beams in the night sky leaving bat-shaped patterns on the clouds, he knew where he was.

"Gotham."

He muttered.

In the next moment, a sudden downpour engulfed his figure.

With a faintly sour taste of gray rainwater, it obscured everything he had seen and heard before, covering all the sins. Only the sound of heavy rain could be heard, and the chilling feeling from within.

But the cold didn't come from the rain; he was fully armored, from head to toe, in sophisticated metal gear.

A full-face mask and helmet, the entire body wrapped in intricate chainmail, chest, shoulders, limbs layered with armor-like pauldrons. All of this told him that he was no longer an ordinary person.

He used to be an ordinary man, living a simple life hardly worth mentioning.

He was called a night shift warehouse keeper, which was just a security guard. He wasn't the tall and imposing type that would instill fear, but he was young and had some courage.

"What's the process? Why am I here? I don't remember."

He reached out to touch his forehead but his thick tactical gloves completely isolated him from the touch and temperature of the helmet.

Indeed, as a young man, he had seen various stories of time travel in literature and art.

In novels, he had seen people time-travel due to computer explosions, choking on food, crossing the street to save someone and getting hit, falling into a toilet while using it, but why was he here?

He looked through the rain curtain into the distance, trying to divert his attention from the bat-shaped symbol but just stared lifelessly at the dark clouds on the horizon, trying to recall.

The neon lights on countless skyscrapers became blurry in the rain and mist, and everything seemed unreal.

He only remembered coming home from work, answering a call from a middle school classmate inviting him to a wedding.

After that... he played on the computer for a while? His old laptop made a sound like a tractor when he turned it on.

Yes, he liked those fantasy worlds that allowed him to briefly forget the monotony of real life.

He didn't remember any explosions, strange lights, or sounds. It felt like a blink of an eye, and he was here, standing on the rooftop of Wayne Tower, the tallest building in Gotham, inexplicably feeling the evening breeze.

In this eerie place, he had stood there, dazed, for about five minutes. After gradually accepting this fact, he fell into confusion.

As for who he was, after realizing he had crossed into the DC universe, he knew. Night shifts were boring, and he had read a lot of novels, and later he got into American comics.

Because even as a small security guard like himself, he had heard other young people at the workplace talk about how "Avengers 2 is good" or "Guardians of the Galaxy is fun," and his female co-worker said things like "Winter Soldier is OTP, Iron Man is the third wheel."

He didn't understand at first.

To have a common topic and good relationships with colleagues, he first watched the movies on his old computer. He thought they were good; American blockbusters were exciting.

Later, he used the workplace's Wi-Fi to catch up on some comics while on the job. At first, he was a complete newbie when it came to differentiating between Marvel and DC, but after reading a lot, he even remembered the names and abilities of hundreds of heroes and villains, along with the important stories they were involved in. Although he only read comics with Chinese translations, it was enough to chit-chat with colleagues.

At this moment, he could only see the left side of his helmet's visor. He looked down and saw a small puddle that had formed. In the ripples, he could see his own current appearance clearly.

A metal helmet split in black and yellow, a shape resembling a hockey mask. Two long straps of cloth fluttered behind his head, swaying in the wind and rain, much like Rambo's headband. The left eye on the mask was a red rhombus-shaped visor, while the right half was completely black, without any openings.

He had become Deathstroke.

His real name was Slade Joseph Wilson, one of the greatest mercenaries and assassins in the DC universe, a master of strategy and tactics, a master of combat, a master of all weapons.

Originally, he was a government experiment, a man with 90% of his brain unlocked, just a bit below the protagonist of "Limitless," and he had surpassed the peak human physical condition, with self-healing abilities that could mend most wounds.

But after a superior betrayed his friend, leading to the friend's capture by enemies, even though Deathstroke rescued his comrade and fought his way out, he had a falling out with the military, which made him become a mercenary. He used his superhuman abilities for dirty work to make a living.

The key was, he inherited everything from Deathstroke, except for the memories, of course. At least, he had learned things like English, driving, and firearm usage for free

.

He was like an outsider, observing himself from a third-person perspective, his knowledge about Deathstroke coming solely from comics.

At first, after realizing he had become a superpowered individual, he was quite happy about it.

Becoming Deathstroke was great; under prepared and planned conditions, he could handle anyone, even Batman's son, had a more than 50% chance of winning.

As a villain, he even easily defeated Robin and the Teen Titans. In the recent rebooted New 52 comics, he fought hand-to-hand with Wonder Woman, without kryptonite, and came out alive against Superman.

However, after the initial excitement, he began to feel the pressure.

Why, though?

Because Deathstroke was a mercenary, doing anything for money, regardless of what it was. So, no matter which world, he had almost offended all the superheroes and supervillains of the DC universe, whether it was fighting Penguin to help Two-Face, assisting Two-Face against Black Mask, or joining Black Mask against Penguin. He occasionally took on missions to deal with various superheroes.

In Deathstroke's eyes, there was no difference between superheroes and supervillains. They were just people, and whoever gave him a job, as long as there was money, he would do it.

"This is going to be troublesome."

His name before the crossover was Su Ming, and the experienced workers at the workplace called him Xiaoming. Every time someone called him that, he felt like he had done something wrong. For example, not washing his hands before meals, crossing the road without looking at the traffic lights, or being late for class. Basically, any mistake in the primary school textbook was probably his.

"First, I need to figure out which parallel universe of DC this is and then determine the timeline and where the story has progressed to," he sighed. He wanted to smoke, but his helmet got in the way. "There are many DC worlds with Gotham and Batman. If it's the movie universe, the power limits are not very high, as seen in the recent 'Justice League' movie where Steppenwolf was taken down like a doll. But if it's the comic universe, no matter which one, the danger level increases significantly."

"Earth 0, the main world of the New 52 comics; Earth 3, a world where all heroes and villains have switched identities; Earth 10, a world ruled by the Nazis; Earth 38, the original world of DC comics."

Su Ming wiped the mask, and the rainwater gathered at his feet like a small stream. He had no other clothes under the armor, and he felt very cold now, completely soaked in the water.

However, he had never felt his mind so clear. He had only glanced at the world setting of comics before, and now he could recall it completely. Was this because of Deathstroke's superhuman brain? But the memories should have come with his own soul, right?

This body was now filled with an explosive sense of power, something he had never felt before. It seemed that he had been possessed by a soul, and this was Deathstroke's original body.

The problem was that while Deathstroke had self-healing abilities, they weren't that strong and couldn't regrow severed limbs, so his right eye was permanently blind.

When the high-speed regeneration took effect, it would consume a significant amount of his stamina and might even make him lose his sanity.

Deathstroke was in his fifties, and his children had all become superheroes. They might want to kill him at any moment, and he also had an immortal father, a supervillain with psychic powers, who also wanted to kill him.

Fortunately, he was strong enough that they couldn't kill him.

"As a twenty-something, becoming fifty... I finally had a family, but our relationship isn't great."

Su Ming shook his head helplessly. Deathstroke had strong abilities and intelligence, but it was clear that his emotional intelligence was lacking.

"By the way, why did he come here before? Was he on a mission? He's fully armed, so there should be a plan."

Su Ming gave up on thinking further. While his current body was that of an enhanced human, he was still inclined to find a place to take cover from the rain. It wasn't just the chilly spring rain; the industrial pollution in Gotham was so severe that the rain had a nauseating and foul smell.

Leaving the edge of the building, he turned to leave. Even though he had an umbrella strapped to his back, he didn't want to try gliding; it would be a bit too ridiculous if he fell to his death.

'A world-famous mercenary committed suicide by jumping off a building in Gotham last night, suspected to be related to an emotional entanglement with Batman.'

Su Ming could already imagine that if he died from falling, the front page of tomorrow's 'Gotham Gazette' would definitely be about this. He didn't want to die, even if he had crossed into a dangerous world, and he definitely didn't want to be involved in the romantic entanglements of the Joker and Batman.

