He stood on the rooftop of the skyscraper, with the sleepless city beneath him ablaze with lights. He could see the neon blooms in the night, dyeing the thick steam rising from the manhole covers along the roads a bright red.
It was an early spring night. The bustling metropolis was enveloped in smog, and in the slightly chilly wind, one could smell the industrial emissions and wastewater.
What his eyes beheld was the world of wealth, prestige, and power, a riot of lights and revelry built upon indulgence and decadence.
But in the distant darkness, in places beyond his sight—perhaps in the dim alleys lined with trash bins, perhaps in the sewers where the homeless hid, or perhaps beneath the overpass where gangs gathered.
Those carelessly discarded guns and bodies, those sinister laughter and screams in the dark, those black dried bloodstains... constantly reminded those who came here that beneath the city's glitzy exterior lay boundless sin and madness, ready to devour anyone who dared underestimate it.
Where was this place? Perhaps by simply listening to the citizens' descriptions, one could guess.
The residents of this city liked to use the names of familiar villains to describe this place.
Some said it was like the Killer Crocodile, for it always devours people from the darkness, leaving not even a bone fragment, maybe just a splash or a bubble, but nobody cares.
Some said it was like the Two-Faced Man, for its merciless choices, whether good or evil, order or chaos, perpetually spun in a frenzied dance. Fate, like a coin, constantly tossed and falling, leaving people powerless.
Some said it was like the Scarecrow because no matter the beautiful dream one had, it would suddenly turn into a nightmare, digging up the deepest fears until driving people mad, leaving them drooling and wandering the streets.
Some said it was like the Joker because this city was absolutely insane! Ha ha, ha, hahaha!
Of course, it was highly possible that the next moment, this citizen would erupt, plunging a pencil or fork into an outsider's eye, then widen their blank eyes and curiously ask the twitching corpse.
"Why so serious?"
...
As an otherworldly visitor, he didn't need to ask any resident. Just by raising his head and seeing the bat-shaped light spots left on the cloud layers by the bright beam in the night, he knew where he was.
"Gotham..."
He murmured.
In the next moment, a sudden downpour engulfed his figure.
The gray rain, with a faint acidic smell, obscured everything that he had seen and heard, concealing all the sins, leaving only the sound of the rain and a chill that seeped from the heart.
But this chill didn't originate from the rain. Fully armored, both his head and body were shielded by exquisite metal armor.
A full-face mask helmet, and chain armor wrapping his entire body from the neck down, with the chest, shoulders, and limbs outfitted with another layer of armor-like pauldron, all announcing to him that, in this moment, he was no longer just an ordinary person.
He was, in fact, once an ordinary person, living a modest life not worth mentioning.
Working as a night-time storekeeper was indeed just a security guard. He wasn't particularly tall or muscular or intimidating, but he was young with a bit of youthful bravery.
"The process? Why am I here? I don't remember."
He reached out, wanting to touch his forehead, but the thick tactical gloves completely isolated the touch and the temperature of the helmet.
Indeed, as a young man, things like transmigration were something he had encountered in various literary works.
In novels, there were stories of transmigrating due to a computer explosion, choking on food, getting hit while saving someone on the street, or falling into a toilet, but why him?
Gazing through the curtain of rain towards the distance, he tried to divert his attention from the bat symbol, staring blankly at the gloomy clouds at the horizon, striving to recall.
The neon lights on countless skyscrapers became blurred in the rain and mist, everything seemed so unreal.
All he could remember was coming home from work, handling a phone call inviting him to a middle school classmate's wedding.
Then what followed... playing some computer games? His old laptop would make a tractor-like noise when the power was on.
Yes, he enjoyed those worlds of fantasy, which let him momentarily forget about his monotonous real life.
There was no memory of an explosion, no strange light or sound. Just one blink, and he found himself here, standing atop Gotham City's highest Wayne Tower, inexplicably feeling the evening breeze.
In this damned place, he had stood in a daze for about five minutes, and after gradually accepting this fact, he fell into confusion.
As for who he was, after realizing he had transmigrated to the DC Universe, he knew. Night shifts were boring, so he read many novels and later became fascinated by American comics.
Because even a humble security guard like him had heard his colleagues mention "The Avengers 2 is good," or "Guardians of the Galaxy is fun," along with female colleagues saying, "ShieldWinter is the ship, Iron Man is the third wheel" and the like.
Initially, he didn't understand at all.
To have a common topic to build rapport with colleagues, he watched the movies on his old computer and found them nice. American blockbusters were indeed thrilling.
Later, during work, he used the office WIFI to catch up on some comics. Although at first, he was a newbie who couldn't tell the difference between Marvel and DC, after reading more, he even remembered the names and abilities of hundreds of heroes and villains, as well as the key stories they were involved in.
Even though he only read the translated comics, it was enough to chat with colleagues.
At this moment, his helmet only had a view on the left side. He lowered his head and looked at the small puddle forming beneath his feet. In the ripples, he could see his own current appearance.
