Many times, this world is all about fearing what will come.
bite!
As soon as the elevator door opened on the 7th floor, Schiller did not open his eyes, but rushed out of the elevator as quickly as possible. Thinking back on the layout of the 7th floor that he had seen through Peter's eyes, Schiller first walked around the entrance hall and walked through the elevator.
Go through a long corridor and turn right.
After pushing open a glass door, the lights were bright in front of me.
Schiller, who was used to darkness, was shaken for a moment. He stretched out his arm to block his eyes, slowly opened his eyes, and squinted to look at the bright light ahead.
A group of people looked at him in surprise.
Schiller slowly lowered his arm, and then he saw clearly that the huge restaurant was full of tables, and each table was full of people. Eight huge chandeliers lit up brilliantly, and neatly dressed waiters stood on both sides.
Waiting for service.
The closest person to Schiller was a man wearing a chef's uniform. Schiller saw that his head had completely melted and was piled on his neck. But when the light flickered, another handsome and elegant old man appeared, with his silver hair neatly tied up.
combed behind the head.
Schiller looked at the center of the restaurant in a daze. Everyone was sitting on chairs in bright and colorful dresses, looking at the menus placed on the table. On the other side, in the door leading to the back kitchen, other chefs were busy.
.
"It seems that our last customer has arrived." The chef said, "I think you still remember the seat you reserved?"
"Yes..." Schiller said: "I reserved... a seat by the window."
"Then go quickly."
Schiller slowly walked to the last empty seat at the table by the window, as if that seat was prepared for him. He sat down and saw that the figure sitting opposite him had a familiar face - Jerome Watts.
Leska.
He was wearing a plaid suit, his hair was neatly combed, and he was wearing black glasses that made him look very simple and honest. He was staring at the menu in his hand intently, and seemed to be mumbling something.
The movement of Schiller sitting down caught his attention. He raised his head and glanced at the man in front of him, but when he saw his dazed eyes and dilated pupils, he lowered his head again and continued to look at the menu.
Schiller gradually put away his confused expression, because the chef's attention was already on other people, and he began to look at the people around him. There is no doubt that even if the hotel in this timeline has not been
The pollution was so severe that it was impossible for so many intact people to sit together.
Some of them hide their true colors.
Schiller does not think that his fleeting hallucination just now was a mistake, but the Cthulhu mythology system is like this. Before everything becomes abnormal, they are normal. Although many things have been foreshadowed,
Many people have lost the ability to judge what is normal and therefore unable to discover the horrors lurking around them.
Schiller did not intend to explore this abnormality, because unfortunately, he brought something even more abnormal.
Schiller huddled in his chair, flipping through the menu like all the diners, ignoring what was going on outside the window, but after more than ten seconds, the lights in the restaurant began to flicker.
Bang!
A loud noise came from outside the restaurant door, as if something was banging on the door. All the diners raised their heads in confusion. Schiller imitated their expressions, as if they didn't know what was banging on the door.
The chef suddenly turned his head and looked outside the door. He seemed to have seen something. He walked slowly towards the door, but stopped halfway, raised his hand and pressed down gently.
All the diners lowered their heads, and Schiller felt something pressing down on his head. The feeling was wet, like a floating corpse that had been soaked in water for several days.
Schiller lowered his head obediently, not wanting to see the better.
But he still gently raised his eyes and glanced towards the chef to make sure that the chef was not looking at him and that he was not doubting that he had brought the thing. Schiller breathed a sigh of relief.
In fact, he really did it on purpose, because knowing that there are two forces that restrain each other in this hotel, it can be inferred that the things that are usually locked up block the way of certain existences. As long as these things can be released and brought to
In another conspiracy, it is very likely to cause some trouble for the other party.
Sure enough, the waiters who had been standing neatly by the window lined up and walked towards the door. The banging on the door continued. Schiller did not hear any screams, but one waiter disappeared outside the door.
A bustling murmur sounded.
This was scarier than any screams and wailings. Schiller heard certain sounds coming from outside the door and echoing in the room. He wanted to raise his hands to cover his ears, but he felt it was too conspicuous.
The best choice now is to rupture his eardrum directly, but unfortunately, the thing pressing on his head seems to have been waiting for an opportunity. If he reaches for the fork now, he will definitely be discovered.
Schiller's face began to become as pale as other diners, his expression became dazed, his pupils gradually dilated, and his mouth began to echo those whispers, but his sanity value is infinite, so as long as there is no armed conflict...
Bang!!!!!
