Chapter 4540: Brightest Day (VI)

"A revolver is a very reliable weapon, almost never jams, is not affected by the weak-wrist effect, and can be equipped with large-caliber bullets. Both stopping power and lethality are very good. The only problem is that the noise and muzzle flash are too large when firing, which is not suitable for infiltration operations."

The man sitting at the table was holding a Colt Python. This was a quite beautiful revolver, equipped with. 357 Magnum bullets, and through the cylinder, one could see the pistol bullets that were a bit too big and quite worthy of the name.

"As long as you like it." Diana Prince, sitting opposite him, looked at the man. He was wearing a slim tactical suit, looked thin but quite powerful, and his tone of discussing firearms was too frivolous—this proved that he was a veteran, but lacked respect for lethal force, or, he didn't regard firearms as his most lethal force.

"I have had the honor of meeting that professor once," Diana said, "You are very different from him. I know you must each have your own legendary stories. But now, Mr. Rodriguez, we need you to set off immediately for Egypt. A French arms dealer named Hsinager took away a crucial collection from the Metropolitan Museum, and the secret of the person we want to find is hidden on it."

The pistol was gently placed on the table. Those sharp gray eyes lifted, looked at Diana, and then said: "Losing Batman has made you completely lose your sharpness. Since that thing is so important, why was it taken away by a foreign arms dealer?"

"In terms of cultural relic value, it is not a priceless treasure. The Metropolitan Museum has a series of complex cultural relic protection and return agreements with France and many small countries in Africa, which is beyond my ability."

"But you want to take it back by illegal means."

"Whether the means are illegal depends on who I am looking for." Diana leaned back and looked at him, saying, "If you can't make everything look like it follows morality and law, then don't look."

"Are you talking about yourself?"

"Not just me, sir. Be fast and light, and it's best to end all this before everything is irreparable. I can see that you are good at this."

With a "click," a bullet was loaded into the revolver. When the cylinder turned, one could hear the sound of the wind; and the moment it stopped, the whole room became quiet.

The man stood up, looked down at Diana, and said: "You asked me to solve this trouble, just like letting a snake bite its own tail. You will understand that this is not a good idea, ma'am."

"The plane to Cairo takes off in an hour and a half. I wish you a smooth journey, sir." Diana just said.

After the man walked out the door, Diana let out a long sigh. She knew very well how things became what they were now, but she was powerless.

The process of things collapsing was too fast: from the strange energy flow of the lantern furnace left by Batman, to the sudden abnormality of the mural from ancient Egypt, to the cultural relic transfer agreement signed at an unknown time, and that cunning French arms dealer Hsinager. By the time the "Snake of Frigne" set foot on the journey to Egypt, it was already completely too late.

Although Diana was anxious, she was not crazy enough to hijack a plane. She had to take that thing back, because it was very likely to point to the First Lantern that the multiverse was looking for.

It wasn't that she wanted to hide this secret, but that spreading it out had no benefits. Not to mention that it might cause other Justice Leagues in the multiverse to lose trust in the Main Universe, and Nekron, who was eyeing them like a tiger, was not easy to mess with. It was finally a clue, and it must not go wrong in the link of investigation.

Diana sat down again and rubbed her eyebrows. She knew that hiring Schiller was not a good choice. Main Universe Batman had emphasized several times that even if he had a private friendship with that professor, he did not recommend anyone in the Justice League to contact him—to contact any one of him.

Main Universe Wonder Woman didn't have much intersection with Schiller. She had seen him, knew him, but didn't know him well. The reason she could find him was because Main Universe Batman had hired him before, and more than once. Diana obtained Schiller's contact information through Battleworld's administrator Owen, and then hired this Schiller, who was called "the best agent" by Batman.

Diana was not a stingy employer. She knew that money had no meaning, so she specially asked her brother to forge a weapon very suitable for the other party—a Hephaestus metal version of the Colt Python, equipped with 12 enchanted. 357 Magnum bullets, with an automatic retrieval function.

For ordinary people, this was a quite powerful weapon. Even the divine magic applied to it made her brother Hephaestus cast a look of doubt. Diana knew that he might be worried about whether she finally wanted to kill Hera.

But she had no choice, the arms dealer named Hsinager must have mysterious power behind him. That place in Egypt also had some sayings. Letting a person kill a bloody path there with bare hands was irresponsible.

Diana looked at the blue sky outside the floor-to-ceiling window. She had a premonition that this time it would not be a coincidence. Nekron was not without arrangements for the Main Universe, he was just looking for a suitable opportunity, wanting to crush them in one fell swoop. Perhaps now was a good time.

On the Boeing 787 flying to Cairo, the flight attendant gently woke up the man who was resting with his eyes closed, and said in a gentle tone: "Hello, sir, I am very happy to serve you. This is the menu and wine list for this flight, what would you like?"

