Multiverse: Deathstroke

Fighting endless monsters in pitch-black darkness reminded Su Ming of Starship Troopers—a flick he'd seen once.

Sure, in the movie, the bug hive was lit up like a showroom—you could count the moles on the brain bug's face.

Reality wasn't like that. The Trench clan were already fearless killers, and the double mutation made them rabid. Now they were like an underwater bug swarm.

They came at the group from every angle, but Nightshade clearly trusted Black Alice big-time. She just crouched by the big floor hole, drawing the array, leaving her back wide open for Lori to cover.

Lori wasn't used to tentacle attacks. As a two-handed human, suddenly turning into a gooey thing with endless tendrils—who wouldn't struggle?

She was giving it her all, barely managing six tendrils at once, so the sorceress still needed the two warriors nearby to pick up slack.

Anyway, Su Ming's tactic was light-based. He'd blast Godslayer's glare now and then, handing Nightshade's rear defense to Venom and the Cloak of Levitation.

Venom's attacks were lethal—it even had time to munch Trencher brains, slurping their goo.

The Cloak was a watertight shield, catching anything Lori missed.

Blue Devil was fine. Slower, sure—he had to stab his hellfire trident into a Trencher and trigger the suit's power to ash them. Otherwise, three holes barely scratched these guys.

But he was nimble—plenty good for defense and self-preservation.

So that's how it was: the squad boxed in by endless Trenchers, enemies circling like a carousel.

Claws out, silent roars, lunging from every direction.

Some charged straight in, others dropped from the ceiling like dumplings into a pot—black shadows raining reverse.

The murky water, full of weird floaters, churned nonstop.

Deathstroke's skill was unreal. With him holding the hole's front, the other angles were easier for the trio to lock down.

He was a black-and-yellow wall—no one breached his line.

But the fishmen just clawed past their dead, rushing forward reckless, more pouring from the floor hole.

Like it'd never end.

Slimy, glossy enemies flowed from the hole like liquid. Su Ming's moves turned into a high-speed whack-a-mole.

Dozens of Trenchers popped up at once—he had to calculate and predict in fractions of a second, swinging his weapons in a cross-section to lop off heads and torsos.

All while blocking attacks from other directions.

Guess the Trenchers had circled the city plate's edge and climbed up—now they were flooding in from the door too.

Fully surrounded this time.

Good thing time was on Su Ming's side. Nightshade's array was ready.

She stood, flashed an OK sign, and fired it up.

Then Su Ming saw the Trenchers surging from the hole vanish mid-move, sucked silently into a black void synced with the pit.

He'd expected a toilet-flush swirl to drag them off, but this—like they'd fallen into a world-crack—felt more like some invisible beast ate them.

Just a test run, so the teleport was small-scale, but the hole's front didn't need guarding anymore.

Now, per the plan, Su Ming had to summon Mister Mxyzptlk and cut a deal.

Batman's side was getting worse. By now, the Hall of Justice had sent out everyone they could.

But as time dragged on, more heroes were breaking—either cracking mentally or turning fish for whatever reason.

Batman saw it all. The Hall echoed with evacuation broadcasts, red emergency lights flashing.

Earth's satellites were toast—alien ships breaching the atmosphere, Justice League comms basically dead.

So wherever the heroes were, they were on their own.

Batman, the League—couldn't offer better advice anymore.

Really, they should've been running for their lives, but Batman wouldn't say that. It'd trigger a global rout.

He needed them to buy time—give the League's scientists a shot at pinpointing where the alien seawater was flooding in.

That "faucet" probably wasn't some sky-high waterfall—more like an underwater geyser or spring.

Checking global waters in this mess wasn't easy.

Batman called in M'gann, linked up with Superman and Flash, told them to help other heroes worldwide while staying ready.

Once the faucet was found, he'd need them to act fast—shut it down, no holds barred.

"Call ended. Batman offline."

Shit was bad. Tons of mainframe screens weren't worth watching anymore—Batman shut them off.

Whatever they'd been tracking before, it was all underwater now, lost. Former heroes sprouting gills.

More screens went dark, gray monitors glowing cold, staring at Batman like an abyss.

He leaned back, a can of soda in hand, while Miss Martian floated up beside him, looking awkward.

Read 𝓁atest chapters at fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm Only.

"I'm not a computer or a comms unit. When you're done talking, just say, 'M'gann, I'm good.'"

Batman ignored her jab, barking orders in his flat tone.

"Until comms are back, I need you linking me to Barry and Clark. Cyborg's backup plan should be live—we've got to move fast."

Cyborg had a trick—Boom Tube tech via the Mother Box, bouncing signals off the Blood Domain echo layer through the Source Wall. He could even ping other multiverses.

