In many countries in Africa, it is not uncommon to be surrounded by children asking for money. With no compulsory education, most children are idle during their childhood, easily joining gangs and learning petty theft. Those who are bolder would go even further — calling it begging, but in reality, it is a form of soft robbery.
These older kids are a big hassle for tourists. They may not have the appearance of adults yet, but they possess a certain amount of strength. Once you're surrounded by them, if you try to do something, locals will come looking for trouble, but if you don't, there's no way to shake them off. For the weaker groups among tourists, it's like being surrounded by packs of hyenas.
Crossing Deathstroke and Shiller should have been these little demons' karma. But in reality, Deathstroke obediently gave them money — anyone with eyes could see that his money wasn't clean.
Deathstroke didn't have any small change — when it comes to US dollars, tens of dollars isn't small change, it's big bills — he didn't even have any bills of this denomination, only green Franklins.
People usually associate US dollars with hundred-dollar bills, but this impression itself is abnormal. Those clean bills appearing in Hollywood series, neatly stacked in suitcases, are either taken by bank robbers or by assassins. This fully illustrates that such money is generally dirty money.
Deathstroke didn't even bother to pretend. The bills he took out were as clean as if they had just been printed. This meant that these bills hadn't passed through a bank but reached him directly via special channels.
Undoubtedly, this caught the attention of some people. The children may not understand, but the interest groups behind them quickly noticed the sudden appearance of Deathstroke and Shiller in Cairo.
Don't underestimate Egypt; even if it's not considered developed, its geographical position is too delicate. It's on the edge of small-country conflicts and the central battleground of major powers' games. It's even more chaotic than the mainland of many developed countries. The intensity of local espionage and political games can be considered a small African whirlpool king.
As a result, Deathstroke's act of throwing money caused a chain reaction. When they were standing in front of the car rental shop, two people came out of the alley opposite. One of them gestured to the car rental shop owner, who then went inside. Deathstroke and Shiller turned to look that way.
"Where are you from?" The other person's English was not very standard, and his attire looked local.
"The Red Sea," Deathstroke said.
"Who is your employer?" he asked again.
Deathstroke frowned. As a mercenary, he clearly didn't like this kind of topic. At this point, Shiller looked at the other person and said, "Just as you are from the Greater Cairo Region, we are from Washington."
Now it was the other person's turn to frown. Deathstroke glanced at Shiller; this answer was quite special. General CIA agents would have a disguised identity, usually posing as backpackers from around the world, claiming to be from Australia, traveling the globe.
It's not uncommon for real Washington tourists to visit, so saying they're Washingtonians isn't strange. But the key lies in the previous sentence. With this in mind, Deathstroke suddenly had an epiphany: this person in front of them might not be from Cairo.
Previously, when they were surrounded by those kids asking for money, they also spoke in the local language. Of course, modern Egypt no longer uses the Egyptian language but Arabic. However, there are many types of Arabic, and the Cairo area's Arabic accent is quite distinctive, easily discernible from others.
The person before them didn't speak Arabic, but the accent in his English sounded different from those kids, which proved he might not be a local.
Shiller's response indicated: We know you're not from Cairo. Furthermore, the Washington we mentioned isn't a real location but more of a proxy for the US Government.
Young, but exceptionally cunning and seasoned — this was Deathstroke's assessment of Shiller. He was very adept at handling such situations, displaying remarkable composure and could be said to handle it with great ease.
Deathstroke, on the other hand, due to his profession, usually wouldn't be so assertive. He would rather speak a few peaceful words to muddle through, or slip some money, and if that didn't work, just withdraw, unwilling to argue further with these local toughs.
This is the difference between agents and mercenaries. More accurately, it's the difference between agents of major powers and freelance mercenaries. Even if this mercenary had become the world's best, sometimes, his deterrent power still fell short of the CIA. You can only blame the CIA for being too notorious.
The other person, after hearing Shiller's words, indeed showed a slightly weakened aura. He walked over and spread his hands, saying, "Listen, we're not here to cause trouble. No matter which direction from the Red Sea you landed, you should have heard about what happened in Hurgada. It's troubling, isn't it?"
"This is also something we didn't foresee," Shiller said. "A complete lockdown benefits no one. The opportunists won't stop their actions just because the army is on the streets."
"I completely agree with you. In fact, we came here seeking support..."
Before he finished speaking, Shiller and Deathstroke almost simultaneously rushed to the right, rolling to hide behind a nearby car. With a few swooshing sounds, several bloody holes appeared on their bodies, and they collapsed helplessly in front of the door.
This time, the group approaching them had a Cairo local accent, but they clearly weren't any more friendly. "Get out, Yankees! You're not welcome here! Isn't the mess you made in Hurgada enough?!"
Deathstroke gave Shiller a look. There was really no need for them to fight this group here. Killing them wouldn't bring any benefit, it would just increase equipment wear and tear for no reason, and waste bullets.
