Chapter 4559

In many African countries, being surrounded by children asking for money is not uncommon. Because there is no compulsory education, most children are idle during childhood, and they easily join gangs and learn to steal. And those among them who are bolder will go do these things—calling it begging, but in reality, it's a kind of soft robbery.

These half-grown children are a big trouble for tourists. They don't have the appearance of adults yet, but they already possess a certain amount of strength. Once surrounded by them, if you take action, local people will definitely come to find trouble, and if you don't take action, you can't get rid of them. For the vulnerable groups among tourists, it's like a pack of hyenas.

Provoking Deathstroke and Shiler should have been the retribution for this bunch of little devils. But in reality, Deathstroke obediently gave the money—anyone with eyes could see that his money didn't come from a legitimate source.

Deathstroke didn't have any small change—for dollars, a few dozen dollars isn't small change, but large denomination bills—he didn't even have denominations of a few dozen, all were green Franklins.

People's impression of dollars is mostly hundred-dollar bills, but the source of this impression itself is not normal. Those clean bills that appear in Hollywood series and are neatly stacked in boxes are either taken by bank robbers or taken by killers. This fully shows that such money is generally dirty money.

Deathstroke didn't even bother to act anymore. The bills he took out were as clean as if they had just been printed. This meant that this money hadn't passed through a bank but had reached his hands through special channels.

Without a doubt, this attracted the attention of some people. The children might not understand, but the interest groups behind them immediately noticed Deathstroke and Shiler who had suddenly appeared in Cairo.

Don't look at Egypt as not being very developed, but its geographical location is truly too subtle. It's the edge zone of small-country conflicts and the central battlefield of great-power games. It's much more chaotic than the home territories of many developed countries. The intensity of local spy wars and political games can also be considered a small king of involution in Africa.

Because of this, Deathstroke's behavior of throwing money around soon caused a chain reaction. When they were standing in front of the car rental shop, two people walked out of the alley opposite. One of them made a gesture to the boss of the car rental shop, and the boss went into the room. While Deathstroke and Shiler turned their heads to look over there.

"Where are you from?" The other party's English wasn't very standard, and their dress and appearance were also like locals.

"The Red Sea," Deathstroke said.

"Who is your employer?" He asked again.

Deathstroke frowned; as a mercenary, he obviously didn't like this kind of topic very much. At this time, Shiler looked at the other party and said: "Just like you are from the Greater Cairo area, we are from Washington."

Now it was the other party's turn to frown. Deathstroke glanced at Shiler; this answer was very special. General CIA agents would have cover identities, usually playing the role of backpackers from all over the world, saying they were from Australia and traveling around the world.

It wasn't that there were no real Washington tourists coming to travel, so saying they were Washingtonians wasn't strange. But the key was the previous sentence. Thinking of this, Deathstroke suddenly had a flash of inspiration: the person in front of him didn't seem to be a Cairene.

Before, when they were surrounded by those children asking for money, they also used the local language to talk. Of course, Egypt doesn't use Egyptian anymore, but Arabic. But Arabic is also divided into many types; the accent of Arabic in the Cairo area is quite special, and it's still easy to distinguish the differences.

The person in front of him didn't speak Arabic, but the pronunciation of his English sounded different from that group of children before, which proved that he might not be a local either.

Shiler saying this was telling him: We know you aren't a Cairene. Besides, the Washington we are talking about isn't a real location, but more like a reference to the U. S. government.

Young, but exceptionally cunning and experienced—this was Deathstroke's judgment of Shiler. He was very good at dealing with this kind of situation, performing exceptionally skillfully, which could be described as having more than enough to spare.

Deathstroke, because of his profession, usually wouldn't act so aggressively. He would rather say a few peaceful words to bluff his way through, or stuff some money, and if that didn't work, he would directly withdraw, and wouldn't waste words with this bunch of local snakes.

This is the difference between agents and mercenaries. To be precise, the difference between agents of great powers and freelance mercenaries. Even if this mercenary has already become the world's number one, sometimes, the deterrent power is still a notch lower than the CIA. If you want to blame someone, blame the CIA for being too notorious.

When the other party heard Shiler say this, their momentum indeed weakened a bit. They walked over and spread their hands, saying: "Listen, we aren't here to find trouble. No matter which direction of the Red Sea you landed from, you should have heard about what happened in Hurghada. That's very distressing, isn't it?"

"This is also something we didn't expect," Shiler said. "A full blockade is no good for anyone. People fishing in troubled waters won't stop their actions just because the army is on the streets."

"I completely agree with you. In fact, we came here to seek support..."

Before he finished speaking, Shiler and Deathstroke rushed to the right synchronously, one rolling to hide behind a car nearby. With a few "whoosh" sounds, several blood holes appeared on the man's body, and he fell weakly in front of the door.

The group of people who came this time had a local Cairo accent, but they obviously acted more unfriendly. "Get out, Yankees! You aren't welcome here! Isn't causing such a big mess in Hurghada enough for you?!"