The Wall was cracked in spots, but other angles still worked.

Cyborg wasn't here, but Batman could mimic it with tech. Not multiverse-level, but enough to bounce echoes off the Source Wall and restore Earth comms.

Batman was prepped for a planetary war. When the enemy cut Earth's lines, he'd flip this switch.

"Blue Beetle's on it—he's at a secret base overseeing and guarding the scientists."

M'gann's telepathy zeroed in on Ted Kord fast. Blue Beetle was in a Detroit bunker, right under the Skywatch's nose—a hidden League lab.

No doubt they were flooded now. The bunker was waterproof, but food, water, oxygen—all finite.

If the League didn't fix the flood soon, they'd suffocate down there.

"Anything else I can do? I can feel you're worried about the Bat-family. Want me to reach out?"

"They're heading to temp shelters to keep order. Get out of my head—I didn't pull you from the Titans for a psych eval."

Batman knew Barbara would make the right call—she was the coolest-headed Batgirl.

Worried? Maybe a bit, but the Bat-family's safety wasn't priority over the world's right now.

M'gann pouted. Fine, no contact then—why so harsh?

Batman felt her leave his mind, that watched vibe fading.

"Tell the Hall's science team—if they don't find the seawater entry point fast, they'd better have an excuse ready for Batman."

"Uh, I'll soften it up, but I'll slip in a fear nudge. They'll get it."

M'gann scratched her head. She didn't want to go too "Bat-like." Results mattered—Batman didn't sweat the small stuff.

"Keep clearing the Hall. Get the cooks and cleaners to shelters."

M'gann leaned in, peeking at the mainframe. "What about you?"

"I've got to make sure the Composite's containment holds." Batman swiveled his chair, eyeing the few screens still lit. "I broke every bone in my body snagging it from the Doom Patrol—I'm not losing it here."

"If there's still a mess when I ditch, Uncle J'onn'll be pissed—real pissed." M'gann rubbed her arm. Hearing Batman planned to hold the Hall, she wasn't bailing either.

A white glint flashed in Batman's eyes. He shifted slightly. "When the science squad pulls out, I'll go with them, lock this place down tight. Now—get me Superman."

M'gann nodded, buying it. "Yes, sir."

Mera's side was just as screwed. The League couldn't spare anyone to help.

As her water shield got smashed, Poseidonia was fully lost—only a few spires still poked above the surface.

Her guards and advisors all turned fishmen, coming at her.

She wrapped herself in a hard-water film, blocking the purple sea, and burst through the fish crowd.

Right then, her only backup option was up high—top of that lonely prison tower.

Once-thriving Poseidonia was chaos now. A strange fishman army roamed the city, golden buildings sinking fast.

She swam through quick, hard-water-shielded, swinging her weapon to fend off fishmen while climbing the tower.

The walls were dry—good sign.

Mera flexed her power, hard water boosting her strength. She ripped the cell's bars off barehanded.

"We've had our differences, but Atlantis needs you now. Not just your people—all life on Earth does. Orm, will you help me?"

Orm was chained up with thigh-thick metal links, still in his deep purple armor. When Atlantis surfaced, he needed it to block sunlight streaming into the cell.

Orm laughed, looking up at Mera, who held his weapon.

"You and Arthur always saw me as a monster, but everything I did was for Atlantis." Orm reached out—he needed the weapon to cut the chains. "Yes, I'll help you, Mera. Today... the world needs Ocean Master!"

Mera didn't hesitate. She tossed him the silver trident and turned to hold off pursuers with hard water.

Orm snapped his bonds, grabbed his helmet from a corner, and flexed his wrists, feeling the familiar heft of his trident.

"Come with me. Poseidonia's got some artifacts that can turn this around."

Mera shielded Orm with hard water too. They leapt from the tower's far side, back into the deep purple sea.

Orm wasn't quite Arthur's match, but still a damn strong fighter. With him guarding, they moved smooth.

Key thing? Orm didn't hold back. To win, he'd do anything.

Those fishmen used to be his subjects—he didn't flinch. His trident hacked and stabbed, carving a bloody path with Mera.

They hit the drowned city zone, Orm leading her through the palace's maze-like halls.

His trident whirled—fishmen split apart in seconds. He even smirked at Mera.

"Looks like my people really 'admire' their new queen."

Mera just pushed fishmen back with water—she didn't want to kill. "Now's the time for that?Reminder: my water control's the only thing keeping you from turning monster."

Orm shrugged, twisted a fishman's neck, and yanked its head off like picking fruit.

Alright, that slick threat—zero qualms about lives—Mera was way better at king-ing than Arthur.

Orm's view of his sister-in-law shifted some.