Chapter 629

As Angela's cry shattered the silent night, time froze, then reversed.

The falling Schiller slowly rose back up; shattered glass fragments flew from the ground and reassembled into a pristine floor-to-ceiling window; Schiller and Batman resumed their facing stance, others retreated from the door and descended the stairs back to the fourth-floor room.

Constantine stood at the front, facing the demon that had taken solid form; Kira and Angela stood behind him, firing their guns; Angela turned to Kira and said, "If I heard correctly just now, you said something in Russian…"

"You better have misheard," Kira said flatly; her gun was far more advanced than Angela's, equipped with a special agent-grade suppressor and a larger magazine.

Seeing Angela's pistol was out of ammo, she pulled a spare magazine from her waist and handed it to Angela, then said, "When we get out, forget everything that happened here—it benefits both of us."

"You're a KGB agent, aren't you?" Angela took a deep breath; normally, if she encountered a spy like this, she would have tried to arrest her—but remembering the contents of her sister's letter, she could only say, "I think I know who you're looking for. Here, read the letter yourself."

She handed the envelope to Kira—not because she endorsed Soviet ideals, but because whether it was the FBI, the CIA, or the KGB, none could allow a mysterious organization beyond their control to grow; on the matter of destroying this organization, they shared common interests.

Kira barely glanced at the envelope before returning it to Angela, then gripped her gun tightly and said, "Her sacrifice was worth it. So was your sister's."

"Without them, this mysterious dark organization might never have revealed itself. We previously conducted investigations into this force, but their intelligence was too good—they moved too quickly, and we never caught their trail."

"I don't care who you are," Angela said as she reloaded. "I only want revenge for my sister."

"Me too."

After the two women reached agreement, Kira shouted to Constantine ahead: "Hold on a little longer—reinforcements are coming!"

"Don't count on reinforcements—this thing isn't something ordinary people can handle," Constantine said, pulling out a cross and slicing his palm with its base, muttering incantations as if performing a ritual.

He flung the blood from his palm toward the demon; the instant the blood touched the demon's corpse, it let out a shriek—but at that moment, Constantine heard a strange noise, like the whir of helicopter rotors.

"Get down!" Kira shouted.

All three sprinted for the door; within one second of them clearing the threshold, the entire outer wall of the room exploded violently, reducing four walls to three as night wind rushed through the gaping hole.

The smoke from the explosion obscured Constantine and Angela's vision; Constantine lowered his arm, coughed twice, and peered inside the door: "What the hell? Why did it explode?!"

But Kira charged straight in; her pistol had a red-dot sight, and she pointed it at the demon: "Machine gun, ready! Fire here!"

Through the thick smoke, Constantine saw a helicopter hovering before the hole, its machine gun unleashing full firepower, forcing the black demon into retreat.

The machine gun's firepower was too intense; Constantine and Angela had to keep running forward, taking cover around the corner. Amid the barrage, Angela shouted: "You said ordinary weapons don't work on him?!"

"Are these ordinary weapons?!"

Constantine shouted back.

Suddenly, a loud "bang" echoed, followed by rapid "pitter-patter" and "whoosh-whoosh-whoosh" sounds; Constantine and Angela covered their ears; Constantine gritted his teeth: "These Russians are insane! How dare they use heavy firepower on American soil?!"

"How dare they not?!" Angela shouted. "There's nothing they won't do!"

At that moment, the wall along the corridor also collapsed—giving the black demon a path to escape; its newly formed limbs, not yet used for attack, were now used solely for flight.

Constantine extended his bleeding palm, which glowed with a bright sigil; he stepped in front of the fleeing monster, trying to block it.

But the monster didn't harm him—it was the machine gun bullets raking in from behind that sent him scrambling for cover.

"Move!" Kira and other KGB agents, each wielding massive firearms, waved half-heartedly at Constantine and Angela and shouted: "Don't let him get away—we're chasing!"

Constantine and Angela pressed against the wall, watching helplessly as the black demon was chased down the entire corridor by a squad of KGB agents armed with heavy weapons, then sprinted up the stairs.

"Why is it going up?" Angela asked.

"How should I know? Let's hurry up—we can't let them make too much noise, or it might start a war!" Constantine shouted as he ran upstairs.

"War? You mean between Earth and Hell?"

"I mean between America and the Soviet Union!"

The two chased after the heavy-weapons team until they reached the top floor; the demon, inexplicably, kept sprinting straight toward the end of the corridor and burst into the room at the end.

Inside the room, Batman and Schiller were locked in a standoff.

Batman reacted instantly; hearing movement behind him, he rolled aside—suddenly, the demon and Schiller faced each other.

The demon was massive, surrounded by thick black mist; the KGB agents who rushed in didn't see the person behind the monster—they only wanted a quick kill.

