When Scott heard this, he was stunned for a moment, and then lowered his voice and said: "Are you crazy? You will die!"
As his hand tightened, Schiller found it difficult to breathe. He said intermittently: "So... you must make a decision now and go bet. Your hands are shaking more than mine now, holding a sharp saber.
When it penetrates my neck, it will not damage the trachea and arteries..."
"Aren't you afraid that I will really kill you?!" Scott asked through gritted teeth.
"You won't do this. As a seasoned agent, you know better than me, ahem..." Schiller gasped again, and then said: "He will stand opposite you and try to communicate with you.
It's because your knife is on 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 terrifying monster walked towards him.
Although he is an elite agent who has served for many years, the opponents he has dealt with over the years have only been limited to various vicious or cunning ordinary people, not such monsters that are beyond common sense.
Even in a city like Gotham, Killer Croc's appearance is intimidating enough. It can be seen from the fact that he can't even find a job as a gangster. Even for the unscrupulous Gothamites,
Killer Croc's appearance is also a bit too advanced.
Seeing the tall monster walking towards him, Scott took a few deep breaths and forced his brain to calm down, hoping that he could control his arms and stop shaking.
Just like Schiller said, a hostage is only valuable when he is alive. The consequences of shaking his hands now may be one or two lives.
"If you have no experience in this area, just do as I say." Schiller swallowed and said in a dry voice: "Holding the knife directly, insert it three centimeters behind the scar, and then
Pull it out immediately."
As Batman and Killer Croc approached, Scott knew he had no choice.
Before taking action, he glanced at Batman. The moment Batman caught his eyes, he blurted out a syllable:
"No……"
"Well!!!!!!!!!!"
In an instant, blood spattered, and Batman rushed in front of Schiller. A bright red scar appeared on his dark breastplate, like a river of sunset gradually being swallowed up by darkness in Gotham.
At this moment, in the dark underground room, the soil collapsed heavily, and Batman found that he was standing on the bridge, with the Gotham River under his feet under the setting sun.
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 secret sand and never see the light of day.
Batman remembered that the last time he had so many fantasies about blood was when he stood in a dark alley and saw a pearl necklace falling on the ground.
It reminded him of the heavy snow in Gotham in winter and the moon hanging far high in the sky.
At this time, he saw fog forming on the river. Soon, the thick fog blocked all sight. The subtle sound of smoke bombs woke Batman up. At this time, the chair in front of him was empty.
, the kidnappers and hostages were missing.
Killer Croc coughed twice, waved away the fog in front of him with his hand and said, "This cunning guy actually used smoke bombs?! Batman, are you okay? You..."
Standing under the bat, he shook his head vigorously. Killer Croc's eyes fell on his arm. Even through the fabric of his clothes, it could be seen that the muscles of Batman's arm were very tight and had begun to move slightly.
Trembling.
"Waylon, Waylon..." Batman suddenly spoke. He turned to look at Killer Croc, staring at him with a burning gaze, and then said: "You can smell blood, right? Chase this guy.
Pick up the scent and catch up with them, quickly!"
Killer Crocodile hesitated for a moment, then shrugged his nose and said, "There is indeed some smell, let me take a look... It should be over here!"
After speaking, 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 did not wear an oxygen mask, so he had to go again
Return to the room.
Killer Crocodile peeked inside and choked out. He coughed twice, and then said: "Damn, they are really smart. What they are most afraid of in this kind of closed passage is the thick smoke. Moreover, this
It will cause my sense of smell to fail, I can’t smell anything now..."
"boom!"
Batman punched the wall with his fist, and he said in a trembling voice: "The wound just now may have damaged an artery or trachea, and first aid must be given immediately."
"Arterial bleeding may still be salvageable, but if the trachea is injured and a large amount of blood flows into the trachea, causing mechanical suffocation, and the trachea is completely blocked, the heart will stop in no more than one minute, and within three minutes,
Must die."
"Find him...find him!!!!"
Batman turned around and rushed out of the room from the other way. When his brain, which contained almost all the wisdom in the universe, began to run at top speed, time seemed to slow down.
When the venom parasitized Batman's body, it was completely unable to compete with Batman's willpower, so there was almost no room for the symbiote to show its characteristics on Batman, such as taking over the host's body and condensing it.
Armor, high-speed recovery, etc.
The gray mist has completely different properties from Venom, so Batman did not discover that Schiller's ability to turn into gray mist came from the same symbiote as Venom.
He believed that this ability, like Constantine's magic, needed to be activated and controlled manually.
Batman has previously written about Constantine's weaknesses. As long as he breaks his limbs before he casts a spell, or directly makes him unable to make sounds or make movements, then most of them will be defeated.
Magic cannot be cast successfully.
The weakness of mages has always been their bodies. Once their bodies are severely damaged and unable to perform precise movements, they will easily lose all the way and lose the possibility of a comeback.