Feel free to reach out if you have any more questions or need further assistance!

The problem was that while Deathstroke had self-healing abilities, they weren't that strong and couldn't regrow severed limbs, so his right eye was permanently blind.

When the high-speed regeneration took effect, it would consume a significant amount of his stamina and might even make him lose his sanity.

Deathstroke was in his fifties, and his children had all become superheroes. They might want to kill him at any moment, and he also had an immortal father, a supervillain with psychic powers, who also wanted to kill him.

Fortunately, he was strong enough that they couldn't kill him.

"As a twenty-something, becoming fifty... I finally had a family, but our relationship isn't great."

Su Ming shook his head helplessly. Deathstroke had strong abilities and intelligence, but it was clear that his emotional intelligence was lacking.

"By the way, why did he come here before? Was he on a mission? He's fully armed, so there should be a plan."

Su Ming gave up on thinking further. While his current body was that of an enhanced human, he was still inclined to find a place to take cover from the rain. It wasn't just the chilly spring rain; the industrial pollution in Gotham was so severe that the rain had a nauseating and foul smell.

Leaving the edge of the building, he turned to leave. Even though he had an umbrella strapped to his back, he didn't want to try gliding; it would be a bit too ridiculous if he fell to his death.

'A world-famous mercenary committed suicide by jumping off a building in Gotham last night, suspected to be related to an emotional entanglement with Batman.'

Su Ming could already imagine that if he died from falling, the front page of tomorrow's 'Gotham Gazette' would definitely be about this. He didn't want to die, even if he had crossed into a dangerous world, and he definitely didn't want to be involved in the romantic entanglements of the Joker and Batman.

Feel free to reach out if you have any more questions or need further assistance!

"He stood on the rooftop of a skyscraper, with the sleepless city below his feet, lights illuminating every corner. In the night's neon glow, he could see the dense heat rising from manholes, tinting the roadsides red.

This was an early spring night, and the bustling city was shrouded in haze, with a chilling wind carrying the scent of industrial emissions and wastewater.

What he saw was a world of luxury, fame, and power, a world of bright lights and debauchery.

But in the more distant darkness, in places beyond his vision—perhaps in dim alleyways filled with discarded trash cans, maybe in sewers hiding homeless souls, perhaps under overpasses where gangs gathered.

Those casually discarded firearms and bodies, the eerie laughter and screams in the dark, the black, dried-up bloodstains—all of it constantly reminded anyone who came here that beneath the city's glamorous façade lay boundless sin and madness. Anyone who underestimated it would be mercilessly devoured.

Where was this? Maybe just by listening to the descriptions of the citizens, someone might guess.

The residents of this city liked to describe it using names of villains they were familiar with.

Some said it was like a killer crocodile because it always lurked in the darkness and devoured people suddenly, leaving no trace behind, maybe just a splash or a bubble, but no one cared.

Some said it was like Two-Face because its ruthless choices, whether it was between good and evil, order and chaos, were constantly spinning in a frenzy. Fate, like a coin, was tossed up and down, leaving people no choice.

Some said it was like the Scarecrow because no matter what beautiful dreams one had, it could turn them into nightmares, digging deep into people's darkest fears until they went mad, drooling and wandering the streets and alleys.

Some said it was like the Joker because this city was fundamentally insane! Haha, hahaha!

Of course, there was a good chance that this citizen might suddenly go berserk in the next moment, sticking a pencil or a fork into the eyes of an outsider and then, with innocent, wide-open eyes, curiously asking the twitching corpse, 'Why so serious?'

As an otherworldly visitor, he didn't need to ask any of the citizens. Just by looking up and seeing the bright beams in the night sky leaving bat-shaped patterns on the clouds, he knew where he was.

"Gotham."

He muttered.

In the next moment, a sudden downpour engulfed his figure.

With a faintly sour taste of gray rainwater, it obscured everything he had seen and heard before, covering all the sins. Only the sound of heavy rain could be heard, and the chilling feeling from within.

But the cold didn't come from the rain; he was fully armored, from head to toe, in sophisticated metal gear.

A full-face mask and helmet, the entire body wrapped in intricate chainmail, chest, shoulders, limbs layered with armor-like pauldrons. All of this told him that he was no longer an ordinary person.

He used to be an ordinary man, living a simple life hardly worth mentioning.

He was called a night shift warehouse keeper, which was just a security guard. He wasn't the tall and imposing type that would instill fear, but he was young and had some courage.

"What's the process? Why am I here? I don't remember."

He reached out to touch his forehead but his thick tactical gloves completely isolated him from the touch and temperature of the helmet.

Indeed, as a young man, he had seen various stories of time travel in literature and art.

In novels, he had seen people time-travel due to computer explosions, choking on food, crossing the street to save someone and getting hit, falling into a toilet while using it, but why was he here?

He looked through the rain curtain into the distance, trying to divert his attention from the bat-shaped symbol but just stared lifelessly at the dark clouds on the horizon, trying to recall.

The neon lights on countless skyscrapers became blurry in the rain and mist, and everything seemed unreal.

He only remembered coming home from work, answering a call from a middle school classmate inviting him to a wedding.

After that... he played on the computer for a while? His old laptop made a sound like a tractor when he turned it on.

Yes, he liked those fantasy worlds that allowed him to briefly forget the monotony of real life.

He didn't remember any explosions, strange lights, or sounds. It felt like a blink of an eye, and he was here, standing on the rooftop of Wayne Tower, the tallest building in Gotham, inexplicably feeling the evening breeze.

In this eerie place, he had stood there, dazed, for about five minutes. After gradually accepting this fact, he fell into confusion.

As for who he was, after realizing he had crossed into the DC universe, he knew. Night shifts were boring, and he had read a lot of novels, and later he got into American comics.

Because even as a small security guard like himself, he had heard other young people at the workplace talk about how "Avengers 2 is good" or "Guardians of the Galaxy is fun," and his female co-worker said things like "Winter Soldier is OTP, Iron Man is the third wheel."

He didn't understand at first.

To have a common topic and good relationships with colleagues, he first watched the movies on his old computer. He thought they were good; American blockbusters were exciting.

Later, he used the workplace's Wi-Fi to catch up on some comics while on the job. At first, he was a complete newbie when it came to differentiating between Marvel and DC, but after reading a lot, he even remembered the names and abili

superhuman brain? But the memories should have come with his own soul, right?

This body was now filled with an explosive sense of power, something he had never felt before. It seemed that he had been possessed by a soul, and this was Deathstroke's original body.

"He stood on the rooftop of a skyscraper, with the sleepless city below his feet, lights illuminating every corner. In the night's neon glow, he could see the dense heat rising from manholes, tinting the roadsides red.

This was an early spring night, and the bustling city was shrouded in haze, with a chilling wind carrying the scent of industrial emissions and wastewater.

What he saw was a world of luxury, fame, and power, a world of bright lights and debauchery.

But in the more distant darkness, in places beyond his vision—perhaps in dim alleyways filled with discarded trash cans, maybe in sewers hiding homeless souls, perhaps under overpasses where gangs gathered.

Those casually discarded firearms and bodies, the eerie laughter and screams in the dark, the black, dried-up bloodstains—all of it constantly reminded anyone who came here that beneath the city's glamorous façade lay boundless sin and madness. Anyone who underestimated it would be mercilessly devoured.

Where was this? Maybe just by listening to the descriptions of the citizens, someone might guess.

The residents of this city liked to describe it using names of villains they were familiar with.

Some said it was like a killer crocodile because it always lurked in the darkness and devoured people suddenly, leaving no trace behind, maybe just a splash or a bubble, but no one cared.

Some said it was like Two-Face because its ruthless choices, whether it was between good and evil, order and chaos, were constantly spinning in a frenzy. Fate, like a coin, was tossed up and down, leaving people no choice.

