Chapter 4567: The Day of Utmost White (Thirty-Three)

As for why they didn't go their separate ways, it was actually because the moment Deathstroke received the news, he realized he might not be as confident as he thought. He believed that no matter the situation, he could protect Joseph. But this situation was still a bit too complex.

First, if the plane couldn't land, the risk of a sea ditching was very high. Even if they survived landing on the sea, there was no telling which group would hijack them, or if there'd be a risk of the hostages being killed. Even if they landed safely at Hurghada Airport, it was very likely they'd be detained by the Egyptian authorities.

Deathstroke now regretted immensely that he hadn't revealed his profession to Joseph. The title of the world's number one mercenary was very valuable, even more important than the children of certain major powers' big shots. Because he could be coerced, able to do far more than simple kidnapping for ransom.

If Joseph knew his identity, he would have a huge bargaining chip. As long as he told those people his father was Deathstroke, they would definitely spare his life. Even if these people had a grudge against Deathstroke, they absolutely wouldn't kill Joseph lightly for revenge. Because the various benefits gained from coercing Deathstroke to work for them were too great.

Not to mention anything else, not counting that commission which was fake from start to finish, Deathstroke's mission completion rate so far was 100%. Every job he took was completed. Even when the targets were big shots from developed countries, he never missed. That set of black-and-yellow armor was synonymous with the Grim Reaper. No one hoped for him to descend upon them.

If he could be coerced into killing someone, that person was as good as dead. Didn't matter if they were a superpowered individual, didn't matter how important they were. Deathstroke struck, and never missed. This was the only possible decapitation strike. Based on this alone, no one would not want to control his family.

They wouldn't even mistreat Joseph. Because they also feared Deathstroke's retaliation. To establish a long-term cooperative relationship with him, they had to treat his son well. Otherwise, if Deathstroke in a rage refused to save him and chose to kill them all instead, they couldn't stop him either.

But it was too late for anything now. Deathstroke currently couldn't contact Joseph. Who knew if things would take a turn for the better in a while. Maybe that plane would land safely in Hurghada, and then Joseph would give him good news.

While thinking this, Deathstroke found an empty car by the roadside. He skillfully got in and hotwired it. This time Shiler sat in the passenger seat. He said, "Who did your son come with? His classmates?"

"Yes. With two of his classmates, they'd agreed on a graduation trip."

"Is there a girl?"

"Yes. But I haven't heard that Joseph is pursuing her, and Wintergreen never mentioned it either." Deathstroke paused, then said, "Of course, I wouldn't meddle in his love life. I actually hope he has a girl he likes."

"Sounds like he's quite withdrawn?"

"Not exactly. He's just not too good at communicating with others."

"Is it not good at communicating with others, or not good at communicating with you?"

Deathstroke felt his heart stabbed again. But he currently had no leisure to dwell on it. He said, "When choosing a school for him, Wintergreen suggested I send him to a private school. Because he said his personality wouldn't get by in a public school. I followed his advice. But he still didn't have many friends."

"Then those two accompanying him on the trip..."

"These are the very few, accurately speaking, one. He gets along relatively well with that boy. Maybe that boy is pursuing that girl."

"Quite like you." Shiler said, "You only have Wintergreen as a good friend too."

Another knife stabbed into Deathstroke's heart. He said, "I was actually quite popular in middle school."

"Right, because back then you were a blond, blue-eyed sweetheart. People are always adept at falling for looks when it comes to your type."

Deathstroke slapped the steering wheel. "I mean good buddies, not those... those bastard brats..."

"How did you deal with them? I mean those who coveted you."

"Naturally gave them a punch." Deathstroke said, "If I wasn't strong enough, I wouldn't have been selected as a test subject. Back then I played quarterback on the football team. The girls all cheered for me. Those blind brats all avoided me."

"You went to a public middle school?"

"Yeah." Deathstroke said, "Public middle schools weren't bad back then. Unlike now, simply a giant brothel."

Shiler seemed amused by his metaphor. He said, "Then you still considered sending your own son in."

"The one near my place is fine. Mainly Joseph isn't cut out for studying either. Private school pressure is too high. And there's hardly any sports time, I still quite hope he can go play football."

"He never caused trouble at school?"

"Actually, he surprised me quite a bit." Deathstroke said, "Not only did he not cause trouble, his grades were pretty good too. Aside from not making many friends, everything was fine."

"Are you sure he's not reporting good news but not bad?"

"Shouldn't be. That friend of his at school has come to our house a few times. He's a quite straightforward boy. Somewhat reckless and impulsive, but also stands up for justice. If Joseph really had any problems, he would tell me."

"He didn't play football?"

"No. He's not even interested in any ball games. Once I wanted to hang my football posters from my youth on his bedroom wall, he wasn't willing either." Deathstroke shook his head, seeming to feel quite regretful.

