Multiverse: Deathstroke-Chapter 493: Aftermath for Both Sides

The Kraken vanished. The monster that dominated everyone’s view disappeared instantly after being struck by the multicolored beam.

No wails, no ashes—just gone, as if it never existed.

The beam, like the White Lantern’s light, distinguished friend from foe. Barry, who’d been running across the Kraken, was bathed in it.

When Diana caught him and set him on the deck, he felt no discomfort.

Instead, his back stopped aching, his legs felt strong, and he could lap Earth a hundred times without breaking a sweat.

"Whoa, what was that? Deathstroke, you’ve got all those rings?" Barry zipped to Su Ming’s side, eyeing the rings curiously.

He trusted Deathstroke aimed for the monster, and the fact he was unharmed proved it.

"Heh, I’m not sure myself. Ten rings together make that beam. What do you think?" Su Ming replied.

He had a hunch. This might be the emotional essence the DC editors imbued in their world—a reflection of their hopes or expectations for it.

Complex and hard to control, its full capabilities were unclear, but it seemed a last resort for healing or offense.

Su Ming considered naming it "Dynamic Pulse," but it lacked explosive flair—not dynamic enough.

"Dawn Goddess’s Pardon" or "Aurora Execution"? The pose felt Saint Seiya-esque, but invoking Aquarius usually spelled doom.

Forget naming it. This wasn’t a shonen manga where you shout attack names. Nameless was fine.

Besides, it wasn’t for frequent use. X-Metal was energy, but that blast left Su Ming uneasy, draining too much. Overuse might shrink his bones.

If he ended up shorter than Batman, how could he face anyone?

The emotional spectrum was DC’s power, useless elsewhere—a Doorknob, opening only one door here.

Powerful, but a hot potato, not truly his.

Barry didn’t overthink it, grabbing Su Ming’s hand to inspect the rings. "Do I even need to say it? This is awesome, man. Hal and Kyle will be so jealous, haha."

"That’s trouble. What if they turn Orange Lantern on me?" Su Ming teased. "Look again—they’re gone."

He activated the Invisible Light, and the rings vanished, leaving bare fingers.

"No way! They’re really gone?" Barry rubbed his eyes, thinking he’d misseen. He knew Hal’s Green Ring had to be removed for sleep, or you’d hear "Oa Radio" all night—alerts and notices ruining rest.

Deathstroke’s rings seemed different.

He grabbed Su Ming’s hand, feeling each finger for traces of the rings, finding only flesh.

"Wild, right?" Su Ming smirked, enjoying Barry’s reaction. They got along best, and he loved messing with him.

"Is this magic?" Barry kept probing, searching for the rings.

Then Su Ming sensed killing intent.

Turning, he saw Diana, arms crossed, staring expressionlessly as Barry rubbed his middle finger up and down.

"Enjoying that?" Her tone dripped with disdain.

Two grown men doing lewd things in public? Disgusting. Her eyes said it all.

"Uh..." Barry realized the gesture looked odd. He dropped Su Ming’s hand, wiping his palms on his suit. "Wonder Woman, let me explain—"

"Scram." Diana yanked him aside, pointing to the Titans. "The alien sea goddess is alive. Get her a doctor."

"Oh." Barry vanished in a streak of lightning.

"Deathstroke." Diana leaned on the railing, wiping sweat from her brow.

"Hm?"

"Looks like you saved Earth again." Her expression softened. She’d shooed Barry to talk to Su Ming alone.

"Luthor’s still out there. The Doom Legion only lost Manta and Sinestro. It’s not over. I can’t guarantee Earth’s safe."

Su Ming was honest—work done, payment earned.

His bluntness threw Diana off. Shouldn’t men boast a bit? Exaggerate their valor?

Warriors deserved glory, yet Deathstroke seemed unbothered by recognition. It piqued her curiosity, her earlier irritation forgotten.

"At least the Legion’s taken a hit. Luthor will lie low for a while. We can rest a few days." Diana brushed back her hair, gazing at the sea, planning to reschedule their missed date.

