That whole string of movements left Deathstroke a little speechless. It was only a few meters high in total. Was that really necessary?
But then he suddenly remembered that the worse Schiller's condition was, the better his condition got. All at once, that distance started to seem a little dangerous. He should have found something for him to step on. Otherwise, if Schiller lost a chunk of health in the fall and entered berserk mode, there was nowhere to hide in an elevator shaft.
The elevator doors on the bottom floor were easy enough to deal with. He did not even need to cut them open with his sword. Deathstroke could pull them open with his hands. He wedged his fingernails into the gap between the elevator doors, put a little strength into both arms, and the doors slid open smoothly.
But that curator really was cunning. He had even placed an alarm device outside the doors. Once the doors were opened abnormally, every machine began shrieking at the same moment, and the lights went out completely.
"Be careful," Schiller said to Deathstroke.
"Aren't you the one who should be careful?" Deathstroke was not joking. He said, "I'm assuming you don't have night vision, and right now you're also in a state of hearing loss. If a few enemies really come charging out, can you handle them?"
"You do have a point." To Deathstroke's surprise, Schiller did not make excuses, nor did he come up with some astonishing solution. He simply nodded and admitted it.
"Then what are you going to..."
Schiller suddenly turned his head back. Those gray eyes shone in the dim corridor. "Switch."
This time, Deathstroke keenly noticed something. Schiller quickly straightened up, looked around at his surroundings, and then noticed the clothes he was wearing.
"Oh,