Chapter 3861: The Nameless Bat (42)

"Alright, now I have one thing to tell you." Schiller said to his colleagues who were called to his office while tidying up the equipment on the table, "Anything I do next has nothing to do with you. If anyone asks about me, you should know how to answer."

"Boss." One of the agents looked at the equipment Schiller placed on the table—a specially made hidden sniper rifle installed in a briefcase, a silenced pistol and two magazines, a tactical dagger, night vision goggles and a scope, an ordinary office laptop—and opened his mouth uneasily, "What are you going to do?"

"Haven't you encountered colleagues who suddenly disappeared before?" Schiller didn't stop the tidying action, just turned his head slightly and asked.

"Uh, but that's usually because they had some problems." Another agent said, "For example, being bought off or something. They would be arrested soon, and then secretly tried. Probably."

"I'm not referring to this, but those who received emergency missions and then suddenly disappeared, never to return."

Others were silent, and one of the younger ones tentatively asked: "So you received an emergency mission, Boss?"

"No." Schiller shook his head and said, "It's just that I might be leaving, but don't be sad. We will meet again soon."

After speaking, Schiller took away all his equipment—excluding his work badge, documents, and work uniform—left the FBI base, hailed a taxi, and arrived at a bar in Gotham's old town.

When he went in, he pressed his hat very low, but after sitting down, he took off his hat, took off his windbreaker jacket and put it aside, and opened his laptop. The communication software showed a message from Barbara:

"Where did you go? Did you go to execute a mission? I didn't see you on the surveillance cameras."

"Yes, I left. Don't worry, I'm just going to handle some things, and should be back soon. By the way, I have business with Jason Todd, can you tell me where he is?"

"I don't suggest you go find him, and I don't see what business you must have with him. Can you not go?"

"I'm afraid not. Even if you don't tell me, I can find out myself, you know. So to save each other's time, you might as well tell me his whereabouts directly."

"Fine, you have to promise me not to hurt him. He is currently... wait, he is at the Brother Eye headquarters."

"Where is that?"

"A place where Brother Eye servers are stored. The control device is still in the Batcave, but a large number of server systems are placed in the basement of a building not far from Wei En Tower. We call that place the Brother Eye headquarters. What is Jason doing there?"

"Alright, I know, thanks."

Schiller closed the laptop, put on his coat and hat again, arrived near the bar, and hailed another taxi to Wei En Tower, and found the building Barbara mentioned within two miles of the tower.

It was another high-rise building no different from Wei En Tower, inconspicuous in the cityscape of the Arkham Knight universe. However, the security level here was indeed higher than the few buildings around it, and the arrangement of patrol personnel basically had no flaws.

After Schiller turned around, he didn't stay here anymore. He called another taxi and said to the driver: "Take me to the black community in the old town."

The driver raised his eyebrows, seemingly not expecting such a request. He looked at Schiller through the car's rearview mirror, and finally his gaze stayed on the briefcase beside his hand. Looking at the exquisite seams and the metallic luster emanating from it, he decisively chose to shut up.

The car drove all the way to the vicinity of the black community in the old town. Schiller turned around on this street, and finally, at the end of a dark alley, saw a graffiti logo sprayed on the wall. Below the logo was a damage, a brick fell off, revealing an opening.

Schiller walked over. He tapped the wall lightly with his finger, and a grumbling sound came from the opposite side, as if someone had just woken up. Then he heard a relatively old voice with a black accent say: "What do you want?"

"Get me a car, black, the more inconspicuous the better, don't bring any intelligent control system."

"Do you want a license plate?"

"Having one is of course best, but I won't pay extra."

The other side also tapped twice. Schiller took out a roll of dollars from his windbreaker pocket and handed it in through the opening. The hand taking the money also held a silenced pistol, and the muzzle of the silencer flashed past the opening.

"20 minutes." The other party said.

Schiller stood there waiting, but it actually didn't take 20 minutes, only ten-plus minutes. The other party handed him a piece of paper with an address written on it. Schiller walked out of the alley and walked toward the address on the paper.

It was about two blocks away from here, and he walked there soon. There was only one car in the alley marked by the address, a black Chevrolet, a relatively old version, but the car condition looked okay.

Schiller walked in and pulled the car door, finding it was indeed unlocked. He walked in and started the ignition, finding there was only half a tank of gas, but he didn't care. He backed the car out and parked it on the side of the road, and soon a young black man in a jacket walked over swaying, as if he had taken too much drugs, and leaned on his car window.

Schiller knocked on the window to drive him away, but took the opportunity to throw out a roll of dollars. The other party walked away without changing his expression. Schiller checked the other configurations in the car and found no problems, so he drove to the Brother Eye server building.

