Chapter 4562

Just as Shiler expected, someone soon came to the door. No one can expect the hotel front desk to stop uninvited guests. But if the enemies attracted are too many, they might be kicked out of the hotel. So, Shiler and Deathstroke finished debugging and organizing their equipment in the room and chose to go out again.

The traffic on the streets of Cairo is relatively chaotic, with various private cars, taxis, and motorcycles coming and going. What's more troublesome is that due to the lack of control over super-powered individuals, and the fact that various forces are intertwined in this place, one can often see people leaping across buildings, and local residents are accustomed to this.

What's a bit funny is that even in the capital Cairo, many houses have no roof. This may be because local regulations stipulate: as long as the house isn't capped, it isn't considered a normal building and doesn't need to pay property tax. So many residents choose not to cap their houses. That place is a natural open space, which can attract many street heroes and queers. Looking around, there are quite a few people camping on the top floors of residential buildings.

They stood there overlooking the bustling traffic downstairs, also as if they were picking prey. The combination of Shiler and Deathstroke was obviously very eye-catching, and the first to come to the door were local gangs.

A group of people jumped down from the roof, wearing light local clothing, carrying baseball bats on their shoulders. The leader wore sunglasses, chewing gum, while the ones behind were carrying beer cans.

"Hey, big guy, this armor of yours is not bad." The other party's English accent was very heavy, and Deathstroke almost didn't understand. And he was sure that the word "armor" was said wrong—it might be some word in Arabic.

"Thanks for the compliment," Deathstroke said, "You aren't bad either."

The other party didn't seem to expect Deathstroke to be so gentle. He tilted his head and said: "Seriously, you aren't suitable for this. How about letting me wear it?"

"Do you know how heavy this thing is?" Deathstroke said, "Even if it's just a breastplate, you can't wear it. And the lining inside can't assist in sweating; you will die of hyperthermia within ten minutes of putting it on."

The leader was stunned. He sized up Deathstroke: this guy was indeed ridiculously strong, 1.93 meters tall, weighing over 200 pounds. More importantly, the build was very large, the shoulders were as wide as two doors, and the biceps looked like the thighs of a Tyrannosaurus rex.

This is almost the figure that any man dreams of, combined with that majestic heavy armor and the greatsword on his back, the whole body is written with violent characteristics, looking at it makes people yearn for it.

However, this big guy seemed to have a pretty good temper. This bunch of street gangs could also be considered as not hitting a smiling person. The leader hugged his arms and said: "Fine, but the sword on your back is not bad. Can you let me see it?"

Deathstroke actually took the sword down and handed it to him. As a result, as soon as this sword was handed to him, he was pressed into a stagger. The density of N-metal is not covered, and this sword must have weighed several dozen pounds, and the center of gravity distribution is not uniform, it is completely a force-saving lever. It's hard to grab the hilt and pick it up, let alone use it.

Just as the sword was about to fall to the ground, Deathstroke reached out to support it. The other party didn't fight with him either, simply withdrew his hand, shook his hand while wincing in pain, and said: "What kind of monster are you? Can this really be swung?"

This sentence was in Arabic, and Deathstroke didn't understand. Actually, Deathstroke knows some Arabic, but the local Cairo accent is relatively heavy, and he couldn't understand it very well.

Seeing that there was no breakthrough on Deathstroke, the other party turned his attention to Shiler. Shiler flashed his credentials at him: "Notorious Yankee, I know you want to say this. But also equipped with a large amount of dollars. Find a place to talk?"

That person was obviously speechless for a while, the first time he saw such a self-aware Yankee. However, these two really looked like rich people. Their kind of local small fry couldn't participate in the struggles of those big forces at all, at most they were picking up leaks and earning some money. It would be better to earn dollars directly.

That person shook his head, signaling them to follow, and walked toward a small alley not far away. There was a shed in that alley, and he brought the two under the shed. Another person ran away, circled to the other side of the building, and lowered a ladder from the top. They climbed up along the ladder and soon came to a rooftop campsite. There were walls on all four sides, and windows, but there was no roof.

However, for Cairo, this wasn't anything. It's very arid here and rarely rains. No roof, and it's ventilated and cool. Although it's a bit sunny during the day, because there are walls, you can also hide at the foot of the wall to avoid the sun.

Deathstroke and Shiler walked up. The others in this campsite felt a bit nervous. And the person who led them in said a few words in Arabic, and the others went down from the ladder.

"Fine, I can feel it, you have trouble," the other party opened his mouth and said.

"You can't solve our trouble," Shiler didn't look like he was bargaining, just stating a fact, and he said, "We are going to the Egyptian Museum."

The other party was immediately vigilant: "Are you here to steal cultural relics?"

"On the contrary. A cultural relic was brought here, and some people need some information on it. We are here to recover it."

Shiler paused for a moment and then continued: "That cultural relic dealer should be colluding with you locals. Do you know anything?"

