The cold moonlight penetrated the clouds and shone in the hall on the first floor of the Arkham Asylum, but it stopped abruptly as it flowed down the stairs, failing to bring any light to the underground prison.
Schiller squatted down, his fingertips stroked the raised black crystals of the pit wall, and gray mist lingered on his fingertips, like another of his tactile organs.
"The radiation value is four hundred times higher than that of conventional meteorites." Gray mist whispered in his ears, "These crystals continue to release unknown rays, and exposure of ordinary people to this radiation environment will cause unpredictable consequences."
A needle-like burning pain came from Schiller's fingertips, which was the feeling of ordinary people that the gray fog was truthfully transmitted back to him.
He withdrew his hand, and a fine dust smoke suddenly rose from the bottom of the pit, twisting a series of runes, which were very similar to the runes in the magic circle in Batman's photo.
"This is not a natural fallen meteorite." Schiller picked up a small piece of crystal and twisted it into powder, watching them emitting a deep red in the glimmer of light, "Maybe the Order Clan summoned this meteorite, this is
Part of their conspiracy.”
The rushing sirens were still tearing the Gotham night sky. The pursuit of death angel Paul continued and would surely become increasingly tight over time. Schiller must figure out the truth before he was arrested.
When Schiller walked out of the Arkham Asylum, three police cars with GTO logo passed by him. Deputy Commissioner of the Police Department, Harvey Brock, may no longer be able to withstand the pressure from the state assembly. GTO's participation
It means that the Angel of Death is not much time left.
Schiller opened the car door and sat in. The dashboard showed that it was seventeen a.m. - forty-three minutes left before the closing of the Gotham History Museum.
The underground archives of the Gotham History Museum are smelling musty, as if the history here is still fermenting.
Schiller took the pass from the unconscious security pocket in front of him. About 20 minutes later, he stood in the faint light, his eyes flowing on the yellowed "Gotham Valley" compilation.
The headlines in April 1718 suddenly made him stop his eyes: "Fireballs from the sky! The mysterious meteorite fell into the Gotham Valley! The general has not announced a refuge yet. Please pay attention to changes in the situation at all times!"
In the accompanying picture of the report, the surveyor wearing a triangle cap was drawing a sketch of a crater with a pencil. Schiller enlarged the details of the drawing and found that the marking points of the meteorite falling completely coincided with the terrain of the Arkham Asylum.
When he retrieved the building files, he immediately discovered something - the completion date of the Arkham Fortress was the 91st day after the meteorite fell.
Suddenly, footsteps came from the spiral stairs.
"I thought the closing time was written very clearly." The archivist holding the flashlight was an old silver-haired lady with her breast saying "Maggie Collins - 42 years in office."
Schiller just turned his head and looked at her quietly, but saw the old man walking straight to a bookshelf, taking out a very retro-looking videotape from there and put it into the more retro machine.
"Are you looking for this?"
Her skinny finger pressed the button, and a yellowed image appeared on the wall - General Arkham suddenly twitched at the fort completion ceremony, his eyes rolled and said, "He is calling!".
"You are the third person to look up these information in twenty-five years." Maggie lit the mint smoke, revealing the old scars on her neck in the smoke.
"Third?" Schiller narrowed his eyes slightly. He had guessed that the Pale Knight might have investigated these. Who is the remaining one? Who else would care about these old things?
It started raining again in Gotham, and the cold rain on this autumn night obviously caused a lot of trouble to the pursuit. This may be God's last blessing to the Angel of Death.
The heavy rain washed the windshield, and the light from the street lights passed by Schiller's hand holding the steering wheel again and again.
A piece of sound pattern data recovered from gray fog was played on the car's radio, which was spectral analysis of the infrasonic waves extracted from the soil of the crater. When the frequency suddenly increased to 3 Hz, the special substance that Schiller had suddenly appeared in the bottle.
The inside trembled.
"The experimental data matching of low-frequency sound wave-induced delirium is too high."
"Speak human words."
"Stimulating meteorite crystals with special frequencies can induce psychiatric illness."
Schiller sighed. "This thing has quite a lot of functions. It can create cancer and induce mental illness."
Schiller stepped on the brakes violently. The wiper on the windshield swung regularly, making a boring sound.
The warning of museum administrator Maggie echoed in her mind: "This meteorite is not a relic, but a seed. It is rewriting everything about humans with radiation..."
"The mental illness of Batman and Paul is not an accident." Schiller tapped his finger on the steering wheel. "The Order Clan used the crystals in the meteorites to artificially create two mental illness patients."
"No, it should be three." Schiller suddenly said, "General Arkham was the first. Shortly after the meteorite landed, news about his corruption was rampant."
Gray mist did not answer. He felt the very restrained anger signal released by Schiller's brain waves, and knew that he would become very busy in the next period of time.
Back in front of the crater again. Schiller stared at the dark hole for a long time. He said, "Can you tell where the meteorite was smashed?"
"I can guess." Huiwu replied, "Bei Luo Shimenxing, the hometown of Ketugeya."
"So smart, but..."
"What?"
"I'm starting to understand Anatoly a little."
As morning light pierces the clouds, Schiller stands on the top floor of the city hall overlooking Gotham. The rain makes the body as bright as a mirror, and the police cars still shuttle through Gotham's narrow streets like fish.
"There is even worse news," said Gray Mist. "The buildings of the Arkham Asylum are not enough to block the radiation. The low-frequency sound waves in the soil of the crater continue to emit, allowing the radiation generated by the crystals to stimulate all living things around them.
