Chapter 2: Another self(fix)
As he walked towards the stairway door leading downstairs, the door suddenly swung open with a"bang", and a very imposing figure strode in from the doorway.
Eugene's initial reaction was that the expected mourner had arrived. However, as a gust of wind twisted the dense rain strands, the neon lights of Wayne Tower illuminated him and the newcomer.
He realized something wasn't right. Facing him was a figure dressed in identical armor and equipped with identical weapons, albeit slightly shorter in stature, about five feet seven inches tall.
The atmosphere immediately became tense. Almost instinctively, Eugene reached behind and pulled out his stick. With a twist and a push, the retractable ends of the short stick extended, firmly held in his hand, assuming a combat stance.
This was the beloved weapon of the Mourner, a staff with powerful electric shocks and tranquilizer darts at both ends. Often, employers preferred the Mourner to capture targets alive, bringing them back for their own amusement.
And the movements of the figure opposite him were exactly the same!
If it weren't for seeing the person coming up from the doorway, Eugene would have thought he was looking into a mirror. It was too synchronized, from the speed of assembling the stick to the stance assumed.
"Who are you?" they both asked simultaneously, their voices sounding like hoarse whispers from beneath their masks.
"I am the Mourner," they both replied in unison. With this, the tension between them grew even stiffer as they circled each other within an imaginary ring, each holding their weapon, rain pouring down around them.
Both remained silent, lost in their own thoughts, maintaining distance and quietness. Before a fight, it was a habit of a martial arts master to carefully observe their opponent.
Though Eugene didn't know what the other was thinking, he was certain he was thinking more.
"What's going on? Another me? Or did a bunch of people come through the portal, all turning into Mourners? Or is this the real Mourner, and I'm just a cosplay enthusiast? But my physical abilities and thought processing speed are undoubtedly superhuman..."
Of course, the DC world had its fair share of individuals with such physical abilities and combat skills. However, they all had their own identities and didn't need to impersonate the Mourner wearing yellow and black armor.
Thanks to his legendary ninefold thinking speed, within milliseconds, Eugene had considered and ruled out various possibilities. Now, the situation was deadlocked. Retreating would lead to unstable footing, making it easy to be hit by the opponent's attack. Turning away was even less feasible; showing his back in Gotham would have dire consequences.
"Is fighting the only option? Subduing the opponent will allow me to leave!" This thought surfaced simultaneously in both their minds and was quickly accepted, prompting them to take the same action at the same time.
"Bang!"
Their metal sticks clashed in mid-air, both exerting equal force, causing them to step back, water splashing under their feet. They quickly moved, the ends of their sticks pointing towards each other, ready to counter any attack.
Eugene breathed a sigh of relief. Luckily, he had inherited the Mourner's combat experience. It felt almost instinctive, enabling him to fully utilize his body's fighting capabilities. With these skills and techniques, at least his life was guaranteed.
The opponent showed no intention of pursuing, appearing to contemplate tactics, just like him.
"If the opponent is a normal person wearing a Mourner-style helmet, adapting to the lack of vision on their right side would be very difficult. My attack should focus on their right side, launching an assault from their blind spot. Because of the obstruction from their nose, the right foot is the optimal choice!"
Immediately, Eugene formulated a tactic in his mind. He swiftly turned his stick and made a swift movement towards the opponent's right foot.
"Phew!"
"Phew!"
The sticks made a swooshing sound, slicing through the rain curtain and shattering droplets in mid-air. Two shadows, draped in neon colors, cut through the air, colliding with each other.
"Smack!"
Their sticks clashed again, indicating that both had chosen to attack the other's right foot while guarding their own. Thus, this time, it was a tie.
Due to the force exerted by both, they both spun around to dissipate the energy, then crouched down on the ground. One hand supported the ground while the other held the stick behind their back, like a scorpion's raised tail, ready to use the tranquilizer gun in the staff.
However, when they both splashed a muddy spray and saw each other assuming the same posture, they knew the plan of ambushing with tranquilizers had failed.
"Wtf! Just arrived in the DC world and encountered such a bizarre situation. Clearly, we are both Mourners. Even our memories and habits are the same. Maybe we can talk? Both of us are enhanced humans and martial arts masters. If we fight, it might take three days and nights to determine a winner, causing a lot of noise..." Eugene thought to himself, deciding to set aside disputes. The plan to knock down the opponent and escape was not feasible.
"Wait!" they both exclaimed simultaneously. Eugene rolled his eyes inwardly, realizing the other also had some concerns and didn't want to get entangled. Moreover, no one would pay mercenaries to deal with such a powerful enemy. Mercenaries couldn't afford such a loss-making business. No grudges or emotions were worth more than green dollars.
"Drop your weapons, let's talk!" they both said at once.
"You first!" they both insisted simultaneously.
"Let's drop them together!" they both suggested at the same time.
...
Eugene sighed in resignation. Everything they did was synchronized, eerily so.
