Actually, what Deathstroke has always been conflicted about is not just the identity of "father" or "assassin," but the transition between these two identities.
Deathstroke didn't form a family to disguise himself. Many infiltration-style assassins do this because they need to navigate within the rules of society. It's like wearing a sheepskin to blend into a flock; taking a family with you makes it seem more authentic. But Deathstroke didn't need to do this; this was not his approach.
He formed a family simply because he wanted to. He might not love deeply, but he does love. He loves his wife and son and wants to live with them. So he did just that.
However, he has always been trying to shape himself into a symbol of violence. This causes him to be unable to adapt to a peaceful family life. Violence is already etched into his genes. To settle down and be a good husband and father is relatively challenging for him.
Initially, it was the aftereffects of human modification that made him irritable from time to time; he had to stay away from his family and kill to vent. Later it became a habit. He couldn't stay at home for a few days before needing to leave, otherwise he'd feel extremely uncomfortable.
This resulted in him being unable to enjoy family life. On one hand, he loves, but on the other hand, he finds it difficult to stay involved for long. He wants control, but he also often needs to distance himself. This is the most challenging emotional problem he has to resolve within himself.
But now, Deathstroke has a new perspective. It seems he could also adopt an infiltration style.
First, the manic aftereffects brought by human modification have long since dissipated. To be precise, they've been cured for decades. Now his killing is not driven by instinct but purely by receiving commissions for money. Sometimes he doesn't even like taking jobs that involve a lot of killing; it's too exhausting and the wear is too high. While his body isn't old, he's a bit mentally tired.
Second, theoretically, if he maintains his previous elderly appearance, it could lower others' vigilance. After all, most people tend to think of elderly bodies as frail. But his overly strong body makes anyone who sees it feel something is off. When people see an overly robust young person, they may feel that youth is great, or consider him a professional athlete. But seeing such a strong white-haired elder, they'll wonder, "Is he even human?" It would naturally catch a few more glances. The cautious would already be on guard. This would make sneaking in impossible.
But now, having regained a youthful appearance, if he doesn't wear tight clothing that highlights his muscles, he just looks like a well-built athlete. Plus, since he actually played football and understands quarterback knowledge, pretending to be a football player is smooth. No one would find it odd. This provides hardware support for an infiltration approach.
Lastly, although there is a big age difference between him and his wife now, and Mrs. Wilson takes good care of herself, she looks just like a middle-aged woman. An older wife and younger husband isn't unheard of. What's wrong with his wife eating well?
The only issue is being too close in age to Joseph. If it doesn't work out, they can only change from biological father and son to stepfather and stepson. Luckily, Joseph looks relatively like his mother; outsiders wouldn't be able to tell.
This way, he won't have to switch between being Deathstroke and Mr. Wilson. He can settle in an area with many commissions, kill in the morning, and be back home for lunch.
As for not being an assassin, Deathstroke hasn't considered it. Primarily because, if he's not an assassin, he wouldn't do anything else; he certainly couldn't actually play football, right? With his cyborg physique, if he got on the field, it would be no different than an assassin.
Deathstroke was pondering this when he saw Dr. Hall already coming out. People immediately gathered around him. Deathstroke also picked up a glass of wine and walked over. Because he was tall and his appearance was striking, he caught Hall's attention right away.
"I must apologize for dropping in uninvited, doctor." Deathstroke was no longer pessimistic about his future life and actively started to disguise himself, "I am Slade Wilson from New Orleans. My family runs a small textile factory, and I've always been interested in textile art. I heard your wife is knowledgeable about ancient Egyptian weaving culture..."
Dr. Hall, of course, noticed that this young man wasn't on his guest list. However, Deathstroke's initial frankness won his favor. Plus, considering his youth and wealth, Hall merely smiled and said:
"Xiayala is still in the back doing her makeup. He will certainly be pleased that someone appreciates his textile art. You two can have a good chat..."
Seeing his approach was effective, Deathstroke went a step further, nearly squeezing beside Dr. Hall. This was somewhat rude, but because he was young, onlookers just smiled and no one minded. After all, everyone was rash like this in high school and college, so it's understandable.
Of course, Deathstroke hadn't forgotten his primary task. While chatting, he was also observing attentively and listening carefully. However, within his scope of vision, he truly didn't see any suspicious characters.
Even though Deathstroke preferred direct violence, it didn't mean he lacked observation skills. In fact, his instantaneous observation ability was outstanding. It was precisely because the situation was quickly and thoroughly analyzed that tactical countermeasures could be formulated. This was the key factor in him becoming a tactical master. But he didn't detect any danger within this space.
Deathstroke almost immediately thought that this meant the assassin's plan was different from theirs. He doesn't seem to want to infiltrate and blend into the crowd for a fatal strike on Hall. Why isn't he doing so?