Some said it was like the Scarecrow because no matter what beautiful dreams one had, it could turn them into nightmares, digging deep into people's darkest fears until they went mad, drooling and wandering the streets and alleys.

Some said it was like the Joker because this city was fundamentally insane! Haha, hahaha!

Of course, there was a good chance that this citizen might suddenly go berserk in the next moment, sticking a pencil or a fork into the eyes of an outsider and then, with innocent, wide-open eyes, curiously asking the twitching corpse, 'Why so serious?'

As an otherworldly visitor, he didn't need to ask any of the citizens. Just by looking up and seeing the bright beams in the night sky leaving bat-shaped patterns on the clouds, he knew where he was.

"Gotham."

He muttered.

In the next moment, a sudden downpour engulfed his figure.

With a faintly sour taste of gray rainwater, it obscured everything he had seen and heard before, covering all the sins. Only the sound of heavy rain could be heard, and the chilling feeling from within.

But the cold didn't come from the rain; he was fully armored, from head to toe, in sophisticated metal gear.

A full-face mask and helmet, the entire body wrapped in intricate chainmail, chest, shoulders, limbs layered with armor-like pauldrons. All of this told him that he was no longer an ordinary person.

He used to be an ordinary man, living a simple life hardly worth mentioning.

He was called a night shift warehouse keeper, which was just a security guard. He wasn't the tall and imposing type that would instill fear, but he was young and had some courage.

"What's the process? Why am I here? I don't remember."

He reached out to touch his forehead but his thick tactical gloves completely isolated him from the touch and temperature of the helmet.

Indeed, as a young man, he had seen various stories of time travel in literature and art.

In novels, he had seen people time-travel due to computer explosions, choking on food, crossing the street to save someone and getting hit, falling into a toilet while using it, but why was he here?

He looked through the rain curtain into the distance, trying to divert his attention from the bat-shaped symbol but just stared lifelessly at the dark clouds on the horizon, trying to recall.

The neon lights on countless skyscrapers became blurry in the rain and mist, and everything seemed unreal.

He only remembered coming home from work, answering a call from a middle school classmate inviting him to a wedding.

After that... he played on the computer for a while? His old laptop made a sound like a tractor when he turned it on.

Yes, he liked those fantasy worlds that allowed him to briefly forget the monotony of real life.

He didn't remember any explosions, strange lights, or sounds. It felt like a blink of an eye, and he was here, standing on the rooftop of Wayne Tower, the tallest building in Gotham, inexplicably feeling the evening breeze.

In this eerie place, he had stood there, dazed, for about five minutes. After gradually accepting this fact, he fell into confusion.

As for who he was, after realizing he had crossed into the DC universe, he knew. Night shifts were boring, and he had read a lot of novels, and later he got into American comics.

Because even as a small security guard like himself, he had heard other young people at the workplace talk about how "Avengers 2 is good" or "Guardians of the Galaxy is fun," and his female co-worker said things like "Winter Soldier is OTP, Iron Man is the third wheel."

He didn't understand at first.

To have a common topic and good relationships with colleagues, he first watched the movies on his old computer. He thought they were good; American blockbusters were exciting.

Later, he used the workplace's Wi-Fi to catch up on some comics while on the job. At first, he was a complete newbie when it came to differentiating between Marvel and DC, but after reading a lot, he even remembered the names and abilities of hundreds of heroes and villains, along with the important stories they were involved in. Although he only read comics with Chinese translations, it was enough to chit-chat with colleagues.

At this moment, he could only see the left side of his helmet's visor. He looked down and saw a small puddle that had formed. In the ripples, he could see his own current appearance clearly.

A metal helmet split in black and yellow, a shape resembling a hockey mask. Two long straps of cloth fluttered behind his head, swaying in the wind and rain, much like Rambo's headband. The left eye on the mask was a red rhombus-shaped visor, while the right half was completely black, without any openings.

He had become Deathstroke.

His real name was Slade Joseph Wilson, one of the greatest mercenaries and assassins in the DC universe, a master of strategy and tactics, a master of combat, a master of all weapons.

Originally, he was a government experiment, a man with 90% of his brain unlocked, just a bit below the protagonist of "Limitless," and he had surpassed the peak human physical condition, with self-healing abilities that could mend most wounds.

But after a superior betrayed his friend, leading to the friend's capture by enemies, even though Deathstroke rescued his comrade and fought his way out, he had a falling out with the military, which made him become a mercenary. He used his superhuman abilities for dirty work to make a living.

The key was, he inherited everything from Deathstroke, except for the memories, of course. At least, he had learned things like English, driving, and firearm usage for free

.

He was like an outsider, observing himself from a third-person perspective, his knowledge about Deathstroke coming solely from comics.

At first, after realizing he had become a superpowered individual, he was quite happy about it.

Becoming Deathstroke was great; under prepared and planned conditions, he could handle anyone, even Batman's son, had a more than 50% chance of winning.

As a villain, he even easily defeated Robin and the Teen Titans. In the recent rebooted New 52 comics, he fought hand-to-hand with Wonder Woman, without kryptonite, and came out alive against Superman.

However, after the initial excitement, he began to feel the pressure.

Why, though?

Because Deathstroke was a mercenary, doing anything for money, regardless of what it was. So, no matter which world, he had almost offended all the superheroes and supervillains of the DC universe, whether it was fighting Penguin to help Two-Face, assisting Two-Face against Black Mask, or joining Black Mask against Penguin. He occasionally took on missions to deal with various superheroes.

In Deathstroke's eyes, there was no difference between superheroes and supervillains. They were just people, and whoever gave him a job, as long as there was money, he would do it.

"This is going to be troublesome."

His name before the crossover was Su Ming, and the experienced workers at the workplace called him Xiaoming. Every time someone called him that, he felt like he had done something wrong. For example, not washing his hands before meals, crossing the road without looking at the traffic lights, or being late for class. Basically, any mistake in the primary school textbook was probably his.

"First, I need to figure out which parallel universe of DC this is and then determine the timeline and where the story has progressed to," he sighed. He wanted to smoke, but his helmet got in the way. "There are many DC worlds with Gotham and Batman. If it's the movie universe, the power limits are not very high, as seen in the recent 'Justice League' movie where Steppenwolf was taken down like a doll. But if it's the comic universe, no matter which one, the danger level increases significantly."

"Earth 0, the main world of the New 52 comics; Earth 3, a world where all heroes and villains have switched identities; Earth 10, a world ruled by the Nazis; Earth 38, the original world of DC comics."

Su Ming wiped the mask, and the rainwater gathered at his feet like a small stream. He had no other clothes under the armor, and he felt very cold now, completely soaked in the water.

However, he had never felt his mind so clear. He had only glanced at the world setting of comics before, and now he could recall it completely. Was this because of Deathstroke's superhuman brain? But the memories should have come with his own soul, right?

This body was now filled with an explosive sense of power, something he had never felt before. It seemed that he had been possessed by a soul, and this was Deathstroke's original body.

The problem was that while Deathstroke had self-healing abilities, they weren't that strong and couldn't regrow severed limbs, so his right eye was permanently blind.

When the high-speed regeneration took effect, it would consume a significant amount of his stamina and might even make him lose his sanity.

Deathstroke was in his fifties, and his children had all become superheroes. They might want to kill him at any moment, and he also had an immortal father, a supervillain with psychic powers, who also wanted to kill him.

Fortunately, he was strong enough that they couldn't kill him.

"As a twenty-something, becoming fifty... I finally had a family, but our relationship isn't great."

Su Ming shook his head helplessly. Deathstroke had strong abilities and intelligence, but it was clear that his emotional intelligence was lacking.

"By the way, why did he come here before? Was he on a mission? He's fully armed, so there should be a plan."

Su Ming gave up on thinking further. While his current body was that of an enhanced human, he was still inclined to find a place to take cover from the rain. It wasn't just the chilly spring rain; the industrial pollution in Gotham was so severe that the rain had a nauseating and foul smell.