But this was where the difference between mercenaries and agents became apparent. Mercenaries manage their own profits and losses; the better the equipment, the higher the maintenance costs. Even a mercenary like Deathstroke with his income has to use cautiously. Shiller was different; all maintenance costs for an agent are covered by public funds. Moreover, the US Government's investment in espionage and agent operations is unimaginably huge. For the sake of equipment reliability, they might even enforce elimination on an hourly basis. Use one and throw one away; it's not just talk.
As an ace agent, all advanced equipment is given priority to him. Shiller literally has no concept of wasting bullets, even when it's special custom bullets priced far above gold; he can have as many as he needs. He rarely avoids a fight because "the benefits aren't enough."
Shiller raised his hand to feign reaching for his gun, but the other side instinctively responded by directly raising their gun to shoot. However, Shiller didn't actually draw his revolver but reached to snatch their gun at the moment they raised it.
Both hands grabbed the opponent's wrist, sharply lifted it. "Bang!" Then pulled the opponent in front of him, blocking a shot from their companion behind them. "Bang!" As the person in the back panicked, he kicked the person in front of him out and then punched the one behind on the face. While the opponent faltered back, he snatched the gun from him. "Bang! Bang!"
Two shots settled two people. Shiller glanced at the handgun in his hand; just a standard Desert Eagle. But it doesn't mean these people were backed by Israel. The mixed-use of equipment in the Middle East is too extreme; military, police, civilian, modified, or even special handguns could be in anyone's hands. You can't prove anything just by that.
Shiller looked down to inspect the handgun. Unfortunately, it's a bit old, and the condition wasn't great; not many bullets left either. It clearly couldn't substitute his revolver, but at least it still had a few shots' value, it could barely be used.
Meanwhile, Deathstroke stood observing Shiller, he had to admit that Shiller's series of actions just now showed his excellent professionalism. Quiet, swift. Violence, when restrained, sheds its primal ugliness and evolves into an elegant art.
"Let's go." Shiller looked at him and said, "Let's find a hotel to stay first, and then see what's happening at the museum. I have a hunch, we're not the only ones eyeing that place."
Deathstroke followed behind him, still somewhat chatty, but he knew, Shiller had already entered professional combat mode, if he dragged him back to a personal level, he might just get shot. So he said, "Even though I didn't want to fight them, you did good just now."
"Why didn't you want to fight them?"
"No need," Deathstroke said. "If I took action, things might become very bloody. That easily snaps some people's strained nerves completely, if they attack me recklessly, the costs could far exceed expectations."
"No wonder you can make money," Shiller said while loading bullets into his revolver, "I didn't even consider cost control."
"Yeah, after all, you have a gun with infinite ammo."
"Don't mention this gun," Shiller said annoyedly, "This thing is just a signal flare. As soon as I fire it, all of Egypt would come attacking me. It's really a pain."
Actually before, Deathstroke couldn't quite understand Shiller's complaints. Because it was obvious he was on Diana's side. Deathstroke's combat style was grandiose and very fierce. Even though he was the world's top mercenary and assassin, his assassination style seemed more like, as long as everyone's dead, no one will discover his infiltration.
Before a fight, he would shrewdly calculate resources and avoid it. But once facing an unavoidable fight, he wouldn't hold back. Most times, he wielded his sword and entered, finishing everything like slicing melons, then calmly left.
So he didn't see anything wrong with the revolver Diana gave to Shiller. It was indeed a very good weapon. Fire one shot, and the enemies would wet their pants, also skilled in creating panic and chaos.
However, just now actually witnessing Shiller in action, Deathstroke had to admit, this revolver wasn't his style. What Shiller performed was true "assassination": using the simplest and most effective moves to knock down and kill the opponent, striving to avoid any "big scenes." Even the angle of handgun execution was carefully selected—shooting from the back of the neck upwards at an angle, there's a chance the relatively low-power handgun bullet would get stuck on the hard skull, which minimizes blood loss. This is precisely what Shiller did, and both shots were successful. This proved he was experienced and never misses.
For someone like him, carrying a loudspeaker really is too painful. Deathstroke could see, Shiller now loading bullets into the revolver, seemed like he still wanted to find if there were any options to switch modes on this gun.
But unfortunately, this Colt Python wasn't malleable. It's clear that when the Fire God made this thing, he really wanted to lend his sister a hand. His intended targets possibly being Hera or Zeus, Divine Power bullets, Divine Power ignition. Even if it didn't kill the opponents, at least make them feel the pain. This resulted in the gun having no second-mode option.
Oh, no, there was still one. Deathstroke suddenly remembered, when Shiller used it before, he could stack six bullets together to fire, creating a bombing effect with one gun. But it's better not to let Shiller know, in case he becomes even more despairing.