Su Ming removed his helmet, stroking his beard, lighting a cigarette, and blowing a smoke ring. "Hope so. I need to fetch Harley and Ivy, have Nightshade pause the drainage spell, and visit Olympus. You’ve got to rally more mystics to reverse the fishmen, plus Themyscira’s cleanup. Busy times. Dinner after?"

He slipped away.

Diana, glaring at his retreating figure, stomped her foot.

Batman, hidden nearby, shook his head. His earlier plan wouldn’t work, but he had backups.

"Diana, what’re you doing?" Donna approached, puzzled, pointing at the warped railing Diana gripped. "Did the ship offend you?"

"No, it’s fine." Diana took deep breaths, rolling her eyes, exasperated with Deathstroke. "The water’s receding. I’m heading to Themyscira. Coming?"

Donna watched the black-and-yellow armor vanish into the crowd, pursing her lips. "Of course, Your Majesty. Let’s go."

Diana swatted her backside. "Queen? Really?"

"Then let’s move, Princess."

"Alright, Queen." Donna teased, rocketing off.

"Wait up, Princess!" Diana laughed, chasing her. The sisters disappeared, bickering playfully.

Batman sighed, feeling a headache coming on.

No one else handled aftermath or rebuilding. Arthur and Diana’s excuses were airtight.

"Batman, you okay?" Superman approached, an eyepatch—Barry’s makeshift fix from torn fabric—covering his blinded eye.

"I’m fine. You need treatment. Once the flood recedes, I’ll prioritize repairing the Hall’s Ultimate Machine."

Superman touched the patch. "I’m okay. More people need our help."

Batman surveyed the purple ocean. Clark was right.

"Lots of cleanup. We need to restore order and resettle people."

"On it. I’ll grab Flash." Superman flew off.

Batman lingered, watching Deathstroke hand Manta’s harpoon gun to Bobo and the dive suit to Steel.

He took the Tear of Extinction.

Batman had no strong opinion. Could this "train" handle so many "passengers"? He’d see.

Earth was safe for now, but he hoped Ron’s Thanagar team and Cyborg’s Phantom Zone squad would return with useful intel.

Wishful thinking—those places blocked all comms. He could only wait.

And Luthor? Vigilance couldn’t waver. With the Anti-Monitor in hand, his every move needed watching.

Tech and magic couldn’t track the bald man. Only Luthor’s next slip would reveal him.

In his secret base, Luthor studied the Anti-Monitor, unfazed by Manta’s betrayal and capture. He recalled the Laughing Bat’s words.

The dangerous lunatic wasn’t dead. His head, traded by the otherworld Deathstroke to the Joker, was recovered by Luthor, along with his body.

After absorbing the Joker into the Doom Legion, Luthor got the talking head, stitching it back together.

The Laughing Bat revived—or rather, he’d never died.

As a keepsake, he was perfect, cackling at the Joker’s jokes.

But it annoyed the Joker, reminding him of a Batman unlike the one he knew.

The Joker barely slept.

When Luthor needed the head, the Joker sold it for a fortune.

The Joker hired Riddler to play games with Batman in Gotham, but it wasn’t the real Batman.

He tried Penguin and Black Mask, but Gotham’s cowards refused.

The Joker laughed until tears fell, hearing Riddler’s fate.

Luthor couldn’t control the Joker. He did what he wanted.

Luthor’s deal with the Laughing Bat was his choice, beyond interference.

Days ago, the Laughing Bat, locked in Luthor’s cell, spat out an N-Metal pin—capable of opening any lock—when Luthor came to negotiate.

"I could leave anytime, hehehe."

Luthor wasn’t intimidated. Others feared the Laughing Bat, but not him.

"Then why stay?"

"To watch you fail, poor Lex, tsk tsk." Bloodied, the Laughing Bat’s grating laugh mocked him.

Luthor frowned. Insane or not, the Laughing Bat was still a Batman—his intellect undeniable.

Arms crossed, Luthor charged his armor’s weapons. "Start explaining."