By analogy, if Schiller was only in poor mental condition before and was picked up by the agents at the right time, now his severely damaged body may mean that he has completely lost his ability to resist and is in great danger.
The reason why Schiller revealed the identity of the organizer of the Central American revolution when he was arrested by the agents was probably to cover Alfred. He may have felt that his exposure was inevitable, so he might as well directly deny it.
An important identity, protecting the safety of important comrades.
Now, Batman understands that he is not racing against agents, but against time, or in other words, against the speed at which Schiller is losing his life.
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 of cloth to bandage Schiller.
"You are more nervous than I imagined, Mr. Agent." Schiller pressed the wound and wrapped the bandage. He said, "If your hand shakes one more time, we will only meet in hell."
Scott cursed and then said: "You are really the craziest lunatic I have ever seen! I really don't understand, what on earth do you want to do?!"
"Me?" Schiller pretended to put on the bandage, and then used the gray mist to heal most of the wounds, leaving only some superficial wounds to continue to bleed. He sat in the dark passage, leaning his back against the cold and dry wall.
, looked 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 with a bit of a breakdown and said, "Is it time for the interrogation now? That damn crocodile man, and that psychopath dressed as a bat, what on earth is going on with them?"
"Why are they chasing us? How can we get out of here?" Scott kept taking deep breaths, trying to calm down.
However, the environment in the underground passage is not suitable for human survival. Being in this environment for a long time will put a lot of pressure on people's emotions. Scott felt that his senses were amplified.
Any disturbance would 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, "You just
Where are the things for starting a fire?"
"Light a cigarette for me, sir, so that I can recover quickly, and then follow you out of this hellish place as you wish." Schiller still had some difficulty speaking. He spoke very quickly, but there were gaps between sentences.
There was a long pause, and along with the light of the cigarette, Scott saw that the 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 can't die." Schiller coughed hard. In an instant, the blood completely soaked the bandage and overflowed from the wound again. His voice was hoarse and trembling, just like Scott often said.
The kind of drug addict you see.
"It's just that the large dose of barbiturates caused some spasms in my bronchial tubes and difficulty in breathing. In addition, my heart rate was also a little irregular, and my body temperature dropped by about two degrees. If you can get a shot of epinephrine, I think I can
It will be better."
Just as Scott was about to speak, Schiller continued speaking quickly: "But I have to say, as a drug for drug interrogation, it does make me feel very relaxed. My brain is urging me to say something.
What……"
"What are you going to say?" Scott finally recovered a little. He sat opposite Schiller, watched the light of the cigarette in his hand flicker, 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 started to shake his lips, and he had to grit his teeth.
This will ensure that the cigarette does not fall out.
As a result, his voice became a little unclear, as if it was squeezed out from between his teeth, and he said:
"Perhaps you have seen many criminals with high IQs. They graduated from prestigious schools, have extraordinary talents, and achieved fame. Without any external coercion or environmental pressure, they just embarked on a criminal path."
"When you face them, you feel puzzled. Why do they waste their talents like this? Why don't they cherish the gifts God gave them? You feel that they are born bad, even worse than ordinary people who do evil.
Even worse……"
"Actually, you are jealous of them. You are jealous that they have everything you don't have, but they waste these precious things unscrupulously..."
"Talent, youth, friendship, love..." Schiller's voice seemed to be covered with a layer of hazy and old dust when it echoed in the narrow passage.
Scott's reason was telling him not to listen to such a madman, but he was listening to his story as if he was being tempted by the devil.
"How you view these highly intelligent criminals is how I view you, ordinary people..."
"You are born bad, bugs that make me sick, stupid and dirty garbage..."
Schiller began to breathe heavily again. He seemed to be excited again. Even an overdose of sedative drugs could not stop his excitement. The flame of the cigarette was already shaking like painting in the air.
"You have never realized how much you have, a strong and energetic body, an energetic soul, a heart full of surging emotions, and a brain that can forget..."
Schiller kept taking deep breaths, and his words fell into fragments between breaths. But suddenly, he became quiet again, as if the effect of a drug was released, suppressing his excitement again. After a moment of silence, he continued
explain:
"Ordinary people sacrifice their extraordinary talents and live a life of ignorance and confusion, but they are very happy. Madmen have abilities far beyond ordinary people, but they must face madness and chaos all their lives, and it is difficult to understand emotions clearly..."
"It's hard to say which of the two is more unfortunate."
"Originally, I had accepted the reality that I could not have both at the same time, but suddenly one day, a man walked up to me and broke my mind, because he had them all at the same time."
"Batman..."
Schiller opened his eyes in a daze, as if he had seen some hallucinations in the excitement of neural activity. When he spit out the word, it was as if he had chewed up every letter, with no reason.
Malice.
