Chapter 1935: U: Beyond the Great Event (61)

This time, the bus drove for an exceptionally long time, perhaps to give the few people time to rest. There were no uneven roads on the way, the vehicle was always very stable, and the people on the bus were also drowsy.

If they were normal people, after experiencing the previous dream event, they would definitely not be able to sleep peacefully at this time. This feeling of being sleepy but unable to sleep is the most tormenting.

But the four people on the bus had no similar worries. They closed their eyes and began to take a nap. However, none of them were people who needed sleep very much to replenish their energy. After their physical strength recovered almost enough, the four woke up one after another.

Batman and Seeing Natasha didn't have much change, but Bat-B and Schiller were a bit different.

Bat-B seemed to have relaxed a lot. He was still wearing the light-colored suit he got from the Nichelet Manor. He took off the suit jacket, loosened the collar of his shirt, moved his somewhat stiff neck, and let out a long breath.

Seeing Natasha, who was sitting in the row in front of him, turned around, pressed her chin on the back of the chair, raised her eyebrows, and said, "State is good, hmm?"

"I haven't been in such a good state for a long time," Bat-B raised one corner of his mouth and winked at Seeing Natasha, clearly implying something.

Seeing Natasha immediately revealed a brilliant smile. The female agent pursed her lips, beckoned to Bat-B, and the two sat in the row of seats next to them, whispering something there.

After Schiller woke up, Batman discovered something was wrong, so he walked over and sat next to Schiller, then turned his head to look at him, and tried to call out: "Greed?"

Schiller yawned, nodded, reached out and pulled the collar of his shirt that was buttoned a bit tightly, sighed, and said, "I said I wouldn't come up, I wouldn't come up, but they insisted on making me come up."

"What's wrong with them?" Batman asked about Schiller's other personality traits.

"Nothing, but they made too much noise and were all grounded by the Superego," Schiller sighed again, "I really don't think I'm suitable for this place. I'm just a psychologist."

"I hope so."

Schiller widened his eyes and looked at Batman, saying, "What do you mean by this? I'm not one of those mental patients in Gotham. I'm a normal, medically skilled, reasonably priced psychologist."

"Three hundred million US dollars in consultation fees every quarter?"

"How did he even tell you this?" Schiller complained, "When do you two plan to go to the church?"

After saying this, he seemed a bit unable to sit still. He stood up from the chair, came to the aisle between the seats, looked left and right, knocked on the back of the seats with his knuckles, and looked up at the skylight, looking just like he was shopping in a vegetable market.

Just when he was about to shake the seats with his hand, he seemed to suddenly hear something and said to the air, "Fine, fine, play the game according to the rules, okay?"

Schiller walked back to his seat with some lack of interest and sat down, but before he had sat for half a minute, he pointed his finger forward and looked at Batman, saying, "Is there anyone in the driver's seat?"

"There wasn't before."

Schiller stood up again, held the armrest, walked to the very front of the bus, looked to the side, and found that there was really no one in the driver's seat of the bus.

The driver's seat of the bus was an independent space with a metal wall in the middle, and a small door that looked just big enough for an adult to enter and exit.

Above the door was a vertical bar, below was a thick iron plate, the door was a transparent wire mesh, and a huge padlock was hanging on the door, with a circle of diamond marks drawn on the padlock.

Batman and the others had already checked this lock before. Of the 10 diamonds on the lock, only 4 were lit at this time, which represented that they had successfully passed four levels. And it seemed that to open this lock, all 10 levels of the game must be completed.

Schiller squatted down, picked up the padlock, looked into the keyhole, and found that the keyhole was not blocked, and there was a normal structure inside.

However, the material of the lock body was very strange. It was not ordinary metal. It was very light but very strong. All the metal structures on the bus were like this, which seemed to be impossible to break with violence.

It seemed that there were two ways to end the game: either complete 10 rounds of the game, or find the key to the padlock.

But there was another problem. After opening the driver's seat of the bus, where should the bus be driven to end the game?

At this time, the remaining three people all gathered around, squatting, sitting, or standing at the door of the driver's seat. Schiller shook the padlock with his hand and said, "Have you seen those horror movies composed of many small stories?"

"V/H/S?" Seeing Natasha gave an example. She said, "The basic plot is that an organization comes to a place to search, finds a pile of videotapes, and each videotape is a horror mockumentary."

"Yes, but this type of film has a common feature, which is that there will be a main line to connect all the stories together."

"For example, in the story of V/H/S, the videotape is the carrier of the horror story, each videotape represents a horror story, and constantly discovering the videotape and revealing the source and meaning of the videotape's existence is the main story."

Schiller stood up and patted the door of the driver's seat next to him, saying, "Clearly, this bus is equivalent to the videotape in V/H/S. It leads us to one horror story after another, and investigating the secret of this bus is clearly our main story."

Seeing Natasha hugged her arms and tapped her toes lightly, saying, "That's right. In this type of horror film composed of small stories, many horror stories will be connected, or the supporting characters and passersby in the previous story are the protagonists of the next story."

