CHAPTER 37: "Here We Go Again..."

*James (Krios), Outskirts of City of Shiruta, Kahndaq

It was strange.

Sitting on a broken chair leaning against an old fortification of the city he watched as peddlers shouted wares, shepherds herded livestock, and women drew water from the well. It was like he had traveled back in time but in reality, he had just walked a few miles from his temporary apartment past a few gas stations, cellphone stores, and a fair amount of fast food joints.

The stark contrast of the bustling modern if aesthetically ancient central portion of the city, to the poorer outskirts that looked like something from a medieval flick was still surprising for James.

Watching the poorer population walkabout was a glimpse into what life was like a few hundred years ago.

Though to the credit of Kahndaq, even here amongst the poorest of the nation everyone seemed fed and healthy. Sure there was a form of poverty, but compared to what James saw on a daily basis in Gotham, many of the poor were living decent lives with very little crime.

Sure crime existed, typically thievery or smuggling but the government was quick and eager to deliver its harsh punishment. The drug trade like everywhere existed in Kahndaq, but only the most desperate of criminals would resort to it. The Leader of the country had outlawed it with the sentence of death for any infraction. Literally, an infraction would bring an execution. Strict punishments and executions were the norm in the nation and making the executions public helped reinforce that. Whether this was an effective or a just way of governing no one knew for sure. But it certainly kept crime in fear of facing the wrath of the Leader.

Not that the ruling power of Kahndaq wasn't corruptible. You could bribe just about every official and military personnel in sight, within reason. The leader or deity, as some called him, of the nation while strict was willing to overlook a little corruption as long as it did not interfere with matters of the state or betterment of the nation.

It was a thin gray line many in the government toed but one that only the insane would cross. The few times the great 'Liberator' of Kahndaq had to remind them of the line usually resulted in the ashes of the offenders being swept off the streets.

Considering how James was here to help assassinate a general, you would think he would be more nervous.

Truthfully? He felt nothing but excitement and perhaps a little bit of naive wonder.

When he accepted the partnership with Deathstroke he did so out of desperation. The failed plan from the late Riddler had put him behind on so many things. So when offered another lucrative job that would take about a month he took it with few questions asked.

It would end up becoming quite an experience for him. Traveling from Gotham to Greece, then to Egypt allowed him to glimpse at the wider world he was in. The food, culture, and people were fascinating to see and a welcoming difference to life in Gotham. 

Not that he traveled in luxury. Deathstroke had arranged for him to hide away in a cargo plane carrying mail. It was a little cramp but considering how tired he was from injuries and the botched Riddler job, it did allow him to catch up on his sleep. Once he had arrived in Egypt he was left to walk or get an occasional ride from a nice truck driver, though then it would be completely on foot for the last phase of his journey.

Hell, he would be lying if he said he hated crossing the desert of the Sinai Peninsula and sneaking into a hostile foreign nation to pull an assassination.

Crossing the desert was hot, miserable, and an adventure he knew few of his peers could counter. The excitement of seeing a new part of the world and being part of something that mattered filled him with something he had been lacking for a long time.

Purpose.

Sure, for the past few months, he had been doing miscellaneous jobs to keep Aunt Crystal's treatments going. And the extra cash was helping to save up for college, but it all felt hollow. It felt like he was just going through the motions without the actual motivation. And make no mistake, he did love his aunt, and he did want to go to college, but there was something missing, something more he wanted.

This job he had taken had fulfilled that desire in him.

Sitting on his chair he leaned back as he balanced himself on the already strained wooden back legs.

He snorted, 'Looks like Cobblepot was right, I would have hated being a mobster.'

Last night as he stood on the balcony of his room he stared at the stars of this foreign land. He recognized some of the constellations but a few seemed different. Whether it was due to fewer pollutants in the air or because of the angle on Earth he was looking at, he found the heavens beautiful as usual, but with an added change.

He really needed to explore more of the world and see the sights they provided, see what the stars looked like in other parts of the world he lived in.

'It seems that if I continue this I am going to end up like my parents, doing mercenary jobs... maybe they liked the freedom and challenge this work gives?'

That thought both made him happy at the idea of following their footsteps, but also sad they were not around to see it.

He shook his head trying to clear the negative thoughts. He had a good if unconventional childhood, with aunts and a mother figure who loved him. There was no use in dwelling on the past if it just made him depressed. 

Speaking of mother figures, Jane had been irate with him for not calling for a few days. While they had never addressed his alter ego, he knew that she was not an idiot. A few days after the botched job in Gotham he had opened his private email to see a mass of voice messages.

"JAMES YOU BETTER RESPOND TO ME OR I AM GOING TO KICK YOUR A..."

"Hi James, its Jane, just wanting to check on you."

"YOU PUNK BETTER RESPOND OR SO HELP ME I WILL..."

"It has been a few days and I am worried, I know you are probably fine but I just want some confirmation..."

"YOU BETTER RESPOND SOON OR ELSE I AM CALLING OSWALD AND WILL START HUNTING YOU DOWN!"

It was rather sweet.

Jane almost never shouted and when she did it was often for comedic effect. Her shouty messages to James were her way of saying she hoped he was fine and that she was not worried.

