Chapter 959: Schiller's Blade (Part 1)

Scott was stunned for a moment after hearing this, and then he lowered his voice and said, "Are you crazy? You will die!"

As his hand tightened, Schiller had difficulty breathing. He said intermittently, "So... you must make a decision now. Bet that your hand, which is shaking more than mine, will not hurt the trachea and artery when you stab my neck with a sharp saber..."

"Aren't you afraid that I will really kill you?!" Scott asked with gritted teeth.

"You won't do that. As an experienced agent, you know better than me, ahem..." Schiller took another breath and continued, "He will stand opposite you and try to communicate with you, precisely because your knife is against my neck. If I die, you can only pray that the crocodile monster is not hungry now."

Scott's fingers were obviously trembling. He saw that after subduing all the agents around him, the terrible monster walked towards him.

Although he was an elite agent who had served for many years, for so many years, the opponents he had dealt with were limited to all kinds of vicious or cunning ordinary people, not this kind of monster beyond common sense.

Even in a city like Gotham, Killer Croc's appearance is intimidating enough, as can be seen from the fact that he can't even find a job as a gangster thug. Even for the Gotham people who don't care about life and death, Killer Croc's appearance is a bit too advanced.

Watching the tall monster coming towards him, Scott tried to take a few deep breaths and forced his brain to calm down, hoping that he could control his arms and stop shaking.

Just as Schiller said, hostages are only valuable when they are alive. Now the consequence of his shaking hands may be one corpse and two lives.

"If you don't have experience in this area, do as I say." Schiller swallowed his saliva and said in a dry voice: "Hold the knife in your hand, stab it directly from three centimeters behind the scar, and then pull it out immediately."

As Batman and Killer Croc approached step by step, Scott knew that he had no choice.

Before he took action, he glanced at Batman, and the moment Batman caught his eyes, he blurted out a syllable:

"No..."

"Ugh!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Instantly, blood splattered, and Batman, who rushed to Schiller, had a bright red scar on his dark chest armor, like the sunset river in Gotham that was gradually swallowed by darkness at sunset.

At this moment, the soil in the dark underground room collapsed heavily, and Batman found that he was standing on the bridge, and under his feet was the Gotham River under the sunset.

This tributary that flows into the sea through Gotham is always more humid and turbid than other rivers, because too many dead bones are buried under the hidden mud and sand, and never see the light of day.

Batman remembered that the last time he had so many fantasies about blood was when he was standing in a dark alley and saw the pearl necklace falling to the ground.

That reminded him of the heavy snow in Gotham in winter and the moon hanging high in the sky.

At this time, he saw that the river was foggy. Soon, the thick fog blocked all vision. The slight sound of the smoke bomb woke Batman up. At this time, the chair in front of him was empty, and the kidnappers and hostages were nowhere to be found.

Killer Croc coughed twice, waved his hand to clear the fog in front of him and said: "This cunning guy actually used a smoke bomb?! Batman, are you okay? You..."

Batman, who was standing in place, shook his head vigorously. Killer Croc's eyes fell on his arm. Even through the cloth of the clothes, it can be seen that Batman's arm muscles are very tight and have begun to tremble slightly.

"Waylon, Waylon..." Batman suddenly spoke, he turned to look at Killer Croc, stared at him with a burning gaze, and then said: "You can smell the blood, right? Follow this smell and catch up with them, quickly!" Killer Croc hesitated, then shrugged his nose and said: "There is indeed some smell, let me see... It should be this way!" After that, he pointed in a direction, and Batman rushed over without thinking, but as soon as he rushed into the passage, he found that a burst of thick smoke was pouring out of the passage. He didn't bring an oxygen mask, so he had to retreat back to the room again. Killer Croc looked inside and was choked. He coughed twice and said, "Damn, they are really smart. The most feared thing in this closed passage is the thick smoke. Moreover, it will make my sense of smell fail. I can't smell anything now..."

"Bang!"

Batman punched the wall and said in a trembling voice: "The wound just now may have injured the artery or trachea. First aid must be given immediately."

