amaotonovel Chapter 4508 The Darkest Night (36)
Chapter 4508 The Darkest Night (36)
Chapter 4508 The Darkest Night (Thirty-Six)
“CIA Special Agent Amanda Waller, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Rodriguez. How many years have you been sentenced to?”
“It was originally supposed to be 231, but now it’s uncertain,” Schiller said, sitting behind the railing.
“You don’t need to waste your talents in prison, do you?” Amanda looked at him and said, “The Federation needs people like you. If you’re willing to work for us…”
“Okay,” Schiller said.
"We can provide you with... what did you say?"
"I said I'm willing to work for you. Is there a problem?"
“No…no, but do you know what kind of work you need?” Amanda looked at him in surprise. “We need people to do the dirty work…”
"So, was my 231-year sentence imposed while I was working as a cleaner?"
"Okay. Come with me. We have a few questions for you before you start working."
Interrogation rooms, offices, crime scenes, the Capitol Building, the White House, the European Office, air force bases, Buckingham Palace, airports, the Pacific Ocean...
Schiller slowly withdrew his hand and said softly, "It's not so bad that she ended up in Amanda's hands, is it? At least you only have to put up with her."
He heard a noise behind him, turned around, and saw the open kitchen door. He went inside and saw the same machine again. He put his hand on it once more.
The cold wind howled in his ears, and faint groans of pain drifted through his ears. Schiller stepped out of the tent and saw only homeless people around him with blank stares. A strong hunger surged within him as well.
Schiller lifted his foot and walked towards the direction of the most vibrant colors. Bright and hazy, bizarre and fantastical. He grabbed the man by the neck and forced him down into the alley.
"Let go! Let go! You...you madman! What are you trying to do?"
"Sorry, I'm just... a little hungry."
Ten minutes later, Schiller finished the last sip of his drink and finally saw the person in front of him clearly. He blurted out instinctively, "Jack?"
"...Do you know me?"
"Now that we know each other, are you going to find Batman?"
Jack's expression stiffened, and he looked Schiller up and down. Schiller sighed softly and said, "I'm sorry to have disrupted your schedule. Since you can't go anyway, how about you do me a favor?"
"...What do you want to do?"
Police cars quickly surrounded the block like a school of fish. The instant James saw the situation inside the fast-food restaurant, he yelled, "Don't move!"
Schiller stood amidst a pile of explosives and looked at him: "I won't move, come in."
An hour later, he was sitting in the Gotham Police Department's interrogation room when the police walked in. Two hours later, an agent in an FBI uniform walked in. Another hour later, a man in a black suit walked in. Schiller left with him.
Interrogation rooms, offices, crime scenes, the Capitol Building, the White House, the European Office, air force bases, Buckingham Palace, airports, Cuba, Washington headquarters, Arctic research stations, the Pacific Ocean…
“It feels good to be kidnapped by the Joker, doesn’t it?” Schiller said. “How many times do you have to repeat this before you understand that I will only be myself in different timelines. Not because that’s who I am, but because I am who I am.”
With a click, the screen lit up again. A familiar voice finally came through: "Schiller Rodriguez, do you really think you've won?"
Schiller walked back to the center of the restaurant. There was no one else on the screen; it only showed the restaurant's security camera footage. Schiller could see himself through the screen.
"This is your true face, isn't it?" the voice said. "You think my capturing people for experiments is too cold-blooded and cruel, but how is your killing to escape punishment any different from mine?"
"You've watched it so many times, and you still can't figure it out?"
What should I be able to see?
“I’m not Batman,” Schiller said. “You think I killed you for justice, like a superhero, punishing evil and bringing joy to the people.”
"If not, then why did you kill me?"
“Superheroes kill villains to uphold justice, but villains kill villains simply because they hate them.” Schiller chuckled. “I’m not upholding justice, I’m not patching up legal loopholes, and I don’t have any high-sounding reasons. I kill all people like you simply because you’re in my way, nothing more.”
"You don't think that your quick death is my regret, because I didn't have time to judge you legally or morally blackmail you, so I should be happy that you've returned to the world and are debating with me?"
“Hugo Strange, there’s never been anything between us. There’s no distinction between good and evil, no difference in ideologies. Meeting me is just karma for your past mistakes. You can see this as a sudden car accident; you didn’t do anything wrong, but life is full of unexpected events. Why die with such regrets?”
The restaurant remained silent for a long time, a certain atmosphere brewing in the stillness. After a while, the voice continued, "But you're a despicable cheater. You used chemicals to lure me into a hallucination; that's not a psychological technique."
"I didn't want to defeat you, I just wanted to kill you. Chemical methods worked, so I used them. Is that hard to understand?"
“You won’t have that chance again,” the voice said. “I know you still have a fear of poison gas, and maybe even a freeze gun, but don’t even think about using those methods against me again—I am the real master of psychology.”
"Sizzle—sizzle—"
Suddenly, the lights blazed on. Brainiac's voice came through the phone. The next second, a body fell from the sky. With a bang, the police burst through the door, only to find Schiller standing there, and a little girl lying in a pool of blood in front of him.
Schiller narrowed his eyes slightly, remaining motionless until he saw the little girl's fingers tremble slightly.
He suddenly looked up, ignoring the police officers who surrounded him, and quickly walked to the little girl's side. After feeling a faint pulse on the side of her neck, he stood up and turned around: "She's still alive, call an ambulance... quick!"
A few minutes later, Schiller, draped in a first-aid blanket, sat in the passenger seat of the police car. Gordon handed him a cup of hot coffee. Schiller seemed somewhat detached. After hesitating for a long time, Gordon finally asked, "Are you alright?"
