mtl008 Chapter 4571 The Day of Brightest Day (3)
Chapter 4571 The Day of Brightest Day (3)
Chapter 4571 The Day of Brightest Light (Part 30)
This series of actions left Deathstroke speechless. It wasn't even a few meters tall, was it really necessary?
But then he suddenly remembered that Schiller's condition improved the worse he was in. He suddenly realized that the distance was a bit dangerous. He should find something for Schiller to step on. Otherwise, if he fell and lost a chunk of blood, entering a berserk state, there would be nowhere to hide in the elevator shaft.
The elevator door on the ground floor was easy enough; he didn't even need a sword to cut it open. Deathstroke could pull it open with his bare hands. He wedged his fingernails into the crack of the elevator door, and with a slight pull of his arms, the door opened smoothly.
However, the curator was indeed cunning; he had placed an alarm device outside the door. After the door was opened abnormally, all the machines started beeping at the same time, and the lights went out completely.
“Be careful,” Schiller said to Deathstroke.
"You're the one who should be careful, aren't you?" Deathstroke wasn't joking. "I'm assuming you don't have night vision and are currently hearing impaired. If a few enemies suddenly appear, can you handle them?"
“What you said makes a good point.” To Deathstroke’s surprise, Schiller didn’t make excuses or come up with any brilliant solutions; he simply nodded in agreement.
"So what do you plan to do..."
Schiller suddenly turned around. His grey eyes gleamed in the dim corridor. "Change players."
This time, Deathstroke keenly sensed something. Schiller quickly straightened up, surveyed his surroundings, and then noticed the clothes he was wearing.
"Oh, this is really good."
"you……"
"Long time no see." Schiller turned back and smiled at him. "What happened last time was my fault. I'm glad to see you have a solution."
This choked back all the words Deathstroke was about to say. He opened his mouth, but felt he couldn't complain anymore. So he said, "So you've changed people?"
Schiller nodded and said, "It's not really a change of personnel, just different qualities. Of course, if you don't understand, you can also think of it as a change of personnel."
With that, he put one hand in his pocket and walked deeper into the corridor. Deathstroke quickly followed, then asked, "You really can see?"
"what do you mean?"
“I don’t know either, it’s everything,” Deathstroke said. “You said you saw the killer last time. How did you see him?”
“Of course not through appearance,” Schiller said. “Emotions? Feelings? Whatever you think. But they are some very abstract, indescribable things that you can never understand unless you have seen them.”
“Okay, I’ll take it as a broad-based mind-reading ability,” Deathstroke said. “Since he said you used to work at the museum, what were you doing there?”
"You're asking me why I didn't look for that artifact since I was already in the museum, right?"
Deathstroke nodded, and Schiller continued, "Why should I go looking?"
“But you…” Deathstroke paused, suddenly remembering Schiller’s words about “self-conflict,” “you wouldn’t be enemies, would you?”
“It’s not that bad,” Schiller said casually. “I created those murals. Why would I need to look for them?”
“…What?” Deathstroke wondered if he had misheard.
Schiller had no interest in repeating himself or explaining in detail. He continued walking, then suddenly stopped, found a room, pushed open the door, and went inside. Soon, a team of security personnel rushed over, shouting something.
These people didn't have such a heavy accent in their Arabic; they could probably understand the death knell. Basically, they were saying there were invaders or something like that.
This aroused Deathstroke's suspicion as well. Generally speaking, if uninvited guests appear in a museum, most people would assume they are robbers or thieves. What on earth is an "intruder"? This isn't some nobleman's private property. But it's also possible.
That single name was enough for Deathstroke to realize that the troublesome Haivin was very likely right here. However, if it were just about protecting artifacts, security wouldn't be able to react so quickly.
“We’ve caught a big fish,” Deathstroke said.
“That’s right.” Schiller smiled, seemingly quite satisfied.
The rest of the journey went incredibly smoothly; they encountered almost no security personnel, or they avoided them before they even noticed them. This is actually quite difficult.
The entire second basement level was vast, containing not only storage rooms but also numerous other office areas. The opposing side also had ample manpower. The pursuers and patrols were separated, making a diversionary tactic unlikely to succeed. Deathstroke felt that if he were to do it himself, he would inevitably have to kill several people. But Schiller managed to evade them all.
Now, Deathstroke was increasingly convinced that Schiller could indeed see something. However, he was still struggling to recall Schiller's previous nonsensical statement. This contemplation was clearly pointless, as it couldn't even be called nonsensical; it was more like daydreaming. What did he mean by saying the frescoes were his creations???
With a bang, the door was pushed open. Schiller completely ignored the dozens of guns propped up beside the long table and swaggered into the room, despite the ugly expressions on the faces of the two men standing at the far end.
“Schiller!” one of the short, stout men exclaimed, his eyes wide. “Didn’t you already leave Cairo?!”
Another tall, thin Arab man wearing a turban was not as surprised, but his expression was also very unpleasant.
“Hayvin, it seems you’re quite surprised I’m still alive,” Schiller said, looking at the Arab man. “Sorry to disappoint you. How is the ‘Serpent of Frini’?”
"You damn bastard!!!" the short, fat man spoke first, "You ruined the temperature control device, causing most of my shipment to be destroyed. And you still have the nerve to mention it?!"