It was the much calmer and normal messages that told him that she was not happy with him.

Before leaving the country he made it a point to call her which went fairly well. Her voice was calm but he could tell from the slight tremor occasionally she had been worried. They didn't talk about his actions in killing the cops, she typically avoided those conversations.

All she said was, "You did what you had to do, and you are safe. That is all that matters."

When asked where he was he gave no specifics. Just that he was away and doing some small job for a trustworthy friend. Mind you, the job was not small, Deathstroke was not trustworthy or his friend, but he had been honest about being away for a while.

To his surprise, he saw he had a message from Barbra as well, asking if he was alright since the last she saw him he was at the mall.

'What do I even say?!?' he thought exasperated.

It was already a little weird considering going on a date with the Commissioner's daughter. Besides being directly responsible for murdering her father's co-workers it would be a relationship that could not be. Who would have thought that turning into a wanted murderer would make dating so difficult?

And then recently a bigger problem came to light.

She is Batgirl!

He was well on his way to killing his first vigilante when it clicked in him who she was. That of course had led to panicked thoughts of if she was investigating him. Only to calm down at the fact that didn't make sense. If she was investigating him she would have locked him up immediately, plus he had been fairly careful with keeping his identity under wraps. No, the attraction they both felt towards each other seemed natural.

But what to do now?

Before leaving for his current seated arrangement against an old palisade he sent a simple message back to her saying he was fine and hoped she was as well.

'Nice, simple, I don't give anything away... I am in the clear.'

Those were his thoughts until he got a message back a half hour later asking if he would like to grab dinner with her.

'You should go out with her, she is attractive and a good conversationalist...'

His inner voice, one which had been silent since his mental breakdown a few months ago following the murder of the cop. It had both mocked and comforted him at the time and also assured him that his mental state was in a 'great' place.

'She could also be useful... she is attached to Batman. Think what could you glean about Gotham's most powerful figure?'

James for the most part ignored the voice since the idea was insane. Bad enough she was the commissioner's daughter but being connected to Batman was a guarantee his identity would be revealed. The smart choice would be to avoid any cops, vigilantes, or heroes in both his personal and professional life. Getting involved with her would bring nothing but drama, pain, and most likely his imprisonment.

'Worst comes to worst, you kill her, hide the body, and run away to Bermuda...'

"What the f&8k." James muttered.

He really needed to consider talking with someone. It seemed unhealthy to go from wanting to date a woman to planning to kill her.

He laughed sarcastically at that idea, "Yep, next time I am in Gotham..."

A rumble of vehicles broke him from his thoughts as he watched a military convoy of desert facade covered trucks rumble past the palisade he was leaning against and down the road. The convoy continued for a quarter mile down till it stopped in the middle of some shacks and broken stalls.

Out of the covered trucks, Kahndaq soldiers of various ethnic backgrounds, armed with AK-47s and M-16s surrounded the perimeter. The men began ushering the locals away, sometimes with a firm push, at other times with a hit from their rifle butt. From the vehicles, a man dressed in an elaborate officer uniform watched through his sunglasses as his men cleared the area. Once they finished the officer walked into a small shack, two of his soldiers followed with the rest, maybe 3 dozen or so meander, guarding the shack.

"Hmmm, guess I can get started."

James stood up and stretched his back. A few pops sounded as his spine realigned. Reaching down, he grunted as he grabbed a brown burlap sack. The bag made a jumbled noise of metallic clinking as he hefted it over his shoulder.

He started to walk down the dirt path from his seat towards the shack when the rhythmic beats of a black helicopter roared over him.

"Shit," he muttered, startled by the loud machine that had just gone over his head.

He watched as the helicopter circled around the convoy, dust and dirt swirled around in the air making visibility difficult.

'That might be useful...' James thought calculatingly. The dust would make his approach much easier and hide his presence more.

Then again, he had been warned by Deathstroke that it would be best to eliminate his target before the meeting took place. The mercenary had not specified who the guests the General was meeting would be, only that it would make his job more difficult and risky. But that he should proceed and eliminate the guest as well to leave no witnesses.

Who would have thought that half a year ago James would be worried about punching gangbangers, and now he was feeling confident attacking a military convoy in the nation of a mythical superhuman.

The black helicopter, an unmarked UH-60 black hawk if the movies were correct, finally landed itself on the outskirts of the perimeter the Kahndaq soldiers had set up. A few men garbed in black combat gear and M-4 rifles jumped out giving cover to two individuals. The individuals, a black man, and a caucasian woman wore loose windbreakers, slacks, sunglasses, and hats. Otherwise, they looked like any sort of generic government, corporate, or criminal lackeys that you would get in a bargain bin.

The new arrivals walked over to the shack and after a brief conversation with the soldiers outside the two individuals walked in with their black-clad guards taking positions next to the Kahndaq soldiers.

From the city, voices, and speakers began singing the evening prayers. The sun had begun to dip casting shadows and making the light less pronounced. With the dust and dirt still up in the air from the helicopter and dusk approaching, James felt fairly good about beginning his mission.

He sighed softly, "Here we go again..."