Leaving the edge of the building, he turned to leave. Even though he had an umbrella strapped to his back, he didn't want to try gliding; it would be a bit too ridiculous if he fell to his death.

'A world-famous mercenary committed suicide by jumping off a building in Gotham last night, suspected to be related to an emotional entanglement with Batman.'

Su Ming could already imagine that if he died from falling, the front page of tomorrow's 'Gotham Gazette' would definitely be about this. He didn't want to die, even if he had crossed into a dangerous world, and he definitely didn't want to be involved in the romantic entanglements of the Joker and Batman.

Feel free to reach out if you have any more questions or need further assistance!

The problem was that while Deathstroke had self-healing abilities, they weren't that strong and couldn't regrow severed limbs, so his right eye was permanently blind.

When the high-speed regeneration took effect, it would consume a significant amount of his stamina and might even make him lose his sanity.

Deathstroke was in his fifties, and his children had all become superheroes. They might want to kill him at any moment, and he also had an immortal father, a supervillain with psychic powers, who also wanted to kill him.

Fortunately, he was strong enough that they couldn't kill him.

"As a twenty-something, becoming fifty... I finally had a family, but our relationship isn't great."

Su Ming shook his head helplessly. Deathstroke had strong abilities and intelligence, but it was clear that his emotional intelligence was lacking.

"By the way, why did he come here before? Was he on a mission? He's fully armed, so there should be a plan."

Su Ming gave up on thinking further. While his current body was that of an enhanced human, he was still inclined to find a place to take cover from the rain. It wasn't just the chilly spring rain; the industrial pollution in Gotham was so severe that the rain had a nauseating and foul smell.

Leaving the edge of the building, he turned to leave. Even though he had an umbrella strapped to his back, he didn't want to try gliding; it would be a bit too ridiculous if he fell to his death.

'A world-famous mercenary committed suicide by jumping off a building in Gotham last night, suspected to be related to an emotional entanglement with Batman.'

Su Ming could already imagine that if he died from falling, the front page of tomorrow's 'Gotham Gazette' would definitely be about this. He didn't want to die, even if he had crossed into a dangerous world, and he definitely didn't want to be involved in the romantic entanglements of the Joker and Batman.

Feel free to reach out if you have any more questions or need further assistance!

"He stood on the rooftop of a skyscraper, with the sleepless city below his feet, lights illuminating every corner. In the night's neon glow, he could see the dense heat rising from manholes, tinting the roadsides red.

This was an early spring night, and the bustling city was shrouded in haze, with a chilling wind carrying the scent of industrial emissions and wastewater.

What he saw was a world of luxury, fame, and power, a world of bright lights and debauchery.

But in the more distant darkness, in places beyond his vision—perhaps in dim alleyways filled with discarded trash cans, maybe in sewers hiding homeless souls, perhaps under overpasses where gangs gathered.

Those casually discarded firearms and bodies, the eerie laughter and screams in the dark, the black, dried-up bloodstains—all of it constantly reminded anyone who came here that beneath the city's glamorous façade lay boundless sin and madness. Anyone who underestimated it would be mercilessly devoured.

Where was this? Maybe just by listening to the descriptions of the citizens, someone might guess.

The residents of this city liked to describe it using names of villains they were familiar with.

Some said it was like a killer crocodile because it always lurked in the darkness and devoured people suddenly, leaving no trace behind, maybe just a splash or a bubble, but no one cared.

Some said it was like Two-Face because its ruthless choices, whether it was between good and evil, order and chaos, were constantly spinning in a frenzy. Fate, like a coin, was tossed up and down, leaving people no choice.

Some said it was like the Scarecrow because no matter what beautiful dreams one had, it could turn them into nightmares, digging deep into people's darkest fears until they went mad, drooling and wandering the streets and alleys.

Some said it was like the Joker because this city was fundamentally insane! Haha, hahaha!

Of course, there was a good chance that this citizen might suddenly go berserk in the next moment, sticking a pencil or a fork into the eyes of an outsider and then, with innocent, wide-open eyes, curiously asking the twitching corpse, 'Why so serious?'

As an otherworldly visitor, he didn't need to ask any of the citizens. Just by looking up and seeing the bright beams in the night sky leaving bat-shaped patterns on the clouds, he knew where he was.

"Gotham."

He muttered.

In the next moment, a sudden downpour engulfed his figure.

With a faintly sour taste of gray rainwater, it obscured everything he had seen and heard before, covering all the sins. Only the sound of heavy rain could be heard, and the chilling feeling from within.

But the cold didn't come from the rain; he was fully armored, from head to toe, in sophisticated metal gear.

A full-face mask and helmet, the entire body wrapped in intricate chainmail, chest, shoulders, limbs layered with armor-like pauldrons. All of this told him that he was no longer an ordinary person.

He used to be an ordinary man, living a simple life hardly worth mentioning.

He was called a night shift warehouse keeper, which was just a security guard. He wasn't the tall and imposing type that would instill fear, but he was young and had some courage.

"What's the process? Why am I here? I don't remember."

He reached out to touch his forehead but his thick tactical gloves completely isolated him from the touch and temperature of the helmet.

Indeed, as a young man, he had seen various stories of time travel in literature and art.

In novels, he had seen people time-travel due to computer explosions, choking on food, crossing the street to save someone and getting hit, falling into a toilet while using it, but why was he here?

He looked through the rain curtain into the distance, trying to divert his attention from the bat-shaped symbol but just stared lifelessly at the dark clouds on the horizon, trying to recall.

The neon lights on countless skyscrapers became blurry in the rain and mist, and everything seemed unreal.

He only remembered coming home from work, answering a call from a middle school classmate inviting him to a wedding.

After that... he played on the computer for a while? His old laptop made a sound like a tractor when he turned it on.

Yes, he liked those fantasy worlds that allowed him to briefly forget the monotony of real life.

He didn't remember any explosions, strange lights, or sounds. It felt like a blink of an eye, and he was here, standing on the rooftop of Wayne Tower, the tallest building in Gotham, inexplicably feeling the evening breeze.

In this eerie place, he had stood there, dazed, for about five minutes. After gradually accepting this fact, he fell into confusion.

As for who he was, after realizing he had crossed into the DC universe, he knew. Night shifts were boring, and he had read a lot of novels, and later he got into American comics.

Because even as a small security guard like himself, he had heard other young people at the workplace talk about how "Avengers 2 is good" or "Guardians of the Galaxy is fun," and his female co-worker said things like "Winter Soldier is OTP, Iron Man is the third wheel."

He didn't understand at first.

To have a common topic and good relationships with colleagues, he first watched the movies on his old computer. He thought they were good; American blockbusters were exciting.

Later, he used the workplace's Wi-Fi to catch up on some comics while on the job. At first, he was a complete newbie when it came to differentiating between Marvel and DC, but after reading a lot, he even remembered the names and abili superhuman brain? But the memories should have come with his own soul, right?

This body was now filled with an explosive sense of power, something he had never felt before. It seemed that he had been possessed by a soul, and this was Deathstroke's original body.

"He stood on the rooftop of a skyscraper, with the sleepless city below his feet, lights illuminating every corner. In the night's neon glow, he could see the dense heat rising from manholes, tinting the roadsides red.

This was an early spring night, and the bustling city was shrouded in haze, with a chilling wind carrying the scent of industrial emissions and wastewater.

What he saw was a world of luxury, fame, and power, a world of bright lights and debauchery.

But in the more distant darkness, in places beyond his vision—perhaps in dim alleyways filled with discarded trash cans, maybe in sewers hiding homeless souls, perhaps under overpasses where gangs gathered.

Those casually discarded firearms and bodies, the eerie laughter and screams in the dark, the black, dried-up bloodstains—all of it constantly reminded anyone who came here that beneath the city's glamorous façade lay boundless sin and madness. Anyone who underestimated it would be mercilessly devoured.