He was clearly just an ordinary person from another parallel Earth, not a real Mourner. How could this inexplicable telepathy be explained? Had he been influenced by the Mourner's essence? Even their ways of thinking had become the same?
"No, I've never had the experience of life and death struggles with others. Previously, when I was a thug, it was more about being lost in life, not really facing darkness. So, I've never dealt with such dark matters before, hence I've relied on the Mourner's experience all along, adopting his way of thinking and methods. I am still myself, at least now my understanding of myself is clear and objective."
While Eugene contemplated, they both dropped their weapons.
"Clang clang..."
Both sticks were casually thrown into the rain, splashing with rooftop sewage. They stood facing each other under the pouring rain, water streaming down their masks like miniature waterfalls.
"Speak!" they both said simultaneously. Eugene struggled to break free from the Mourner's mindset and raised his palm, pressing the other hand against the center of his chest.
"Stop, stop, let's not play the telepathy game again. This is the creepiest thing I've ever experienced. Allow me to speak first, alright?"
"Sure." The other visibly relaxed. At least they could communicate now.
"I'm a mercenary, codenamed the Mourner, real name Slade, but you can call me Eugene," Eugene briefly explained his background. Due to the uncertainty of which parallel world he was from, he couldn't comprehend other details.
"Interesting, I'm also a mercenary, codenamed the Mourner. My real name is Cindy." The other seemed uncomfortable, scratching their helmet.
Unlike other masked individuals, the Mourner's black and yellow gear was more of a warning color like that of a bee. As for their identity, it was completely open; everyone knew Slade was the Mourner, a myth in the mercenary world.
Makes sense. How could there be business if everything was shrouded in mystery? At the very least, potential clients needed to find them.
"What's going on? Did the military clone me again using my blood?
Eugene knew the Mourner had a military background, and his genetic modifications came from the military. Not to mention, the DC world was filled with clones, and factions with cloning technology were abundant.
"No, I don't think we're clones. The person who enhanced me died long ago, and there was only one batch of enhancement serum." Cindy said as she fumbled around the edge of her mask, then removed it.
Eugene was taken aback. The Mourner named Cindy turned out to be a woman.
With her short golden hair and stern yet beautiful face, she was the epitome of American beauty. The only pity was the black eye patch over her right eye, indicating blindness.
Eugene couldn't wrap his head around it. She was only in her twenties, not an old lady. If she were a female version of himself, she should be in her fifties...
Thinking this, he reached under his own mask. Sure enough, there was a barely noticeable latch, which he pressed and pushed aside, removing his helmet.
Cindy seemed surprised as well. It was clear something was amiss and beyond their comprehension.
Eugene looked down. Though the details were obscured by the rain's interference, he could still discern his youthful appearance. With his golden buzz cut, handsome face, and faint stubble, a black leather eyepatch covered his right eye. He could feel there was no eyeball behind the patch. Undoubtedly, he had inherited the Mourner's youthful body.
The question was, how did the Mourner lose his eye in the old stories? In the New 52 universe, it was Damian Wayne, Batman's son, who blinded him. Regardless, a Mourner in their twenties should still be a grunt in the military.
What was happening in this timeline, and why was he blind?
"A man? You're a man?" Cindy's expression was indifferent, but her tone betrayed disbelief.
Eugene was perplexed. A female version of the Mourner didn't make sense, did it?
"Is it strange for a man?"
"Men as powerful as you are rare, especially among superhumans. Among superheroes, I only know of the Hero."
Cindy walked to the base of the Wayne Enterprises logo, pulled out a cigar, lit it, and began puffing away. She felt the need for nicotine to help her think about what was going on.
Eugene joined her, realizing they were now in the same predicament. What was previously their individual queries had become shared confusion. Eugene retrieved a cigar from his pocket, just like Cindy had in her pocket, and lit it up. They stood side by side, silently puffing away.
When Cindy mentioned the Hero, Eugene basically knew which world they were in.
Earth 11 in the DC universe, a world ruled by Amazons. Here, whether supervillains or superheroes, they were all female versions.
Batman became Batwoman, Superman became Superwoman, Aquaman became Aquawoman, Flash became Flashwoman, Steel became Steelwoman... even the Joker became the Jestress, Penguin became the Pengirl, Two-Face became Two-Faced Woman, and the League of Assassins became the League of Dance.
The strange thing was, the original female celebrities remained women. Harley Quinn was still Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy was still Poison Ivy, Black Canary was still Black Canary. They just changed from lovers or partners with the original superheroes or supervillains to best friends...
This weird world, Eugene couldn't imagine what it would be like to see a muscular man wearing Wonder Woman's costume...
In Eugene's eyes, he couldn't even talk to a man dressed like that.
"Cindy beside me seems to be the real Mourner of this world. I should have brought the body of that Mourner from another parallel universe and been affected by temporal fluctuations due to crossing the dimensional wall, becoming younger."
He immediately made such an assumption. Currently, this hypothesis was highly likely.
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