Just as he headed towards the door to the stairs below, the door burst open with a "bang," and a very imposing figure walked up from the entrance.
Su Ming’s first reaction was that the person Deathstroke had arranged to et had arrived.
But a gust of wind blew through, dispersing the dense rain, and the neon lights of Wayne Tower illuminated him and the newcor.
He realized sothing was off.
The person opposite was wearing identical armor, equipped with the sa weapons, only slightly shorter, about five foot seven.
The atmosphere instantly beca tense.
As if by instinctive reaction, he reached behind to grasp his staff, which unfolded automatically into a long baton with a twist and press, placed firmly in his hand, assuming a combat stance.
This was Deathstroke’s beloved weapon, with powerful electric shocks and tranquilizer darts at both ends, often preferred by employers who liked Deathstroke to capture targets alive for their amusent.
The opponent’s actions mirrored his exactly!
Had he not seen that person erge from the door, Su Ming would have thought he was looking into a mirror—everything, from the speed of assembling the staff to the stance adopted, was identical.
"Who are you?" X2
They both asked simultaneously, their voices, altered by the mask, resembling a hoarse demonic whisper.
"I am Deathstroke." X2
Once again, they spoke the sa words, making the atmosphere between them even more tense, as they circled around an invisible hollow ring, weapons drawn.
The rain poured down, and neither spoke further, instead contemplating their strategies, maintaining distance and silence—observing an opponent before a fight is the habit of a Martial Arts Master.
Though unsure of his opponent’s thoughts, Su Ming was certain he was thinking more.
"What is going on? Another ? Or did a bunch of people ti-travel here, each becoming Deathstroke? Or is this the real Deathstroke, and I’m just a cosplay enthusiast? No doubt, my current physical and ntal speed are beyond human level..."
Of course, in the DC World, there are quite a few with such physical abilities and Fighting Techniques. So are even better in close combat than Deathstroke, but they have their own titles and don’t need to wear black and yellow armor to impersonate Deathstroke.
Thanks to the supposed ninefold thinking speed of ordinary people, within fractions of a second, Su Ming considered and dismissed various possibilities.
The situation was now at a stalemate. If he were to retreat, it would destabilize his steps, making him vulnerable to attack, and turning his back was not an option in Gotham.
"Do I have to fight? Defeating the opponent would allow to leave!"
Needless to say, this thought occurred simultaneously to both, and was quickly adopted, leading them to take identical actions at the sa ti.
"Bang!"
The tal staffs clashed in mid-air, with both showing equal strength, causing each to retreat a step, splashing up water, moving quickly, with the end of the staff pointed at each other, ready to counter any pursuit.
"Phew..." Su Ming exhaled quietly. Fortunately, he also inherited Deathstroke’s combat experience, and with such skills and moves, his Life was sowhat assured.
The opponent seed to mull over so strategy, not pursuing further, perhaps contemplating tactics.
"If the opponent is an ordinary person simply wearing Deathstroke’s helt, lacking vision on the right side would be difficult to adapt to. My attack should target the right side, exploiting the blind spot, as the blockage from the nose makes the right foot the optimal target!"
Su Ming imdiately devised a strategy, spun his staff, and swung it towards the opponent’s right foot.
"Whoosh!"
"Whoosh!"
The staff whistled through the air, the cold tal slicing the rain, shattering droplets mid-air, as two black shadows, wrapped in neon hues, traced two vacuum planes, striking each other.
"Clang!"
The staffs collided again in mid-air. Clearly, both aid at the other’s right foot and defended their own, resulting in another draw.
With great force applied by both, they instinctively spun opposite to dissipate the force, crouched to the ground, one hand on the floor, the other holding the staff behind like a scorpion’s raised tail, ready to use the tranquilizer gun.
But as they both splashed up murky water and saw the other in the sa position, they knew the ambush plan had failed.
"Damn, just arriving in the DC World to encounter this ss without rhy or reason, it’s clear we’re both Deathstrokes, with even the sa mories and habits, maybe we could talk it out? We’re both Modified People and Martial Arts Masters; if we fight, it might take three days and nights to determine a winner, causing a huge commotion..." Su Ming thought and decided to shelve the dispute; knocking out the other to escape wasn’t feasible.
"Wait!" X2.
Again, both spoke simultaneously, Su Ming ntally rolled his eyes, realizing the other also had qualms and wasn’t intent on entanglent. Crucially, no one was paid a commission to confront such a strong enemy; rcenaries couldn’t afford such costly battles. No grudges or emotions surpassed the reality of cold, hard US Dollars.
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