Although Deathstroke didn’t know how Shiller managed to convince the Halls, it was certainly for the best if he could complete his task quickly, as he was eager to go to the Justice League for reimbursent.
In the evening, with nothing to do, Deathstroke mimicked the conversation he had overheard from the Halls and recorded it on a tape recorder, sending it to a middleman specializing in decoding investigations.
After working in this field for so many years, Deathstroke had accumulated a lot of contacts because he generally didn’t engage in covert investigations; most of the intelligence was provided by employers. To execute missions more efficiently, he would seek help to verify the authenticity of the information, which often covered various languages and information types, requiring a specialized middleman to hire experts for deciphering.
These people are not exclusive to rcenaries or assassins; most are internal personnel of international translation organizations and have dealings with the vast majority of language experts worldwide. They can find ways to decipher any language or text that exists globally.
This ti, however, the wait was particularly long. Deathstroke was already asleep until midnight when a long ssage ca through. Initially, he thought it was the deciphered content, but it turned out to be all guesses and explanations.
The feedback from the other party was that this wasn’t any kind of universal language in the world, not even Latin, a dead language. It sounded sowhat like Coptic, but this language has a dialect only used in Egypt’s Christian church and is nearly extinct.
Moreover, the only dialect used is significantly different from what they said. They searched all over the world for experts but couldn’t decipher the specific aning and could only guess based on pronunciation.
Among the sounds, one syllable was repeatedly ntioned, and coincidentally, this syllable was sowhat similar to a syllable in Arabic. In Arabic, the word ans "priest."
Deathstroke was instantly alard. He didn’t think the daily conversations between the couple would involve such vocabulary. Could these two be cultists?
Actually, under normal circumstances, the identity of the Halls doesn’t have much to do with Deathstroke, as he’s just paid to do the job. However, since these are troubled tis, if he really brought dangerous individuals to the Justice League Headquarters, where Batman is not present, and everyone is busy with their own tasks, the defense is quite empty. If sothing happens, Batman will definitely cause him trouble when he returns.
He spent so much on outfits and equipnt maintenance but ssed up the task. If this gets out, his title of having a 100% completion rate will be at risk.
It’s important to know that Deathstroke is already planning a career transition. Transitioning inevitably cos with a painful period and business might not be as good as before. If his reputation is further damaged, his whole career could plumt. Deathstroke absolutely cannot accept this.
Deathstroke suddenly couldn’t sleep and imdiately got up, urging the middleman to find more experts to decipher the conversation’s aning while going next door to wake Shiller and tell him what he had investigated.
"You think there is sothing wrong with those two?" Shiller thought for a mont, "They are headed to the Justice League Headquarters. If they really are cultists, they wouldn’t deliberately walk into a trap, would they?"
"That’s not necessarily the case; what if their goal is sabotage?" The more Deathstroke thought about it, the more uneasy he felt. He said, "Why is it so coincidental that when I ca to find them, they were attacked? And when dodging bullets, I grabbed Mr. Hall—you’re aware of my strength; I can directly grab an adult’s arm and fling them—but at that mont, I couldn’t move him much. That was obviously abnormal."
"Are you sure it wasn’t your imagination?"
Deathstroke shook his head. His brain, overly developed with a high degree of neural activity, had an obvious benefit: he did not filter out unimportant information like ordinary brains but instead chose to rember everything. He could clearly recall every detail of the scene he witnessed. He was certain that when he reached out to grab Mr. Hall, things weren’t right.
"I can’t sit still." Deathstroke began donning his gear, saying, "I need to go to the gallery again to find out what’s going on with those two. Will you co with ?"
"I can stand guard for you, but I won’t go inside. If you’re caught trying to infiltrate, I don’t want to face the consequences together."
Deathstroke rolled his eyes: "You’re underestimating . Although I don’t often engage in infiltration, it’s not so minor that I’d screw up this small task."
"Do as you please." Shiller picked up his gun.
At night, there was no public transportation, and the two could only walk. Fortunately, it wasn’t particularly far. When they reached Maple District, Shiller waited at a distance from the art gallery while Deathstroke climbed over the wall and entered the yard.
Deathstroke wore only a tight-fitting outfit, neither armor nor a great sword. His weapons included an AR15, a small pistol, and cold steel in the form of a Kukri knife.
Upon flipping over the wall and landing in the yard, he initially intended to wander around the gallery and see if he could find a secret room or sothing similar. But as soon as he landed, he spotted a pair of glowing eyes on the right side of the gallery’s yard.
A nimble figure leapt toward him like a beast. Startled, Deathstroke instinctively rolled to the side and imdiately drew his pistol, aiming at the figure. Under the moonlight, he could see the opponent’s appearance.
It was a fairly strong man dressed in golden light armor with an extrely retro style. Deathstroke felt like he had seen it sowhere before but couldn’t recall. The man wore a tal helt with small wings on both sides, and behind him, there were a pair of large wings. More terrifying, these wings were actually functional.