Where was this? Maybe just by listening to the descriptions of the citizens, someone might guess.

The residents of this city liked to describe it using names of villains they were familiar with.

Some said it was like a killer crocodile because it always lurked in the darkness and devoured people suddenly, leaving no trace behind, maybe just a splash or a bubble, but no one cared.

Some said it was like Two-Face because its ruthless choices, whether it was between good and evil, order and chaos, were constantly spinning in a frenzy. Fate, like a coin, was tossed up and down, leaving people no choice.

Some said it was like the Scarecrow because no matter what beautiful dreams one had, it could turn them into nightmares, digging deep into people's darkest fears until they went mad, drooling and wandering the streets and alleys.

Some said it was like the Joker because this city was fundamentally insane! Haha, hahaha!

Of course, there was a good chance that this citizen might suddenly go berserk in the next moment, sticking a pencil or a fork into the eyes of an outsider and then, with innocent, wide-open eyes, curiously asking the twitching corpse, 'Why so serious?'

As an otherworldly visitor, he didn't need to ask any of the citizens. Just by looking up and seeing the bright beams in the night sky leaving bat-shaped patterns on the clouds, he knew where he was.

"Gotham."

He muttered.

In the next moment, a sudden downpour engulfed his figure.

With a faintly sour taste of gray rainwater, it obscured everything he had seen and heard before, covering all the sins. Only the sound of heavy rain could be heard, and the chilling feeling from within.

But the cold didn't come from the rain; he was fully armored, from head to toe, in sophisticated metal gear.

A full-face mask and helmet, the entire body wrapped in intricate chainmail, chest, shoulders, limbs layered with armor-like pauldrons. All of this told him that he was no longer an ordinary person.

He used to be an ordinary man, living a simple life hardly worth mentioning.

He was called a night shift warehouse keeper, which was just a security guard. He wasn't the tall and imposing type that would instill fear, but he was young and had some courage.

"What's the process? Why am I here? I don't remember."

He reached out to touch his forehead but his thick tactical gloves completely isolated him from the touch and temperature of the helmet.

Indeed, as a young man, he had seen various stories of time travel in literature and art.

In novels, he had seen people time-travel due to computer explosions, choking on food, crossing the street to save someone and getting hit, falling into a toilet while using it, but why was he here?

He looked through the rain curtain into the distance, trying to divert his attention from the bat-shaped symbol but just stared lifelessly at the dark clouds on the horizon, trying to recall.

The neon lights on countless skyscrapers became blurry in the rain and mist, and everything seemed unreal.

He only remembered coming home from work, answering a call from a middle school classmate inviting him to a wedding.

After that... he played on the computer for a while? His old laptop made a sound like a tractor when he turned it on.

Yes, he liked those fantasy worlds that allowed him to briefly forget the monotony of real life.

He didn't remember any explosions, strange lights, or sounds. It felt like a blink of an eye, and he was here, standing on the rooftop of Wayne Tower, the tallest building in Gotham, inexplicably feeling the evening breeze.

In this eerie place, he had stood there, dazed, for about five minutes. After gradually accepting this fact, he fell into confusion.

As for who he was, after realizing he had crossed into the DC universe, he knew. Night shifts were boring, and he had read a lot of novels, and later he got into American comics.

Because even as a small security guard like himself, he had heard other young people at the workplace talk about how "Avengers 2 is good" or "Guardians of the Galaxy is fun," and his female co-worker said things like "Winter Soldier is OTP, Iron Man is the third wheel."

He didn't understand at first.

To have a common topic and good relationships with colleagues, he first watched the movies on his old computer. He thought they were good; American blockbusters were exciting.

Later, he used the workplace's Wi-Fi to catch up on some comics while on the job. At first, he was a complete newbie when it came to differentiating between Marvel and DC, but after reading a lot, he even remembered the names and abilities of hundreds of heroes and villains, along with the important stories they were involved in. Although he only read comics with Chinese translations, it was enough to chit-chat with colleagues.

At this moment, he could only see the left side of his helmet's visor. He looked down and saw a small puddle that had formed. In the ripples, he could see his own current appearance clearly.

A metal helmet split in black and yellow, a shape resembling a hockey mask. Two long straps of cloth fluttered behind his head, swaying in the wind and rain, much like Rambo's headband. The left eye on the mask was a red rhombus-shaped visor, while the right half was completely black, without any openings.

He had become Deathstroke.

His real name was Slade Joseph Wilson, one of the greatest mercenaries and assassins in the DC universe, a master of strategy and tactics, a master of combat, a master of all weapons.

Originally, he was a government experiment, a man with 90% of his brain unlocked, just a bit below the protagonist of "Limitless," and he had surpassed the peak human physical condition, with self-healing abilities that could mend most wounds.

But after a superior betrayed his friend, leading to the friend's capture by enemies, even though Deathstroke rescued his comrade and fought his way out, he had a falling out with the military, which made him become a mercenary. He used his superhuman abilities for dirty work to make a living.

The key was, he inherited everything from Deathstroke, except for the memories, of course. At least, he had learned things like English, driving, and firearm usage for free

.

He was like an outsider, observing himself from a third-person perspective, his knowledge about Deathstroke coming solely from comics.

At first, after realizing he had become a superpowered individual, he was quite happy about it.

Becoming Deathstroke was great; under prepared and planned conditions, he could handle anyone, even Batman's son, had a more than 50% chance of winning.

As a villain, he even easily defeated Robin and the Teen Titans. In the recent rebooted New 52 comics, he fought hand-to-hand with Wonder Woman, without kryptonite, and came out alive against Superman.

However, after the initial excitement, he began to feel the pressure.

Why, though?

Because Deathstroke was a mercenary, doing anything for money, regardless of what it was. So, no matter which world, he had almost offended all the superheroes and supervillains of the DC universe, whether it was fighting Penguin to help Two-Face, assisting Two-Face against Black Mask, or joining Black Mask against Penguin. He occasionally took on missions to deal with various superheroes.

In Deathstroke's eyes, there was no difference between superheroes and supervillains. They were just people, and whoever gave him a job, as long as there was money, he would do it.

"This is going to be troublesome."

His name before the crossover was Su Ming, and the experienced workers at the workplace called him Xiaoming. Every time someone called him that, he felt like he had done something wrong. For example, not washing his hands before meals, crossing the road without looking at the traffic lights, or being late for class. Basically, any mistake in the primary school textbook was probably his.

"First, I need to figure out which parallel universe of DC this is and then determine the timeline and where the story has progressed to," he sighed. He wanted to smoke, but his helmet got in the way. "There are many DC worlds with Gotham and Batman. If it's the movie universe, the power limits are not very high, as seen in the recent 'Justice League' movie where Steppenwolf was taken down like a doll. But if it's the comic universe, no matter which one, the danger level increases significantly."

"Earth 0, the main world of the New 52 comics; Earth 3, a world where all heroes and villains have switched identities; Earth 10, a world ruled by the Nazis; Earth 38, the original world of DC comics."

Su Ming wiped the mask, and the rainwater gathered at his feet like a small stream. He had no other clothes under the armor, and he felt very cold now, completely soaked in the water.

However, he had never felt his mind so clear. He had only glanced at the world setting of comics before, and now he could recall it completely. Was this because of Deathstroke's superhuman brain? But the memories should have come with his own soul, right?

This body was now filled with an explosive sense of power, something he had never felt before. It seemed that he had been possessed by a soul, and this was Deathstroke's original body.

The problem was that while Deathstroke had self-healing abilities, they weren't that strong and couldn't regrow severed limbs, so his right eye was permanently blind.

When the high-speed regeneration took effect, it would consume a significant amount of his stamina and might even make him lose his sanity.

Deathstroke was in his fifties, and his children had all become superheroes. They might want to kill him at any moment, and he also had an immortal father, a supervillain with psychic powers, who also wanted to kill him.

Fortunately, he was strong enough that they couldn't kill him.