"Last question." Shiler said, "What does he look like?"

Deathstroke looked at him with some confusion, then said, "What kind of question is this?"

"This is very important. Especially for a middle schooler."

Deathstroke thought for a moment, then ripped off his own hood — he currently had his youthful appearance. Blond hair, blue eyes, handsome features, lines somewhat rugged, exactly the typical American hunk. To call him a Hollywood-style tough guy, his hair and eye colors were a bit too flighty, more like the male lead in an American high school romance drama. If that's not precise enough, it's actually roughly the Thompson character in the Spider-Man series. Classic heartthrob, American football team captain.

"Joseph looks quite like me." Deathstroke said, "But his features resemble his mother's, more delicate."

"Then I feel some of your previous judgments about him aren't very accurate."

"What?"

"Just what you said, that he has no ability to be drawn into any vortex or the like."

"What's the problem with that?" Deathstroke asked while maneuvering the car speeding down the road, "He's an introverted kid, never likes fighting and killing. Even in peer relationships, he's the one being protected, I can tell."

"Or he's just playing a hostage." Shiler said, "Then manipulating kidnappers of a specific personality."

"What nonsense." Deathstroke didn't understand again. One moment he felt the other Shiler was too blunt, never willing to chat with him about family and emotional topics; the next he felt this Shiler who was willing to chat was a pure Riddler. Asking a whole bunch on his own, then drawing a conclusion, but with no basis in reality at all, pure guesswork.

"I think you can slow down a bit." Shiler said, "Not much time left for Hurghada."

"What?"

"Have you thought about how to execute the plan?" Shiler turned his head and asked.

"What plan?... Oh, you mean that plan to guide him to investigate my true identity, then show him my strength and such?" Deathstroke looked a bit overwhelmed, he said, "We have to rescue Joseph first. Otherwise everything is empty talk."

"You don't plan to take this opportunity to execute it?"

"Please, that's my son!" Deathstroke slammed the steering wheel hard, "He might be stuck at tens of thousands of feet right now unable to come down. I still have time for this?!"

"You really are a good father." Shiler said, "Your anxious emotions, nearly shaking me blind."

"Wait." Deathstroke seemed to think of something, he said, "Didn't you say before that you can see the entire Arab world?"

After saying this, Deathstroke felt he himself had gone crazy. How could this be possible? He felt the only thing Shiler got right was that he was too anxious right now, otherwise why would he pin hopes on such nonsense?

"That's true." Shiler said, "Only when my condition is extremely bad does that momentary hallucination occur. Right now it probably won't work."

"You're not carsick anymore?" Deathstroke asked, "Want me to drift a few more times, open a third eye for you?"

"The problem is, using this method to activate full-map clairvoyance, you can't decide who I lock onto." Shiler said with arms crossed, "I'll habitually lock onto my own enemies, then rush to their face at the fastest speed. Then you'll probably have to go rescue your son yourself."

Deathstroke hadn't planned to do that either. Creating a crazy Shiler, the first danger was himself. Thinking about it made his neck hurt a bit.

Right now they had to race against time, couldn't afford delays. So best to avoid extra complications and just rush to Hurghada.

In this region, Egypt counted as a major power too. Its north-south and east-west lengths weren't short. Although Hurghada wasn't in the far south, it was still some distance from Cairo. By the time they neared the area, the sky had already darkened.

More troublesome was that this place was under lockdown; ordinary vehicles couldn't enter. Deathstroke had already drawn his greatsword, preparing to hack his way in. Shiler stopped him, then held out a hand to him: "Money."

Deathstroke hesitated a moment, but still produced a stack of US dollars. Shiler directly shoved the stack of US dollars to the checkpoint personnel. Sure enough, they were waved through shortly after. Deathstroke slapped his forehead — he shouldn't have had any overly high expectations for the caliber of law enforcement in this place.

But thinking of this, he grew worried again. If the plane landed successfully and Joseph was taken away by the authorities' law enforcers, and he didn't know how to bribe people, he might be subjected to violent enforcement.

The thought made Deathstroke grit his teeth, the steering wheel nearly crushed in his grip. He had already envisioned in his mind ten thousand times how to tear limb from limb those who bullied his child.

"You weren't thinking like this when you were beating Robin." Shiler's voice appeared by Deathstroke's ear like a wraith, startling him into a violent flinch.

Deathstroke turned his head to look at Shiler, his eyes full of suspicion and disbelief: "You really can read minds?"

Shiler didn't answer. Deathstroke explained of his own accord: "I didn't go abuse those little birds. Fact is, every time it was them coming to find trouble with me. I don't get it either — I just went to fix a car or stand on a rooftop admiring the view, why did they have to come beat me up?"

"Probably because planting car bombs and long-range sniping are illegal crimes."

"Good heavens, you really can read minds!"