Hearing this, Scott was stunned for a moment, and then lowered his voice and said, "Are you crazy?" You're going to die! ”

As his hand tightened tighter and tighter, Schiller had some difficulty breathing, and he said intermittently, "So...... You must now make a decision, go and bet that your hand that is now shaker than me, and when you stab me in the neck with a sharp saber, it will not hurt the trachea and arteries......"

"Aren't you afraid that I'll really kill you?!" Scott asked, gritting his teeth.

"You won't do that, as a seasoned agent, you know better than I do, ahem......" Schiller gasped again, and then said, "He will stand across from you and try to communicate with you, precisely because your knife is against my neck, and if I die, you can only pray, that crocodile monster, now that you are not hungry." ”

Scott's fingers trembled visibly as he saw the terrible monster walking towards him after subduing all the agents around him.

Although he has served as an elite agent for many years, for so many years, his opponents have been limited to all kinds of vicious or cunning ordinary people, not such monsters that are beyond common sense.

Even in a city like Gotham, the appearance of the killer crocodile is deterrent enough, as can be seen from the fact that he can't even find a job as a gangster, even for the cold Gotham people, the appearance of the killer crocodile is a little too advanced.

Watching the tall monster come towards him, Scott struggled to take a few deep breaths and forced his brain to calm down in the hope that he would be able to control his arm and stop shaking.

As Schiller said, hostages are only valuable when they are alive, and now the consequences of his hands shaking may be one corpse and two lives.

"If you don't have experience in this area, do as I say." Schiller swallowed his saliva and said in a dry voice: "I am holding a knife in my hand, and I stabbed it directly from the three centimeters behind the scar, and then immediately pulled it out." ”

One second to rememberhttps://.la

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

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

"No ......"

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

In an instant, blood splattered, and Batman, who rushed in front of Schiller, had a bright red scar on his jet-black chest armor, like a river of sunset that was gradually swallowed up by darkness at sunset in Gotham.

At this moment, the soil layer collapsed in the dark underground room, and Batman found that he was standing on the bridge with the Gotham River shining at sunset.

This tributary, which flows into the sea through Gotham, is always wetter and mudier than other rivers, because there are so many dead bones, buried under hidden mud and sand, that never see the light of day.

Batman remembers the last time he had so many fantasies about blood was when he stood in a dark alley and saw the pearl necklace fall to the ground.

It reminded him of the snowfall of Gotham winter and the moon hanging high above the sky.

At this time, he saw that the fog was rising on the surface of the river, and soon, the thick fog blocked all vision, and the slight sound of the smoke bomb woke Batman up, and at this time, the chair in front of him was empty, and the kidnappers and hostages were nowhere to be found.

The killer crocodile coughed vigorously twice, waved away the fog in front of him with his hand, and said, "This cunning guy actually used smoke bombs?!" Batman, are you alright? You ......"

Standing under the bat shook his head vigorously, the killer crocodile's gaze fell on his arm, even through the fabric of the clothes, it could be seen that the muscles of Batman's arm were tense, and he had begun to tremble slightly.

"Wellen, Wellen......" Batman suddenly spoke, he turned his head to look at the killer crocodile, stared at him with a burning gaze, and said, "You can smell blood, right?" Chase the flavor, catch up with them, fast! ”

The killer crocodile hesitated for a moment, then shrugged his nose and said, "There is indeed some smell, let me see it...... It should be this way! ”

After saying that, he pointed in a direction, and Batman rushed over without thinking, but as soon as he rushed into the passage, he found that a puff of smoke was pouring out of the passage, and he had to retreat into the room again without an oxygen mask.

The killer crocodile probed to look inside, and was choked out, he coughed vigorously twice, and then said: "Damn, they are so smart, in this kind of closed passage, the most afraid is smoke, and besides, it will make my sense of smell fail, I can't smell anything now......"

"Bang!"

Batman slammed his fist into the wall, and he said in a somewhat trembling voice, "That wound just now, maybe it hurt an artery or trachea, and you must be treated immediately." ”

"Arterial hemorrhage may still be salvageable, but if the trachea is injured and blood rushes into the trachea, resulting in mechanical asphyxia and complete obstruction of the trachea, the heart will stop beating in no more than a minute, and within three minutes, death will be inevitable."

"Find him...... Find him!!!! ”

Batman turned and rushed out of the room the other way, time slowing down as his brain, which had condensed almost all the intelligence in the universe, began to run at top speed.

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

And the gray mist is completely different from the characteristics of Venom, so Batman did not discover that Schiller's ability to turn into gray mist comes from the same symbiote as Venom.

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

Previously, Batman had written about Constantine's weakness, as long as he broke his limbs before he cast spells, or directly made him unable to make sounds and movements, then the vast majority of magic would not be able to be used successfully.

The weakness of mages has always been their body, once the body is hit hard and can no longer perform precise movements, it is easy to lose all the way and lose the possibility of turning the tables.

By analogy, if Schiller was only in a bad mental state and was found by the agents, then now, the body that has suffered a heavy blow may mean that he has completely lost the ability to resist and is in great danger.

