The days of being a spiritual mentor in Meiman.

Chapter 961 Schiller's Sharp Blade
Scott was stunned for a moment when he heard this, and then lowered his voice and said, "Are you crazy? You're going to die!"

As his hand became tighter and tighter, Schiller was a little hard to breathe, and he said intermittently: "So...you have to make a decision now, go bet, your hand is shaking more than mine, and you are holding a sharp saber When piercing my neck, it will not hurt the trachea and arteries..."

"Are you not afraid that I will really kill you?!" Scott gritted his teeth and asked.

"You won't do this. As an experienced agent, you know better than me, ahem..." Schiller gasped again, and continued: "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 crocodile monster is not hungry now."

Scott's fingers visibly trembled, and 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, for so many years, the opponents he has dealt with have been limited to all kinds of vicious or cunning ordinary people, not such unreasonable monsters.

Even in a city like Gotham, Killer Crocodile's appearance is enough to be intimidating. It can be seen from the fact that he can't even find a job as a gangster thug, even for the unscrupulous Gotham people. The appearance of the killer crocodile is also a bit too advanced.

Seeing the tall monster walking towards him, Scott tried to take a few deep breaths, forcing his brain to calm down, hoping that he could control his arms and stop shaking.

Just like what Schiller said, a hostage is only valuable when he is alive, and the consequence of shaking his hands now may be one dead body and two dead.

"If you don't have experience in this area, just do as I say." Schiller swallowed, and said in a dry voice: "Holding the knife, stab it directly from the three centimeters behind the scar, and then Pull it out immediately."

As Batman and Killer Croc approached, Scott knew he had no choice.

Before making a move, he glanced at Batman, and the moment Batman caught his gaze, he blurted out a syllable:

"Do not……"

"Uh!!!!!!!!!!"

In an instant, blood splattered, and Batman rushed in front of Schiller. There was a bright red scar on his pitch-black breastplate, like a sunset river in Gotham that was gradually swallowed by darkness.

At this moment, in the dark underground room, the soil layer collapsed heavily, and Batman found that he was standing on the bridge, and the Gotham River under the setting sun was under his feet.

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 hidden sand and never see the light of day.

Batman remembered that the last time he had so many fantasies about gushing blood was standing in a dark alley and seeing the pearl necklace fall to the floor.

It reminded him of the heavy snow in Gotham in winter, and the moon hanging far away in the sky.

At this time, he saw that the river surface was covered with fog, and soon, the dense fog blocked all sight, and the subtle sound of the smoke bombs woke Batman up, and at this time, the chair in front of him was already empty , the kidnappers and hostages are missing.

Killer Crocodile coughed hard twice, waved away the fog in front of him and said, "This cunning guy actually used smoke bombs?! Batman, are you okay? You..."

Standing under the bat standing in place, he shook his head vigorously, and Killer Crocodile'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 tense, and had already begun to move slightly. trembling.

"Waylon, Waylon..." Batman suddenly said, he turned his head to look at the killer crocodile, stared at him with a burning gaze, and said, "You can smell blood, right? Chasing this A taste, catch up with them, hurry up!"

Killer Crocodile hesitated for a moment, then shrugged its nose and said, "There is indeed some smell, let me see... it should be here!"

After speaking, he pointed in a direction, and Batman rushed over without thinking, but just as he rushed into the passage, he found a burst of thick smoke pouring out of the passage, he did not wear an oxygen mask, so he had to go again back into the room.

Killer Crocodile looked inside and was choked up. He coughed hard twice, and then said: "Damn, they are really smart. In this kind of closed passage, the most feared thing is thick smoke. Moreover, this It's going to kill my sense of smell, I can't smell anything now..."

"boom!"

Batman hit the wall with a fist, and he said in a trembling voice: "The wound just now may have injured an artery or a trachea, and first aid must be performed immediately."

"Arterial bleeding may still be salvageable, but if the trachea is injured, a large amount of blood pours into the trachea, resulting in mechanical asphyxia. If the trachea is completely blocked, the heart will stop beating within 1 minute at most. Within 3 minutes, must die."

"Find him... find him!!!"

Batman turned around and rushed out of the room from the other way. When his brain, which condensed almost all the wisdom in the universe, began to run at the highest speed, time seemed to slow down.

At the beginning, when the venom was parasitic on Batman's body, because it was completely invincible to Batman's willpower, there was almost no room for it to play, and it failed to show the characteristics of a symbiote on Batman, such as taking over the host's body, condensing Armor, high-speed recovery, etc.

And the characteristics of gray mist and venom are completely different. Therefore, Batman did not discover that Schiller's ability to turn into gray mist came from the same symbiosis as venom.

He thought that this ability, like Constantine's magic, needed to be activated and controlled manually.

Before, Batman had written about Constantine's weakness, as long as he breaks his limbs before he casts a spell, or directly prevents him from making a sound or making movements, then the vast majority of Magic cannot be cast successfully.

