Chapter 4501

"Special Agent Amanda Waller of the CIA, it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Rodriguez. How many years were you sentenced to, again?"

"Originally 231 years, but that's not certain anymore," Schiller said, sitting behind the railing.

"You don't need to waste your talents in prison, do you?" Amanda looked at him. "The Federation needs talents like you. If you are willing to work for us..."

"Fine," Schiller said.

"We can provide you with... what did you say?"

"I said I am willing to work for you. Is there a problem?"

"No... no, but do you know what kind of work you'll be doing?" Amanda looked at him in surprise. "We need people to do the dirty work..."

"Then was my 231-year sentence handed down while I was working as a janitor?"

"Alright. Come with me. Before you start, we still have some things to ask you."

Interrogation rooms, offices, crime scenes, the Capitol Building, the White House, European offices, air force bases, Buckingham Palace, airports, the Pacific Ocean...

Schiller slowly withdrew his hand and said softly, "Falling into Amanda's hands isn't bad, is it? At least you only have to endure her."

There was movement behind him. He turned his head and saw the open back kitchen door. After walking in, it was the same machine again. He placed his hand on it once more.

The cold wind whistled in his ears, and faint groans of pain could be heard. Schiller walked out of the tent and saw homeless people with numb eyes all around him. A strong sense of hunger surged from within his own body.

Schiller lifted his foot and walked toward the direction where the colors were most intense. Bright, hazy, and bizarre. He grabbed that person by the neck and pressed him down into the alley.

"Let go! Let go! You... you lunatic! What are you doing?"

"Sorry, I'm just... a little hungry."

Ten minutes later, Schiller finished the last sip of his drink and finally saw the face of the person in front of him clearly. He blurted out subconsciously, "Jack?"

"... You know me?"

"I do now. Are you going to find Batman?"

Jack's expression stiffened, and he looked Schiller up and down. Schiller sighed lightly and said, "I'm sorry to have ruined your schedule. Since you can't go anyway, why not do me a favor?"

"... What do you want to do?"

Soon, police cars surrounded the block like a school of fish. The moment James saw the situation inside the fast-food restaurant, he shouted, "Nobody move!"

Schiller stood amidst a pile of explosives and looked at him, "I won't move, you can come in."

An hour later, he was sitting in the interrogation room of the Cat Getan Police Department, and a police officer walked in. Two hours later, an agent in an FBI uniform walked in. Another hour later, a man in a black suit walked in. Schiller left with him.

Interrogation rooms, offices, crime scenes, the Capitol Building, the White House, European offices, air force bases, Buckingham Palace, airports, Cuba, Washington headquarters, Arctic research stations, the Pacific Ocean...

"The feeling of being kidnapped by the Joker isn't bad either," Schiller said. "How many more times do you have to repeat this to understand that I only ever act as myself in different timelines? It's not that I am this way because it is so, but because I am who I am, it becomes so."

With a crackle, the screen lit up again. A familiar voice finally came through: "Schiller Rodriguez, do you really think you've won?"

Schiller walked back to the center of the restaurant. There was no one else on the screen, only the surveillance footage of the restaurant playing. Schiller could see himself through the screen.

"This is your true face, right?" the voice said. "You think I'm too cold and cruel for catching people to experiment on, so how are you any different for killing people to escape your own punishment?"

"You've watched this so many times, haven't you figured it out yet?"

"What should I have figured out?"

"I am not Batman," Schiller said. "You think I killed you for justice, like a superhero, punishing evil and promoting good, to the great satisfaction of the people."

"If not, then why did you kill me?"

"Superheroes kill villains to uphold justice, but when a villain kills a villain, it's just because they find them annoying," Schiller chuckled. "I am not upholding justice, I am not filling legal loopholes, and I have no high-sounding reasons. I kill everyone like you simply because you are an eyesore, nothing more."

"You don't think that because you died so cleanly, it would become my regret, because I didn't have time to judge you by the law, nor did I have time to morally kidnap you. So I should be happy that you returned to the world to debate with me?"

"Hugo Strange, there has never been anything good for us to talk about. There is no distinction between good and evil, no difference in ideology. Running into me is just the retribution for you walking the night road too often. You can completely view this as a sudden car accident; you didn't do anything wrong, it's just that life always has accidents. Why die with such lingering resentment?"

The restaurant was quiet for a long time, and some atmosphere brewed in the silence. After a while, the voice continued: "But you are a despicable cheater. You used chemicals to pull me into a hallucination; that is not a psychological technique."

"I didn't want to defeat you, I just wanted to kill you. Chemical means are useful, so I used them. Is that hard to understand?"

"You won't have such an opportunity again," the voice said. "I know you still have fear toxin, and perhaps a freeze gun, but don't think about using such means to deal with me again—I am the true master of psychology."

"Crackle—crackle—"

Suddenly, the lights flared bright. Brainiac's call came through the phone. The next second, a corpse fell from the sky. With a "bang," the police broke in, only to see Schiller standing there, and a little girl lying in a pool of blood in front of him.

Schiller narrowed his eyes slightly and didn't move until he saw the little girl's fingers tremble slightly.

He lifted his eyes abruptly, ignoring the police surrounding him, and walked quickly to the little girl's side. After feeling a faint pulse on her neck, he stood up and turned his head: "She's still alive, call an ambulance... hurry!"

A few minutes later, Schiller, draped in an emergency blanket, sat in the passenger seat of the police car. Gordon handed him a cup of hot coffee. Schiller seemed somewhat detached. After hesitating for a long time, Gordon asked, "Are you okay?"