The reason why Schiller revealed the identity of the organizer of the Central American Revolution when he was arrested by the agents was probably to cover Alfred, he may have felt that his exposure was inevitable, and it was better to directly take on an important identity and protect the safety of important comrades.

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

On the other side, Schiller sat down on one side of the passage with his neck covered, and Scott tore the hem of his shirt into strips of cloth to bandage Schiller.

"You're more nervous than I ever imagined, Mr. Agent." Schiller, holding down the wound and wrapping the bandage, said, "If your hand shakes one more time, we will only meet in hell." ”

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

"Me?" Schiller pretended to wrap the bandage around it, and then used the gray mist to heal most of the wounds, leaving only some epidermal wounds to continue to bleed, he sat down in the dark passageway, leaned his back against the cold, dry wall, looked up at the ceiling, and said:

"Mr. Agent, I have to say, you use a very high concentration of truth vomiting, don't you think now is a good time for interrogation?"

"Fuck the interrogation!" Scott looked at Schiller a little devastated and said, "Is it time for interrogation?" That damn crocodile man, and that neurotic guy dressed as a bat, what the hell is going on with them? ”

"Why the hell are they chasing us? How are we going to get out of here? Scott kept taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself down.

However, this kind of environment in the underground passage is not suitable for human life, and being in this environment for a long time will bring a lot of pressure to people's emotions, and Scott feels that his senses are magnified, and any slightest wind and grass will make him feel nervous.

"Don't be nervous, you should relax, just like me." Schiller pulled a cigarette out of his suit pocket, Scott's eyes widened, but Schiller shook his head and said, "What about the thing you just lit the fire?" ”

"Light a cigarette for me, sir, so that I can recover quickly, and then, as you wish, follow you out of this hellish place." Schiller still had some difficulty speaking, he spoke quickly, but the pauses between sentences were long, and with the light of the cigarette, Scott saw that his hand holding the cigarette had been shaking violently.

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

"Don't worry, I can't die." Schiller coughed vigorously, and in an instant, blood soaked through the bandaged cloth and spilled out of the wound again, his voice hoarse and trembling, like the kind of addict Scott often sees.

"It's just that the high dose of barbiturates caused some spasms in my bronchial tubes, difficulty breathing, and in addition, my heart rate was also a little abnormal, and my body temperature dropped by about two degrees, if you can get a shot of adrenaline, I think I will be better."

As soon as Scott wanted to speak, Schiller continued quickly: "But I have to say that this drug as a drug interrogation does make me feel very relaxed, and my brain is urging me to say something......"

"What are you going to say?" Scott finally recovered a little, sat down across from Schiller, watched the light of the cigarette in his hand go out, and said, "How did you organize and lead the revolution in Central America?" ”

"Don't mention the boring stuff." Schiller shook his head, and with some effort put the cigarette into his mouth with some effort with his trembling arm, the shaking of the arm and the shaking of his lips began to shake, and he had to grit his teeth to make sure that the cigarette did not fall out.

Then his voice became a little muffled as if it were squeezing out of his teeth, and he said:

"Perhaps, you have seen many high-IQ criminals, they graduated from prestigious schools, they are talented, they are famous, there is no external coercion, and there is no environmental persecution, they just embarked on a criminal road."

"When you're facing them, you wonder why they're wasting their talent like this. Why not cherish the gift God has given them? I think they are inherently bad, even worse than ordinary people who do evil......"

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

"Talent, youth, friendship, love......" Schiller's voice echoed through the narrow passage, as it seemed to be glued with a hazy and old gray.

Scott's intellect was telling him not to take the words of such a madman, but he was listening to his story as if he had been seduced by the devil.

"What you think of these high-IQ criminals, that's what I think of you, ordinary people......"

"You born bad, disgusting bugs, stupid and filthy garbage......"

Schiller began to gasp violently again, and he seemed to be agitated again, and even an overdose of sedative drugs could not stop his euphoria, and the flame of the cigarette was already shaking as if painting in the air.

"You never realize how much you have, a strong and energetic body, an energetic soul, a heart full of emotions, and a brain that will forget......"

Schiller continued to breathe deeply, and his words dissolved into fragments between breaths, but suddenly, he was quiet again, like the effect of a released medicine, which once again suppressed his euphoria, and after a moment of silence, he continued:

"Ordinary people sacrifice extraordinary talents, live ignorant and confused, but very happy, madmen have far beyond ordinary people's abilities, but they must face madness and chaos for the rest of their lives, and it is difficult to soberly experience emotional ......"

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

"Originally, I had accepted the reality that these two could not be at the same time, but suddenly one day, a person came up to me and broke my thoughts, because he had all these things at the same time."

"Batman ......"

Schiller's eyes widened in a trance, as if he had seen some hallucination in the midst of an exuberant nervous activity, and when he spat out the word, it was as if he had chewed every letter, with unwarranted malice.

"He has everything, reason and sensibility, logic and intuition, intellect and emotion......"

"He can enjoy a high IQ without having to bear the emotional deficit of extreme rational thinking, both the concentration to put aside all calculations, and the sense of justice that limits his immorality......"

"When I first met him, I was sure that he was such a man, a damn lucky man, an eccentric creature of God......"

