The scorching flames brushed past the edges of the black and yellow armor as bullets shattered the approaching terrorists behind them, the massive explosion causing waves to tremble at the bottom of the ship. The tall figure turned around in shock, seeing the body blown to pieces, then turned back to look at the revolver: "Where the hell did this tank barrel come from?!"
The Weapon Master actually felt a bit nostalgic about the demands of the humanitarian convention at this moment—they said it was forbidden to lay the anti-aircraft gun flat!!!
And the remaining few terrorists who charged forward after their shattered target, slammed to a stop upon seeing this scene. The mercenaries' professional training made the unsheathed sword rotate like a meat grinder blade, slicing the others into fragments.
The deck was a bloody red. A few remaining terrorists resisted stubbornly, still trying to fire, but upon discovering the bullets were completely blocked by the great sword and armor, they shouted something gibberish and jumped straight into the sea.
The tall figure didn't chase further but instead returned the great sword to his back, turning to look at Shiller leaning against the ship cabin. He adjusted his wrinkled gloves, crossed his arms, and said to Shiller: "Surely the Federal Bureau of Investigation can afford a pair of earplugs?"
Shiller ignored him, instead wiping blood from his ears. He naturally recognized who this tall and strong mercenary was, but the other's presence here was certainly not good news.
Deathstroke. The world's strongest mercenary, Weapon Master mastering nearly all weapons. Highest mountain and longest river in the Teen Titans' enemy pool. He goes to Gotham for only three things: eat, sleep, and beat up Robin.
Of course, having issues with the little birds of the Batman Family is just his side job; he is a serious mercenary killer. Saying this, appearing in Africa and the Middle East isn't surprising.
But in reality, Deathstroke takes the high-end route, mostly accepting assassination tasks, not acting as cannon fodder. The chaotic situation near the Red Sea has no decent gigs. His presence here is truly puzzling.
Deathstroke seemed to have realized Shiller couldn't hear him talk. He bowed his head, pulled out a vial from his belt, and tossed it to Shiller, saying: "Anti-inflammatory drugs. Why are you here?"
Shiller took the vial, glanced at it, and said sincerely: "That helped a lot." Then added in his heart: "Especially for Egypt."
After the injection, the medicine had yet to take effect. The two sat on seats at the back of the deck. Shiller could feel his body temperature dropping. As he inspected the gun obtained from the robbers, he said: "Believe it or not, I really didn't come chasing you. Initially, I thought these guys were looking for me, but now it seems I took the hit for you."
"That's not certain," Deathstroke said, "On my way here, I met someone setting up a checkpoint. They were specifically targeting white-skinned people and even grabbing those who clearly didn't look like armed personnel. Obviously, this trouble was stirred by you."
The statement made Shiller squint. This didn't seem right. Those hijackers should have believed he was dead, as they saw the plane sink. If they were still looking for him, it proved that more than one party wanted him dead.
"What are you doing here?"
"What are you here for?"
They asked almost simultaneously. Deathstroke somehow got hold of a soda can; he lifted up the lower part of his mask, took a sip, and said: "A conflict broke out between two armed forces, one intercepted my employer's ship and transferred goods not meant to go on land. I must retrieve or destroy the goods to avoid involving unintended parties."
Deathstroke spoke in riddles; such events occurred numerous times daily in such a place. However, Shiller was more of an expert in this aspect. He said: "Certain crucial goods have fallen here through illegal violent means. I need to ensure the goods and people are returned or meet God on time."
Such scenarios were too common. This entire region, the straits available for cargo ships, depended on luck for transporting goods. Half a year was spent avoiding missiles, the other half outwitting pirates. Strange situations could occur.
"Great," Deathstroke said, "We can each do our own thing now. You better be honest that you aren't after me. Otherwise, even your tank barrel won't save you—by the way, where did that thing come from?"
"It's a long story, do you know Zeus?"
Without waiting for Deathstroke to answer, the ship suddenly jolted, nearly capsizing. Shiller instinctively grabbed the armrest, while Deathstroke's weight snapped the armrest off, slamming him hard against the opposite railing.
The ship then rocked back, causing them both to crash into the cabin wall. This blow was potentially devastating for Shiller's dominant hand; his scapula emitted intense pain, likely a fracture.
Then the ship began slowly tilting in another direction, likely sinking from impact. People aboard screamed and fled. Shiller moved to the front of the deck, glancing at the ship that struck them. It seemed to be a local small armed force, but considered a regular army. Everyone wore headscarves and standard camouflaged weapons, some even firing at the deck.
Then they faced two consequences. Deathstroke descended, forcing them into a chaotic retreat. The sea was stained red again, but Shiller felt a sense of foreboding.
"Come back!!" he shouted towards the ship.
