She held a wine glass, leading the two to the study next to the reception room. Without needing to say much, one could see a string of dark footprints on the floor, stretching towards the back of the bookshelf.
There were a few black handprints on the piano keys, left by dirty gloves.
"Uh-oh."
Barry Allen knew he was witnessing another crime scene, and this time it was in Batman's home. Even if it's the Batman of a parallel universe, it's still quite rare.
Briss squinted at the footprints. They were left by special combat boots from a certain uniform, with no distinct patterns, just segments of metallic surfaces.
She certainly remembered these footprints, but the ones she used to see were bloody. This time, it was just mud.
"Deathstroke?! How did she get here?" Briss suddenly flared up, unhappy that a detestable assassin had infiltrated her home: "Ah Fu, call the police station and ask what Deathstroke has been up to in town recently?"
Barry Allen wasn't too panicked; he seemed to have little reaction to the mention of Deathstroke's name, as if seeing a savior.
"Oh, Deathstroke from your world? Send her my regards, haha." He looked at the black handprints Cindy left on the piano, calculating the stride: "Looks like she took the turkey. Judging by the splash range of the muddy water beside the footprints, with the same stride length, she was lighter when she arrived and heavier when she left, probably just the weight of the missing food."
"I know, I'm just wondering what that perverted assassin came to my house for." Briss pressed a few keys on the piano, and the bookshelf silently swung open, revealing a pitch-black passage.
"Hmm? Isn't Deathstroke supposed to be on our side?" Barry scratched his head, finding it strange.
On Earth 0, many heroes or villains chose to escape from the crisis, only this mercenary Deathstroke took the initiative to help. Why does it seem different here?
Briss was actually more surprised: "Your Deathstroke is on your side?"
This question stumped Barry since Deathstroke's actions... were truly hard to categorize.
"Well... he's primarily on the side of money, I suppose that's the same here."
Briss nodded, agreeing with him.
"He's done a lot of bad things, killed many people. I suspect he's the culprit for half the unsolved cases I have."
Briss nodded again in agreement.
"But many times, he's also helped save the Earth, assisting the Justice League in repelling alien invaders, often risking his life. So he's actually a complex person."
This time, Briss didn't nod. Instead, she pinched her chin, with both corners of her mouth downturned, deep in thought.
After a moment, she came back to herself, motioning Barry to follow her to the Bat Cave, speaking as they walked: "Our Deathstroke probably doesn't know about this world-ending matter yet. If I inform her, what do you think the chances are of her helping us?"
"One hundred percent, Lady Bat, as long as you can persuade her, she will definitely not stand by. If you find persuasion difficult, you could just write a big check." Barry understood what kind of person Slade was, but he didn't know this world's Deathstroke and could only offer this hypothesis.
"I'm not concerned with her stealing the turkey for now, but I need to know what she has done in my base...?"
Before Briss could finish her sentence, her eyes widened.
The Bat Cave was in complete disarray, with traces of vandalism everywhere, the cave floor filled with various footprints, and used dishes scattered across a table. Her favorite giant dinosaur even had a hole in its head, occasionally sputtering a few electric sparks.
The city's surveillance system had been breached. At that moment, the large screen displayed continuously switching surveillance footage, and an exposed data cable under the mainframe indicated Deathstroke had used a physical connection to hack the system.
Briss wasn't surprised that Deathstroke could deal with the mechanical dinosaur, as it was originally meant for common thieves, not world-class assassins like Deathstroke. But she never knew Deathstroke was also a computer expert, even surpassing her own skills.
In a flash of electric light, Barry appeared at the top of the dinosaur's head, bent over examining the marks left on the dinosaur.
The top of the dinosaur's head had some footprints, black handprints were at the eye sockets, and there were water stains on the tail. He quickly deduced Su Ming's tactics, replaying it in his mind.
This further proved that only Deathstroke could execute such a surgical strike targeting vulnerabilities. Many who could execute it wouldn't think of such a tactic, while many who could think of it lacked the physical capability.
He then assessed the other traces on the ground.
A woman in high heels, a large man in sneakers, and someone in a wheelchair. They had indeed camped here, the table littered with plates and leftovers, including expired turkey.
The only thing puzzling him was that Deathstroke had two sets of footprints, one larger and heavier, the other smaller and lighter.
He scratched his head, unable to comprehend, and returned to Briss's side.
In reality, only three seconds had passed. She was still contemplating the breach of her system. Barry shared his findings with her, but even Briss couldn't immediately figure it out.
Ah Fu came up from behind, descending the stairs, adjusted a few knobs on the system, and switched to the news channel.
"Miss Briss, I think you should see this. I couldn't reach the police station earlier, but I saw something on TV."
On TV, the station was replaying footage of Su Ming. The fearful station executives had pulled all evening news, replacing it with a special interview with Deathstroke. Despite the massive blackout in the city, as long as one person could watch TV, they dared not pull this program.
What followed was a scene of Su Ming shooting Barbara.
The gunshot echoed through the Bat Cave, causing both the old butler and Barry to shiver and involuntarily close their eyes.
"It doesn't make sense, Deathstroke had no reason to kill Oracle."
Barry shook his head repeatedly in disbelief. Oracle was more valuable than the average superhero. Deathstroke wouldn't just kill Barbara like that. In the Main World, that shot would mean billions of US dollars down the drain.
"Mr. Allen, we're talking about Deathstroke. She's a mercenary who kills for money, she doesn't care who she's killing." Ah Fu corrected, having once served the government as a warrior with faith, whereas mercenaries like Deathstroke were, in his view, positionless mavericks.
Warriors need positions, whereas businesspeople only care about interests.
Briss herself leaned on the console, slowing down the footage on the supercomputer by twenty times. She wasn't saddened for Barbara but focused on the bullet.
"Barry is right, Deathstroke didn't kill Barbara. The bullet just passed one centimeter outside her neck, a trick with positioning."
"Then she brought Barbara here and had her hack your system. The wheelchair tracks here match the axle distance and tire circumference of Barbara's wheelchair shown on TV." Barry nodded, wiping off the black handprints Su Ming had left on the console, then looked at the floor beneath the few people standing: "I'm not surprised she could hack your system either."
Briss still pinched her sharp chin, quietly watching the slow-motion replay on the big screen. The computer was automatically slowing down the news footage, and she noticed something peculiar.
"However, there still is something surprising: the person in that Holy Image uniform isn't actually our Deathstroke."
As she spoke, she pressed a button, freezing the image on the screen, displaying Deathstroke's close-up. That scarlet solo eye stared at the three people in front of the screen, casting a quiet around them.