Of course, Deathstroke wanted to retort, but upon careful consideration, it seemed indeed to be the case. Actually, if he had focused on his own task, he might have already succeeded in destroying those goods without a trace. Even if the task was fake and the final payment couldn't be obtained, considering it didn't require much effort, just having the deposit wouldn't be a loss.
Alternatively, if he hadn't driven around Hurgada with Shiller, it wouldn't have led to the car-sick Shiller blasting the leader to pieces, and the situation wouldn't have deteriorated to this extent.
Of course, realizing this fact didn't evoke any repentance in him. Because from the start, there was no possibility of anyone paying the final payment. The assignment failed from the beginning. Running into Shiller was indeed a bit lucky. That's the advantage of being a free mercenary: besides the rigid tasks, you always encounter novel fun.
Now, between the two of them, he's more like the fun. But Deathstroke doesn't care. His satellite phone received a message, prompting him to consider switching to the family channel again, though thankfully he restrained himself.
Actually, he could completely continue to verbally irritate Shiller like before. Deathstroke could see that Shiller's hearing had recovered, and now was a good time to chat. As for why he didn't do so, or what prevented him, he was truly considering it.
Then he concluded: Shiller indeed behaved too professionally. Among all the agents he had met, not merely outstanding but unparalleled. Hence, he felt a bit ashamed for acting unprofessionally—frivolously chatting about trivial matters with him.
Mercenaries naturally have their own professionalism, especially those leaning towards killers, sometimes even more focused on professional qualities than agents. Falling behind in this aspect would lead to being questioned easily. So, Deathstroke forced himself to suppress it.
He started racking his brains, contemplating how to speak up from a professional angle. But it wasn't easy, because it was a typical waiting time, and indeed there wasn't much to discuss.
Shiller stood by the dining table disassembling a gun, yet he took the initiative to speak: "Have you noticed? You're beginning to accommodate me more."
Deathstroke frowned, seemingly not understanding why he had said that. So he reminisced carefully: setting aside other things, at least in terms of initiating topics, he indeed made concessions. Otherwise, with his mental strength and physical constitution, he could have spoken ceaselessly, annoying Shiller to death.
"Why?" Deathstroke asked.
"Yes, why." Shiller repeated, inspecting the gun's rifling, then said, "Because you realize my merits. Accurately speaking, acknowledged that I am indeed a top agent. Even if only considering professional capabilities, you're willing to give me certain respect."
Deathstroke seemed to understand what he was saying, and he said: "So, as long as I let Joseph see my strength and professionalism, he will respect me? But assassins and agents are still different, right?"
"If you're referring to official status, then for you, it's actually an advantage rather than a disadvantage. Because if you're not government-employed, you don't have to simultaneously disappoint him and the whole country."
Deathstroke found himself speechless. An assassin and an agent could both be considered killing machines, just one for money, the other for the nation. It's difficult to say which is better—especially for a youth still holding expectations toward the country, the latter might be even worse than the former.
"Moreover, he's taken your money," Shiller pointed out, "so he's not exactly innocent."
Deathstroke's hand tightened on the sword's hilt, he said: "I can't say that to him. I mean, I can't accuse him with this, because he had no choice, right?"
"Of course you can't. But he will think so himself. He's not stupid, won't think you're doing this for the first day, naturally will consider that every penny spent during his growth was stained with blood."
"Will this worsen our relationship?"
Shiller shook his head, saying: "If by worsening you mean estrangement, then no. Because resentment can also draw two people closer."
"What I want is obviously not resentment."
"Then you must first accept his resentment toward you." Shiller checked the bullets, then said, "Now he not only doesn't hate you, but could even say doesn't know you. Compared to strangers, enemies are rather intimate, right?"
Deathstroke again didn't know how to respond. He felt somewhat of a failure because he and Joseph indeed were more like strangers, neither love nor hate could be spoken of. But making him hate him first, is it not a bit forcing premature action?
"Do you really think he'd hate you more?" Shiller asked again, "Why do I feel he might hate himself more? Because all that money was spent on him. He might even feel you're doing it for him."
"Uh…" Deathstroke rubbed his forehead, "Really? Would he think I'm killing for money to fund his education?"
"He has no concept of this," Shiller said, "doesn't know how much you've earned as a hitman, or what proportion was spent on him. Thinking so wouldn't be odd, right?"
Deathstroke opened his mouth, a bit embarrassed to speak, he said: "Actually, the proportion I spent on family isn't much. Within the industry, it's only mid-lower level. But I have my own reasons.
"First, if we let them enter the upper-class, they won't be able to handle those things, and the inability to explain the source of funds could also lead to danger. Secondly, my own expenses are quite significant; you have no idea how expensive this gear is..."