Deathstroke began to ponder. But no matter how he thought about it, doing so would be the best strategy. Because Dr. Hall was just an ordinary person, taking a bullet would almost certainly be fatal. Simply rushing in during a crowd and firing one shot would complete the assassination, so why not?
Unable to comprehend this, Deathstroke began reconsidering from another direction. This afternoon, someone broke into the house and set off the alarm. What was the intruder coming for?
If they were scouting in advance, they should have infiltrated. If not intending to infiltrate, there was no need to scout the house and alert everyone. This was entirely contradictory.
Unless the killer deliberately triggered the alarm system, intending for Dr. Hall to cancel the party amidst suspicion and paranoia. After all, an intrusion at home is no trivial matter. Although canceling the party might offend many guests, compared to thoroughly investigating the intrusion, it's not as important.
Deathstroke himself is an assassin, so he quickly pieced together the logic from across the situation. Getting Hall to cancel the party, the aim being to leave him alone. It's likely because the killer didn't want to cause too much of a commotion. Just like when Deathstroke receives assignments from employers requesting "quiet action," letting the target die silently is what the killer desires.
However, Hall did not cancel the party. This means the killer might have to change timing. But Shiller's side received news of an assassination attempt tonight, which means the killer didn't change the time.
You can't kill someone publicly, and you can't change the time. There's only one possibility left—remote sniper.
A flash of all the scenes he had seen from that Building swept across Deathstroke's eyes instantly. It's a perfect sniping position, and if the shot were fired from there, the target would be… the window on the left side!
Hall was already walking toward that window.
Deathstroke lunged forward, knocking Hall to the ground. With a loud crash, the entire floor-to-ceiling window shattered into pieces. Fragments of glass burst forth like a white mist, like startled waves. Guests screamed, fleeing in all directions.
But merely knocking Hall down wasn't enough. They were still within the sniper's line of fire. Relying on his professional skills, Deathstroke quickly flipped up, grabbed Hall's arm, and pulled him behind cover.
When he pulled, he felt something was off. The person was heavier and harder to pull than he expected. However, this feeling lasted only a moment, and he quickly dragged Hall behind cover.
"Oh God, you saved me!" Hall said.
Before he could ask anything, Deathstroke voluntarily confessed, "Mr. Rodriguez sent me to protect you. He said your old enemy isn't dead, and he might try to attack you. That's why I sneaked in to protect you. I didn't expect he'd actually dare to act."
"My God, it's lucky you were prepared," Hall said with lingering fear, "Otherwise, I would have been..."
Before he finished, a scream came from the back of the hall. Hall hurriedly said, "It's Xiayala, it's my wife!"
Deathstroke quickly grabbed him and said, "You wait here, I'll go check it out!"
With those words, he rolled over directly to the side-rear of the hall, looking toward the passageway, but saw nothing. He drew his pistol, half-crouching as he approached the passage.
Bang! A soft gunshot, but it didn't escape Deathstroke's ears. It meant Shiller fired.
Deathstroke ran towards the source of the gunshot sound. It was the doorway to the back hall. As he ran over, a figure just rushed out the back door. The person moved with incredible speed, disappearing with a flick. There was another figure hiding behind the bushes outside the back door. Deathstroke recognized it should be Shiller, but he hadn't shown himself—it shot while hidden outside, uncertain if it hit. A woman crouched in the corner of the room, appearing somewhat frightened.
Two killers? Deathstroke narrowed his eyes. No wonder Shiller wanted to bring him along. Dr. Hall surely had many enemies.
These two killers were obviously not from the same group. Otherwise, they wouldn't coordinate so poorly. If they belonged to the same crew, the correct process should be: infiltrating the party, killing Mrs. Hall from a good position first, then sniping Hall after drawing him over. This order was completely off. Thus, it could only be separate, non-cooperative groups.
As Deathstroke was about to say something, Shiller had already turned to chase the killer. Hall had already rushed over. He embraced his wife. Deathstroke heard the woman referred to as Xiayala murmur something softly in Hall's arms. It was definitely not English, nor did it sound like Arabic. Deathstroke couldn't quite identify the language.
If they were Egyptian, they should logically speak Arabic. But Deathstroke knew Arabic too. Even though Arabic accents vary from region to region, he could understand the gist, at least a few words. What these two were speaking, he couldn't comprehend at all.
Finally, the couple realized there were others present. Hall quickly turned back and said, "Thank you so much! If it weren't for you, we might have been... Oh my, forgive my rudeness, my wife was scared. I probably need to..."
Deathstroke gestured, allowing the two to leave. Hall hurriedly led his wife upstairs. However, Deathstroke didn't leave. He climbed the outer wall to the roof terrace, then jumped to the adjacent balcony. From there, he could hear the conversation coming from the bedroom.
This time it was very clear. They were definitely not speaking Arabic, nor were they speaking any language Deathstroke knew. However, Deathstroke memorized the pronunciation, planning to find someone to translate later.