The other party frowned, paced in front of the window, and said: "If he really put that thing into the Egyptian Museum, then he should have a friendship with the museum curator, Haywen. That guy is the curator on the surface, but actually, he also controls almost the entire underground cultural relic trading market in Egypt and is very familiar with all kinds of cultural relic dealers."

"They should want to transport that thing to Europe," Shiler added, "That cultural relic dealer is actually an arms dealer, from Paris, France. His employer won't be too far from his hometown."

"Haywen is also half a European," that person said with some sarcasm, "He spends more than half a year in a vacation manor in Europe, it's not strange to know a few old Europeans. As for arms dealers—there are arms dealers everywhere here, it's very hard for you to find anyone based on this."

"Can you take us in?" Deathstroke asked.

The other party was stunned for a moment, and then said: "Can't you buy a ticket?"

Deathstroke slapped his forehead, also wanting to laugh a bit. He only thought about infiltrating, forgetting that the Egyptian Museum is actually a tourist attraction. As long as you are a person, you can buy a ticket and enter. Although there are many people during the day, it's no problem to go in and visit.

"That thing won't be on display," Shiler said, "If there is a place to store these undisplayed collections, where would it be?"

"Every museum has a storage room," that person said, "The storage room of the Egyptian Museum should be underground."

"Should be?"

"Haywen is very cunning and won't put bird eggs in one nest. He might have private vaults and safes. It depends on what the thing you are looking for is like."

"A mural weighing half a ton."

The other party suddenly realized, and then said: "Then it can only be in the museum basement."

"Why?"

"Although Haywen is powerful, he can't be counted as a true high-level person. His vaults are fine for some small things, but they can't hold murals or anything, otherwise, he wouldn't have left a mummy for Egypt." The other party paused for a moment and then continued, "And many cultural relics in Egypt have requirements for temperature control. The storage room under the Egyptian Museum can meet the needs of most cultural relics, and it is spacious and professional enough. The thing you are looking for should be there."

Shiler turned to reach out to Deathstroke. Deathstroke didn't understand at first. Shiler said helplessly: "Money."

Deathstroke said while taking out money: "Why am I paying? You damn agent, can't you use public funds to do something meaningful?"

Shiler took the money from his hand, which was a stack of dollars, probably a few dozen bills. He handed it to that person and said: "Thanks for your information. Don't talk about today's matter outside. Thank you."

"You know I can't guarantee it," that person stuffed the money away and then said, "If someone puts a gun to my head, I can only tell them."

"This kind of situation is not included," Shiler shook his head, walked toward the ladder with Deathstroke, and said, "If someone really comes to ask, you can tell them."

They jumped down from the window. Deathstroke looked back, then looked at Shiler, and said: "Don't you have anything to ask?"

"Ask why you think he's like your son?" Shiler sighed, "Because you've already lost your mind. Seeing any young person, you will associate him with your son."

"Not at all," Deathstroke retorted, "It's because they do have some common points. Before, Joseph was also very rebellious and joined some gang. His mother complained to me more than once..."

"What common points do I have with him?" Shiler turned and asked.

"Uh... you both are quite young," Deathstroke also couldn't say against his will that they were very similar, but after thinking about it, he said, "Your body types are similar, although he isn't as tall as you, but like you, he is a bit thin. His mother and I reminded him many times not to be a picky eater..."

"So how do you plan to get him here?"

Deathstroke touched his mask and said: "He is planning a graduation trip, and he hasn't decided on a location before. He should be quite interested in Egypt, and the first stop will definitely be Cairo."

"You bribed his good friend?"

"Not really. Although his relationship with me isn't very good, he can talk to my good friend Wintergreen. Wintergreen has also been trying to adjust the relationship between us. Hearing that I was going to take my son on a trip to explore ancient Egyptian history, he immediately went to persuade Joseph to spend more time with me."

"It's rare that you have a friend," Shiler said, "How long have you known each other?"

"Of course it's been a long time," Deathstroke said proudly, "I'm not like what you think, unable to build a solid friendship. We have a very good relationship, completely worthy of being called iron brothers."

"If he knew what kind of whirlpool you intend to drag your son into, you might not be."

Deathstroke stiffened. He knew Wintergreen had always protected Joseph and always advised him not to have too high expectations for Joseph, and that it would be good for him to live such a plain life. He could probably imagine what Wintergreen would say after knowing what he had done, and he estimated that he was only one step away from breaking off relations.

"Then what should I do?" Deathstroke asked. It seemed he wasn't unable to think of a solution, but felt that since this idea was proposed by Shiler, he should be responsible for it to the end, so he insisted on letting Shiler come up with a solution.

"Nothing," Shiler said, "If the plan succeeds, your son will naturally protect you, and your good brother won't be able to do anything. If the plan fails, the two of them together won't be able to beat you. What's there to worry about?"