Then Deathstroke started muttering and complaining, clearly accumulating grievances for a long time and needing to let it out. This kind of thing couldn't be discussed with colleagues, nor confided to family members, so Shiller became the best target.
Deathstroke's gear is indeed expensive, adding up to several billion US Dollars. Just the clothing alone has three sets: lightweight tights, light armor, and heavy armor. These three sets are incompatible with each other. For instance, despite light armor's lining also being tights, it can't be used interchangeably with heavy armor because the fabric's material needs adjustment based on the weight of the outer armor.
Then there are the weapons. Being a Weapon Master has many downsides, like needing too many custom-made weapons. Just the firearms alone require several pieces, not to mention the cold weapons. The most expensive is the N Metal Great Sword. The renown of N Metal needs no more words—this sword's maintenance costs are astronomical, even if it just gets a scratch.
Moreover, Deathstroke has various safe houses around the globe, where equipment needs to be outfitted, supplies need to be stocked, and sometimes they need to be destroyed or relocated. The amount spent on this is likely no less than on equipment.
Even so, he can still set aside a substantial amount of money for his family to maintain a decent lifestyle and prepare for a pension, which fully indicates how much he can earn. Being the world's number one mercenary isn't just for show.
Of course, it's not solely from him taking jobs. He has sponsors, though they're essentially paying protection money. To ensure their names are on Deathstroke's whitelist, they pay him a large sum every year, and he guarantees not to accept assassination jobs against them. This brings him decent income too—it's the benefit of being the top mercenary.
Overall, when calculating expenses, Deathstroke clearly realizes most of the money is spent on himself, and not much given to his family. Although they live quite well, compared to Deathstroke's income level, it's far from adequate.
"It's not that he'll realize how strong you are and know how much you earn," Shiller pointed out, "Don't you think making money from killing sounds unreliable?"
"What's unreliable about it?" Deathstroke couldn't help but ask.
"You probably use a deposit and final payment model, right? What if someone doesn't pay the final payment?"
"I would of course find a way to recover it myself."
"Of course, some you can recover, but aren't there some you can't? Like this time, even the middleman failed. What will you do?"
"This kind of thing isn't frequent." Deathstroke shook his head and said, "This time, it was mostly my own mistake. Being young again indeed made me somewhat overexcited, causing me to lose caution."
"But outsiders don't understand. In their eyes, if someone is bad enough to hire a killer, why wouldn't they also default? Most killers do dirty and tiring work, right?"
"That's indeed true," Deathstroke said, "It's an industry where only the top of the pyramid can have enough to eat; most are low-level cleaners or newcomers who don't last a year."
"Exactly," Shiller said, "People are more willing to believe that most doing this work are forced by circumstances. You're one of them too, right?"
"Actually, I really can be considered one." Deathstroke thought and said, "When I first went solo, although annoyed by people's nagging, it was mostly the side effects of the human modification I underwent. It made me incredibly aggressive, uncontrollable at the sight of blood. It's no longer a problem now."
"So why don't you tell him?" Shiller said, "I'm certain, given your situation, if you confess to him when he matures, he won't blame you. Why do you insist on hiding it, until it becomes an issue?"
"What else can I do?" Deathstroke became somewhat anxious, "I'm a first-time father too, without a good role model to learn from. How do I know what the right thing to do is?"
"Maintain that mindset," Shiller said, "You should tell him that. He will empathize with you."
"Really?"
"Objectively speaking, I think you're doing quite well as a father," Shiller said calmly, "Firstly, you provide them with ample material conditions, so they don't worry about money. Secondly, being home rarely is also a benefit, otherwise you couldn't ensure his childhood wouldn't be spent under excessive authority, potentially causing trauma from your control. Finally, you work in this profession, yet your wife and child survive so long, which fully proves you've tried hard to protect them. Additionally, you even manage to deceive your son—this level far exceeds the norm."
Deathstroke felt a little existential doubt hearing this. Reason told him that Shiller's words were not problematic: reaching such a level, although not a good father, still meets the passing line. But he felt something was off.
After thinking for a while, Deathstroke found that the uncomfortable feeling might stem from Shiller's attitude of "low morality." It's like saying "you're too kind, which is why you're so troubled," proving he's less socially constrained than Deathstroke, the killer. Specifically, it's a natural indifference: using a standard without moral constraint as the guideline, with no expectations of others. As long as the baseline is drawn low enough, everyone can be a good person.
However, this seemingly natural flawed person uses a regular perspective to view issues rather than having crazy ideas like those with psychopathy. Deathstroke thought that this contradiction is precisely what makes Shiller charming and is the main reason why others find him irresistible and curious.