Ch.11 Inside the Communications Room

Barbara was nervous.

After Batwoman had left that day, Barbara had asked her father to take her to work with him. Not as an employee, but as a volunteer, helping out in the communications room. No salary, no special treatment.

Given Gordon's position and influence, he could easily have made his daughter a police officer, or even the next commissioner, and many would have supported him.

But he didn't. The police department was there to serve the citizens, not for personal use. If he abused his power, how would he be any different from the people he despised most?

Barbara understood this and was happy to help the police as a volunteer, assisting her father.

When she arrived at the station two weeks ago, she worked diligently, utilizing her unrivaled computer skills. Even in Gotham, she was considered one of the best, and the communications room was the perfect place for her talents to shine.

Her colleagues quickly accepted her—not because she was the commissioner's daughter or because of her tragic past, but because of her exceptional skills and genuine kindness.

This Barbara had no idea that in other parallel universes, she was also a superhero. She once fought as Batgirl for a long time, and after the Joker shattered her spine, she took on the name "Oracle," becoming Batman's main tech and intelligence support.

She also founded the Birds of Prey, served as the intelligence officer for the Suicide Squad, was best friends with Supergirl, and was a member of the Justice League. She was an essential tech provider for nearly every superhero except the Flash's tech nerds.

She was, quite simply, incredibly busy.

However, under the influence of the overarching will of Earth -11, no one except Bruce had the inclination to become a superhero.

Barbara on this Earth thought dressing up like a bat was rather bizarre.

But right now, she desperately wished she were a superhero, not a defenseless hacker.

About ten minutes ago, a group of black-suited attackers had stormed the police station. Though Barbara had noticed them on the surveillance system and issued a warning, the officers' response time had been disappointingly slow.

The initial skirmish resulted in heavy casualties among the police. The enemy's firepower was overwhelming, and they destroyed all the cameras, leaving Barbara to rely on radio communication to keep up with the situation.

Her colleagues locked Barbara and a few male officers in the communications room since it, along with the armory, was the most secure part of the station. They headed out to engage the enemy, while Barbara was tasked with finding a way to contact the military or the Amazon Council.

Unfortunately, the attackers were well-prepared. They cut all the station's external communications immediately, leaving Barbara feeling not only crippled but also deaf and mute.

All she could do was sit in her wheelchair, repeatedly trying to find a way to reestablish contact with the outside world.

The network was down, the phones jammed, and there wasn't even a telegraph machine. She wished for a carrier pigeon to magically appear at her side.

Her only hope was that someone would discover the situation here and alert the military. But deep down, she knew that on a stormy night like this, no one would notice what was happening.

It was the perfect crime.

She could only sit there, listening to the gunfire and screams outside, feeling her heart sink deeper into despair.

But then, the screams outside changed, and the sounds of battle were replaced by shouts of surprise and other unfamiliar exclamations.

"Oh my god! She's so fast!"

"By Zeus!"

"Block him!"

"Help! It's Dea—"

Barbara's heart raced as the outside fell eerily silent. The gunfire and shouting had stopped.

What had happened? What about her colleagues?

Her mind whirred with questions, but the intense environment, combined with the sobbing of the male officers in the room, made it impossible to focus. Her mind was in chaos.

At that moment, she heard a strange laugh and someone humming a tune outside the door, immediately reminding her of the Joker. That terrifying memory paralyzed her. It was as if her spine was in pain again, and she remembered the agonizing moment when the Joker had shot her, sending her crashing to the ground in agony. She was lost in a fog of fear.

Another voice chimed in, reminding the person humming to use less explosives. The sound snapped Barbara back to reality.

She quickly backed away, hiding behind a desk to shield herself from the impending blast. At the same time, she frantically searched for anything to use as a weapon.

Unfortunately, the only people in the room with her were some administrative staff, a few forensic workers, and a janitor. None of them were armed. The only things resembling weapons in the room were a few chairs and her laptop.

She clutched her laptop tightly.

BOOM!

The door was blown open, the force slamming it against the wall, its hinges creaking under the strain.

Barbara couldn't hear anything, though. The explosion at such close range left her ears ringing and her vision blurred with stars.