Schiller shook his head. Gordon walked around to the driver's seat, sat down, paused briefly, and said, "I don't think you're the kind of person who would harm a child. Even if she wanted to kill you, you'd probably just run away. Let's assume someone's trying to frame you, but how come the person isn't dead?"
“It’s a bit complicated.” After a long pause, Schiller finally spoke. “I admit that Hugo was quite capable.”
"What exactly happened?"
“You’re a police officer. Your job is to find the killer, not to question me, the kidnapped victim.”
"Kidnapped?!"
"That 'Moriarty' first hunted me down, then sent threatening emails demanding I go to a designated location, blocked Brainiac, and attacked me with his illusion device. What else could this be but kidnapping?"
Gordon was speechless.
In the Gotham Police Department's meeting room, Victor hurriedly pushed open the door and breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing Schiller. He said, "I knew you weren't up to anything by leaving me behind. Going to meet Hugo alone? You really think you're Sherlock Holmes?!"
“It’s a pity I didn’t jump off the cliff with him, otherwise your novel would never have been published because of plagiarism,” Schiller said, looking at him.
“You don’t look too good.” Victor went over to pour him coffee. Schiller waved his hand, indicating he didn’t need any. So Victor went back and sat down opposite Schiller.
“Tell me, what really happened?” Victor said. “I know you didn’t tell Gordon the truth, after all, he’s a cop.”
“I just didn’t tell you everything,” Schiller said. “It involves old stories, and there’s nothing more to say. That’s all.”
Victor narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He looked Schiller up and down, then said, "If you really wanted to lie, none of us would be able to tell. Or are you just not quite able to make your story convincing enough yet? That doesn't seem like something you'd do."
"I didn't mean to lie to you, I just didn't want to talk about it. Everyone has things they don't want to talk about."
Victor gave a forced, insincere smile. He pulled out a freeze gun and froze the entire room, then said, "I guarantee this won't get out. Brainiac won't find out either..."
"It has nothing to do with this..."
“What I mean is, if I freeze you half to death right now, no one can save you, not even Brainiac.”
Schiller looked at him with a hint of helplessness. Victor slowly turned the gun towards him and said, "Having known you for so many years, I've long understood one thing: if a mental patient tells you he doesn't want to do something, what you should do is not understand him, but hold him down and make him take his medication."
“But we’re friends,” Schiller argued. “And I’m pretty sure I’m not having an episode right now. I…”
"boom!"
With a "crack," the ice in the room thawed. Gordon pushed open the door and paused for a moment when he saw Victor standing in front of Schiller's ice sculpture.
Victor blocked Gordon's view and said, "Do you know how awful he can be when he's in a bad mood? I can't stand him anymore."
Gordon immediately showed an understanding expression, and then said, "I have something I want to ask him, could you go first..."
"Have you been having too much of a good time lately?" Victor couldn't help but ask. "Do you only feel comfortable when he scolds you?"
“Alright,” Gordon sighed. “I’m afraid I can’t take it either. You take him back first, and I’ll ask him again once he’s recovered.”
He left after saying that, completely unaware that Schiller, hidden from view by Victor, was mouthing for help inside the ice sculpture. Victor spread his hands and said, "Here comes your Mr. Freeze, buddy. Your marksmanship didn't come from nothing."
As the police placed Schiller's ice sculpture in the cryogenic laboratory, Nora pursed her lips and said, "Watson never froze Holmes, you should know that, right?"
“Of course I know,” Victor nodded, took off his coat, and said, “but I think it’s just that he doesn’t have the skill. If he could really stop Holmes from risking his life, he would.”
“Well, it seems you two have something to talk about.” Nora said as she walked to the door and thoughtfully closed it.
"Did you find that you can't get out even with the gray fog?" Victor took off his suit jacket and put it on the back of the chair next to him.
“The gray fog can go out,” Schiller mouthed. “Watch out, or I’ll send him out to beat you up.”
“Obviously he thinks I’m right too.” Victor sat down in the chair, one leg crossed over the other, his hands on his knees, and stared at Schiller. “Tell me, what’s gotten into you this time?”
The dense ice layer showed a slight change, and Schiller could speak. He said, "Mr. Frith, if your book included a scene where an assistant freezes a detective and forcibly takes him away from the police station, you'd get countless negative reviews."
“As long as I keep you frozen, I get to decide what’s in the book. I can skip this part.” Victor picked up a piece of paper and a pen and began writing and reading aloud.
“I could tell Rodriguez was troubled. I knew he wasn’t as cold as he appeared, and often worried about many things, but this was the first time it was so openly displayed on his face. Clearly, these cases were more difficult than he had anticipated. And as his assistant, there was not much I could do. Since reasoning was of no help and I had no clue how to conduct the investigation, I could only pour him a cup of hot tea.”
"Thank you, Frith." Even in his anxiety, the detective maintained basic politeness. Even his somewhat anxious pacing around the room didn't cause his heels to clink too loudly. These were all manifestations of his gentlemanly conduct. I felt deeply regretful that I couldn't help.
Just as I was falling into self-doubt, wondering if I was holding him back, Rodriguez said, gesturing to the seat opposite him, "Sit down and have some tea, Mr. Fries. I'd love to hear your thoughts." I could tell he was trying to comfort me.
I'm now even more convinced that only those who don't know him would perceive him as an arrogant freak. Those who know him well understand that his care for those close to him is always subtly revealed. I feel my self-blame and anxiety have been largely soothed by his gentleness. It's time to talk about the case.