"And the mastermind behind the main story who caused this series of stories to happen is naturally the one. The protagonist and supporting characters will more or less have intersections with him."

"It seems we should have collected clues in the first few stories," Schiller said.

And as soon as he finished speaking, the gazes of the other few people fell on him, and the gazes were not very friendly. The general meaning was saying, because of whom did we fail to collect clues carefully?

Schiller coughed twice with some embarrassment. At this time, Seeing Natasha also saw a familiar feeling from Schiller's demeanor. She tried to call out: "Doctor."

Schiller smiled at her. Seeing Natasha seemed to collapse suddenly, let out a long breath, walked up and hugged Schiller, and patted his back, saying, "Long time no see, Doctor."

"Indeed long time no see. You are about to have your next psychological assessment."

"I know it's not that long."

Bat-B turned to look at Batman. He had vaguely heard the conversation between Batman and Schiller before, and then he found that now there seemed to be only him in the car who didn't know this might be a new personality of Schiller.

Schiller leaned on the door of the driver's seat, smiled at Bat-B, and said, "Nice to meet you. Actually, I am the psychologist Schiller."

"You look like a Metropolis person."

"You could say that."

Schiller yawned again. He turned his head to look at the almost unchanging scenery outside the car window. He just wanted to say something, when a sudden change occurred.

"BOOM!!!"

Violent explosion, rolling, and firelight. Everything in front of everyone was pitch black.

Schiller didn't feel pain, but his consciousness did indeed have a short blackout, manifested as darkness in front of his eyes.

Although the blackout time was very short, the recovery process was somewhat long, just like waking up from a faint. Schiller recovered consciousness, but hadn't recovered perception.

Gradually, he felt that he was lying on the cold ground. He thought, what a disaster-style transition.

Soon, Schiller found that he could hear sounds. He heard some "crackle" current sounds rising above his head, and then hazy light appeared in his vision. That seemed to be a light bulb hanging above his head.

Then he found that he could lift his arms, but the feeling of dizziness was still very heavy, so Schiller lay on the ground without moving until he could feel his complete body.

At this time, Schiller's vision had completely recovered. The halo of light he saw was indeed a lamp hanging on the ceiling.

His palms felt that he was lying on the cement ground. There were no tiles, and no floor. The ground was a bit damp, so it was exceptionally cold.

Schiller sat up at an extremely slow speed, turned his head to look in the direction where the current sound came from, and sure enough, a big-headed TV was placed in the corner above the room, constantly playing snow points, and the crackling sound was transmitted by the TV.

"What the hell? Don't tell me a little puppet will come out later to play a game with me. Plagiarism would be too lame."

Schiller muttered, stood up, shook his neck, rubbed his waist, and found that it didn't hurt anywhere, just that his head was a bit dizzy. He sighed and said, "Why is it so exciting as soon as I come up? Is this being kidnapped?"

The snow points on the TV flickered twice, and the frequency of the crackling sound also changed. Schiller turned his head to look again. After the screen flickered a few times, a figure appeared on the screen.

That was indeed not a puppet; that was a rag doll.

Schiller put one hand on his waist, extended a finger with the other, and said, "If you dare to say 'I want to play a game with you'..."

"You must play a game with me."

Schiller slapped his forehead with one hand.

Schiller let out a long sigh, looked at the TV with some helplessness. That rag doll was a little girl. The skin was light coffee-colored linen, the hair was a braid woven from dark brown wool, the eyes were sewn with two buttons, and the mouth was a seam, but it could really open its mouth. Inside the mouth was red cotton.

"Schiller, you are a psychologist..."

"You got it wrong, I am a psychology professor."

"Schiller, you are a psychologist..."

"Rag doll, you are a repeater."

"Schiller, you are a psychologist..."

"Fine, fine, I am. Hurry up and continue."

"Schiller, you are a psychologist. You listen to countless people's troubles, but the result of treatment is closely related to the fees paid. You don't care about their pain; you only care about the money you harvest."

"That is indeed true."

The rag doll paused slightly.

"You have had countless opportunities to save others' lives, but just because they could no longer provide the material conditions you wanted, you cruelly rejected them."

"Don't say it as if there is really anyone in this world who can provide the material conditions I want."

The rag doll paused again.

It seemed that its original lines should be quite long, but for some reason, it didn't continue to speak, but said, "The password to open the door is in the human heart. You must use your superb psychological skills to learn their secrets. This time, what choice will you make?"

With a "click," a phone fell from the ceiling, with a plug-in phone line. With another slight "click," Schiller saw a small dark door opened under the wall behind him. Inside the dark door was a socket.

Just after the phone line was connected, the phone made a sharp ringing sound. Schiller picked up the phone and said to the other side, "Hello?"

"Hello? Are you a psychologist?"

That was Peter Parker's voice. ===== CHAPTER 1936 =====