"You wanted to ditch me and take it all for yourself. If I don't teach you a lesson, how will you understand the importance of treating others with sincerity?" Schiller said with a sneer. "And now? Besides that snake, what else do you have worthwhile possessions?"
Both men stood there silently, their faces cold. The amount of information conveyed in those words was so immense that even Deathstroke needed time to process it.
So Schiller was involved from the beginning. The fact that the mural artifact came here was related to him. But something happened in between, perhaps he had a falling out with the arms dealer. He left the group, or even left Cairo altogether.
The museum director, for reasons unknown, even hired someone to kill him. Perhaps it was because of this pursuit that he left Cairo. But unfortunately, one left, and another arrived. Because they looked exactly alike, they performed a miraculous disappearing act right in front of these people.
It has to be said that this is quite intimidating. Deathstroke thought that if someone were to pull this stunt in front of him, he would probably think that the other person was incredibly insightful and had the ability to pull off a miracle.
“Very well. Since you disrespect me so much and want to take all those things for yourselves, then good luck to you,” Schiller said. “The Pharaoh will bless you.”
Schiller turned to leave. Haivin drew his gun and fired with lightning speed. The next second, with a clang, the bullet was blocked by the greatsword. Deathstroke narrowed his eyes.
Don't get me wrong, he wasn't trying to save Schiller. Rather, as a highly experienced mercenary, he could clearly see that the museum curator hadn't received any professional training and was a terrible shooter.
He wasn't as accurate as others, yet he was engaging in aimless shooting. Even though it was less than ten meters, reaching the point of firing without aiming at all requires considerable training. But he completely ignored it, grabbing his pistol and pulling the trigger in that direction.
Because of the extremely close distance, it was indeed possible to hit, but not a vital spot; a fatal shot was absolutely impossible. And the consequences of not killing Schiller with a single shot were very serious.
It was less about saving Schiller and more about saving himself. Deathstroke really didn't want to be hit by a train again.
Having figured out Schiller's pattern of improving his performance when he's in a bad state, Deathstroke has to do everything he can to avoid any harm that might injure him but isn't fatal. It seems like a display of teamwork, but in reality, it's a last resort.
After the bullet was stopped, Haywin seemed to only then notice the presence of Deathstroke. He probably assumed it was one of Schiller's bodyguards, but upon closer inspection, he realized that the man's demeanor was far from that of a bodyguard.
Another short, stout man grabbed Haivin and shoved him under the table. The bodyguards surrounded them. Deathstroke raised his sword to strike, but after thinking it over, he gave up and charged out of the crowd to chase after Schiller.
It wasn't that he was being soft-hearted. The equipment from this mission had already worn down to an unbearable level, and they were already unable to collect the final payment. If it continued to wear down like this, they would suffer huge losses. So, it was best not to kill them if possible.
"You don't want the mural anymore?" Deathstroke asked.
“The murals are no longer here,” Schiller said. “If Hessinger and Haivin had been in cahoots, Haivin would have prepared a vault specifically for the murals long ago, and wouldn’t have kept them underground.”
“You’re back?” Deathstroke realized.
Schiller nodded and said, "It's quite a scene over there too. He might be chased all the way from Egypt to Norway."
"So what exactly happened?" Deathstroke was genuinely confused.
"Let's go first, I'll tell you slowly after we get up there."
The two left the museum's underground area. Finally, they could return to the hotel to rest. They went back to their room, checked their equipment again, and ate something to replenish their energy. Schiller spoke as he ate.
"Not long ago, a private collector—or more accurately, a middleman who caters to the wealthy—acquired a batch of artifacts of dubious origin. He had no other requests than that these items be smuggled out of the United States as soon as possible. This isn't uncommon, is it?"
Deathstroke nodded. He often encountered similar situations. When those people made their fortunes, they thought they were invincible, wanting to grab as much as they could, wishing they could pocket all the country's treasures.
However, if things go too far, there will always be consequences. Once someone has the power to investigate, they'll have no choice but to confess. At that point, selling is too late, and there's a possibility of leaving evidence of financial transactions. The only option is to find a way to send it away, so that there's no way to prove anything. Deathstroke had also taken on this kind of job and understood what it entailed.
"He approached a French arms dealer. The other was also a middleman. The two hit it off immediately. One made money off the wealthy man who sold the stolen goods, while the other made money off the artifacts. Of course, because the artifacts were so valuable, some money still had to be shared with the American middleman after they were disposed of."
“But there’s a problem,” Deathstroke pointed out. “The biggest problem with these artifacts is that they lack official endorsement, making them easily unrecognized and unable to fetch a high price… Oh, I see, that’s why they sent these things to Egypt. Once they’re transformed into national treasures in the Egyptian Museum, they’ll be worth a lot more.”
"That's right. But obviously, that French arms dealer didn't want to share the profits with the American middlemen. So, he conspired with the curator of the Egyptian Museum, Haivin, to steal the most valuable item."
"How do you swallow this?" Deathstroke asked, puzzled.
"The Red Sea is a hotbed of conflict. If you say the ship was hijacked or destroyed, you can easily take it down. They just didn't expect this guy to come from America and destroy the temperature control device in the storage room, which ruined most of the artifacts in that batch."
"Didn't you destroy that?"
I'll say it again, we are one person.
Deathstroke felt his head buzzing again.