"Arterial bleeding may still be saved, but if the trachea is injured, a large amount of blood will flow into the trachea, causing mechanical asphyxiation. If the trachea is completely blocked, the heart will stop beating in no more than one minute, and within three minutes, death will be inevitable."

"Find him... Find him!!!!"

Batman turned around and rushed out of the room from another way. When his brain, which almost condensed all the wisdom in the universe, began to run at the highest speed, time seemed to slow down.

At the beginning, when Venom parasitized Batman's body, it was completely unable to defeat Batman's willpower, so it had almost no room to play, and failed to show the characteristics of the symbiote on Batman, such as taking over the host's body, condensing armor, high-speed recovery, etc.

The properties of the gray fog are completely different from those of Venom, so Batman did not realize that Schiller's ability to turn into gray fog came from the same symbiote as Venom.

He thought that this ability, like Constantine's magic, needed to be activated and controlled manually.

Previously, Batman had written about Constantine's weaknesses. As long as he broke his limbs before he cast a spell, or directly made him unable to make a sound or move, most of the magic would not be able to be cast successfully.

The weakness of the wizard has always been their body. Once the body is severely damaged and can no longer perform precise movements, it is easy to lose all the way and lose the possibility of a comeback.

By analogy, if Schiller was just in a bad mental state before and the agents found the right time, then now, his severely injured body may mean that he has completely lost the ability to resist and is in great danger.

The reason why Schiller revealed his identity as the organizer of the Central American Revolution when he was arrested by the agents was probably to cover up Alfred. He may have felt that his exposure was inevitable, so it would be better to directly take on an important identity to protect the safety of important comrades.

Now, Batman understands that he is not racing with the agents, but racing with time, or racing with the speed of Schiller's life loss.

On the other side, Schiller covered his neck and sat down on one side of the passage. Scott tore the hem of his clothes into strips to bandage Schiller.

"You are more nervous than I thought, Mr. Agent." Schiller pressed the wound and wrapped the bandage. He said, "If your hand shakes one more time, we will meet in hell."

Scott cursed, and then said, "You are the craziest lunatic I have ever seen! I really don't understand, what on earth do you want to do?!"

"Me?" Schiller pretended to wrap the bandage, and then used the gray fog to heal most of the wounds, leaving only some superficial wounds to continue bleeding. He sat in the dark passage, his back against the cold and dry wall, looking up at the ceiling and said:

"Mr. Agent, I have to say that the concentration of the truth serum you used is very high. Don't you think now is a good time for interrogation?"

"Fuck the interrogation!" Scott looked at Schiller a little collapsed and said, "Is it time for interrogation now? That damn crocodile man, and that psychopath dressed as a bat, what's wrong with them?"

"Why are they chasing us? How can we leave here?" Scott kept taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself down.

However, the environment in the underground passage is not suitable for human survival. Being in this environment for a long time will bring great pressure to people's emotions. Scott feels that his senses are magnified, and any slight disturbance will make him feel nervous.

"Don't be nervous, you should relax, just like me." Schiller took out a cigarette from his suit pocket. Scott's eyes widened, but Schiller shook his head and said, "Where is the thing you used to light the fire just now?"

"Light a cigarette for me, sir, so that I can recover quickly, and then follow you to leave this hellhole as you wish." Schiller still had some difficulty speaking. He spoke very fast, but the pauses between sentences were very long. With the light of the cigarette, Scott saw that his hand holding the cigarette was shaking violently.

"How do you feel?" Scott glanced at the blood on his neck, and then said, "You'd better not die here, you'd better not..."

"Don't worry, I won't die." Schiller coughed hard, and in an instant, the blood completely soaked the bandage and overflowed from the wound again. His voice was hoarse and trembling, just like the drug addict Scott often saw.

"It's just that the large dose of barbiturates caused some spasms in my bronchial tubes and difficulty breathing. In addition, my heart rate is also a little abnormal, and my body temperature has dropped by about two degrees. If you can get a shot of adrenaline, I think I will be better."