Schiller took the magazine covering his face, glanced at the menu and said: "I'm not hungry, please give me a glass of warm water."

"Okay, sir, please wait a moment..." The flight attendant suddenly froze. Because her peripheral vision caught a glimpse of another flight attendant in the aisle leading to the preparation room being pointed at the head with a gun, and another man holding a long gun standing in the center of the aisle.

"Everyone put down what's in your hands, raise your hands over the back of the seat, let me see every one of your fingers. Flight attendants come out from the preparation room, face the luggage rack and stand, put your hands on the nearest seat back. Purser repeat what I said."

All the flight attendants walked out from the preparation room. Some of them were shaking very badly, and didn't know where to put their hands. The purser seemed a bit more experienced, but when repeating the other party's words, she was still trembling.

"Very good. Pick up your intercom and repeat what I said to the cockpit: 'The cabin has been completely controlled, the other party has guns and sufficient ammunition. Any rash move will bring death, so don't try to resist. Now immediately control the plane to enter the Straits of Tiran, they can judge the plane's movement through professional equipment, and there are also their people hidden among the passengers, don't play small tricks.'"

The purser repeated it tremblingly. Her tone was very slow, and she often forgot the words, but the other party was not angry at all, and even taught her sentence by sentence, showing full patience.

Schiller's hands were on the seat back in front, which allowed him to turn his head slightly with the cover of his arms. Through the reflection on the badge of the flight attendant who had just served him and was now standing beside him, he vaguely saw the appearance of the hijackers.

That was a plain-looking middle-aged man in a suit. The one holding the pistol was taller, with a neatly trimmed beard; the one holding the long gun was shorter, but stronger. Other than that, nothing could be seen.

The Boeing 787-10 was a very spacious wide-body aircraft. The business class had two aisles and four rows of seats, the outer two rows tilted outward, and the inner two rows tilted inward. The first class had two rows and eight seats in total. Schiller sat on the far right of the second row. The hijackers stood a little ahead of the junction of the business class and the economy class.

There were not many people on this flight, most of them were in business class, and the economy class was only full for the first few rows. From the hijacker's standing position, it was not difficult to infer that what he said was true—there should be their people among the passengers. Otherwise, they should stand at the very back of the economy class where there were people, so that they could see everyone's movements. Since there were none, it meant that there were their people in the economy class.

However, within a few seconds, Schiller judged that this group of hijackers was very professional. Whether it was the timing of the appearance, the method of holding the gun, or the process of hijacking, they all had a certain level. The most critical thing was that they demanded to go to the Straits of Tiran, not any airport, which proved that they might require a water landing. And doing so was usually for a key person on the plane.

Going to a certain city or airport might be to implement a terrorist attack or achieve some kind of appeal. A water landing was different, the plane landing on the sea was an isolated island, and no rescue could be faster than a bullet. Even if they spent some effort to screen, it was enough to kill the target person.

Was it aimed at him? Schiller rarely thought about such questions, because even if it wasn't, the hijackers usually wouldn't let him go. Because for experienced hijackers, Schiller didn't look like an ordinary person. As long as they noticed something unusual, they wouldn't hesitate to kill one more to silence him.

"Don't move." Schiller maintained his posture and whispered to the flight attendant, "Later I will shout three, two, one, you rush forward as much as possible, cover your ears as much as possible. No matter what happens, don't get up."

"What are you going to do? Sir..." The flight attendant's tone was a bit anxious, "You can't fight them hard, this might kill a plane full of people..."

"The forced landing won't succeed," Schiller said, "Someone must have been waiting for them in Egypt."

The flight attendant trembled again, seeming to understand what Schiller meant. Every hijacking incident in this world was a disaster caused by the game of multiple parties. The fate of the plane had long been out of their control, and might even be out of the hijackers' control.

"Three... two... one!"

"BANG!!!!!!!!!!"

The moment the revolver fired, the huge sound and tremor almost detonated the cabin. Until the second before pulling the trigger, Schiller didn't realize how powerful this magic-modified revolver was—the erupting tongue of fire was half a meter long, and the huge gunshot echoing in the closed cabin made Schiller's ears bleed instantly, and he was dizzy for at least a second.

The gun in his hand trembled, and the bullet with the retrieval function had flown back into the gun. When Schiller stood up, he staggered. He was sure that his eardrums didn't survive. The good news was that the lower bodies of the two hijackers had flown out. The bad news was that the look everyone looked at him was more terrified than looking at the hijackers.

"Damn it." Schiller cursed in his heart, he shouldn't have believed that the demigods of Mount Olympus could have any correct understanding of human weapons—this thing was no different from a tank cannon barrel, except that the tank cannon barrel wasn't so flexible. ===== CHAPTER 4541 =====