Schiller shook his head. Gordon circled around, came to the driver's seat, and after sitting down, paused slightly before speaking: "I don't think you are the type of person to harm children. Even if she wanted to kill you, you would probably just dodge. I'll assume someone wanted to frame you, but how is it that the person isn't dead?"

"It's a bit complicated," Schiller said after a while. "I admit Hugo still has some level of skill."

"What exactly is going on?"

"You are a police officer, your duty is to find the murderer, not to interrogate me, the kidnapped victim."

"Kidnapped?!"

"That 'Moriarty' first hunted me, then sent a threatening email demanding I go to a designated location, and even blocked Brainiac, attacking me with his hallucination device. If that's not kidnapping, what is?"

Gordon was speechless.

In the reception room of the Cat Getan Police Department, Victor pushed open the door in a hurry and breathed a sigh of relief after seeing Schiller. He said, "I knew you were up to no good by leaving me behind. Going to Hugo's appointment alone, do you really think you're Sherlock Holmes?!"

"It's a pity I didn't hold him and jump off a cliff, otherwise your novel would never be published due to plagiarism," Schiller looked at him and said.

"You don't look so good." Victor walked over to pour him coffee. Schiller waved his hand to indicate it wasn't necessary. So Victor walked back and sat down, sitting opposite Schiller.

"Tell me, what exactly is going on?" Victor said. "I know you definitely didn't tell Gordon the truth; after all, he is a police officer."

"I just didn't tell him everything," Schiller said. "This involves old matters, and there's nothing to talk about. Let's leave it at that."

Victor narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He looked Schiller up and down from head to toe, then said, "If you really wanted to lie, none of us would be able to tell. Or is it that you haven't finished making it up yet? That doesn't fit your ability."

"I didn't want to lie to you, I just didn't want to say it. Everyone has things they don't want to talk about."

Victor revealed a fake smile that didn't reach his eyes. He pulled out his freeze gun directly, froze the entire room, and then said, "I guarantee that what happens here won't get out. Don't even think about Brainiac finding out..."

"This has nothing to do with that..."

"I mean, if I freeze you half to death right now, no one can save you, including Brainiac."

Schiller looked at him somewhat helplessly. Victor slowly turned the muzzle toward him and said, "Having known you for so many years, I've long understood a principle: if a mental patient tells you they don't want to do something, what you need to do isn't to understand them, but to pin them down and make them take their medicine."

"But we are friends," Schiller argued. "And I am very sure that I am not having an episode right now. I..."

"Bang!"

With a "crack," the ice in the room melted. Gordon pushed the door open and was stunned for a moment when he saw Victor standing in front of Schiller's ice sculpture.

Victor blocked Gordon's line of sight and said, "Do you know how nasty he can be when his mental state isn't good? I really can't stand him anymore."

Gordon immediately showed an understanding expression and said, "I still have some things I want to ask him, can you please..."

"Have you had it too easy lately?" Victor couldn't help but ask. "Do you have to let him scold you before you feel comfortable?"

"Fine," Gordon sighed and said, "I'm afraid I can't stand it either. You take him back first, and when he recovers, I'll ask him again."

After speaking, he left, completely failing to see Schiller, who was blocked by Victor, asking for help with his mouth movements inside the ice sculpture. Victor spread his hands and said, "The Mr. Freeze you wanted is here, buddy. The marksmanship wasn't practiced in vain."

When the police placed Schiller's ice sculpture in the low-temperature laboratory, Nora pursed her lips and said, "Watson never froze Holmes, you should know that, right?"

"Of course I know," Victor nodded, took off his coat, and said, "But I think that's just because he didn't have this technology. If he could really stop Holmes from putting himself in danger, he would have done it."

"Fine, it seems you two have things to talk about." Nora said as she walked to the door, and very considerately closed it.

"Did you find that you couldn't get out even using the gray mist?" Victor took off his suit jacket as well and placed it on the back of the chair next to him.

"The gray mist can get out," Schiller replied with his mouth movements, "Be careful, I'll have him come out and beat you up."

"Obviously he also thinks what I'm doing is right." Victor sat in the chair, crossed one leg over the other, placed his hands on his knees, and stared at Schiller, saying, "Tell me, what kind of madness are you having again."

The dense ice layer changed a little, and Schiller could speak. He said, "Mr. Fries, if a plot appeared in your book where an assistant freezes a detective and forcibly kidnaps him from the police station, you would definitely receive countless bad reviews."

"As long as I keep you frozen, the content of the book is up to me. I can choose not to record this part." Victor picked up the paper and pen on the side, reading as he wrote.

"I can see that Rodriguez has something on his mind. I understand that he isn't as cold as he appears, often worrying about many things, but this is the first time it has been so plainly displayed on his face. Clearly, these cases are unexpectedly tricky. And as his assistant, there isn't much I can do. Since reasoning hasn't been helpful, and I have no clue how to proceed with the investigation, I could only pour him a cup of hot tea.

'Thank you, Fries.' Even in his anxiety, the detective still maintains the most basic politeness. Even pacing anxiously in the room didn't cause his leather shoe heels to make too much noise. These are all manifestations of his gentlemanly demeanor. I feel deeply remorseful that I cannot help.

Just as I was falling into self-doubt, feeling like I was holding him back, 'Sit down and have a cup of tea, Mr. Fries, I would be very happy to hear your thoughts.' Rodriguez pointed to the seat opposite him. I can see he is comforting me.

I am more deeply convinced that only those who don't know him would think he is an arrogant freak. Those who know him well know that his care for those close to him is always revealed inadvertently. I feel that my self-reproach and anxiety have been smoothed over by his gentleness. It's time to talk about the case."