"As a twenty-something, becoming fifty... I finally had a family, but our relationship isn't great."

Su Ming shook his head helplessly. Deathstroke had strong abilities and intelligence, but it was clear that his emotional intelligence was lacking.

"By the way, why did he come here before? Was he on a mission? He's fully armed, so there should be a plan."

Su Ming gave up on thinking further. While his current body was that of an enhanced human, he was still inclined to find a place to take cover from the rain. It wasn't just the chilly spring rain; the industrial pollution in Gotham was so severe that the rain had a nauseating and foul smell.

Leaving the edge of the building, he turned to leave. Even though he had an umbrella strapped to his back, he didn't want to try gliding; it would be a bit too ridiculous if he fell to his death.

'A world-famous mercenary committed suicide by jumping off a building in Gotham last night, suspected to be related to an emotional entanglement with Batman.'

Su Ming could already imagine that if he died from falling, the front page of tomorrow's 'Gotham Gazette' would definitely be about this. He didn't want to die, even if he had crossed into a dangerous world, and he definitely didn't want to be involved in the romantic entanglements of the Joker and Batman.

Feel free to reach out if you have any more questions or need further assistance!

The problem was that while Deathstroke had self-healing abilities, they weren't that strong and couldn't regrow severed limbs, so his right eye was permanently blind.

When the high-speed regeneration took effect, it would consume a significant amount of his stamina and might even make him lose his sanity.

Deathstroke was in his fifties, and his children had all become superheroes. They might want to kill him at any moment, and he also had an immortal father, a supervillain with psychic powers, who also wanted to kill him.

Fortunately, he was strong enough that they couldn't kill him.

"As a twenty-something, becoming fifty... I finally had a family, but our relationship isn't great."

Su Ming shook his head helplessly. Deathstroke had strong abilities and intelligence, but it was clear that his emotional intelligence was lacking.

"By the way, why did he come here before? Was he on a mission? He's fully armed, so there should be a plan."

Su Ming gave up on thinking further. While his current body was that of an enhanced human, he was still inclined to find a place to take cover from the rain. It wasn't just the chilly spring rain; the industrial pollution in Gotham was so severe that the rain had a nauseating and foul smell.

Leaving the edge of the building, he turned to leave. Even though he had an umbrella strapped to his back, he didn't want to try gliding; it would be a bit too ridiculous if he fell to his death.

'A world-famous mercenary committed suicide by jumping off a building in Gotham last night, suspected to be related to an emotional entanglement with Batman.'

Su Ming could already imagine that if he died from falling, the front page of tomorrow's 'Gotham Gazette' would definitely be about this. He didn't want to die, even if he had crossed into a dangerous world, and he definitely didn't want to be involved in the romantic entanglements of the Joker and Batman.

Feel free to reach out if you have any more questions or need further assistance!

"He stood on the rooftop of a skyscraper, with the sleepless city below his feet, lights illuminating every corner. In the night's neon glow, he could see the dense heat rising from manholes, tinting the roadsides red.

This was an early spring night, and the bustling city was shrouded in haze, with a chilling wind carrying the scent of industrial emissions and wastewater.

What he saw was a world of luxury, fame, and power, a world of bright lights and debauchery.

But in the more distant darkness, in places beyond his vision—perhaps in dim alleyways filled with discarded trash cans, maybe in sewers hiding homeless souls, perhaps under overpasses where gangs gathered.

Those casually discarded firearms and bodies, the eerie laughter and screams in the dark, the black, dried-up bloodstains—all of it constantly reminded anyone who came here that beneath the city's glamorous façade lay boundless sin and madness. Anyone who underestimated it would be mercilessly devoured.

Where was this? Maybe just by listening to the descriptions of the citizens, someone might guess.

The residents of this city liked to describe it using names of villains they were familiar with.

Some said it was like a killer crocodile because it always lurked in the darkness and devoured people suddenly, leaving no trace behind, maybe just a splash or a bubble, but no one cared.

Some said it was like Two-Face because its ruthless choices, whether it was between good and evil, order and chaos, were constantly spinning in a frenzy. Fate, like a coin, was tossed up and down, leaving people no choice.

Some said it was like the Scarecrow because no matter what beautiful dreams one had, it could turn them into nightmares, digging deep into people's darkest fears until they went mad, drooling and wandering the streets and alleys.

Some said it was like the Joker because this city was fundamentally insane! Haha, hahaha!

Of course, there was a good chance that this citizen might suddenly go berserk in the next moment, sticking a pencil or a fork into the eyes of an outsider and then, with innocent, wide-open eyes, curiously asking the twitching corpse, 'Why so serious?'

As an otherworldly visitor, he didn't need to ask any of the citizens. Just by looking up and seeing the bright beams in the night sky leaving bat-shaped patterns on the clouds, he knew where he was.

"Gotham."

He muttered.

In the next moment, a sudden downpour engulfed his figure.

With a faintly sour taste of gray rainwater, it obscured everything he had seen and heard before, covering all the sins. Only the sound of heavy rain could be heard, and the chilling feeling from within.

But the cold didn't come from the rain; he was fully armored, from head to toe, in sophisticated metal gear.

A full-face mask and helmet, the entire body wrapped in intricate chainmail, chest, shoulders, limbs layered with armor-like pauldrons. All of this told him that he was no longer an ordinary person.

He used to be an ordinary man, living a simple life hardly worth mentioning.

He was called a night shift warehouse keeper, which was just a security guard. He wasn't the tall and imposing type that would instill fear, but he was young and had some courage.

"What's the process? Why am I here? I don't remember."

He reached out to touch his forehead but his thick tactical gloves completely isolated him from the touch and temperature of the helmet.

Indeed, as a young man, he had seen various stories of time travel in literature and art.

In novels, he had seen people time-travel due to computer explosions, choking on food, crossing the street to save someone and getting hit, falling into a toilet while using it, but why was he here?

He looked through the rain curtain into the distance, trying to divert his attention from the bat-shaped symbol but just stared lifelessly at the dark clouds on the horizon, trying to recall.

The neon lights on countless skyscrapers became blurry in the rain and mist, and everything seemed unreal.

He only remembered coming home from work, answering a call from a middle school classmate inviting him to a wedding.

After that... he played on the computer for a while? His old laptop made a sound like a tractor when he turned it on.

Yes, he liked those fantasy worlds that allowed him to briefly forget the monotony of real life.

He didn't remember any explosions, strange lights, or sounds. It felt like a blink of an eye, and he was here, standing on the rooftop of Wayne Tower, the tallest building in Gotham, inexplicably feeling the evening breeze.

In this eerie place, he had stood there, dazed, for about five minutes. After gradually accepting this fact, he fell into confusion.

As for who he was, after realizing he had crossed into the DC universe, he knew. Night shifts were boring, and he had read a lot of novels, and later he got into American comics.

Because even as a small security guard like himself, he had heard other young people at the workplace talk about how "Avengers 2 is good" or "Guardians of the Galaxy is fun," and his female co-worker said things like "Winter Soldier is OTP, Iron Man is the third wheel."

He didn't understand at first.

To have a common topic and good relationships with colleagues, he first watched the movies on his old computer. He thought they were good; American blockbusters were exciting.

Later, he used the workplace's Wi-Fi to catch up on some comics while on the job. At first, he was a complete newbie when it came to differentiating between Marvel and DC, but after reading a lot, he even remembered the names and abili superhuman brain? But the memories should have come with his own soul, right?

This body was now filled with an explosive sense of power, something he had never felt before. It seemed that he had been possessed by a soul, and this was Deathstroke's original body.

"He stood on the rooftop of a skyscraper, with the sleepless city below his feet, lights illuminating every corner. In the night's neon glow, he could see the dense heat rising from manholes, tinting the roadsides red.

This was an early spring night, and the bustling city was shrouded in haze, with a chilling wind carrying the scent of industrial emissions and wastewater.

