Chapter 4560

The hotel check-in was surprisingly smooth; still the same sentence, Shiler is really very good at this kind of thing. Initially, the hotel front desk was also a bit nervous when they saw them come in; after all, Deathstroke's outfit could hardly be called a good person, and Shiler's temperament was even more suspicious.

It was just that Shiler stared at their hands pressing the alarm button at a glance. The other party realized they had been discovered, and because they were afraid of getting shot, they didn't dare to act rashly and could only greet them with a smile. When Shiler slapped his credentials on the front desk, they had no choice.

"Aren't you afraid someone will come looking for you?" Deathstroke asked while in the elevator.

"They have already come looking for me," Shiler's voice just fell, and the elevator shook violently. Then, the voice of the hotel staff sounded from the broadcast:

"Sorry, sir, the elevator has had a small malfunction. Please stay inside and wait a moment, the repairman will be here soon."

Deathstroke had already heard that something was wrong. Although it sounded like hotel staff, the tone was slightly trembling, possibly being held hostage. Shiler took a step forward and stood at the entrance of the elevator.

The elevator shook again. Shiler seemed to be calculating something, then took a few steps back, stood in the innermost part of the elevator, held the gun with both hands, slowly raised his arm, and aimed at the upper part of the elevator door.

After a while, the elevator door slowly opened, only about the size of a small fist. Shiler fired a shot "bang." A scream came from outside the door, and a figure slowly fell.

At this time, the elevator didn't stop exactly at the floor, but was lower than the floor's opening, only the upper part of the car was connected to the corridor of that floor, and the bottom was all blocked walls.

The person hit by Shiler was standing on the ground of that floor. But now the person had already fallen, and it wasn't clear what the situation was, only blood was dripping from there.

Shiler turned his head to look at Deathstroke and said: "What are you still stunned for? Put your sword here."

Shiler pointed to the opening leading to the floor. Deathstroke winced in pain, but still inserted the greatsword diagonally into the ground of that floor, with the hilt propping up the ceiling of the car.

Shiler climbed out from that relatively narrow exit. And just as he was climbing out, the car shook again. Deathstroke looked up; he realized someone had cut the elevator cables. If he hadn't propped the sword there, directly supporting the car, then Shiler would have been cut in two by the falling car while climbing out.

Deathstroke also climbed out from there and then took the sword back. The greatsword didn't suffer any damage; after all, it was made of special metal, but there was still some wear on the hilt. Deathstroke added a loss to himself in his heart and then sighed.

He turned his head to look at the man lying on the ground; sure enough, it wasn't any repairman. An Arab man in a suit, holding a pistol, an old M9. This place is truly a melting pot of weapons from all nations.

From the posture of the other party falling and the position of the pistol, it could be seen that as soon as the elevator stopped, he had already pre-aimed, and he knew the car would be below, or rather, this was what they had intended.

The structure of human eyes dictates that the blind spot in their upper field of vision is larger than the lower one. Humans don't actually need to lower their heads to see things below them, but to see things above their heads, they must look up, and looking up has a process. If it was premeditated, then in the process of looking up, they might have already been shot.

"Boring trick," Shiler evaluated. "Even the KGB of the last century didn't play elevator assassinations."

Mentioning the KGB, Deathstroke was a bit interested; he sized up Shiler and said: "You don't look like someone who has fought them."

The agent's appearance was very young; according to his age, he shouldn't have experienced the KGB era. But he performed as if he were very familiar with them, which made Deathstroke feel a bit curious.

Deathstroke had truly experienced the golden age of the KGB. At that time, the KGB was second to none in the field of global intelligence and agent operations, truly leading by a wide margin. Even a cyborg like him was troublesome to deal with. In that era, Deathstroke avoided fighting agents as much as possible.

It's hard for those who haven't experienced it to imagine their power. But Shiler didn't explain much; he stepped forward to check the old pistol, obviously the condition wasn't very good either. Shiler sighed softly and walked toward the inside of the corridor.

"Are we still going to stay here?" Deathstroke felt a bit surprised. Although he also knew that these people might not be in the same group as the hotel, the other party had already come to the door, and staying here, he was afraid there would be endless trouble, and it might also disrupt their plan to investigate the museum.

"They will follow wherever we go," Shiler said without looking back. His hearing had recovered a bit, and he could hear some general words. Human self-healing ability is still too strong.

"You have so much confidence in them?"

"I just have confidence in myself."

They still came to the room marked on the key card. This was a two-bedroom family suite. Shiler walked in and looked around, starting to check everywhere in order: door locks, floor mats, hooks, shoe cabinets...

His movements couldn't even be called professional, but more like instinct. Every link was orderly and without omission, as if he had done it ten million times.

