Deathstroke stood on the rooftop of Midway City Museum, smoking. Suddenly, the rooftop door opened, and Schiller walked out. When he saw Deathstroke smoking, he frowned.
"Oh, come on. The other you doesn't even mind this." Deathstroke said that, but he still stubbed out the cigarette. "Didn't you say you were the same person?"
"It isn't that he doesn't mind. He can just tolerate it," Schiller said. "You don't smoke in front of Joseph either, do you?"
"I'm not addicted to smoking," Deathstroke said. "In fact, I'm not addicted to anything. So of course I don't smoke at home."
Schiller smiled and said, "You really are a good husband and a good father."
"Flattery won't help." Deathstroke snorted coldly and said, "This show started earlier than I expected, great inventor."
"That's only from your perspective. For me, the plan was always arranged this way. There's no problem."
"Now I've already been dragged into it. At the very least, I should know what happened before you went to Egypt, right?"
Schiller walked to the rooftop railing, turned, and leaned against it. "Actually, this plan wasn't made by me. It merely borrowed an idea I once used. But needs must, so I won't charge him royalties."
"The mural really is fake. But at first, it wasn't made for the Justice League. Before this, the manager of Midway City Museum, Dr. Carter Hall—who was constantly troubled because the relics were always being coveted by all kinds of thieves and relic traffickers—came to me, hoping I could help him solve the problem."
"Wait a second." Deathstroke held out a hand to stop him, then said, "Who are you? Why would he come to you?"
"I thought you knew me quite well," Schiller said, smiling as he looked at him. "You deal with people like