The weakness of mages has always been their bodies. Once their bodies are severely injured and they can no longer perform precise movements, they will easily lose all the way and lose the possibility of a comeback.

By analogy, if Schiller was only in a poor state of mind before and was caught by the agents at the right time, then now, his severely injured body may mean that he has completely lost the ability to resist and is in great danger.

The reason why Schiller revealed his identity as the organizer of the Central American revolution when he was arrested by the agents was probably to cover Alfred. An important identity to protect the safety of important comrades.

Now, Batman understands that he is not racing against the agents, but against time, or rather, the speed at which Schiller's life is being lost.

On the other side, Schiller clutched his neck and sat down on the side of the aisle. Scott tore the hem of his clothes into strips to bandage Schiller.

"Your nervousness is beyond my imagination, Mr. Agent." Schiller pressed the wound while wrapping the bandage. He said, "If your hand shakes one more time, we can only meet in hell."

Scott cursed and said, "You are the craziest lunatic I've ever seen! I really don't understand, what the hell are you trying to do?!"

"Me?" Schiller put on a bandage pretendingly, 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 veritaserum you use is very high. Don't you think now is a good time for an interrogation?"

"Go to the fucking interrogation!" Scott looked at Schiller with a bit of a breakdown and said, "Is it time for an interrogation? That damned crocodile man, and that psychopath dressed as a bat, what the hell 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 himself down.

However, the environment in the underground passage is not suitable for human survival. Being in this environment for a long time will bring a lot of pressure to people's emotions. Scott felt that his senses were magnified Yes, 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 now What about the fire?"

"Light me a cigarette, sir, so that I can recover quickly, and then, as you wish, I will follow you out of this ghost place." Schiller still had some difficulty speaking, he spoke very fast, but the gap between sentences The pause was long, and with the light of the cigarette lit, Scott saw that his hand holding the cigarette was shaking violently.

"How are you feeling?" Scott glanced at the blood on his neck and said, "You better not die here, better not…"

"Don't worry, I can't die." Schiller coughed hard, and in an instant, the blood soaked the bandage strips and overflowed from the wound again. His voice was hoarse and trembling, just like Scott often The kind of junkie you see.

"It's just that the large dose of barbiturates has caused my bronchi to spasm a bit, and I have difficulty breathing. In addition, my heart rate is also a little abnormal, and my body temperature has dropped by about two degrees. If you can get a shot of epinephrine, I think I will It will be better."

Just as Scott was about to speak, Schiller continued speaking quickly: "But I have to say, this drug as a drug interrogation really makes me feel very relaxed. My brain is urging me to say something what……"

"What are you going to say?" Scott finally recovered a bit, and he sat opposite Schiller, watching the flickering of the cigarette in his hand, 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 even caused his lips to shake. He had to grit his teeth, To ensure that the cigarettes do not fall out.

As a result, his voice became muffled as if squeezed out from between his teeth, and he said:
"Perhaps, you have seen many criminals with high IQs. They graduated from prestigious schools. They are gifted and successful. Without any external coercion or environment, they just embarked on a criminal path."

"When you face them, you feel very puzzled. Why do they waste their talents like this? Why don't they cherish the gifts God gave them? You think they are born bad, even worse than ordinary people who do evil. Even worse……"

"Actually, you are jealous of them, jealous that they have everything you don't have, but waste these precious things recklessly..."

"Talent, youth, friendship, love..." When Schiller's voice echoed in the narrow passage, it seemed to be covered with a layer of hazy and old dust.

Scott's rationality was telling him not to listen to such a lunatic, but he was listening to his story as if he was being lured by the devil.

"How do you see these high-IQ criminals, that's how I see you, ordinary people..."

"You bastards of nature, bugs that make me sick, stupid and filthy garbage..."

Schiller began to pant violently again, and he seemed to be agitated again. Even the overdose of sedative drugs could not stop his agitated state, and the flame of the cigarette was already trembling like painting in the air.

"You never realize how much you have, a strong and vigorous body, a vigorous soul, a heart full of emotions, and a brain that forgets..."

Schiller kept taking deep breaths, and his words were shattered into pieces between breaths, but suddenly, he became quiet again, like the effect of medicine released, which suppressed his excitement again. After a while of silence, he continued Say:
"Ordinary people sacrifice their extraordinary talents and live in ignorance and confusion, but they are also very happy. Madmen have abilities far beyond ordinary people, but they must face madness and chaos all their lives, and it is difficult to clearly experience emotions..."

"It's hard to say which of the two is more unfortunate."

"Originally, I have accepted the fact that the two cannot be at the same time, but suddenly one day, a person came to me and broke my thoughts, because he has all of these at the same time."

"Batman..."

Schiller's eyes widened in a trance, as if he had seen some hallucinations in the excitement of nervous activity. When he uttered this word, it seemed that he had chewed every letter into pieces, with no reason. malicious.