Just as Scott was about to speak, Schiller continued quickly: "But I have to say that this drug, as a drug interrogation, does make me feel very relaxed. My brain is urging me to say something..."

"What are you going to say?" Scott finally recovered a little. He sat opposite Schiller, watching the flickering of the cigarette in his hand, and said: "How did you organize and lead the revolution in Central America?"

"Don't mention those boring things." Schiller shook his head and put the cigarette into his mouth with some effort with his trembling arms. The shaking of his arms also caused his lips to shake. He had to bite his teeth to ensure that the cigarette would not fall out.

So, his voice became as if squeezed out from between his teeth, a little unclear, he said:

"Perhaps, you have seen many high-IQ criminals who graduated from prestigious schools, are gifted, successful, and have no external coercion or environmental pressure. They just embarked on a path of crime."

"When you face them, you feel puzzled. Why do they waste their talents like this? Why don't they cherish the gifts God has given them? They think they are born bad, even worse than ordinary people who do evil..."

"In fact, you are jealous of them, jealous that they have everything you don't have, but they waste these precious things unscrupulously..."

"Talent, youth, friendship, love..." Schiller's voice echoed in the narrow passage, as if it was covered with a layer of hazy and old dust.

Scott's reason told him not to listen to such a madman, but he was listening to his story as if he was tempted by the devil.

"How you view these high-IQ criminals is how I view you, ordinary people..."

"You are born bad, you disgusting bugs, stupid and dirty garbage..."

Schiller began to pant violently again. He seemed to be excited again. Even an overdose of sedatives could not stop his excitement. The light of the cigarette was shaking like painting in the air.

"You never realized how much you have, a strong and energetic body, an energetic soul, a heart full of surging emotions, and a brain that forgets..."

Schiller kept taking deep breaths, and his words broke into pieces between breaths, but suddenly, he calmed down again, as if the effect of the released medicine suppressed his excitement again. After a moment of silence, he continued:

"Ordinary people sacrifice their extraordinary talents and live in ignorance and confusion, but they are very happy. Madmen have abilities far beyond ordinary people, but they must face madness and chaos throughout their lives and find it difficult to experience emotions soberly..."

"It's hard to say who is more unfortunate between the two."

"Originally, I had accepted the reality that I couldn't have both of them at the same time, but suddenly one day, a person came to me and broke my idea, because he had all of them at the same time."

"Batman..."

Schiller opened his eyes in a trance, as if he saw some hallucinations in the excited nerve activity. When he spit out this word, it seemed that he chewed up every letter with unreasonable malice.

"He has everything, rationality and sensibility, logic and intuition, reason and emotion..."

"He can enjoy a high IQ without having to bear the emotional loss brought by extreme rational thinking. He has the concentration to put aside all calculations and the sense of justice to limit his violation of morality..."

"When I first met him, I was sure that he was such a person, a damn lucky man, a partial creation of God..."

Schiller coughed twice in a low voice, and then said: "But I saw a terrible future in him, you know? Do you know?"

"That shocked me, because from this terrible Looking into the future, he shouldn't have such a high starting point, he shouldn't be a normal person, he shouldn't have everything..."

"What puzzles me even more is that he obviously has everything, how did he waste it all in just a few decades?"

"When he was 18, he was still just a genius hero with a little psychological trauma."

"And when he was 40..." Schiller's tone gradually became low, and then appeared out of nothing: "When he was 40, he became a madman like me..."

Schiller panted again, as if he was fighting against the illusion of fearlessness, and then he He gave an ugly smile and said, "Then I understood. It was Batman. It was Batman who made him like this."

"It was Batman who made him go crazy in the most precious twenty years of mankind."

"It was Batman who made Bruce spend twenty years crawling from the sun to the shadows, taking off his armor and wearing a straitjacket."

"It was Batman who made a perfect genius that I dreamed of become me."

"When I realized this, it was like I heard the biggest joke in the world, and then I laughed."