Schiller coughed twice more and then said, "But I see in him a terrible future, you know?" Do you know? ”

"That shocked me, because, judging from this terrible future, he shouldn't have such a high starting point, he shouldn't be a normal person, he shouldn't have all the ......"

"And what makes me even more puzzled is how he managed to waste it all in just a few decades when he has everything?"

"At the age of 18, he was still just a genius hero with a slight psychological trauma."

"And by the time he was 40 years old......" Schiller's tone gradually deepened, and then appeared from nothing: "By the time he was 40 years old, he had become a madman like me......"

Schiller gasped again, as if battling the illusion of dreadnought, and then, with an ugly smile, said, "Then I understood, it was Batman, it was Batman who made him like this." ”

"It was Batman who drove him mad in the most precious twenty years of humanity."

"It was Batman who took Bruce twenty years to crawl from the sun into the shadows, take off his armor, and put on his restraint suit."

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

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

"You're crazy." Scott looked at him and said, "You've started talking nonsense, stop believing in the hallucinations you're seeing, it's only going to worsen your condition." ”

"That's what I said, you're much more professional than him." Schiller tried to calm down for a moment, then said, "If he hears this, he will not take it as nonsense, but will memorize every word of it, find anomalies in it, and figure out what it is all about." ”

"So, he'll never be a psychiatrist!" Schiller raised his voice and said, "Because the first rule of psychiatrists is not to believe the crazy words of the mentally ill, not a word." ”

"That's why crazy people all over the world can be psychiatrists, but he can't."

Schiller kept talking intermittently, but Scott didn't understand what he was talking about, and he vaguely noticed that Schiller seemed to be talking about the person chasing them, but he didn't know what Schiller had to do with that Batman.

And after Schiller said this rule, Scott was even more entangled, he always felt that Schiller was hinting at something, but if you look at this rule, he should not listen to Schiller now, because he is completely crazy.

Scott has seen countless criminals who have had a variety of reactions during drug interrogations, some of whom have died as if the drugs were completely ineffective, and some of whom are still taking the interrogator in circles, and all problems will return to square one.

But Schiller, he created a new style.

He would start a new topic, and then start complaining, invecting, and lamenting to himself, that he was indeed being interrogated, but that the object of his interrogation might be a halluciation that he had seen, and that it had nothing to do with reality.

For the rest of the day, Scott tried to use the interrogation techniques he had learned to bring him back to the subject, but to no avail.

The result was that Schiller changed topic after topic, and scolded people whom Scott did not know at all in a vicious language that Scott had never heard or thought of.

Seriously, Scott never thought in his life that English could be so rich in swearing and sarcasm.

At first, he regretted that he didn't bring a recording device, but later, he felt that this secret scene was now the most appropriate, but if the people involved heard it, they might be hunted down even more terrifyingly.

Thus, he came to the conclusion that from beginning to end, Schiller was talking nonsense, that he was not the organizer and leader of the Central American revolution, that he was just a deranged, gibberish madman.

Scott stood up, and he turned to Schiller and said, "You'd better say the same thing at the interrogation in Washington, so that they can give you a diagnosis of mental illness and you can go to a psychiatric hospital for treatment instead of being sent to jail." ”

Schiller finally quieted down, he sat there with his head bowed, his expression dark, and Scott bent down to him, "Stand up, Professor, we need to get out of here." ”

"No, no, you shouldn't have rushed me like that." Schiller swallowed and said, "You never asked the point, which is contrary to your professional agent level." ”

Scott squatted down a little helplessly, looked at Schiller's face, and asked him with the patience of a mentally ill person, "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 it yet?" I don't have to ask, you can say whatever you want, normal people can't interfere with you because you're crazy. ”

"Indeed, I am a madman." Schiller turned to Scott and said, "I've introduced you to many of my friends, but I forgot about one of my favorite kids, and his name is Jason. ”

Schiller staggered to his feet from the ground, and Scott breathed a sigh of relief, he turned and walked forward, saying as he went, "Professor, you're finally willing to move forward, we need to get out of here quickly......"

But the next second, he felt Schiller lean up from behind, and before he could react, a tie strangled his neck.

Schiller pressed hard as he whispered in Scott's ear, "Jason...... Jason...... A good boy who always remembers every word I say. ”

"Uh-uh-uh!!"

The pale knuckles were bloodless due to exertion, and the dark ribbed tie was deeply embedded in the Adam's apple, and when Schiller let go of his hand, Scott fell to the ground silently, but Schiller did not leave.

As if he didn't know what he had just done, he crouched down, looked at Scott and said, "Forgive me for my rude words, I'm not going to speak ill of my friends behind my back, every single one of them is a good person." ”

Schiller reached out and placed his hand over Scott's eye, pressing his protruding eyeball back and closing the eyelid.

Then he stood up, leaned against the wall of the passage, and staggered into the depths, leaving only a muffled voice echoing:

"But I have a blade designed to deal with good guys, and it's precise, elegant, and lethal in one hit."

"It's called guilt."

Source: /txt/40577/30956889 Next Chapter 960 Under Schiller's Blade