Picking a suitable suit for Deathstroke was not easy. The guy was simply too strong. Being tall was one thing, but his shoulder width, chest size, and arm circumference had basically reached the limits of humanity. Generally speaking, ready-to-wear shops did not carry clothes for someone built like that.
But as the saying went, money made all things possible. If the profit on a suit was 50%, a sales assistant might not bother looking; but if the profit on a suit was 500%, they could find a suitable one even for Slender Man.
Clearly, this store's profit margin might have been far above 500%. The sales staff not only found something suitable, they found several options. Deathstroke's sense of suit aesthetics was still stuck in the last century, or possibly the century before that. The suit he had his eye on would have been perfect for attending the World Expo. Schiller picked out a light-colored one for him, and he was very unhappy about it.
"Have you forgotten how old you are now?" Schiller said in a low voice, holding up the suit. "That red plaid one you liked would make you look like a lousy high schooler who had to wear his dad's old suit to prom."
"It's not that bad, is it?" Deathstroke looked doubtful. He went into the fitting room and changed into the light-colored suit. It was a light blue casual suit with a bit of American nostalgia to it. Once he put it on, he looked somewhat like an American high school student from the last century, with a very casual retro style.
Of course, while the clothes were retro, the price was not. Deathstroke bared his teeth when he saw that string of zeros. As they walked out of the clothing store, he lowered