amaotonovel Chapter 4575 The Day of Brightest Day (34)
Chapter 4575 The Day of Brightest Day (34)
Chapter 4575 The Day of Brightest Light (Thirty-Four)
"You mean, to deduce that the world's number one mercenary couldn't have gone to the world's most dangerous Dark City just to get his car repaired and enjoy the scenery, you need to use mind reading?" Schiller retorted.
Deathstroke really couldn't answer, so he abruptly changed the subject: "We need to go to the beach. If there really is a plane making an emergency landing on the water, we have to rush to the rescue immediately."
Do you know the specific model of the plane he was on?
“It should be a wide-body Boeing 787,” Deathstroke said after a pause. “The same one that made an emergency landing at sea before.”
"The probability of it making an emergency landing on the sea is not high."
"how do you know?"
To avoid the patrolling soldiers, the two entered a dark alley. There was a food cart there, and luckily no one was there, so they hid next to the cart's canopy.
"First, it is extremely difficult for such a wide-body passenger plane to make an emergency landing on the sea, which places very high demands on the pilots. Second, large aircraft have more fuel. Rather than landing in the complex Red Sea, it would be better to continue flying inland and make an emergency landing in the desert."
Deathstroke breathed a slight sigh of relief, then said, "What are the chances of a successful landing in Hegada?"
“Of course, otherwise the two of us wouldn’t have needed to come to Hegada.”
It was only then that Deathstroke realized what had happened. He was truly blinded by the terrible news; he should have thought of the possibility of the plane making an emergency landing in the desert. Mainly, he rarely operated in desert areas, and coupled with his excessive anxiety, he forgot to consider the terrain factor.
Landing in the desert is indeed safer. Although there are ups and downs there, many deserts in Egypt have been developed for tourism and are not pristine deserts. They are relatively flat and there is no risk of disintegration upon contact with water. So they should have considered heading to the desert, but Schiller suggested Hegada, so he listened without giving it much thought.
Deathstroke glanced up at the sky. Several planes were now visible to the naked eye, circling low and waiting to land. But it wasn't certain which one the control tower would allow to land; it involved complex political maneuvering, and they would certainly prioritize landing the more useful ones first.
While it's not necessary to fixate on this particular airport if a plane can't land there—there are other airports in the surrounding cities—if the situation deteriorates further, such as escalating into a hot war, with comprehensive air traffic control, no airport will be able to land. Larger planes can fly a little further, but smaller planes are helpless.
Therefore, securing a landing spot in Hegada is crucial now. It's easy to see that the communication channels are in complete chaos. Smaller planes have a clear advantage in this regard, given their smaller size, fewer crew, and limited fuel, and since many of their routes are domestic, there's no reason to prevent them from landing. Larger planes with more fuel can simply fly further without any issues.
The bell was about to head out when Schiller called out to him, "Where are you going?"
“Of course we’re going to the control tower,” Deathstroke said. “Joseph has to land first, or I’ll kill them all.”
Schiller caught up with him but didn't stop him. He simply walked quickly beside him and said, "Do you want to be a better father?"
Deathstroke slowed his pace and turned to look at him. With his hood on, his expression was difficult to discern, even more so than Batman's. Batman at least showed his chin and two eyes, but Deathstroke's fully enclosed hood only revealed one eye, making it difficult to read his expression. However, when he removed the hood, his expression became more varied. He raised an eyebrow and said, "What?"
Schiller smiled at him and said, "Does your son really need you to save him?"
“What nonsense are you spouting?” Deathstroke said. “A fight is about to break out on the ground, and he’s stuck tens of thousands of feet in the air. What will happen to him if I, as his father, don’t go to save him?!”
“Let’s make a bet,” Schiller said. “From this moment on, the first plane to land successfully will be the Boeing 787 that Joseph was in. Shall we bet?”
Deathstroke slightly widened his eyes as he sized up Schiller, utterly bewildered by his confidence. Again, the Boeing 787 was a wide-body aircraft; it should have plenty of fuel, putting it at a disadvantage in this situation.
International flights from the United States, despite being backed by a major power, would prioritize pleasing their own citizens traveling on domestic routes should Egypt be dragged into a war. Moreover, if the United States had absolute control over the region, the Red Sea wouldn't be in such chaos.
Joseph's wide-body international flight, although it may have secured a landing spot due to its large number of passengers, all of whom were relatively respectable, did not seem like the first flight to land.
“Okay,” Deathstroke agreed, then said, “Let’s go to the airport first. If we don’t land soon, I’ll threaten the control tower.”
In reality, Hegada Airport was in complete chaos. There were tourists who had bought tickets but couldn't take off and were stranded there; there were relatives and family members of passengers circling in the sky; there were flight attendants, soldiers, and police. They were either stuck in the terminal or surrounded by security checkpoints. Schiller and the Bell blended into the crowd with ease.