Deathstroke had never thought there was anything good about being an agent before. In his view, that bunch of guys were like sharks smelling blood, or vultures chasing corpses, completely losing themselves in the rush of endless missions, waiting for the day when their parts aged and they were abandoned.

Shiler was originally like this too. Deathstroke knew he was an agent the first time he saw him, because like all agents, he was purposeful, hurried, and revealed a cold temperament of "don't bother me except for the mission."

This is especially obvious in field agents. And if saying it this way is too detached from life, then it can be compared to a surgeon. The temperament of a surgeon is different from all other doctors in the hospital; they are always in a rush, but also indifferent to many things. This is determined by their particularity.

As the "scalpel" in the agent organization, field agents bear the most important execution responsibility, like an arrow precisely inserted into the enemy's heart. And sharp things in this world always have similarities.

Deathstroke becoming a freelance mercenary meant that his personality indeed had that side of pursuing freedom and not being bound. After all, everyone knows that it's good to lean against a big tree for shade. Even if you don't work for a national government, joining a mercenary or assassin organization is a good choice. Deathstroke works alone because he doesn't want to be ordered around, so he doesn't have a good impression of agents who are born to be ordered around.

But now he had to admit that the best in every field can live into an art. Even in a profession like an agent, whose nature is almost completely opposite to art, after reaching the peak, it has its own unique aesthetic.

Deathstroke couldn't be bothered to find any cameras; he wasn't afraid of people watching. In fact, he often used certain monitoring equipment to deter people. After all, ordinary people, even if they see someone hacked into dozens of pieces through a camera, will be scared and never dare to come find trouble again.

Shiler checked a circle and fished out about five or six cameras. He didn't throw them away directly, but sat on the sofa and studied the models of these cameras, seemingly wanting to judge what kind of people were watching here.

He soon had the answer. Because the electronic products here were also uneven, imported from everywhere, and the signal frequency bands used were also different, it was easy to find clues.

"I understand," Shiler said, looking at the electronic parts in his hand. "This matter was definitely stirred up by another me. Before he made that mural and intended to implement the transfer plan, he had already lit a fire in the Middle East. Just waiting for us to arrive, he directly ignited the bomb and blocked the entire Red Sea."

"What's the benefit of this?" Deathstroke asked.

"It can block both the goods and us here," Shiler looked out the window and said. "The Red Sea is blocked, leaving by land will be difficult, and it's impossible to transfer to the United States."

"Why not take a plane?"

"That mural is very likely unable to take a plane," Shiler said. "Either it's very large, or it's extremely fragile. Passenger planes won't allow it, fighter jets can't carry it. The air transport route is definitely not going to work. And..."

"And?"

"The one who detonated this bomb was that air crash, and the reason it was an air crash was to warn us that he has the ability to tamper with planes. If the plane crashes, maybe we can survive, but the mural will most likely be damaged. This won't work."

Deathstroke realized that, just as he had speculated before, the whole event wasn't many coincidences colliding together, but someone artificially guiding it, ultimately leading to his commission and Shiler's mission both being on the verge of failure.

The situation might be like this: before the layout began, those two armed forces were still at peace, but some undercurrents had already begun to brew. And the crash of that Boeing 787 would definitely become the fuse.

That was a wide-body passenger plane from the United States. The people on it, not to mention being powerful, could never be from the bottom, at least they were all elite figures, many were executives of large companies, coming to Egypt on official business. They couldn't be silent victims, and international public opinion would never let this matter go.

The relationships between the countries around the Red Sea were all very subtle to begin with. They were the ones most eager for international attention and also the ones most in need of international support. No one wanted such a disaster to happen on their own territory, because this could cause their prestige to plummet, and even be condemned by the whole world.

Under these circumstances, whether it was shirking responsibility or creating other events to divert attention, whatever means they had to be used. This led to the armed force conflict that was already fighting on a small scale evolving to an uncontrollable point.

And before, when the conflict initially broke out, Deathstroke received the commission. But that was actually just a scam to lure him here, and the role he was to play was the executioner who terminated the negotiations.

Originally, after fighting for so long, it was time to have a good talk. But it just so happened that they encountered the plane crash first, leading to increasingly tense situations in the surrounding area, and the negotiations were destined not to go smoothly. Then Deathstroke, who was lured here, killed the leader of one of the parties, and the negotiations completely broke down.

And the consequence of fighting like this was that the entire Red Sea was blocked. That cultural relic Shiler was looking for and he himself would both be trapped here, at least they wouldn't be able to leave in the short term.

"It seems they are mainly targeting you," Deathstroke said while organizing his weapons and equipment. "And I'm just unfortunately dragged into it."

"You aren't innocent," Shiler said. "If it weren't for your curiosity about me during the mission, the mission progress wouldn't have been dragged down, and that leader likely wouldn't have died. For the situation to become like this, your inappropriate curiosity has to take half the responsibility."