She slumped over the desk, barely making out two figures entering the room through the lingering smoke, scanning their surroundings.

"No Gordon. I win," one of them said, lowering their weapon as they casually walked toward the male officers huddled against the wall.

Barbara shook her head, struggling to sit upright. She was the daughter of Commissioner Gordon, and she wasn't about to give up. She had to protect her friends.

"Don't bully the men! Come at me instead!" she shouted.

Her voice caused the figure moving toward the officers to pause, as though they had just heard something utterly disgusting. They began rubbing their arms, as if trying to press down fur growing on their skin.

This bizarre, neurotic display only made the male officers cry harder. One of them even fainted from fear.

Unlike Barbara, whose vision was still blurred from the explosion, the officers had seen everything clearly. They recognized the black-and-yellow armor, and they knew what it represented.

It was the infamous mercenary, the world's deadliest assassin with a 100% mission completion rate—Deathstroke!

Deathstroke wasn't a frequent presence in Gotham. After all, Gotham wasn't the center of the world, just a city on the East Coast of North America. Deathstroke's clients spanned the globe.

But that didn't stop Gotham's residents from remembering Deathstroke. She was skilled, intelligent, and even Batwoman couldn't capture her.

These administrative officers had never been in the field, but they'd heard stories from their colleagues. Wherever Deathstroke went, bodies piled up, and rivers of blood flowed. Not only were her targets eliminated, but their subordinates, families, and even their pets were executed as well.

If Cindy knew this was her reputation in Gotham, she would probably collapse laughing. She didn't enjoy killing too many people while taking out a target.

For instance, after killing a gang boss, she often spared the underlings. Some of them might take over the boss's territory, and her client would eventually hire her again to deal with them. It was like harvesting crops—underlings weren't as valuable as bosses, but Cindy didn't mind profitable "inconveniences." In fact, she welcomed them.

Right now, Cindy felt like she had made a new discovery. She eyed Barbara up and down, nodding in satisfaction.

"Looks like I won the bet. There's definitely a 'Gordon' here."

Su Ming was annoyed by the whimpering men. He'd never seen so many men huddled together, crying like that. It made him feel nauseous. His first instinct upon entering the room was to knock them all out. Maybe he'd use enough force to make sure they stayed unconscious for a good ten days.

Then a woman shouted for him not to bully the men and to come at her instead, making him cringe even more.

He turned toward the voice, guessing that she was the target the black-suited gangsters had been after.

The woman was more of a girl, really. She looked around seventeen or eighteen, significantly younger than Cindy. She had a quiet, studious demeanor.

She wore square glasses, her hair braided into two plaits, and she had on a frayed red sweater over a white, pink-striped checkered shirt. She looked quite plain and awkwardly dressed.

Still, her skin was pale, a perk of staying indoors, and her features were quite attractive, though she hadn't made much effort to style herself.

Su Ming noticed her wheelchair, and with Cindy's comment about winning the bet, he realized who she was.

"Barbara Gordon?"

Though he phrased it as a question, he was already certain. Barbara was a character who appeared frequently in Bat-related publications. Though she looked slightly different in real life than in the comics, her unique aura and features gave her away.

"Who are you?" Barbara was relieved that the man had abandoned the male officers, but she had no idea what her future held.

Su Ming glanced around. The smoke from the explosion hadn't yet settled, and he felt like this world's Barbara had a bit of an airheaded quality to her.

"Why don't you clean your glasses and take a look for yourself?"

Barbara rubbed her eyes, wiped the dust from her glasses, and took a closer look.

"!!!"

As the commissioner's daughter, Barbara knew a thing or two about Gotham's most dangerous criminals. Her father had warned her about several particularly dangerous individuals, people she should avoid at all costs.

Among those names were the Joker, Ra's al Ghul, the Mad Hatter—most were either insane or cold-blooded killers. And of course, there was the world's deadliest mercenary: Deathstroke.

Cindy had done a few jobs in Gotham before, slipping away before the police could arrive. By the time they did, the bodies were cold, and the crime scenes were soaked in blood, leaving no evidence. Batwoman had even faced off against Cindy but was knocked out cold. She was no match.