Deathstroke gave Shiler a look; they really didn't need to have a firefight with this bunch of people here. Killing them wouldn't bring any benefits, just increase equipment wear and waste bullets for no reason.

But this was where the difference between mercenaries and agents showed again. Mercenaries are responsible for their own profits and losses; the better the equipment, the higher the cost of maintenance and care. A mercenary with Deathstroke's income has to be frugal. Shiler is different; all maintenance costs for agents are public funds. Moreover, the U. S. government's investment in spy wars and agent operations is unimaginably large; for the sake of equipment reliability, they even carry out mandatory elimination on an hourly basis. Using one and throwing one away isn't just talk.

And as an ace agent, all advanced equipment is supplied to him first. There is no concept of wasting bullets in Shiler's mind, even if it's special custom bullets whose price per gram far exceeds gold, he has as many as he wants. He rarely avoids battle because of "insufficient returns."

Shiler raised his hand, making a gesture to draw his gun, and the other party shot directly as if it were an instinctive reaction. But Shiler didn't actually draw that revolver, but reached out to snatch the gun the moment the other party raised it.

He grabbed the other party's wrist with both hands and lifted it upward violently. "Bang!" Then he pulled the other party in front of him to block a shot from his companion behind. "Bang!" Taking advantage of the panic of the people behind, he kicked the person in front away, and then hit the face of the one behind with a straight punch. Taking advantage of the other party staggering backward, he snatched the gun away. "Bang! Bang!"

Two shots solved two people. Shiler glanced at the pistol in his hand, a plain Desert Eagle. However, it couldn't represent that Israel stood behind these people. The mixed use of equipment in the Middle East is truly too severe; military standard, police standard, ordinary civilian version, modified version, and even special pistols can appear in anyone's hands. This alone can't prove anything.

Shiler looked down to inspect the pistol. Unfortunately, this pistol was a bit old, the condition wasn't very good, and there weren't many bullets left. Obviously, it couldn't serve as a substitute for the revolver, but at least it had the value of a few shots, and could barely be used.

While Deathstroke stood on the side observing Shiler, he had to admit that the series of actions Shiler just performed embodied his excellent professional quality. Quiet, swift. Violence always sheds its primitive ugly appearance due to restraint and evolves into a kind of elegant art.

"Let's go," Shiler looked at him and said. "Find a hotel to stay in first, and then see what the situation is at the museum. I have a premonition that it's not just us eyeing that place."

Deathstroke followed behind him, still having some thoughts of small talk, but he also knew that Shiler had already entered a professional combat state; if he were to pull him back to the family channel again, he would likely get shot. So he said: "Although I don't want to fight them, you did a really good job just now."

"Why don't you want to fight them?"

"No need," Deathstroke said. "If I take action, I might make the scene very bloody. That's very easy to make some people's tense nerves snap completely; if they attack me regardless of everything, the cost might far exceed expectations."

"No wonder you can earn money," Shiler said while reloading his revolver. "I didn't think about controlling costs in this regard."

"Yeah, after all, you have a gun with infinite bullets."

"Don't mention this gun," Shiler said irritably. "This thing is a signal flare. Once I fire, all of Egypt will attack me. It's really troublesome to death."

Actually, Deathstroke couldn't quite understand Shiler's complaints before. Because it was obvious that he stood on Diana's side. Deathstroke's combat style is open and closed, very swift. Although he is the world's number one mercenary and assassin, his assassination style is more like: as long as I kill everyone, no one will discover I've infiltrated.

Before starting a fight, he will shrewdly calculate resources and then avoid battle. But when encountering that kind of battle that must be fought, he won't care too much. Most of the time, he just swings his sword and goes up, hacking and slashing like cutting melons and vegetables, and then leaves gracefully and calmly.

So he didn't feel there was any problem with this revolver that Diana provided to Shiler. This is indeed a very good weapon. After firing a shot, the enemies will all pee their pants, and it's also very good at creating panic and chaos.

However, having just truly witnessed Shiler take action, Deathstroke had to admit that this revolver really wasn't his style. What Shiler performed was true "assassination": using the simplest and most effective actions to knock down and kill the other party, striving to avoid any "big scenes." Even the angle of the pistol execution was carefully selected—firing from the back of the neck toward the oblique upper side, there is a probability that the less powerful pistol bullet will get stuck on the hard skull, which will reduce the bleeding amount to the minimum. Shiler did exactly that, and both shots were successful. This proves that he is experienced and never misses.

For such a person, holding a megaphone is indeed too painful. Deathstroke could see that Shiler was reloading the revolver now, seemingly still wanting to find if this gun had a mode switching option.

But unfortunately, this Colt Python wasn't a moldable talent. It could be seen that when Vulcan made this thing, he really wanted to help his sister. The target he envisioned might be Hera or Zeus, divine power bullets, divine power excitation. Even if he couldn't kill the other party, at least he had to make them feel pain. This led to the gun having no second mode at all.

Oh, no, there still was one. Deathstroke suddenly remembered that when the previous Shiler used it, he could stack six bullets together to fire, making the gun sound like a bombing. But it was better not to tell Shiler, otherwise, he would be even more desperate.