The Death knell

The brightly lit communication room was in complete disarray, with tables and chairs overturned. At that moment, Charles expressed her dissatisfaction with Albert's lack of progress.

Even through the mask, Albert could feel her contemptuous gaze, as if she resented him for not being able to handle a mere girl.

He was helpless. Was he supposed to torture a disabled teenager? Perhaps the previous Deathstroke would have done that, but not him.

He moved a chair and sat across from Barbara. The scarlet eye of his mask focused on her.

"Now that the phone and internet are back on, you can give him a call. Don't worry, I won't kill him this time," he said.

Barbara was skeptical. "You're just her follower. I want her to promise me personally. She's a mercenary—she should know how to keep her word, right?"

"Pfft…"

Charles couldn't help but laugh. Barbara assuming Albert was her subordinate amused her. It made her feel superior. Of course, she was the stronger one between them.

If Barbara weren't disabled, Albert would definitely put her in her place. "Don't you see that I'm the one calling the shots?"

Barbara looked between the two of them, analyzing their identical gear, similar speech, and even the matching bloodstains on their suits. How could one tell who was in charge?

She shook her head honestly. "I can't tell…"

Albert sighed, stood up, and leaned against the door, signaling Charles to handle it.

Charles, with a smirk, took Albert's chair, relaxed, and lit a cigar, looking as comfortable as if she were lounging at home.

"Alright, I promise. Not only will I not harm Commissioner Gordon, but I'll also try to ensure his safety," she said.

Reassured, Barbara pulled out a small red phone and dialed a number. But as the busy signal rang, her face darkened.

She tried multiple times, refusing to give up, but no one answered.

Charles wasn't surprised. As Albert had predicted, if the men in black had come for Barbara, they would have gone after Gordon too. After all, between the two, Gordon held far greater value.

"Why…" Barbara muttered. "His phone must not be with him." She pressed the redial button again.

Charles exhaled a cloud of smoke and leaned back. "You can keep trying, but it's a waste of time. Every second Gordon is kidnapped, his danger increases."

Barbara's fingers hovered over the phone before she abandoned it, setting her laptop on the table and typing furiously.

"What is she doing?" Charles watched her with curiosity.

Albert, still leaning by the door and wiping his weapon clean from the mess earlier, answered, "She's hacking into Gotham's mobile network servers to triangulate Gordon's location based on his last active signal."

"Oh?" Charles touched her eyepatch, feeling a bit annoyed that Albert knew something she didn't. "Is technology this advanced where you're from?"

Albert wasn't sure which version of Earth this body belonged to. As for himself, he had seen enough crime dramas to know how these things worked. Even if he couldn't do it himself, he understood the concept.

"It's nothing special. We each have our strengths. I'm sure your knowledge of mythology surpasses mine."

That appeased Charles. Even a super-soldier like Albert didn't need to know everything.

She smirked. "Your methods are nothing like the other Deathstroke's. Your morals are higher than mine. You're really a little angel."

Little angel…

That was a strange thing to call a man. Albert suddenly longed for the world he came from, where such feminine terms wouldn't be thrown at him so casually.

Even Barbara, typing frantically, stole a glance at them. Did these two Deathstrokes have that kind of relationship?

Despite her curiosity, she remained focused. The sound of her rapid keystrokes filled the room.

Minutes later, she hit Enter, successfully hacking into the mobile network operated by Wayne Enterprises—the provider of her father's phone service.

She leaned back, rubbing her fingers together as she waited for the program's feedback.

Charles suddenly chuckled, pointing at Barbara's laptop with her cigar. "Welcome to the world of criminals. If I recall, hacking into a company's system is at least espionage."

Barbara froze.

She had done this countless times—hacking school systems, convenience stores, even sneaking into the Gotham Police Department's database just to check what her father was doing during work hours.

She had always been careful. Hackers were seen as cyber-terrorists in this world. Even her father didn't know her secret because she feared he would throw her in jail.

Now, in her panic, she had hacked into a major corporation's servers without thinking.

"I… but…"

There was no use denying it.

Albert shook his head. They had more pressing matters. "She's just teasing you. Even if it's illegal, are we really going to testify in court that the Commissioner's daughter is a hacker?"

Barbara glanced at the unconscious officers in the room. If they had been awake, they'd have spread this news all over the department.

Albert removed his helmet, glancing at Charles puffing away. He was tempted to light one himself but paused.

"No wonder you rushed out to disable the signal jammer. You were betting on hacking into the network, weren't you?"

Charles proudly twirled the cigar in the air. "This is actually yours. The taste is different from what we have back home."

"Man…"

Barbara's eyes widened. She felt like she had uncovered a major secret—there were two people in Deathstroke, and one of them was a man!

Could she even survive now that she knew?

Albert had grown used to the shocked expressions people gave him upon realizing he was a man. In this world, men were seen as weak, and Deathstroke was a symbol of power. The contradiction was hard for them to process.

"The results are in. Why are you staring at us instead of the screen?"

Albert nudged Barbara's laptop, drawing her attention to a set of coordinates on the screen.

"Oh, right," she adjusted her glasses and exhaled. "These are the signal towers my father's phone connected to. By matching them to Gotham's map… He was at Arkham last night!"

"Arkham?" Charles scoffed, rolling her helmet on the table. "It's supposed to be a sanatorium, but it's more like a fortress—400 armed guards, gunboats, armored vehicles, police dogs. The men in black wouldn't make a move there."

"Yes, at 12:03 AM, he left Arkham and returned through this route. The last location of his phone was here."

She zoomed in, pinpointing a street.

Charles analyzed it. "He took the safest route—crossing the bridge, using the North District Tunnel, then heading straight to the station. But with this storm, there might be flooding."

"Whose territory is that?" Albert asked.

"No one's," Charles said, tapping on the map. "It's at the junction of Black Mask, Red Hood, and Two-Face's areas—neutral ground."

Albert understood. A buffer zone no one claimed.

Barbara looked at them anxiously. "What do we do?"

"Call Batwoman," Albert suggested. "She always has a phone, right?"

"We don't have her number," Barbara admitted. "She left Gotham. She came to our house late one night, told my dad there was danger, and wanted us to leave with her. We refused. So she left alone."

Albert and Charles frowned. If Batwoman had left, had she gone to deal with the Sea Queen?

"Where did she go?" Charles pressed.

"I don't know," Barbara sighed. "Only my dad heard that part."

Albert exhaled. This situation was getting complicated.

"We need to go to the crime scene," Charles decided.

Barbara hesitated before mustering her courage. "Take me with you!"

"No way," Charles dismissed.

Albert, however, saw the advantage. "She's safer with us. If we save Gordon but lose her, we'll have to rescue her next. That's a waste of time."

Charles sighed, defeated. "Fine. But I'm not pushing your wheelchair."

Albert shrugged, tossing Barbara a raincoat. "Grab your laptop and network card. Let's find a car."