A strong tremor interrupted all murmurs throughout the restaurant, and with a sudden tremor, Schiller immediately felt sticky liquid flowing from his nose, and blood dripping on the table in front of him.
But the thing pressing his head was no longer so strong, so Schiller had time to reach for a napkin and wipe his nose. Many diners next to him seemed to have just woken up from a deep dream.
But soon, the waiters came back row by row and stood at the corresponding positions step by step. It seemed that the problem had been solved. Although Schiller could no longer feel anything above his head, under the gaze of many eyes,
He still didn't act rashly.
Taking this opportunity, he paid attention to Jerome on the opposite side.
The reason why I am sure this is Jerome is because the two brothers have completely different temperaments.
The story of the two Valesca brothers in "Gotham" is very interesting. To sum up, Jerome is a born bad guy with all the characteristics of narcissistic personality disorder and antisocial personality, but he does all the bad things.
They all blamed it on their younger brother.
Jerome has a perfect disguise. He has always been a good gentleman in the eyes of everyone. He studies and goes to college step by step. He is smart, steady, and full of gentlemanly demeanor.
But Jerome, who was falsely accused, has been a bad boy in the eyes of everyone since he was a child. He was considered not to learn well and has been ostracized and abused, resulting in his mental condition getting worse and worse. In the end, of course, he dropped out of school and became a complete madman.
.
All of the above are stories from the original work.
But everything has changed since little Bruce gained the power of the evil god. One of the two brothers became an insurance investigator. Schiller suspected it was Jerome, because Jerome looked more like the clown he knew.
He kept chasing little Bruce and almost rushed into his house.
But based on Jerome's education and personality, he probably wouldn't apply for a job at an insurance company. On the contrary, Jerome, who has low academic qualifications and a poor mental state, may be reduced to doing this job.
After all, the two of them look exactly the same. Without being disfigured, it is difficult to tell who is who. Clowns are cunning, and Schiller is not 100% sure that the person sitting in front of him must be Jerome.
The reason why we need to find out who is who is because the two brothers have different personalities. Jerome is pure madness, while Jerome is disguised very well. The two of them have different purposes. One seems to be purely crazy.
One wants to destroy Gotham, the other wants to rule Gotham.
More importantly, their relationship with Batman is different. This is why Schiller feels that Jerome is more like the Joker. In the original work, Jerome has been surrounding Bruce. On the contrary, Jerome is more independent.
Some.
The connection between Jerome and Bruce is deeper, so if it is Jerome in front of him, Schiller can confidently guess that Bruce is also hiding at this point in time. If it is Jerome, the evidence is insufficient.
While Schiller was thinking, the chef clapped his hands vigorously.
Snap!
All the diners slowly raised their heads and turned to look in that direction. The chef stood in the middle and said.
"Thank you all for coming. Next, all the chefs at Wayne Hotel and I will present a perfect feast for you. I will introduce you to the dishes and stories of all the ingredients. I hope you all have a perfect day here."
Very good, it seems that this day is destined not to be perfect, Schiller thought in his heart, I want to see what else you can do.
The waiters walked towards the kitchen like water, and soon they walked out again holding a black tray, and stood beside each table with plates, placing dishes one after another in front of the diners.
The process is very standardized and the movements are very elegant. If you ignore that there is a human head on the plate, it will definitely be a good start to the perfect day.
Schiller lowered his head and looked at what looked like something on the plate. Just saying it was a human head was not very accurate. It should have been a head with completely rotten skin, half of the brain rotted away, and all the eyeballs had fallen off.
But Schiller still vaguely judged from the structure of the bones that this person was himself, and it was not Naog Soship, but Schiller Rodriguez.
The rotten lips moved.
"I ate them, swallowed them into my belly, turned them into my nutrients, and became the flowers nurtured by their souls.
They are getting fewer and fewer, they are getting fewer and fewer, I feel hungry, death is coming to me, the flowers are slowly withering.
I ate myself, my spleen first, sliding into my stomach, thorns sprouting from the petals, hardwood turning into soft roots.
There are more and more of them, more and more of them, I have never felt so satisfied, almost becoming a big tree.
Now, it's your turn, it's your turn."
Schiller looked around and saw that all the heads on the table were reciting the same poem. After the words fell, someone picked up the tableware.
…
The restaurant door was pushed open.
An identical man walked in, and under the guidance of the chef, he sat back in his original position. In front of him was his own head.
The slight sound of clinking knives and forks echoed in the restaurant, and a veritable feast began.