Of course, if they just stayed outside, they wouldn't be able to judge the takeoff and landing situation. Fortunately, the situation was chaotic, and the airport staff were extremely busy. They arrived at the boarding gate without much trouble. After going upstairs, there was a rooftop with a view of both the control tower and the landing plaza.
Deathstroke surveyed the scene and said, "The person who designed this building was a genius. It would be a disservice to his ingenious idea not to set up a sniper rifle here."
Schiller simply looked in the direction of the control center. Deathstroke looked in his direction. Because it was a bit far, nothing could be seen with the naked eye. However, he believed that Schiller might have seen something that ordinary people couldn't see.
Deathstroke's Adam's apple bobbed. He felt a little nervous, a bit like the trepidation of returning home. So he leaned against the rooftop railing and asked, "Why did we make this bet?"
"Do you want me to tell you about the origins of gambling?"
"What I mean is, why do you think his plane would be the first to land? There's no evidence for that, is there?"
“It’s just that you don’t see it that way.” Schiller turned to look at him and said, “Although you’ve already decided in your heart that I’m a liar, I still have to tell you: you may not know your son as well as you think.”
“That’s my son,” Deathstroke said with a hint of helplessness. “I’ve known him for over a decade, though we weren’t together every day. But you’ve never even met him, yet you know I don’t know him?”
“It’s not about him, it’s about me,” Schiller said. “Guess how I managed to cause trouble right under the Justice League’s noses right when Batman is missing, and they didn’t dare to come after me?”
Deathstroke was completely stunned. The amount of information in those words was overwhelming: first, he didn't know Batman was missing; second, he didn't know the Justice League knew that Schiller was behind it; and finally, he couldn't understand why the Justice League didn't take strong action against Schiller.
“Because Batman warned them,” Schiller said. “Once they spot me, they pretend they didn’t see anything and then go find the other me. That’s the perfect solution to all the trouble I’ve caused. Only Batman has figured it out so far.”
“That sounds like a ghost story,” Deathstroke said. “Why did Batman disappear? Surely it can’t be related to you too?”
"See? You care more about Batman than Joseph."
Deathstroke slammed his hand on the railing: "I didn't! You changed the subject first! ...Alright, let's talk about Joseph instead."
“Then let’s continue our previous topic,” Schiller said. “Many innate defects can be corrected through education. This is what I meant by the three wars. Obviously, the first two went wrong, which meant your innate defects couldn’t be fully remedied…”
"What three wars? Didn't you make that up?"
“That’s just an integration of some theories from psychoanalysis and religious studies, the purpose of which is to make it understandable to you,” Schiller said patiently. “Otherwise, would you believe me if I said you lost for no reason?”
Deathstroke pursed his lips; he didn't want to argue with Schiller on this point anymore. So he said, "So, does this have to do with my lack of understanding of Joseph?"
"Of course. Because you're just playing the role of a good father. I don't deny that you love him—at least among all humans, you've invested the most emotion in him. But you haven't given him enough. Moreover, the way you're giving it out is also very problematic."
"Then tell me what the problem is."
“I said, you’re just playing the role of a good father. You combine your imagination with the public’s perception to construct the role of a good father. In your imagination, you strive to be different from your own father, so you hide your real profession and don’t want to bring those controversies home. That’s understandable.”
"The image of a good father in the mainstream sense that you have in mind may be based on other male elders or neighbors. But in general, he should be a carefree, easygoing, military-trained, somewhat chauvinistic, Boy Scout captain type who likes outdoor sports. He likes to take the kids to fix cars or play ball, act as the host at family gatherings, and always be a pillar of support for his wife and children."
The more Schiller spoke, the wider Deathstroke's eyes widened. He was about to say something when he remembered Schiller telling him that he didn't need to respond to these words, but only needed to know what was going on in his heart.
In fact, Schiller was right again. There really was such a person in Deathstroke's childhood – their neighbor. The neighboring family was the perfect American family: the father was an engineer, the mother a full-time housewife, and they had three children – two sons and a daughter. The father in this family perfectly matched all the criteria Schiller had described.
At the same time, he was also quite compassionate. After Deathstroke's father passed away, he helped the widow and her children, and would invite them to his family gatherings. Deathstroke was deeply impressed by the way he spoke eloquently at these gatherings, and the way everyone around him, including his children, listened to and respected him.
But their contact was brief, and so much time had passed that he had almost forgotten the man. It was Schiller's precise description of so many characteristics, coupled with the fact that Deathstroke had only ever encountered one such person, that brought him back to mind.
"You mean I'm imitating Mr. Sanders?"
"Of course, you may not even realize it yourself. And this didn't just start after you became a father—do you really like football?"