Schiller waited here for about a whole night, during which he took a nap in the driver's seat of the car. When everyone went to work the next morning, he got out of the car and stood under the shade of a tree watching the flow of people.

When he found that several people had cup sleeves with the same pattern on their coffee, he walked in the opposite direction of the crowd toward where those people came from. After walking about 200 meters, he saw a coffee shop.

He observed the coffee shop from across the street, and when he saw several people in security uniforms appearing among the crowd in suits and leather shoes, he approached a bit, pretending to be a customer buying coffee and queuing behind them.

"A cappuccino, an iced Americano, an iced Americano with bubbles, two lattes..."

Those two people in security uniforms bought several cups of coffee. Schiller remembered the types of coffee they bought, bypassed this building, came to the back door of the coffee shop, and observed on the ground, sure enough finding the traces left by the truck tires.

He pried open the kitchen door, looked at the layout inside, especially the position where the milk was placed and the parameters of the coffee machine. If all the milk was sold out and new goods were replenished the next day, then the milk used at about 7:20 should just happen to be the second box.

He drove the car over, parked it here, and waited until evening. A truck drove over, honked twice, intending to call the clerk out to pick up the goods.

The burly truck driver walked out of the driver's seat, just opened the cargo hold door at the back, and was strangled by the neck, then knocked out with a punch. Schiller dragged him to the back of the truck, took off his coat and put it aside, and put on the truck driver's coat.

He drilled into the car, checked the goods on the car, picked up one of the boxes of milk, injected something into it with a syringe, and then put this box of milk second, put all the milk in a row, and placed them aside.

Suddenly, the flashlight light flashed a few times. Schiller put on a mask and walked over. The other party froze after seeing him and asked: "Where is Castor?"

"He's sick, I'm his nephew." Schiller shrugged and said, "Know your business is good, can't delay, so he hired me at a high salary to deliver goods for him."

The other party smiled and said: "So you are that bastard who dropped out of school and never came back. Fine, first give me the milk, and then there are three bags of beans I want..."

When Schiller handed him the neatly arranged milk, he even cursed, and then said: "Sure enough, that guy doesn't have a single true word in his mouth. Every time he hands me goods, they are scattered, and I have to reorganize them; you are much more suitable for this line of work than him."

"Maybe I can take over his shift." Schiller chatted skillfully, and handed the bags of beans to the employee according to the cargo list he got from the truck driver.

After doing all this, Schiller dragged the truck driver to the passenger seat. He successfully found some powder traces in the driver's seat; actually, when he knocked the person out just now, he smelled the smell. He burned those traces with fire, letting the smell fill the carriage, and even took a little powder and wiped it under the truck driver's nose, letting him mistakenly think he had taken drugs.

However, for the sake of insurance, Schiller still drew a check mark on the name of the coffee shop on the delivery note according to the original handwriting of the truck driver, and then drove the car to the next delivery location, letting the truck driver mistakenly think he had already delivered it here.

Returning to the coffee shop again, it happened to be the time for the clerk to get off work from the back door. Schiller pretended to pass by, looked into the room through the door crack, and the milk had been neatly arranged on the shelf; judging from the shape of the box, it should be that the order hadn't changed.

Schiller waited in the car for another night, and the next day, sure enough, he saw those two security guards who came to buy coffee at the same time again. He drove the car around to the front, watching them carry several cups of coffee back to the security room.

Soon, breakfast time ended, and they started patrolling. Schiller drove the car around to the side door, and sure enough saw the two security guards patrolling near the side door clutching their stomachs and rushing into the building.

Because both of them had stomachaches at the same time, no one replaced them. Schiller easily climbed over the railing, followed them into the side door, and then entered the restroom.

Schiller pretended to wash his hands in the restroom and waited for a while, and soon the one who went in first came out, his steps floating, his face pale, clearly having just experienced diarrhea. Schiller didn't spend much effort, strangled him from behind, covered his mouth, dragged him out, and then took his work badge and changed into the security uniform.

He left the restroom at the fastest speed and walked toward the basement. There didn't seem to be any special defense system here either, Schiller followed the safety passage and successfully arrived at the first basement floor, only that the doors storing the servers were all locked, and there was no way to open them with conventional means.

Schiller didn't care either. He listened to the movement inside every door he passed, and when he walked to the second to last door at the end of the corridor, he heard grumbling complaints as expected.

Schiller knocked on the door.

The sound of tactical boots stepping on the ground rang out. The door was opened, and the Arkham Knight said with some doubt: "Security? What are you doing here? Is there something wrong upstairs?"

Schiller lowered his head and took off his hat, only slightly raising his gray eyes, and in an instant, the Arkham Knight let out a sharp scream.

?? Arkham Knight's Bad Luck 2.0