Mercenaries and assassins live in the moment. Their blood-soaked livelihoods make them crave escapism more than most criminals, indulging in the wealth they acquire. If they could move freely in bustling American cities, why would they hole up in remote, impoverished corners of Southeast Asia?
Before, they didn't have a choice. Now, they'd certainly choose Gotham — a city even the Federal Bureau of Investigation couldn't penetrate. Where else could be safer?
Still, they knew very well how dangerous Gotham could be. Most of them settled down in the island hotels via personal introductions. Roy treated all Gotham's visitors equally, regardless of their background or purpose. The city government even provided special cars for these mercenaries and assassins to facilitate their spending sprees within the city.
Many famous assassins tasted the sweet life here, spending their holidays in Gotham after big jobs. The influx grew continuously, resulting in the expansion of the Mercenary Activity Center. Now it was a comprehensive entertainment venue complete with hotels, nightclubs, casinos, and shopping centers.
Recently, the dramatic climate change had the Gothamites on the brink of being sun-dried. Tourists, on the other hand, heartily soaked up the sun at the beach. It was there in the Mercenary Activity Center hotel's beach that Shiller found Deathstroke.
Deathstroke wore his mask as usual but was shirtless with beach shorts on. His age was uncertain from his body alone, but his scarless, robust skin was far from ordinary.
There weren't many people on the beach since the morning sun was still weak, having just rained the night before. Thus, Deathstroke easily spotted Shiller and Pamela approaching.
The trio could easily be mistaken as friends who happened to bump into each other while vacationing. Deathstroke propped himself up from his lounging chair after spotting them. Shiller paused in front of the chair and stuck his umbrella in the sand, engaging with an air of polite, restrained familiarity.
"Did that woman named Talya find you?"
"She barged into Gotham University."
"Foolish." Deathstroke quipped, holding onto a knee with one hand while simultaneously reaching for his juice. He took a sip before continuing, "I knew her and her father were not very bright, but I didn't expect such a combination of rash and stupid bravery."
"Have you mentioned me to Talya?"
"It was to her father, and she might have been eavesdropping." Deathstroke shrugged. Just like a carefree hitman off duty, he exuded a low-key, laissez-faire air. He took another sip of his juice before continuing, "You must let me have a reason to explain to everyone about the world's numerous illogical changes. They just need an answer."
"Has the Assassin's Union been watching you?"
Deathstroke looked slightly surprised at Shiller, "I didn't expect that you know them. It seems you are old in this game too. I also had dealings with them in my youth. But recently, it seems that the Old Devil has taken a particular interest in me."
"Because you killed some important figure?"
"You were the one who killed him; I was merely the gun." Deathstroke exhaled lightly, "This was well beyond what you paid me for. I was hoping you would bring me more jobs. But as it stands, this was a failed investment."
"So you ratted on me?"
"I never reveal information about my employers to anyone."
To Shiller's surprise, Deathstroke denied his claim. His denial appeared truthful, leading Shiller to deduce, "So, the Assassin's Union was watching me all along. Your actions only solidified their suspicions about my influence on the world."
"Ra's al Ghul might not be smart, but he has lived long enough." Deathstroke's tone slowed down, carefully disclosing bits of information, "Those who have witnessed history are typically more sensitive to its trajectory. He realized that some events have been happening that shouldn't have."
"What he minds is that someone beat him in changing the world." Deathstroke shook his head slightly, "Though I can't understand what those lunatics dreaming of a new world are thinking, they seem to take this matter seriously."
"You should have informed me about this earlier," Shiller tilted his head and began, "Instead of letting me figure it out when his reckless daughter barged into Gotham without even realizing her true mission."
"I couldn't say." Deathstroke spoke, using his hand to snap his fingers lightly, "We are not that close, and I have paid my debt to you."
"So you must have visited the Assassin's Union and realized that they were more trouble than you anticipated, thus you changed your mind."
"Please." Deathstroke raised his hand dismissively, "Get to know your adversary's mind, Professor. I am simply a hitman who gets jobs done for money. However much more you attempt to extract from me will be useless."
"You must have a family, right?"
"Now that's a cliché." Deathstroke didn't appear worried a bit. He looked at Shiller and stated, "You're not the type for threats, Professor. It's beneath your stature."
"What I mean is, William Denchette, do you remember him?"
At this, Deathstroke paused. Shiller calmly continued, "You killed him while the Federal Bureau of Investigation was conducting a misconduct investigation on me. You stuffed him in a box. What grudge did you have against him?"
"Is there anything you don't know?" Deathstroke straightened his body, his attitude finally growing serious. He adjusted his lounge chair, leaned back on it and asked, "Can't I be killing him to avenge you?"
"You're just a hitman who gets things done for money." Shiller flung the phrase back at him.
"Perhaps for you, William was just a simple-minded student, correct?" Deathstroke questioned.
Shiller didn't flinch from the query, conceding with a nod, "That's why I was stunned when I saw him in the Federal Bureau of Investigation. His capabilities were not exceptional enough to distinguish him at the internship academy, let alone to hold a position in the FBI. He was an opportunist."
"Then you should have realized that he must have used some unscrupulous means to work his way up to his current position."
Shiller frowned: he didn't have detailed memories about William. But previously, he had willingly initiated his departure from the FBI to expose his alleged misconduct. William seemed to be mixed in this mess, appearing to be an accomplice or subordinate of Amanda.
Ultimately, William's death was tragic; his body was shoved into a cramped box and put on public display in the FBI base, a major slap in the face for the Bureau.
Beyond that, Shiller couldn't recall much else about William.
"His real name isn't William Denchette."
Deathstroke started speaking, "His birth name is William Drenchette Walsh. His father is William Walsh, head of the ACTH Test Team for the US Government."