"You're crazy." Scott looked at him and said, "You've started talking nonsense, don't believe it anymore. What you saw is a hallucination, which will only aggravate your condition. "

"That's what I said, you are much more professional than him." Schiller tried to calm down for a while, and then said: "If he heard this, he would not regard it as nonsense, but would remember every word in it, find out the abnormality, and figure out what is going on. "

"So, he will never be a psychiatrist!" Schiller raised his voice and said: "Because the first rule of a psychiatrist is not to believe the crazy words said by a mental patient, not a word. "

"This is why all the crazy people in the world can be psychiatrists, but he can't. "

Schiller kept talking intermittently, but Scott didn't understand what he was saying at all. He vaguely found that Schiller seemed to be talking about the person chasing them, but he didn't know what the relationship between Schiller and Batman was.

After Schiller said this rule, Scott was even more entangled. He always felt that Schiller was hinting at something, but according to this rule, he shouldn't listen to Schiller now, because he was completely crazy.

Scott had seen countless criminals with various reactions in drug interrogation. Some people refused to speak, as if the drugs had no effect at all, and some people still led the interrogator in circles, and all the problems would return to the starting point.

But Schiller created a new style.

He would start a new topic, and then start complaining, cursing, and sighing on his own. He was indeed being interrogated, but the object of his interrogation might be an illusion he saw, which had nothing to do with reality.

In the following period of time, Scott tried to use the interrogation skills he had learned to bring him back to the topic, but it didn't work at all.

The result he got was that Schiller changed the topic one after another, using vicious language that Scott had never heard or thought of, and scolded some people who Scott didn't know at all.

To be honest, Scott never thought that English could have such a rich vocabulary of scolding and sarcasm.

At first, he regretted not bringing a recording device, but later, he felt that this secret scene was perfect. If the parties heard it, they might encounter more terrible pursuit.

So, he came to a conclusion that Schiller might have been talking nonsense from beginning to end. He was not the organizer and leader of the Central American revolution. He was just a mentally ill lunatic who was talking nonsense.

Scott stood up and turned to Schiller and said, "You'd better say the same thing during the interrogation in Washington, so that they can give you a diagnosis of mental illness and you can go to a mental hospital for treatment instead of being sent to prison."

Schiller finally calmed down a little. He sat there with his head down, his expression gloomy. Scott bent down and said to him, "Stand up, professor, we have to leave here."

"No, no, you shouldn't rush me like this." Schiller swallowed and said, "You never asked the point, which is contrary to your professional level as an agent."

Scott squatted down helplessly, looked at Schiller's face, and asked him with the patience of treating a mental patient: "So, professor, what do you want me to ask? Or Say what you want to answer? "

He shook his head and said, "Haven't you noticed yet? I don't need to ask, just say whatever you want, normal people can't interfere with you, because you are a lunatic."

"Indeed, I am a lunatic." Schiller turned to look at Scott and said, "I have introduced many of my friends to you, but I forgot one person, my favorite child, his name is Jason."

Schiller stood up from the ground a little shakily, Scott breathed a sigh of relief, he turned around and walked forward, saying as he walked: "Professor, you are finally willing to move forward, we have to leave here quickly..."

But the next second, he felt Schiller approaching from behind, and before he could react, a tie strangled his neck.

Schiller said in Scott's ear while exerting force: "Jason... Jason... A good boy always remembers every word I say."

"Uh uh uh!!!"

The pale knuckles became bloodless due to the force, and the dark checkered tie was deeply embedded in the Adam's apple. After Schiller released his hand, Scott fell to the ground silently, but Schiller did not leave.

He seemed to have no idea what he had just done. He squatted down, looked at Scott and said: "Forgive my rude words just now. I am definitely not saying bad things about my friends behind their backs. Every one of them is a good person."

Schiller stretched out his hand, covered Scott's eyes, pressed his protruding eyeballs back, and closed his eyelids.

Then, he stood up, leaned against the wall of the passage, and staggered towards the depths, leaving only a low voice echoing:

"But I have a sharp blade specially used to deal with good people. It is accurate, elegant, and fatal."

"Its name is guilt."

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