What he saw was a world of luxury, fame, and power, a world of bright lights and debauchery.

But in the more distant darkness, in places beyond his vision—perhaps in dim alleyways filled with discarded trash cans, maybe in sewers hiding homeless souls, perhaps under overpasses where gangs gathered.

Those casually discarded firearms and bodies, the eerie laughter and screams in the dark, the black, dried-up bloodstains—all of it constantly reminded anyone who came here that beneath the city's glamorous façade lay boundless sin and madness. Anyone who underestimated it would be mercilessly devoured.

Where was this? Maybe just by listening to the descriptions of the citizens, someone might guess.

The residents of this city liked to describe it using names of villains they were familiar with.

Some said it was like a killer crocodile because it always lurked in the darkness and devoured people suddenly, leaving no trace behind, maybe just a splash or a bubble, but no one cared.

Some said it was like Two-Face because its ruthless choices, whether it was between good and evil, order and chaos, were constantly spinning in a frenzy. Fate, like a coin, was tossed up and down, leaving people no choice.

Some said it was like the Scarecrow because no matter what beautiful dreams one had, it could turn them into nightmares, digging deep into people's darkest fears until they went mad, drooling and wandering the streets and alleys.

Some said it was like the Joker because this city was fundamentally insane! Haha, hahaha!

Of course, there was a good chance that this citizen might suddenly go berserk in the next moment, sticking a pencil or a fork into the eyes of an outsider and then, with innocent, wide-open eyes, curiously asking the twitching corpse, 'Why so serious?'

As an otherworldly visitor, he didn't need to ask any of the citizens. Just by looking up and seeing the bright beams in the night sky leaving bat-shaped patterns on the clouds, he knew where he was.

"Gotham."

He muttered.

In the next moment, a sudden downpour engulfed his figure.

With a faintly sour taste of gray rainwater, it obscured everything he had seen and heard before, covering all the sins. Only the sound of heavy rain could be heard, and the chilling feeling from within.

But the cold didn't come from the rain; he was fully armored, from head to toe, in sophisticated metal gear.

A full-face mask and helmet, the entire body wrapped in intricate chainmail, chest, shoulders, limbs layered with armor-like pauldrons. All of this told him that he was no longer an ordinary person.

He used to be an ordinary man, living a simple life hardly worth mentioning.

He was called a night shift warehouse keeper, which was just a security guard. He wasn't the tall and imposing type that would instill fear, but he was young and had some courage.

"What's the process? Why am I here? I don't remember."

He reached out to touch his forehead but his thick tactical gloves completely isolated him from the touch and temperature of the helmet.

Indeed, as a young man, he had seen various stories of time travel in literature and art.

In novels, he had seen people time-travel due to computer explosions, choking on food, crossing the street to save someone and getting hit, falling into a toilet while using it, but why was he here?

He looked through the rain curtain into the distance, trying to divert his attention from the bat-shaped symbol but just stared lifelessly at the dark clouds on the horizon, trying to recall.

The neon lights on countless skyscrapers became blurry in the rain and mist, and everything seemed unreal.

He only remembered coming home from work, answering a call from a middle school classmate inviting him to a wedding.

After that... he played on the computer for a while? His old laptop made a sound like a tractor when he turned it on.

Yes, he liked those fantasy worlds that allowed him to briefly forget the monotony of real life.

He didn't remember any explosions, strange lights, or sounds. It felt like a blink of an eye, and he was here, standing on the rooftop of Wayne Tower, the tallest building in Gotham, inexplicably feeling the evening breeze.

In this eerie place, he had stood there, dazed, for about five minutes. After gradually accepting this fact, he fell into confusion.

As for who he was, after realizing he had crossed into the DC universe, he knew. Night shifts were boring, and he had read a lot of novels, and later he got into American comics.

Because even as a small security guard like himself, he had heard other young people at the workplace talk about how "Avengers 2 is good" or "Guardians of the Galaxy is fun," and his female co-worker said things like "Winter Soldier is OTP, Iron Man is the third wheel."

He didn't understand at first.

To have a common topic and good relationships with colleagues, he first watched the movies on his old computer. He thought they were good; American blockbusters were exciting.

Later, he used the workplace's Wi-Fi to catch up on some comics while on the job. At first, he was a complete newbie when it came to differentiating between Marvel and DC, but after reading a lot, he even remembered the names and abilities of hundreds of heroes and villains, along with the important stories they were involved in. Although he only read comics with Chinese translations, it was enough to chit-chat with colleagues.

At this moment, he could only see the left side of his helmet's visor. He looked down and saw a small puddle that had formed. In the ripples, he could see his own current appearance clearly.

A metal helmet split in black and yellow, a shape resembling a hockey mask. Two long straps of cloth fluttered behind his head, swaying in the wind and rain, much like Rambo's headband. The left eye on the mask was a red rhombus-shaped visor, while the right half was completely black, without any openings.

He had become Deathstroke.

His real name was Slade Joseph Wilson, one of the greatest mercenaries and assassins in the DC universe, a master of strategy and tactics, a master of combat, a master of all weapons.

Originally, he was a government experiment, a man with 90% of his brain unlocked, just a bit below the protagonist of "Limitless," and he had surpassed the peak human physical condition, with self-healing abilities that could mend most wounds.

But after a superior betrayed his friend, leading to the friend's capture by enemies, even though Deathstroke rescued his comrade and fought his way out, he had a falling out with the military, which made him become a mercenary. He used his superhuman abilities for dirty work to make a living.

The key was, he inherited everything from Deathstroke, except for the memories, of course. At least, he had learned things like English, driving, and firearm usage for free

.

He was like an outsider, observing himself from a third-person perspective, his knowledge about Deathstroke coming solely from comics.

At first, after realizing he had become a superpowered individual, he was quite happy about it.

Becoming Deathstroke was great; under prepared and planned conditions, he could handle anyone, even Batman's son, had a more than 50% chance of winning.

As a villain, he even easily defeated Robin and the Teen Titans. In the recent rebooted New 52 comics, he fought hand-to-hand with Wonder Woman, without kryptonite, and came out alive against Superman.

However, after the initial excitement, he began to feel the pressure.

Why, though?

Because Deathstroke was a mercenary, doing anything for money, regardless of what it was. So, no matter which world, he had almost offended all the superheroes and supervillains of the DC universe, whether it was fighting Penguin to help Two-Face, assisting Two-Face against Black Mask, or joining Black Mask against Penguin. He occasionally took on missions to deal with various superheroes.

In Deathstroke's eyes, there was no difference between superheroes and supervillains. They were just people, and whoever gave him a job, as long as there was money, he would do it.

"This is going to be troublesome."

His name before the crossover was Su Ming, and the experienced workers at the workplace called him Xiaoming. Every time someone called him that, he felt like he had done something wrong. For example, not washing his hands before meals, crossing the road without looking at the traffic lights, or being late for class. Basically, any mistake in the primary school textbook was probably his.

"First, I need to figure out which parallel universe of DC this is and then determine the timeline and where the story has progressed to," he sighed. He wanted to smoke, but his helmet got in the way. "There are many DC worlds with Gotham and Batman. If it's the movie universe, the power limits are not very high, as seen in the recent 'Justice League' movie where Steppenwolf was taken down like a doll. But if it's the comic universe, no matter which one, the danger level increases significantly."

"Earth 0, the main world of the New 52 comics; Earth 3, a world where all heroes and villains have switched identities; Earth 10, a world ruled by the Nazis; Earth 38, the original world of DC comics."

Su Ming wiped the mask, and the rainwater gathered at his feet like a small stream. He had no other clothes under the armor, and he felt very cold now, completely soaked in the water.

However, he had never felt his mind so clear. He had only glanced at the world setting of comics before, and now he could recall it completely. Was this because of Deathstroke's superhuman brain? But the memories should have come with his own soul, right?

This body was now filled with an explosive sense of power, something he had never felt before. It seemed that he had been possessed by a soul, and this was Deathstroke's original body.