Boom!!!!!! A violent explosion shot flames into the sky, and the already small ship turned into a small mushroom cloud. Shiller didn't see Deathstroke, only a two-handed sword being blown dozens of meters high, slowly falling onto the sea surface.
After the gunfire and explosions ceased, Shiller rushed to the other side of the deck, holding the railing to look down. The seawater had turned completely deep red, making it seem there were no survivors. But an explosion of this magnitude couldn't kill Deathstroke; he might just be knocked out.
Or he might just experience an unavoidable momentary brain whiteout under intense shock. This is the drawback of showing off by wearing a hood instead of a full-cover helmet - poor shock absorption. Taking a blast face-first is bound to cause daze.
Sure enough, a black and yellow figure rose from the sea, with the armor hardly damaged but obviously a bit dazed from the shock. Shiller threw down a water pipe nearby. Soon, Deathstroke, who had regained his senses, shook his head and swam over, grabbing the pipe to climb up.
Shiller examined him. This professional gear wasn't just for show. Taking a face-full of a missile, causing a mushroom cloud explosion, and yet only having a slightly dirty corner of the outfit. But he was a bit puzzled as to why Deathstroke jumped on board. A Tactical Master like him wouldn't overlook the possibility of a suicide attack.
Before he could ask, Deathstroke said, "I knew the ship would explode, but I still had to take it. Otherwise, do you expect this thing to take us to our destination?"
They both looked at the ship beneath their feet. By now, it was heavily sinking, and most people had jumped ship. The two of them hadn't jumped, not because there was anything worth lingering for on this ship, but because no one could guarantee the next ship wouldn't end up the same way.
The two stood at the bow of the soon-to-sink ship in silence. Deathstroke looked at Shiller and said, "Seems like you've had quite the adventure on your journey."
"I fear you're not much different," Shiller replied, looking at him.
"Nothing much, just being chased all the way from Norway by law enforcement agencies from 16 countries," Deathstroke said nonchalantly.
Shiller opened his mouth but said nothing else. He thought hijacking a wide-body passenger plane was already a big deal, not expecting someone of such expertise. Deathstroke truly lived up to his name as the world's number one Mercenary.
Shiller didn't want to get entangled with someone like him since he didn't need the fame to get jobs. Or rather, his current fame was already attracting too much attention, leading that woman with the handheld tank cannon manufacturer to find him. Although he didn't know who wanted to chase Deathstroke halfway across the Earth, he was surely in big trouble. Being involved with him would likely get him caught in an even bigger whirlpool.
But it was evident that reaching Egypt would be much harder without cooperating with him. The Middle East is just too complicated.
In fact, Shiller had been here before. Although his organization wasn't responsible for foreign law enforcement, his jurisdiction was broader than stipulated. He had participated in some operations in the surrounding regions.
But during his missions, the country he "represented" had very strong control here. Although various small armed groups emerged one after another, few dared provoke the tiger, let alone engage in such blatant, frenzied pursuit and murder.
Clearly, the Bald Eagle of this cosmos was rather uninterested, seemingly ignoring this mess entirely. Consequently, this place was several hundred times more chaotic than Shiller had known. Factions large and small emerged without end, brazenly killing and looting, making it a hub of chaos.
Now, Shiller somewhat understood Diana. Originally, he thought flying to Egypt to retrieve artifacts would be easy for a Demigod. Now it seemed an Agent gives him a slap, a Mercenary gives him two, and a Demigod even shows the Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms. Coming empty-handed, leaving with a few tons of missiles seems inevitable.
Yet, this chaotic situation was good news for a Mercenary like Deathstroke. After all, those chasing him might not dare get entangled in this mess. Diving into this quagmire, the pursuers probably wouldn't dare follow. Even if there were indeed ambushed Law Enforcers on this ship, after witnessing the explosion, they likely disguised as passengers and disembarked discreetly. This was not a place for them to cause trouble.
"Let's cooperate." Shiller rolled up his sleeves, placing his hand on the bow's railing, staring at the azure sea and clear sky. This was the greatest advantage here - eternally sunny, unbelievably clear. The intense ultraviolet rays forced him to squint, his brow furrowed tightly against his eyes.
"I never cooperate with Law Enforcers."
"Sorry, my hearing's shot, couldn't quite catch that, can you say it again?" Shiller adjusted the revolver's cylinder, the faint whirring of mechanical parts weak but conducted through the railing.
"You have a nice gun," Deathstroke looked at the revolver in his hand, then said, "but it seems you can't handle it very well."
"Maybe the reality is just the opposite of what you see." Shiller holstered his gun, looking at the distant slowly approaching freighter, "If you hadn't given me that anti-inflammatory shot, we'd have a new ship now."