When Bruce had prepared herself to capture Cindy the next time she appeared, she found that Cindy had already changed her combat style and succeeded in her mission again.

Again and again, Deathstroke moved like a shadow. If the Joker hadn't been a constant in Bruce's nightmares, then Deathstroke would have been her most feared enemy.

This was what Batwoman had told Gordon, and he had shared the same warning with Barbara. She still remembered his words:

"Deathstroke is a maniac, but a cold, calculating one. She doesn't see anything wrong with killing. People are born to die, and she just speeds up the process. She thinks of herself as nature's executioner."

Of course, none of this helped Barbara in her current situation. In fact, it made her even more terrified.

One Deathstroke was already a death sentence. Now there were two!

Wait—two Deathstrokes?

Barbara took off her glasses again and smacked her head. She wondered if she had a concussion, seeing double like this.

But after some effort, she realized there were indeed two Deathstrokes standing before her. Confused, she tilted her head, trying to figure out what was going on.

Could it be that all of Deathstroke's impossible assassinations were actually the work of a team? Or maybe a secret organization? One Deathstroke would lead Batwoman on a wild goose chase through the city while the other slipped away to kill the target?

Barbara felt like she had stumbled onto some grand truth. And with that realization, a wave of dread washed over her. She had learned something she wasn't supposed to know. Surely, they would kill her to keep their secret!

She had so much left to do. She hadn't even met her birth mother. She...

Seeing her blank, faraway look, Su Ming decided to knock out the remaining police officers with his electric staff. Finally, the room was quiet.

"Which one of you is Deathstroke?" Barbara asked, clutching her laptop tightly, as though it could offer her some form of protection. She noticed that the other officers were slumped against the walls but showed no signs of bleeding, suggesting they weren't in too much danger.

"I am. He's not." Cindy quickly stepped forward, taking Su Ming's spot.

Su Ming shrugged. It didn't really matter to him. This was Cindy's world, and she could claim whatever she wanted. The fact that he was Deathstroke was an objective truth, whether she admitted it or not.

"What are you doing here in the police station? This isn't your place," Barbara said, her face filled with defiance, as if she were ready to sacrifice herself.

Cindy was a bit surprised. Commissioner Gordon's daughter clearly had guts. No wonder she survived her encounter with the Joker. "We came here to find your father. We need his help with something. But it seems like he's not in the station."

"You'll never find out where my dad is. Just kill me already." Barbara immediately refused, realizing they were after her father.

Cindy shook her head. Killing Barbara wasn't part of the plan.

As Gordon's daughter, she was valuable in her own right. No one had paid them to kill her, and Cindy wasn't about to waste an asset. Her mission was to prevent the world's destruction, and that was her priority.

"Did you notice the black-suited people in the hallway? They're part of a well-organized gang," Su Ming decided to change tactics, opting for a more gentle approach to get information. "Their target is you—and your father. I'm going to go outside and destroy the equipment they're using to jam communications. Can you try to contact him?"

If Barbara could get in touch with her father, Su Ming and Cindy could wait here. Gordon wouldn't abandon his daughter.

If the call didn't go through, it would confirm Su Ming's theory that Gordon had been kidnapped. Barbara would want to help rescue him, and bringing Batwoman into the mix would be even better.

It was a straightforward plan.

Barbara didn't give a clear response. Su Ming was about to head outside when Cindy volunteered to handle the equipment destruction, leaving him to stay with Barbara. In this world, men seemed to have a better way of connecting with people.

Sitting in the room with Barbara, Su Ming wasn't sure what to say. After all, he was technically the bad guy, and as the police commissioner's daughter, Barbara probably hated him.

Time passed slowly until Cindy returned, humming her usual tune. She was soaked, her armor dripping with water. "I blew up their signal jammer, and I also restored the police station's network."

She grinned, shaking the water from her hair. "By the way, you've got a mole in your department. I found that the network was physically cut from inside the station. So, how's the bonding going while I was out?"

What bonding? Does the two of them sitting together in silence in one room counts?