Deathstroke stood there, dazed. Shiller went on speculating to himself, talking about things like "Multiverse," "Power of Seven Lanterns," and "Emotional Spectrum," but Deathstroke didn't really take it in, as if he was the one who had gone deaf.
"Do you think I'm trapped in my family?" Deathstroke asked.
Shiller stopped his speculation, wiped his face with his hand, and said, "Seems like you won't come to your senses unless I address this. Must you insist on me telling you? In just one day, you want two versions of me to evaluate what kind of person you are. Do you enjoy extreme sports that much?"
Deathstroke didn't care about all that. He sat down brashly across from Shiller, making a show of listening attentively, but at the same time it felt more like "if you don't say something, I'll just keep sitting here."
Shiller was at a loss, he raised his hand, then said, "Alright. Does your son know what you do?"
"He didn't before. But after this, he's unlikely not to know." Deathstroke said, "His mother and I had a passionate period in our youth. Back then, she was just a bartender, and my persona was handsome and wealthy. We both had our agendas, but surprisingly, when we were honest with each other, we found we could accept each other's fearfulness. And so we've come to today."
"And Joseph...his mother and I both agreed he's not someone who could be drawn into our lifestyle from our youth. We had fled from Cuba to Argentina, then crossed the Atlantic to Asia. And Joseph can't even tolerate driving five miles to a grocery store from home."
"You both kept it from him?"
"I wanted to tell him, but his mom didn't allow it." Deathstroke shook his head and said, "We've argued about it several times but never reached a conclusion. Perhaps my killing for money makes her feel ashamed."
"And how about you?"
"The fact that I killed without earning anything became my dark past." Deathstroke said, "You know, I served in the U.S. Navy and Army, and went through the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. I didn't receive a penny from my stellar kill record. That was my biggest mistake when I was young."
"Then let him know." Shiller said, "I mean, go see him. As Deathstroke, not as the agreeable Mr. Wilson."
"Wilson isn't easy to deal with either." Deathstroke emphasized, "I'm not the kind of father who dotes on his child. Joseph has always been a bit scared of me. That's mainly why I don't dare to reveal myself as a mercenary in front of him. Wouldn't he be scared stiff?"
"Why do you think he's afraid of you? Did you hit him?"
"When he crossed the line, I spanked him twice. And then his mother ruined all my education plans. I don't think that warrants ill feelings for so long, right?"
"Alright, imagine from your son's perspective. His father hardly ever comes home, lacks concern for both him and his mother. Keeps his career a secret yet always wants to enforce his education plans. It's certainly not an admirable father figure."
After seriously reflecting, Deathstroke said, "Yes. I admit that. But I truly have no way to spend more time with my family. This field is too competitive. If you don't do it, there are plenty who will. Even though I earn a lot from each job, I haven't saved enough yet for a retirement fund to retire securely."
"You missed the point. The point isn't how much time you spend with your family. It's that you keep your career a secret."
"For heaven's sake. Is that wrong as well?" Deathstroke felt somewhat unreasonable, "I make money by killing. Is that something openly discussed? Should I tell Little Joseph that his teddy bear was essentially exchanged for the lungs of a defecting corporate spy?"
"I'm really fed up." Shiller said, "Could you psychopaths stop making everything so disgusting?"
Deathstroke felt displeased: "What do you mean?"
"Let me tell you. When a normal person does something dishonorable, they typically have two choices. If they're good-hearted, they feel guilty, repent, then stop, choosing to compensate the victim. If they're less kind and more selfish, they'll try to shift blame onto someone else, claiming it's all others' faults, and they're merely forced into it. They'll find every way to justify their actions. Not detailing their crimes vividly to the public. That's what a madman would do!"
Deathstroke was speechless. So is he really abnormal?
"You have two choices too. Either wash your hands clean, confess everything, sincerely repent, and compensate the victims. Or find ways to justify yourself, describing to Joseph the harsh physical alterations you underwent, how the military used and then abandoned you, how you emerged from the trauma of war and met his mother, and how you had to bloody your hands to support their family—is that really so hard?"
"It's deceit." Deathstroke said.
"So when you pursued his mother, you never lied?"
Deathstroke was again at a loss for words. Shiller spread his hands and said, "No one can see through you. Because if he were to enlist in the military now, he would receive the exact same treatment. Right?"
"But how do I tell him? We can't even sit down and have a proper conversation. Besides..."