"He has everything, reason and sensibility, logic and intuition, reason and emotion..."
"He can enjoy a high IQ without having to bear the emotional loss caused by extreme rational thinking. He can not only put aside all calculations and focus, but also have a sense of justice that limits his violation of morality..."
"When I met him for the first time, I was sure that he was such a person, a damn lucky guy, God's partial creation..."
Schiller coughed twice more in a low voice, and then said: "But I saw a terrible future in him. Do you know? Do you know?"
"That shocked me, because, judging from this terrible future, he should not have such a high starting point, he should not be a normal person, and should not enjoy everything..."
"What makes me even more puzzled is that he clearly had everything, but how did he waste it all in just a few decades?"
"At the age of 18, he was still just a slightly traumatized genius hero."
"And when he was 40 years old..." Schiller's tone gradually deepened, and then appeared from scratch: "When he was 40 years old, he became a madman like me..."
Schiller gasped again, as if he was fighting against the illusion of fearlessness, and then he showed an ugly smile and said: "Then I understood, it was Batman, it was Batman who made him become like this.
"
"It was Batman who drove him crazy during the most precious twenty years of mankind."
"It was Batman who made Bruce spend twenty years crawling from the sun into the shadows, taking off his armor and putting on a straitjacket."
"It was Batman who made the perfect genius 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 are crazy." Scott looked at him and said, "You have started talking nonsense. Stop believing in the hallucinations you have seen. This 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 hears this, he will not regard it as nonsense, but will regard it as nonsense."
Memorize every word in the speech, find the abnormalities, and figure out what is going on."
"So, he will never be able to be a psychiatrist!" Schiller said, raising his voice, "Because the first rule of psychiatrists is not to believe a word of the crazy things a mental patient says."
"This is why lunatics all over 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 noticed that Schiller seemed to be talking about the person chasing them, but he didn't know that Schiller and the Batman
What does it matter?
After Schiller said this code, Scott became even more entangled. He always felt that Schiller was implying something, but based on this rule, he should not listen to Schiller now, because he is completely
A madman.
Scott has seen countless criminals who had various reactions during drug interrogations. 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 questions returned to the original point.
.
But Schiller, he created a new style.
He would pick up another topic, and then start complaining, cursing, and lamenting to himself. He was indeed being interrogated, but the object of his interrogation might be an illusion he had seen, which had nothing to do with reality.
In the following period, Scott tried to use the interrogation techniques he had learned to bring him back to the topic, but it had no effect at all.
What he achieved was that Schiller changed topics one after another, using vicious words that Scott had never heard or thought of, and scolded some people whom Scott didn't know at all.
To be honest, Scott never thought in his life that English could have such a rich vocabulary of curses and sarcasm.
At first, he regretted that he did not bring a recording device, but later, he felt that this secret scene was perfect. If the person involved heard it, they might encounter a more terrifying pursuit.
As a result, he came to the conclusion that probably what Schiller said was all nonsense from beginning to end. He was not the organizer or leader of the Central American revolution, he was just a mentally disturbed maniac talking nonsense.
Scott stood up, turned to Schiller and said: "You'd better say the same thing during the interrogation in Washington, so they can give you a diagnosis of mental illness and you can go to a psychiatric hospital for treatment.
Instead of being sent to jail."
Schiller finally became quieter. He sat there with his head down, his expression dark and unclear. Scott bent down and said to him: "Stand up, professor, we have to get out of here."
"No, no, you shouldn't rush me like this." Schiller swallowed and said, "You never got to the point. This is contrary to your professional agent standards."
Scott squatted down helplessly, looked at Schiller's face, and asked him with the patience of a mental patient: "So, professor, what do you want me to ask? Or what do you want to answer?"
He shook his head and said, "Haven't you noticed yet? I don't need to ask. You can say whatever you want. Normal people can't interfere with you because you are a lunatic."
"Indeed, I am a madman." Schiller turned to look at Scott and said: "I have introduced you to many of my friends, but I forgot one person, my favorite child, his name is Jason
.”
Schiller stood up from the ground staggeringly, and 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 get out of here quickly..."
"
But the next second, he felt Schiller leaning up 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, he can always remember every word I say."
"Uh uh uh!!!"
The pale knuckles became bloodless due to exertion, and the dark ribbed tie was deeply embedded in his Adam's apple. After Schiller let go, Scott fell to the ground quietly, but Schiller
He didn't just leave.
As if he didn't know what he had just done, he knelt down, looked at Scott and said: "Forgive me for the rude words I just used, I am definitely not speaking ill of my friends behind their backs, every one of them
They are all good people.”
Schiller stretched out his hand, covered Scott's eyes, pushed 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 deep voice echoing:
"But I have a sharp blade specially designed to deal with good guys. It's accurate, elegant, and fatal in one blow."
"Its name is guilt."
This chapter has been completed!