amaotonovel Chapter 2298 Gotham Music Chapter (37)
Chapter 2298 Gotham Music Chapter (37)
Chapter 2298 Gotham Music Festival (Thirty-Seven)
"We have to find a way to get him back to normal, or at least stop him." After listening to the rules of the second round, Natasha frowned and said, "No one will allow Schiller to be hurt so badly, even if he wants to."
"His mental illness has broken out, so someone must intervene." Beibat also said: "If a patient tells the people around him that I am happy with this, and everyone just lets him go, then there will not be so many mental hospitals in the world."
Natasha looked at him and asked, "I saw Schiller holding an inhalation aerosol bottle. What kind of medicine do you think is in it?"
"I'm not sure." Bei Bat shook his head and said, "If, as you said, seasickness causes him considerable pain and makes his mental state extremely unstable, then this could be a drug to relieve seasickness, but it does not rule out the possibility that he really has respiratory problems, or that this is simply used to dilate the trachea and increase oxygen supply."
Natasha rubbed her forehead and said, "Either way it goes, it's good for him, right?"
"That's the theory, what do you want to do?"
"There must be all kinds of medicines on a cruise ship of this level. I want to find some to see if I can put them in his medicine bottle, at least to let him stop and rest first."
"Can you make medicine?"
"I used to be a nurse and I know how to prepare various simple injections, but I have almost never come into contact with aerosols. Do you know how to do this?"
"Yes, I will, but I have to get back to the VIP room before the game starts, and it would be suspicious for both of us to be gone for so long."
"Trust me, you look like someone who could spend two hours in the bathroom with me."
Bei Bat had an expression of "here we go again". Natasha walked out of the bathroom and said, "I'll go find some medicine. You keep an eye on the gambling game. If you find something wrong, intervene in time. I think you can feel the tension of the situation better than anyone else."
Bei Bat looked at her back and nodded. He could indeed see the undercurrent surging beneath her seemingly calm appearance.
Batman can see that in addition to the gamblers who are really in big trouble, there are many people with ulterior motives participating in the gambling. Their purposes are much worse than realizing their wishes. Batman has never been afraid to doubt that this group of people may want everyone on this ship to stay in the sea forever more than anyone else.
No Batman would allow such a thing to happen, so Batman went back to the VIP room. He knew that he could not let Schiller, who was in the midst of an illness, be the fuse that ignited the bomb, otherwise the situation would be completely out of control.
On the other side, Natasha walked downstairs along the staff passage. She knew that Stark would definitely take this route. Sure enough, she found the message left by Stark in a tea room downstairs for employees to rest.
There was a note under the water dispenser that said, "I have something to do downstairs. Please ask someone else about the previous matter."
It’s not too stupid, Natasha thought. If someone finds out about this wording, they will just think it’s a conversation between two employees.
Natasha understood the message Stark left for her. The general meaning was that I will go downstairs to find the ship's engine, and you stay upstairs to catch a tongue and ask for information.
Natasha looked around and found that this place was occupied by someone a few minutes ago, which meant that many employees would come here to take a break, but it was more important to determine who they were.
Natasha could see that there were many strange things about this ship, and many of their employees were not ordinary people, so if she caught the men of the ship's owner, she might not be able to handle it.
Besides, issues have priorities. Let’s put aside what the owner of this ship wants to do for now. Whether it is due to duty or personal feelings, Natasha would rather target the FBI first.
That's right, even if Natasha didn't know Amanda, she could smell the stench of the hyenas she dealt with all day long. She knew that those agents must be hiding in the corner, ready to make the situation of any matter worse to the point where no one could clean up the mess. That was their job.
The mop, still soaked with water, left a blurry water stain in the dim and narrow corridor. The uniformed cleaner adjusted his hat with his hands, tucked the mop handle under his armpit, changed to a hand-held bucket, opened the door of the tool room, and put everything in one by one.
He is always like this, neither hurried nor slow. Even though his mind is focused on the next task, he can still instinctively do any task at hand under disguise.
After finally putting away all the things, the man sighed. After relaxing, he felt the urge to urinate and staggered towards the bathroom. Although he tried to relax, there was still a tension in his mind. This was the self-cultivation of an agent.
He walked to the urinal and unzipped his pants. He heard the sound of a door opening behind him. Through the reflection of the floor, he saw a figure wearing a red shawl. This attire should be that of a gambler participating in the competition.