The spirit of the Arkham Asylum includes criminals.”
"That is to say, they might not have been crazy, or they weren't so crazy, but after being thrown in, the crystal radiation made everything worse?"
"Yes. Who do you think it's good for them to get crazier?"
"Of course it's an elite. Or the same thing, in Gotham, crime is an investment, and the crazier criminals are, the better."
Schiller paused and continued: "This matter must not be known to Batman. His depression is gradually getting worse. If he knew that he had sent the criminals to a crazy hell, he would have suffered more people.
It's hard to get better."
"What are you going to do next?"
"First of all, you have to do your job as a doctor. Find the crystal that continues to affect Batman's mental state and destroy it, making sure his mental state does not deteriorate. Then talk about the others."
"That thing must be very close to him. What do you think it would be?"
"If they want Alfred to die because of the diary Brad gave him. They want Fox and Doctor Tompkins to die because he can give Bruce Wayne more help, then Jason
Woolen cloth?"
"I guess that guy must have been extremely close to the truth." Gray Mist quickly became proud, saying, "Although you don't like being a detective, I secretly looked at Batman's brain. I would be a good detective."
“…Which Batman’s brain?”
"Main Universe Batman...and Arkham Batman, I promise to learn only their detective wisdom."
"You'd better be."
The glass curtain wall of the city government building refracts Gotham's midday sunshine into shallow golden spots. Schiller's fingertips tapped on the edge of the coffee cup, and the latte in the cup ripples.
When Jason opened the store, the tremor frequency of the wind chime was also dull. Schiller narrowed his eyes and looked at the mud stained on the youth tactical boots, leaving behind the tiles the unique gray-blue marks of the sedimentary rocks under Gotham - this
It was evidence that he had just crawled out of the sewer in the Diamond Zone, and the gray fog told him.
"The Angel of Death has changed to hide." Jason pulled open his chair and sat down, his tactical gloves slapped on the dining table, making the tableware jingle, "Nightwing cracked the flame trap he left in Crime Alley, and now the GTO drone is checking
Port Warehouse.”
Schiller pushed a cup of hot cocoa that had been ordered long ago, and the milk bubbles in the cup were filled with gray mist. When Jason held the handle of the cup, the three-dimensional picture of Gotham underground pipe network appeared in the hot air of Cocoa.
Mori instinctively looked at some of it, and Schiller knew that it should be the last hiding point of the Angel of Death.
Not surprisingly, Paul was originally a mouse in the lower city. The sewer was his best hiding place.
"The FBI idiots are still checking financial accounts." Jason sneered and poked the floating projection, "but Nightwing found this-" He threw out a deformed metal piece with a familiar one engraved on it.
The pattern is the symbol of the Order Order Order Order.
Still as expected, Paul knew who his true enemy was. He would remind himself at all times that he must not stop until the sinners receive the punishment they deserve.
"It seems to be a special metal."
"That's right, part of the Batmobile was pried off from Nightwing's car, and this guy's method of borrowing materials was too violent." Jason poured half a cup of cocoa in one breath, and the Adam's apple showed its neck as it rolled.
The burn was added, "The madman used this material to transform his long sword, and he began to become increasingly difficult to deal with."
Schiller quietly changed the subject: "Tell me about the days before you were kidnapped - did it rain when you last entered the Bat Cave?"
Jason's hand holding the cup suddenly tightened, and spider web cracks bloomed on the ceramic surface. Memories were never a good choice for him.
"It's a Blizzard night." The boy's pupils spread slightly, "Batman once again borrowed energy for survival. The heating was broken, and I shivered in Alfred's wool blanket. Bruce analyzed the freight list of black masks in front of the bat computer.
And I..." He suddenly grabbed the sugar bowl and poured three packs of candy into the cocoa, "and I stole the palladium scraps from the workbench."
Schiller noticed that Jason unconsciously stroked the tiger's mouth with his right hand, which was a scar left by long-term use of precision welding guns.
"You made a bat dart with scraps." Schiller used a statement. He saw a few drops of cocoa splashing on the table when the boy suddenly looked up.
Jason pulled out the turtleneck sweater and pulled out a black silver chain. The pendant was a miniature bat dart with the abbreviation "" engraved on the blade: "It took me two weeks to adjust the aerodynamic structure, and the result was tested
The Batmobile rearview mirror was cut off, which was the remaining scraps."
Schiller looked there with the help of gray fog. In nanoscale imaging, the inside of the dart body was covered with black silk-like objects - crystals.
"Bruce took it away." Jason's voice suddenly became astringent, "He said that as Robin, he didn't need this dangerous toy." The boy's nails were deeply pinched into his palm, "but two weeks later I ran into him in the bat
This thing is stuffed in the belt.”
Schiller's coffee cup made a slight crisp sound. He suddenly figured it out.
"Guilty is a good knife." Schiller wiped away the coffee stains that splashed on the back of his hand. "Every time he used your gift, he was allowing his brain to receive more crystal radiation. Until recently, he was about to completely lose his mind.
It's a beast."
Jason was about to stand up, but he crashed into the damping force field woven by gray fog. As the young beast-like gasp, Schiller looked out the window calmly. The conspiracy was revealed in front of his eyes.
Using the simple love of a child, he will send the deadly poison to his father and then take the child away. The father can only feel guilty about the last souvenir - this ensures that Batman will always carry that
Dart.
"Where did you get the materials?" Schiller asked at Jason.
"Most of them are from Bat Caves. But I added some toner myself. I bought it myself... On the way back, I met a clown who was robbing the bank, who was holding a gun in the head of a female employee.