"Besides, your masculinity doesn't allow you to complain to your own son. You don't want to make yourself look pathetic. At least, you don't want to do it willingly. Can't you guide him to investigate?"
"Guide?"
"It's not difficult. That guy who just fooled you led the Justice League together with just a few phone calls. And your child is just an ordinary teenager. As you said, he doesn't have the ability to get involved in any significant whirlpool."
Deathstroke covered his eyes and then said, "It sounds like a plan. But the problem is, he'll think I'm dangerous and then ask me to stop."
"That's because he doesn't realize how strong you are; you haven't given him the chance." Shiller said, "Sympathy and admiration are usually not both applied to the same person. But if you can manage it, your relationship will be unbreakable."
"You mean, I should guide my son to investigate my past. Use an undetectable lie to blind him. Then meet him as Deathstroke to let him understand my power." Deathstroke propped his chin with one hand and said, "I'm serious. You're more of a psychopath than I am."
"I'm just providing you an effective solution," Shiller emphasized, "If you can execute this plan flawlessly, then the problem will be solved. As long as you don't think about the psychological principles or philosophical meanings hidden behind it. Everything will work."
Deathstroke had to admit that facing two Shillers in one day should indeed be classified as an extreme sport. One of them emphasizes principles but doesn't give solutions, making people scratch their heads and feel unrest. While the other offers a solution, but demands people not to think about the bizarre principles behind it. It's like only pressing the nuclear button, leaving the rest to Earth.
Still the same question. Where did these two guys grow from?
It seems as if Deathstroke is the one torturing them, verbally harassing one, trying to kill the other with a sword. But in reality, it's the kids from South Village bullying me now that I'm old and powerless. If Deathstroke wasn't wearing a mask now, he could have pulled out a handful of hair.
The torment lies in, whether it's principles or methods, they sound so appealing. It's as if following such thoughts and practices, all difficulties would be resolved effortlessly.
But in fact, this is something only a madman would do. Deception. Manipulation. Abduction. It's not something that should happen between a normal father and son. For Deathstroke, madness with feasibility is the most terrifying. Because he lacks it inherently, as Shiller said, inherently mad.
Deathstroke fell into contemplation, which made Shiller uncharacteristically quiet for a while. But the quiet times are always brief. Because they really couldn't completely bypass the Red Sea Guard. Their little boat was soon discovered. And they were still far from Cairo.
The searchlight from the big ship shone over. Shiller's pupils contracted, and his eyes turned almost colorless. He was still patient in observing. Deathstroke, desperate to find something to divert his attention, already swung the great sword and jumped on.
No doubt, it was a warship. Mercenaries are usually predators afraid of hard targets. Even if no one could possibly defeat Deathstroke, he wouldn't normally prove his strength by provoking the authorities but would avoid conflict and sneak away like any cunning and seasoned peer. Even if the mission target was on board, he would lie in wait and bide his time for another opportunity.
But this time it was different. It's as if Deathstroke went mad, swinging the great sword and jumping up. Clearly, ordinary firearms had no effect on the great sword made from special metal. Shiller was just surprised that this time he wasn't worried about the coating. The power of this weapon comes at a price. The maintenance cost from the bullet scratches was enough to buy this old warship.
When a mercenary doesn't even care about money anymore, you can be sure he's truly gone mad. But Shiller didn't feel the need to take responsibility for it. Another part of himself had set a bad example.
Shiller didn't board the ship, just picked up a sniper rifle for some shots. Because they were on a ship, it was impossible to aim at the head. So he only knocked down a few people. Deathstroke also showed mercy. Because they needed this ship.
It was impossible to cross the Red Sea with that small yacht. This warship was the best disguise, and if they threw too many bodies into the sea, people would find out something happened here. It was better to tie people up and lock them up. Maybe even leave a few outside for inspections.
Deathstroke knocked them out one by one. Then Shiller came aboard, tied them up, and locked them in the kitchen. It was a relatively closed environment. As long as the outermost door was locked, no one could get out.
After finishing all this, they had time to rest again. Some tensions are like this, only allowing for action at critical points, while most of the time is aimless waiting, which is often more taxing than fast-paced combat, testing patience and willpower.
Shiller didn't consider himself lacking these. But the most troublesome thing was he wasn't waiting alone. Once they entered the next round of waiting, Deathstroke would definitely want to talk to him again.
Sure enough, as soon as they closed the kitchen area door, Deathstroke said, "There's satellite signal on the ship, do you think… do you think I should make a call?"