The agent relaxed again. The second round of the game was about to begin. When he was cleaning the previous toilet, he also encountered many contestants who wanted to relieve themselves before the second round of the game began. They should be out soon.
However, what the agent found somewhat strange was that the bathroom closest to the venue was the one he had just cleaned, not the current one. This one required an extra turn and at least 100 meters of walking. When there was no queue at the other bathroom, why would anyone take the initiative to take a longer route?
Just as he thought of this, he suddenly felt a burning gaze suddenly appear, as if the man had not looked at him before, but now suddenly stared at his back.
Alarm bells rang in his heart, his muscles tensed, and his waist and legs exerted strength. Just as he bent his knees and swung his elbows, a long mop handle pinned him to the wall.
Blood gushed out of its mouth instantly, and the immobilized fish let out a "huh" sound and struggled desperately to turn its head.
The next second his hair was grabbed and with two bangs, the close contact between his head and the wall shattered his brow bone and nose bridge.
Blood gushed out of his nose and mouth at the same time, and intense pain came from his body, because the opponent did not pull out the iron rod that had pierced his body, but pressed the weapon downward, and the organs in his body were instantly messed up beyond recognition.
Both hands loosened at the same time and the agent fell to the ground, but the blood flowing from his forehead completely covered his eyes. The dizziness caused by the severe pain made his eyes dark. He could not see who the other person was at all. He only saw him bit the mouthpiece of the asthma medicine and took a deep breath.
"Who is Amanda's target?"
The agent felt ridiculous. If the other party wanted to torture him into confessing, they shouldn't have let him suffer such serious injuries. He was about to die and his pain would soon be over. In this situation, how could he say anything?
"You are different from them." He heard the other party mutter to himself, "You are not assigned to keep an eye on the target that most people are keeping an eye on. You have a special mission. Who are you watching?"
The agent held on to the iron rod that pierced his wound in astonishment. He struggled desperately, but a hand was steadier than his and firmly grasped the head of the iron rod. He turned the iron rod upright, and the fish pierced on it kept sliding down due to its own weight.
A large amount of blood choked his lungs, making him unable to shout. A second before he was drowned in his own blood, he heard the other party whisper: "Amanda wants to kill two birds with one stone? Two plans?"
When Schiller appeared at the gambling table again, he finally had time to take a closer look at his opponent.
The other man was very strong, with thick hair and fierce eyes. Such a strong man was usually only seen in weightlifting or strongman competitions, and occasionally among groups of dock workers.
But Schiller noticed a detail: the other person had no sunburn marks on his body, which was not very common. Summer had just passed, and even ordinary people who commuted to work every day would have signs of sun exposure on their exposed limbs. A short month would not be enough for the sunburn marks to disappear.
Unless he stays in his room for 24 hours without going out, his fierce temperament doesn't make him look like a shut-in.
Schiller wanted to wait until his vision became blurred again so that he could see the other person's true face.
It didn't take long to wait. The time he was awake was getting shorter and shorter. Just as ripples began to appear at the edge of Schiller's vision again, a crisp bell woke him up.
The gambling game started, both parties stretched out their arms and the staff took blood samples.
Everyone rolled up their sleeves and exposed their arms, including Schiller. Now he only had one hand left to support the table.
The staff member who came over picked up the needle and couldn't help but look up at Schiller's pale face and bloodless lips, as if he was already close to death without losing too much blood.
The needle was inserted into the arms of both parties, and the arms were fixed to the table with equipment to prevent instability during the blood collection process. The blood of both people flowed into the pump through the hose, and the dark venous blood looked like the finest dry red.
People rarely have the opportunity to observe how their lives pass by, because usually the long process of growth and aging is enough to make people forget all the details, making it difficult to deeply experience the despair of life coming to an end.
The process of blood loss is a concentration on the decline of life. By experiencing the decline of a person's long life in a few minutes, we can see the majestic waves in all the tiny details.
Schiller began to feel more and more dizzy, followed by an excitement that the drugs could no longer suppress. His heart beat so fast that no matter how hard he inhaled the aerosol, his boiling blood could not cool down.
Finally he pressed the 1000 ml button on the remote.
Schiller's move obviously shocked both the staff and his opponent, so much so that the staff, who almost never spoke except for explaining the rules, confirmed with him: "Are you sure? 1000 milliliters? Once the blood draw begins, it will not stop, which may cause your death directly."
"yes, I'm sure."
Schiller closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he gave his opponent a deranged grin.
"Hello, sea."
(End of this chapter)