A black and yellow metal helmet, styled like a hockey mask, with two long fabric straps fluttering in the wind and rain behind his head, reminiscent of Rambo's headband. The left eye of the mask was a red diamond-shaped lens, and the right half of the mask was completely black without a single seam.
He had become Deathstroke.
Real name Slade Joseph Wilson, one of the greatest mercenaries and assassins in the DC Universe, a master of strategy and tactics, a martial arts master, and a master of all weapons.
Originally, he was a modified human by the United States Military, with 90% brain development, just slightly less than the female protagonist in "Super Body"; also with physical abilities that surpass human limits, and a self-healing ability that can heal most wounds.
Later, because his superior betrayed his friend, leading to his friend being captured by the enemy, although Deathstroke rescued his comrade and broke through the encirclement, he inevitably fell out with the military, causing him to become a mercenary, using his super power to do dirty work for a living.
The key is, he inherited everything from Deathstroke except the memories... At least he had freely learned things like English, driving, and gun handling as body memory.
He was like an outsider, watching the constantly wavering reflection of himself on the water's surface from a third-party perspective; everything he knew about Deathstroke now came from the comics.
When he first discovered he had turned into someone with super power, he was quite delighted.
Becoming Deathstroke is pretty good, in prepared and planned situations, he's not afraid of anyone, even against Batman, the golden boy of the DC Universe, he has more than a 50% win rate.
As a villain, he even beat Robin and the Teen Titans. In the recently reformed New 52 comics, he fought hard with Wonder Woman in hand-to-hand combat, without Kryptonite, and got away unscathed from Superman.
However, after the initial excitement, he felt a lot of pressure.
Why?
Because Deathstroke is a mercenary, doing things for money, no matter what. As a result, in almost every world, he has offended almost all the superheroes and villains in the DC Universe... Helping Penguin Man against Two-Faced Man, helping Two-Faced Man against Black Mask, helping Black Mask against Penguin Man, and occasionally taking on tasks against various superheroes.
In Deathstroke's view, there's no difference between superheroes and super villains, they are just employers and targets, they are all people.
No matter who gives him a task, as long as there's money to be made.
"This is troublesome..."
His name before crossing over was Su Ming, and the veteran masters at his unit always called him Xiaoming. Every time he was called that, he always felt like he had made a lot of mistakes. Like not washing hands before eating, crossing the street without looking at the traffic lights, being late for class, anyway, if there was a mistake in an elementary school textbook, it was surely him.
"First of all, I need to determine which parallel universe of DC this is, then find out the timeline, where the story has progressed." He sighed, wanting to have a cigarette, but the mask blocked him: "In the DC Universe, there are many worlds with Gotham and Batman. If it's the movie universe, the power ceiling of the world is not very high; in the recently released 'Justice League' movie, Desert Wolf was beaten like a doll. But if it's the comic universe, no matter which one, the danger greatly increases..."
"Earth 0, the Main World of New 52 comics; Earth 3, a world where all heroes and villains have swapped identities; Earth 10, a world ruled by NAZI; Earth 38, the initial world of DC Comics..."
Su Ming wiped his mask, raindrops like small streams converged beneath his feet. Inside the armor, there were no other clothes, now he felt very cold, his whole body immersed in water.
But he had never felt his mind was so clear before, recalling completely the comic world setting he had only glanced at once, was this due to Deathstroke's super brain? But memory should come from his own soul, right?
Now this body is filled with an explosive sense of strength, something he had never felt before, it seems his soul has possessed this, the original body of Deathstroke.
The problem is, although Deathstroke has a self-healing ability, it is not strong enough, it cannot achieve the level of regenerating a lost limb, so his right eye is forever blind.
When high-speed regeneration is in effect, it consumes a large amount of his stamina and even causes him to lose his rationality.
Deathstroke is over fifty years old, both his son and daughter have become superheroes, wanting to kill him anytime, and also has an unageing father who is a supervillain with telekinesis, also wanting to kill him.
Fortunately, he's strong enough, they can't kill him.
"I'm a young man in my twenties, turned into someone over fifty... It's so difficult to have a family, yet the relationships aren't great..."
Su Ming shook his head helplessly. Deathstroke is strong in abilities and intelligence, but is obviously lacking in emotional intelligence.
"By the way, why did he come here in the first place, did he receive some mission? Fully armed, he should be planning something."
Su Ming gave up thinking further. Although the current body is an enhanced person, his habit still made him want to find a place to hide from the rain, not only because the early spring rain was too cold, but also because Gotham's industrial pollution was too severe, the rain had a sickening acrid smell he had never experienced before.
Leaving the edge of the building, he turned to leave, even though he carried a glider backpack, he decided to use the stairs, having never played with a hang glider before, it would be a joke if he fell to his death.
'World-famous mercenary jumps to death in Gotham City last night, rumored to be related to a romantic entanglement with Batman.'
Su Ming had already imagined it. If he fell to his death, tomorrow's front page of the "Gotham Daily" would surely be that, he didn't want to die, nor did he want to despite crossing into a dangerous world.
Not to mention, he is a genuine straight man. Although he doesn't discriminate against Joker and Batman for showing love all the time, he has no desire to join them at all.