"He had it all, reason and sensibility, logic and intuition, reason and emotion..."

"He can enjoy a high IQ without having to bear the lack of emotion brought about by extreme rational thinking. He has the concentration to put aside all calculations and the sense of justice that limits his violation of morality..."

"When I saw him for the first time, I was sure that he was such a person, a damn lucky guy, a partial creation of God..."

Schiller coughed twice again in a low voice, and then said: "But I saw a terrible future in him, do you know? Do you know?"

"That was a shock to me, because, in terms of this horrible future, he shouldn't have had such a high starting point, he shouldn't be a normal person, he shouldn't have everything..."

"And what puzzles me even more is, how did he waste all of them in just a few decades when he had everything?"

"At 18, he's still just a slightly traumatized genius hero."

"And when he was 40 years old..." Schiller's tone gradually sank, and then appeared from scratch: "When he was 40 years old, he became a lunatic like me..."

Schiller gasped again, as if battling the hallucination of fearlessness, and then, with an ugly grin, he said, "Then I see, it's Batman, Batman made him like this. "

"It's Batman who drove him crazy in 20 of the most precious years of humankind."

"It's Batman. It took Bruce 20 years to crawl from the sun into the shadows, take off his armor, and put on a straitjacket."

"It's Batman who made me, the perfect genius I've always dreamed of."

"When I realized that, it was like hearing the biggest joke in the world, and then, I laughed."

"You're crazy." Scott looked at him and said, "You've already started talking nonsense, stop believing in the hallucinations you see, 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 take it as nonsense, but will take it Remember every word in the speech, find anomalies in it, and figure out what's going on."

"So, he will never be a psychiatrist!" Schiller raised his voice and said, "Because the first rule of a psychiatrist is not to believe a word of crazy things that mental patients say."

"That's why all the lunatics in the world can be psychiatrists, but he can't."

Schiller has been talking intermittently, but Scott didn't understand what he was talking about at all. He vaguely found that Schiller seemed to be talking about the man chasing them, but he didn't know that Schiller and that Batman What the hell does it matter.

After Schiller said this rule, Scott became even more entangled. He always felt that Schiller was implying something, but according to this rule, he should not listen to Schiller now, because he is completely crazy.

Scott has seen countless criminals who have various reactions during the drug interrogation. Some people refuse to speak, as if the drugs have no effect at all, and some people still lead the interrogator around, and all the problems will return to the original point. .

But Schiller, he created a new style.

He would start another topic, and then start complaining, cursing, and lamenting on his own. He is indeed being interrogated, but the object of his interrogation may be the hallucination he saw, which has nothing to do with reality.

In the next period of time, Scott tried to use the interrogation techniques he had learned to bring him back to the topic, but it didn't work at all.

What he had achieved was that Schiller switched from subject to subject, swearing at people Scott didn't know at all, in terms Scott had never heard or thought of.

Seriously, Scott had never in his life imagined that the English language had such a rich vocabulary of swearing and sarcasm.

At the beginning, he regretted that he didn't bring a recording device, but later, he felt that this secret scene is perfect now, but if the person involved hears it, they may encounter a more terrifying pursuit.

So, he came to a conclusion that Schiller may have been talking nonsense from beginning to end. He was not the organizer and leader of the Central American revolution, but a lunatic who was insane and babbled.

Scott stood up, and he turned to Schiller and said, "You'd better say that in the Washington trial, so they can give you a mental illness certificate and you can go to a psychiatric hospital for treatment, rather than being sent to prison."

Schiller finally became quieter. He sat on the spot with his head bowed, his expression dark and unclear. Scott bent over and said to him, "Stand up, professor, we have to get out of here."

"No, no, you shouldn't be urging me like this." Schiller swallowed his saliva and said, "You never asked the point, which is contrary to your professional spy level."

Scott squatted down helplessly, looked at Schiller's face, and asked him patiently with 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 found out 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'm a lunatic." Schiller turned to look at Scott and said, "I've introduced many of my friends to you, but I forgot one person, my favorite kid, his name is Jason. .”

Schiller stood up from the ground somewhat unsteadily, Scott heaved 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 in the next second, he felt that Schiller leaned 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, always remembers every word I say."

"Uh uh uh!!!"

The pale knuckles became bloodless due to the force, and the dark ribbed tie was deeply embedded in the Adam's apple. After Schiller let go, Scott fell to the ground silently, but Schiller Didn't leave it at that.

As if he didn't know what he had just done, he squatted down, looked at Scott and said, "Forgive me for the rude words just now, I am definitely not speaking ill of my friends behind their backs, each of them They're all good people."

Schiller reached out and covered Scott's eyes, pressing his protruding eyeballs back and closing the lids.

Then, he stood up, leaned against the wall of the passage, and walked staggeringly towards the depths, leaving only a low voice echoing:

"But I have a knife for the good guys, it's precise, it's elegant, it's deadly in one blow."

"Its name is guilt."

(End of this chapter)