Deathstroke stood there, stunned. Schiller went on speculating by himself, probably saying things like "multiverse," "Seven Lantern powers," and "Emotional Spectrum," but Deathstroke actually did not take any of it in, as if he was the one who had gone deaf.
"Do you think I'm trapped in my family?" Deathstroke asked.
Schiller stopped his speculation, could not help wiping a hand over his face, and said, "Looks like you won't snap out of it until we get past this. Do you really have to make me say it? In one short day, you've made two versions of me evaluate what kind of person you are. Do you love extreme sports that much?"
Deathstroke did not care about any of that. He sat down boldly across from Schiller, putting on an attentive air, though at the same time he looked more like, "If you don't come up with something, I'll just keep wasting time here."
Schiller was very helpless. He lifted his hand and said, "Fine. Does your son know you do this?"
"He didn't before. But after this, it'll probably be hard for him not to," Deathstroke said. "His mother and I had a passionate period when we were young. Back then, she was just a bartender, and my cover identity was handsome and rich. We both had our own agendas, but unexpectedly, after we were honest with each other, we found we could both accept the terrifying parts of one another. And so we made it to today."
"As for Joseph... his mother and I both agreed that he wasn't the kind of person who could be dragged into the life we lived when we were young. We once fled all the way from Cuba to Argentina, then crossed the Atlantic Ocean to Asia. Joseph can't even stand driving