Seeing the demon stop, their firepower intensified; the demon's recently formed, unstable body had already been battered nearly to dissolution during the chase, and now, before two seconds passed, its entire black form exploded.

But heavy weapons don't stop firing instantly, and the agents' reactions weren't fast enough; their vision was blocked by the dissolving black energy, and their trigger fingers didn't release immediately—so the torrent of bullets struck Schiller full force.

The instant the black mist cleared, everyone saw the sparks of bullets bursting across Schiller's body, then he fell from the window ten stories high.

Constantine and Kira, who had just arrived, rushed to the window and looked down; they saw Schiller lying on the ground like an ordinary man, blood spreading around his body, glowing warm under the streetlamp.

Angela stood frozen; she had just seen Schiller's face in the instant before he fell, and she let out an incredulous cry:

"Schiller… Schiller!"

!

After a dozen seconds of stunned silence, she bolted to the window, saw the blood-soaked figure on the ground, and screamed in despair: "No!"

Twenty minutes later, outside the emergency ward of Metropolis Central Hospital, Angela covered her face with both hands, slid slowly down the wall, and collapsed onto the floor; beside her, Constantine smoked, the smoke thinning under the cold glow of the emergency room sign.

"... You knew Schiller?" Constantine asked.

Angela fell silent for a long time—whether recalling or organizing words, minutes passed before she answered: "Of course I knew him. How could I not?"

"Honestly, as his friends, we knew little of his past. Can you tell us about him?" Constantine asked.

"About five or six years ago—I had just graduated from the police academy and joined the Metropolis Police Department," Angela shook her head. "You know how much discrimination women face in this profession."

Constantine nodded; he knew well. Though anti-discrimination movements had been ongoing for years and female employment rates had risen dramatically, that progress applied only to ordinary industries.

In this era, in police, military, firefighting, and similar fields, a rigid stereotype still prevailed: even if women joined, they belonged in offices—as clerks filing paperwork, fetching tea, not out in the field.

That's why Angela was so renowned—she was one of the very few female officers on the East Coast, even nationwide, with real skill; everyone knew a woman who survived in such an environment must be extraordinary.

But as Angela spoke, Constantine realized she hadn't always been this strong.

"When I first joined the Metropolis PD, my first three days were running up and down stairs answering phones or carrying files from the first floor to the chief's office. The chief loved making me do it—probably because I was prettier than the other female clerks."

Angela wasn't boasting; she was stating a fact. Constantine leaned against the wall; from his angle, he could see her sharp brow ridge and straight nose.

This officer's face wasn't the soft, sweet type most people favored; her features carried a sharp, wild beauty, uniquely alluring.

"When I was first assigned to a combat team, unsurprisingly, I was left behind at the station to file paperwork."

"File work is important—evidence needs analysis, and it helps detectives in the field. I tried convincing myself this wasn't so bad."

"But I felt I could do more. So during the second joint operation with a local precinct, I requested field duty. The chief agreed—but on one condition: I had to sleep with him. I slapped him. The next day, I was transferred to the most remote precinct."

"Perhaps because it was so remote, a dismemberment suspect hid part of a corpse in a trash bin on the street I patrolled—and that's how I faced a brutal criminal for the first time."

"You beat him, right?" Constantine asked Angela.

Honestly, since Angela had sought him out, her performance had been nothing short of fierce—she'd quickly shaken off grief and retained formidable combat readiness, something most couldn't manage.

But Angela shook her head: "That day, I realized everything I learned at the academy meant nothing in reality. I was too nervous—I let him escape."

"After that, he killed an innocent person—and a cop…" Angela closed her eyes; her voice trembled. "Since then, I've had nightmares constantly…"

Xiao Shuting

"In my dreams, I defeat him over and over, arrest him, lock him away; the innocent and the cop live their quiet lives. But every time I wake up, the truth is the opposite."

Angela took a deep breath: "I've always known my mind wasn't stable… because… because my parents…"

Angela seemed to summon all her courage to speak: "They called my sister a monster, a hopeless lunatic, and praised me as the perfect child who never disappointed them…"

"But I knew I was a monster too. I could see those things—I just never said it. Or rather, I was too afraid to say it…"

"Because my sister showed signs first, they took her to a psychiatrist. The doctor diagnosed her with delusions. So my parents ignored her pleas and committed her to a mental hospital, saying she couldn't be discharged unless cured."

"I knew they were just using that as an excuse to abandon her."

"They poured all their hopes onto me. They found another specialist to examine me."

Angela's voice cracked with tears; fear threaded her words as she spoke haltingly: "When I sat in that chair, I trembled all over—I knew I was just like my sister. I could see those things too."

"I heard the door open. I nearly cried—I thought the specialist was about to pronounce my death sentence."

"But the one who walked in was a young intern doctor. He said his name was Schiller Rodriguez."