After the rolling dive, Deathstroke turned back and fired two shots at the ground, but the man did not land; he glided at low altitude swiftly, stirring a stream of air. The chilling Talons drove directly toward Deathstroke’s face.
Upon seeing the glint on the claw, Deathstroke felt sothing was wrong. He chose not to take it head-on, instead rolling to dodge and kicking the opponent’s arm. The kick was so strong that it caused the man to lose balance, sorsaulting in the air.
Capitalizing on the montum, Deathstroke swung his kukri blade, its cold glint flashing. He sliced at the opponent’s wing, but it seed that the wings were not naturally attached to him. The slice only cut a couple of feathers, barely affecting his flying ability.
Deathstroke crouched down to observe carefully, initially looking for a flaw in his opponent, but he froze when his gaze landed on the man’s face.
The man wore a helt with only half a visor, covering the upper half of his face. The helt was sowhat shaped like an eagle, but the lower half of his face was exposed. Batman’s cowl covered much more, at least leaving only his chin visible, while this man exposed his entire lower face.
This is obviously Dr. Hall. Deathstroke sneered internally. A cultist revealing half his face... Do you really think they didn’t dare to unmask Batman because they couldn’t recognize him?!
Deathstroke considered shouting his na to expose him but thought better of it, fearing that his unaltered voice might be recognized. He decided not to speak and brought his blade down again, this ti sending his opponent flying with the imnse power of his strike.
The strangely dressed Dr. Hall seed to realize that he was not Deathstroke’s match. He let out a sharp cry, reminiscent of an eagle’s call. Then, another figure flew out from the window of the art gallery.
Deathstroke turned his head and saw, oh boy. The unity of husband and wife, nothing could withstand them. Isn’t this Mrs. Hall? Can you fly too?
Mrs. Hall swooped down and scratched Deathstroke. Then they started communicating in that language again. Deathstroke didn’t understand it but could rember it. With more samples, maybe he could decipher what they were saying.
Deathstroke turned back, ready to shoot. Mrs. Hall, upon clearly seeing him, was visibly startled, then hurriedly pulled Mr. Hull along as they flew away. Deathstroke considered taking a couple of shots for luck but decided against it, as he might not hit and would attract the police.
When he ca out and saw Shiller again, Deathstroke couldn’t help but complain: "I never get easy jobs. I thought this ti it’d just be legwork, but once again, there’s another layer. I’m really fed up!"
Deathstroke recounted what happened in the art gallery to Shiller. Shiller didn’t show any surprise and said, "Since you’ve already shown your face as Deathstroke to them, you can’t go deliver ssages to them anymore. Have you considered passing the job?"
"Is changing assignnts the issue now?" Deathstroke sighed, "Until I figure out what’s up with these two, I can’t bring them to the Justice League. Otherwise, any problems that arise will be my responsibility."
"Didn’t expect you to be such a responsible person."
"If Batman were truly gone forever, I wouldn’t be this cautious." Deathstroke rubbed his forehead vigorously, "But we all know, even if he fell into the black hole at the universe’s center, he wouldn’t really be gone. I can’t give him an opportunity to cause trouble."
"So, what do you plan to do?"
"It might take so ti," Deathstroke said. "I need to figure out who they are and what they’re doing hiding here before I can decide whether to bring them back."
"My ti is very precious," Shiller said blandly.
Even at this mont, Deathstroke hadn’t developed the habit of listening carefully to Shiller’s every word. He should have done so sooner. That way, the next morning, when he observed the Halls’ private art gallery through binoculars and saw Joseph among the crowd of visitors, his swearing wouldn’t be so loud.
"Damn it! What’s going on?!" Deathstroke was completely shocked, "Why is Joseph here?! Shouldn’t he have gone back to New Orleans?!"
Could it be that his graduation trip to Egypt was ruined, so he decided to travel to Midway City instead? Didn’t he ntion being interested in the Great Lakes Region before?
Such childish speculation was quickly dispelled. Because Joseph’s thod of blending in was far superior to Deathstroke’s. He soon won over the Halls and went upstairs with them.
Deathstroke didn’t even have ti to change his gear. He didn’t have ti to take the stairs, so he jumped straight down, swinging upward with a grapple, landing on the rooftop of a building not far from the gallery.
Just as he was about to leap into the gallery, he saw Shiller standing on the street below. Shiller gestured at him, causing Deathstroke to pause, while Shiller climbed up onto the rooftop.
"I called him over," Shiller said. "As soon as he heard you couldn’t finish the task, he rushed to Midway City at lightning speed. It’s really touching."
Before he finished speaking, a great sword was at his throat. Deathstroke glared at him and said, "You clearly know those two are dangerous! He wouldn’t be able to handle them..."
"I find you both have misconceptions about each other," Shiller shook his head, "The filter you see each other through is really too thick."
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