The problem was that while Deathstroke had self-healing abilities, they weren't that strong and couldn't regrow severed limbs, so his right eye was permanently blind.

When the high-speed regeneration took effect, it would consume a significant amount of his stamina and might even make him lose his sanity.

Deathstroke was in his fifties, and his children had all become superheroes. They might want to kill him at any moment, and he also had an immortal father, a supervillain with psychic powers, who also wanted to kill him.

Fortunately, he was strong enough that they couldn't kill him.

"As a twenty-something, becoming fifty... I finally had a family, but our relationship isn't great."

Su Ming shook his head helplessly. Deathstroke had strong abilities and intelligence, but it was clear that his emotional intelligence was lacking.

"By the way, why did he come here before? Was he on a mission? He's fully armed, so there should be a plan."

Su Ming gave up on thinking further. While his current body was that of an enhanced human, he was still inclined to find a place to take cover from the rain. It wasn't just the chilly spring rain; the industrial pollution in Gotham was so severe that the rain had a nauseating and foul smell.

Leaving the edge of the building, he turned to leave. Even though he had an umbrella strapped to his back, he didn't want to try gliding; it would be a bit too ridiculous if he fell to his death.

'A world-famous mercenary committed suicide by jumping off a building in Gotham last night, suspected to be related to an emotional entanglement with Batman.'

Su Ming could already imagine that if he died from falling, the front page of tomorrow's 'Gotham Gazette' would definitely be about this. He didn't want to die, even if he had crossed into a dangerous world, and he definitely didn't want to be involved in the romantic entanglements of the Joker and Batman.

Feel free to reach out if you have any more questions or need further assistance!

The problem was that while Deathstroke had self-healing abilities, they weren't that strong and couldn't regrow severed limbs, so his right eye was permanently blind.

When the high-speed regeneration took effect, it would consume a significant amount of his stamina and might even make him lose his sanity.

Deathstroke was in his fifties, and his children had all become superheroes. They might want to kill him at any moment, and he also had an immortal father, a supervillain with psychic powers, who also wanted to kill him.

Fortunately, he was strong enough that they couldn't kill him.

"As a twenty-something, becoming fifty... I finally had a family, but our relationship isn't great."

Su Ming shook his head helplessly. Deathstroke had strong abilities and intelligence, but it was clear that his emotional intelligence was lacking.

"By the way, why did he come here before? Was he on a mission? He's fully armed, so there should be a plan."

Su Ming gave up on thinking further. While his current body was that of an enhanced human, he was still inclined to find a place to take cover from the rain. It wasn't just the chilly spring rain; the industrial pollution in Gotham was so severe that the rain had a nauseating and foul smell.

Leaving the edge of the building, he turned to leave. Even though he had an umbrella strapped to his back, he didn't want to try gliding; it would be a bit too ridiculous if he fell to his death.

'A world-famous mercenary committed suicide by jumping off a building in Gotham last night, suspected to be related to an emotional entanglement with Batman.'

Su Ming could already imagine that if he died from falling, the front page of tomorrow's 'Gotham Gazette' would definitely be about this. He didn't want to die, even if he had crossed into a dangerous world, and he definitely didn't want to be involved in the romantic entanglements of the Joker and Batman.

Feel free to reach out if you have any more questions or need further assistance!

"He stood on the rooftop of a skyscraper, with the sleepless city below his feet, lights illuminating every corner. In the night's neon glow, he could see the dense heat rising from manholes, tinting the roadsides red.

This was an early spring night, and the bustling city was shrouded in haze, with a chilling wind carrying the scent of industrial emissions and wastewater.

What he saw was a world of luxury, fame, and power, a world of bright lights and debauchery.

But in the more distant darkness, in places beyond his vision—perhaps in dim alleyways filled with discarded trash cans, maybe in sewers hiding homeless souls, perhaps under overpasses where gangs gathered.

Those casually discarded firearms and bodies, the eerie laughter and screams in the dark, the black, dried-up bloodstains—all of it constantly reminded anyone who came here that beneath the city's glamorous façade lay boundless sin and madness. Anyone who underestimated it would be mercilessly devoured.

Where was this? Maybe just by listening to the descriptions of the citizens, someone might guess.

The residents of this city liked to describe it using names of villains they were familiar with.

Some said it was like a killer crocodile because it always lurked in the darkness and devoured people suddenly, leaving no trace behind, maybe just a splash or a bubble, but no one cared.

Some said it was like Two-Face because its ruthless choices, whether it was between good and evil, order and chaos, were constantly spinning in a frenzy. Fate, like a coin, was tossed up and down, leaving people no choice.

Some said it was like the Scarecrow because no matter what beautiful dreams one had, it could turn them into nightmares, digging deep into people's darkest fears until they went mad, drooling and wandering the streets and alleys.

Some said it was like the Joker because this city was fundamentally insane! Haha, hahaha!

Of course, there was a good chance that this citizen might suddenly go berserk in the next moment, sticking a pencil or a fork into the eyes of an outsider and then, with innocent, wide-open eyes, curiously asking the twitching corpse, 'Why so serious?'

As an otherworldly visitor, he didn't need to ask any of the citizens. Just by looking up and seeing the bright beams in the night sky leaving bat-shaped patterns on the clouds, he knew where he was.

"Gotham."

He muttered.

In the next moment, a sudden downpour engulfed his figure.

With a faintly sour taste of gray rainwater, it obscured everything he had seen and heard before, covering all the sins. Only the sound of heavy rain could be heard, and the chilling feeling from within.

But the cold didn't come from the rain; he was fully armored, from head to toe, in sophisticated metal gear.

A full-face mask and helmet, the entire body wrapped in intricate chainmail, chest, shoulders, limbs layered with armor-like pauldrons. All of this told him that he was no longer an ordinary person.

He used to be an ordinary man, living a simple life hardly worth mentioning.

He was called a night shift warehouse keeper, which was just a security guard. He wasn't the tall and imposing type that would instill fear, but he was young and had some courage.

"What's the process? Why am I here? I don't remember."

He reached out to touch his forehead but his thick tactical gloves completely isolated him from the touch and temperature of the helmet.

Indeed, as a young man, he had seen various stories of time travel in literature and art.

In novels, he had seen people time-travel due to computer explosions, choking on food, crossing the street to save someone and getting hit, falling into a toilet while using it, but why was he here?

He looked through the rain curtain into the distance, trying to divert his attention from the bat-shaped symbol but just stared lifelessly at the dark clouds on the horizon, trying to recall.

The neon lights on countless skyscrapers became blurry in the rain and mist, and everything seemed unreal.

He only remembered coming home from work, answering a call from a middle school classmate inviting him to a wedding.

After that... he played on the computer for a while? His old laptop made a sound like a tractor when he turned it on.

Yes, he liked those fantasy worlds that allowed him to briefly forget the monotony of real life.

He didn't remember any explosions, strange lights, or sounds. It felt like a blink of an eye, and he was here, standing on the rooftop of Wayne Tower, the tallest building in Gotham, inexplicably feeling the evening breeze.

In this eerie place, he had stood there, dazed, for about five minutes. After gradually accepting this fact, he fell into confusion.

As for who he was, after realizing he had crossed into the DC universe, he knew. Night shifts were boring, and he had read a lot of novels, and later he got into American comics.

Because even as a small security guard like himself, he had heard other young people at the workplace talk about how "Avengers 2 is good" or "Guardians of the Galaxy is fun," and his female co-worker said things like "Winter Soldier is OTP, Iron Man is the third wheel."

He didn't understand at first.

To have a common topic and good relationships with colleagues, he first watched the movies on his old computer. He thought they were good; American blockbusters were exciting.

Later, he used the workplace's Wi-Fi to catch up on some comics while on the job. At first, he was a complete newbie when it came to differentiating between Marvel and DC, but after reading a lot, he even remembered the names and abili