A WORLD TURN UPSIDE DOWN

As the two armored figures descended the staircase with an air of nonchalance, the fluttering of bats echoed through the vast, dimly lit corridors. The surveillance probe embedded in the road outside silently tracked their every step, its mechanical eye gleaming with an eerie red glow.

Above them, perched on the rooftop, Slade Wilson observed the scene below with calculating eyes. He wasn't entirely sure what was unfolding, but Cindy, his companion, didn't seem to care either. Perhaps it was all part of an elaborate ploy to draw out Batwoman—if she was even in the city tonight.

Still, it was worth a shot.

As they passed by Batman's abandoned office, Cindy seized the moment to indulge herself. With a flick of her wrist, she shattered the glass of a high-end liquor cabinet, plundering two bottles of expensive wine without a shred of hesitation. The sharp wail of the security alarm blared in protest, but she paid it no mind. She popped the cork of one bottle, took a casual sip, and then—seemingly unimpressed—tossed it over to Slade, who caught it mid-air with a bemused expression.

With that small act of irreverence, the two stepped into the elevator, descending into the unknown.

Under normal circumstances, criminals would avoid using an elevator—it was a perfect death trap. A single power cut would leave them stranded, helplessly waiting for security forces to descend upon them. And if they had the misfortune of facing a particularly ruthless opponent, the entire elevator could be sent plummeting into a free fall.

Yet Cindy walked in with complete confidence, and Slade followed without question. It was clear she had already neutralized any threats.

Slade found himself marveling at how quickly his mind processed such deductions. Ever since he arrived in this strange, inverted world, his cognitive abilities had sharpened, evolving into something far superior to what they once were. If only he had possessed this level of intellect back in his original world—he might have aced every exam, secured a prestigious scholarship, and carved out a comfortable life for himself.

Then again… was that really what he wanted?

Returning to his old world as Deathstroke—armed with his current knowledge and abilities—would be a game-changer. He could dominate the business world, rise through the ranks with unparalleled speed, become a CEO, marry a wealthy beauty, and live the so-called dream.

And yet, somehow, the thought didn't excite him.

In modern society, intelligence alone wasn't enough to ensure success. Without the right connections, even the most brilliant minds could only rise so far. After all, how often did a small business owner climb to the top and become a billionaire CEO?

The thought amused him, but his contemplation was cut short by the soft chime of the elevator reaching the ground floor.

"Ding."

As the doors slid open, the sight that greeted them was pure chaos.

The once-pristine lobby was in complete disarray. Furniture lay overturned, shattered glass glittered across the floor, and more than a dozen security guards were sprawled out, motionless. Some groaned weakly, confirming they were still alive, but others lay unnervingly still.

Cindy had been thorough.

Slade took in the aftermath with a slow, sweeping gaze. His attention briefly flickered to the security guards, who, oddly enough, were all strikingly attractive women. It seemed that even Wayne Enterprises upheld the world's peculiar gender dynamics.

He still wasn't entirely used to this reality—a world where men were the delicate ones, the ones pursued instead of the pursuers. It was strange, almost surreal. And yet, here he was.

"Let's go," Cindy urged, noticing his hesitation. "They'll live."

She had left them conscious on purpose—to ensure they would report the incident to Batman. The odds of drawing out Batwoman were slim, but it was worth a try. Besides, handling these security forces had been child's play.

Slade let out a quiet sigh, stepping over the debris as they exited through the shattered glass doors. The darkened streets greeted them with the relentless drumming of rain. In the distance, shadows stirred—figures lurking in the alleys, opportunists waiting for a chance to loot Wayne Enterprises in the wake of its compromised security.

However, the moment they saw Slade step into the rain, their courage dissolved. They vanished into the darkness, dispersing like frightened birds.

No one wanted to cross Deathstroke.

Across the street, Cindy's vehicle awaited—a rugged, unassuming American Jeep. Yet, its interior was anything but ordinary. The backseat was a chaotic armory, littered with an assortment of weaponry. A pile of rocket launchers rested haphazardly beside two massive ammunition crates, while smaller firearms were tucked into every available space.

As Slade settled into the passenger seat, he felt something hard beneath him. Shifting, he reached under himself and pulled out a grenade. He wordlessly handed it to Cindy.

"Your grenade."

"No, it's your grenade," Cindy corrected, her voice laced with amusement as she started the engine. Rain streaked down the windshield as the wipers groaned into motion. "And by the way, flirting with your alternate self can wait until we're done here."

Slade blinked, utterly dumbfounded.

"Who the hell is flirting?!"

Cindy chuckled under her mask, maneuvering the Jeep onto the slick road. The city blurred past in streaks of neon and shadow as they sped through the storm.

"This world's different, remember?" she teased. "Here, men are the weaker sex. Women do the chasing—flowers, gifts, the whole nine yards. And when a woman wants a man, he 'marries' her."

Slade shuddered. The thought unsettled him. The very idea of being courted in such a manner was… unnerving.

If this had been his original world, and a woman had pulled a cylindrical object from under herself, his mind would've instantly jumped to the wrong conclusion…

"No, that's not—!" He stopped himself, groaning. "Never mind. This whole world just feels… unnatural."

"Oh?" Cindy arched an eyebrow, her amusement evident even without seeing her face.

"I mean, we don't belong here. Our methods are direct. Logical. But the people here… their minds don't work like ours. They're erratic."

Cindy ran a red light, splashing a pedestrian as she cut a sharp turn. The drenched man barely had time to react before pulling a gun from his coat, but before he could fire, Cindy playfully flashed her taillights at him and let out a low, wicked laugh.

"Hah. Yeah, this city's crazy," she admitted. "If it weren't for all the business opportunities, I'd much rather live in Star City."

Star City—Green Arrow's domain. The villains there were at least straightforward. But on Earth-11, there were no heroes, only criminals. The situation was just as grim everywhere.

The ride fell into silence after that. The only sounds were the steady drone of rain and the hum of the engine.

Slade sat in quiet contemplation. He had never been a killer. Not in his previous life. Yet here, violence was inevitable. Was he truly prepared for that?

Before he could answer that question, his thoughts were violently interrupted.

A rocket, trailing a thick plume of white smoke, hurtled toward them from a nearby rooftop.

"Sh*t—"

The explosion was imminent.