Chapter 657: Raging Waves of the Red Sea (Part 7)

"This is an opportunity." CIA female agent Kayla said while manipulating the steering wheel: "We have already lost one city in the game related to the Philby list. If we can get evidence of the Queen family colluding with Mexican drug lords this time, then we can hand in a satisfactory answer sheet before the next representative assembly."

Black agent Lira, sitting in the passenger seat, sighed and said: "The black movement has failed. There is no other revolutionary force on this land. We are struggling alone, and it is difficult to move..."

"Are you afraid?" Kayla asked. Lira touched his eyebrow and said: "Perhaps. I have been disappointed too many times, and one more time doesn't matter."

"I'm sorry, I couldn't shake Moscow's decision. The tragedy of the Black Panther Party shouldn't have happened, but..." Kayla shook her head, clearly feeling very sorry for the oppression suffered by black communists in this country back then.

Lira had no expression. He said: "Perhaps, we all know that some things are different, it's just that you don't want to admit it. I dare say, the person who takes the stage in ten days will make you extremely disappointed."

"New changes represent new hope. Changes are always good, aren't they?" Kayla steered the car to stop on the side of the road. The two walked out of the car and looked up at the doorplate of the high-rise building in front of them, which read "Queen Tower".

In the guest room of the Beverly Hills Hotel in Los Angeles, Hal sighed, looked at Schiller, and said: "You have to find a way to help him. Since we came back from Mexico, Oliver hasn't said a word, doesn't communicate with anyone, and doesn't eat. If this continues, it won't work..."

Hal glanced outside the door. On the sofa in the living room, Arthur was sitting next to Oliver, constantly comforting him, but it was useless. Oliver just sat there blankly, saying nothing, without any reaction.

"This stupor state should be a self-protective state instinctively produced by the brain after the spirit is stimulated. If you want to break this state, you must carry out in-depth treatment, but are you sure he can accept this kind of treatment?" Schiller asked.

"Just as you said just now, this is an unsolvable problem. The Queen family has cooperated with drug lords for so many years, extracting massive wealth from them, and Oliver grew up under the nourishment of such wealth. This is unchangeable." Schiller also looked at Oliver and said.

"It's all my fault. I shouldn't have let Gallardo say so much." Hal sighed, but soon he shook his head again and said: "No, sooner or later, he will know. If he returns to the Queen family now and takes over the family business, he will definitely discover these sinful transactions."

"What do you think he is thinking? Is he trying to accept this?" Schiller asked.

"Precisely because I found he has no intention of accepting it, I hope you can enlighten him. What the result will be if this continues, you and I both know." Hal put his hand on Schiller's shoulder and said: "Judging from his performance along the way, Oliver is a good person, otherwise he wouldn't feel deeply painful because of this. I really hope you can help him, Schiller..."

Schiller patted Hal's arm and said before walking out of the bedroom: "I'll try my best."

When Schiller walked to the sofa, Hal pulled Arthur away. The two left the room and went to the restaurant downstairs to eat. Only Schiller and Oliver were left in the room.

When Schiller sat opposite Oliver, Oliver looked up at Schiller. His eyes were very dull, and then he slowly lowered his eyelids, moving his gaze away.

"I know you don't want to see a psychologist right now. You feel I can't answer your confusion." Schiller poured a glass of water for Oliver and said: "However, before that, you should drink some water first. You should be a bit dehydrated now."

Schiller handed the cup to Oliver, but Oliver didn't react. Looking at the clear water in the cup rippling under the slight shaking, Oliver showed a terrified expression. He pushed his body back hard and began to exhale continuously.

"Calm down, Oliver. What you see isn't real; it's a hallucination." Schiller stood up quickly and took the umbrella from the side. Just as he turned back, Oliver pushed away the coffee table in front of him, fell to the ground, and struggled desperately.

He kept punching and roaring: "Get out! All of you get out! You damn criminals, don't come over!

!"

"No... no... I didn't... you're right, it's me, it's me, I killed you... the sea, that sea, the red sea, bleeding..."

Oliver began to tremble all over and shed tears. Tears and snot kept flowing down, but he wasn't crying; this was physiological tearing. He seemed unable to control his organs anymore.

Schiller stepped forward, stood in front of him, and knocked hard on the ground with the handle of his umbrella, saying: "Those are hallucinations. You are in a hotel, not on the sea. Overcome it, don't be manipulated by it..."

The veins on Oliver's neck bulged. He kept curling and relaxing his body on the spot, one hand grabbing the wrist of the other hand, trying to stop his movements?

Seeing this situation, Schiller sighed, took out the sedative stored in his gray mist body, and intended to inject it into Oliver.

Without the restriction of not being able to use special abilities, Schiller turned directly into gray mist, pressed Oliver down, and injected the sedative. However, Oliver's drug tolerance was very strong. The ordinary sedative was injected, but there was no reaction. He was still in a stress state.

This situation is not rare. Sometimes, patients with mental illness will be in a state of extreme excitement. In this state, human muscle restrictions will be lifted, strength will become extraordinarily great, and mental activity will also be very high. Ordinary sedatives cannot take effect, and if injected in excess, it may be dangerous.

At this time, in order to prevent hurting others and to prevent patients from hurting themselves, some anesthetic drugs will be used to anesthetize the patient, which can effectively slow down their actions. But this requires a professional anesthesiologist to determine that the dosage of the drug will not cause harm.

Although Schiller had anesthetic drugs, he didn't master the knowledge of anesthesiology. If he used chemical methods to anesthetize, he might hurt Oliver, so he planned to adopt a more ancient anesthetic method, which was physical anesthesia.

Schiller took advantage of Oliver lying on the ground trembling, raised his umbrella, and hit Oliver directly on the neck. He controlled the force, and with a "bang", Oliver fainted.

Schiller sighed, moved Oliver to the sofa. After about 20 minutes, Oliver woke up. As soon as he woke up, he was a bit excited again. Schiller had to knock him out again. After repeating it three times, Oliver finally recovered a bit of sanity.

*Hundred Alliance Book*

Schiller put the umbrella aside, sat on the sofa opposite, looked at Oliver lying on the sofa, and said: "You are the most difficult patient I have ever seen so far. Not only do you need psychological treatment, but also physical treatment..."

Oliver opened his mouth. He wanted to speak, but long-term dehydration made his throat incomparably dry and hoarse. The words he wanted to say were blocked in his throat and turned into raw dry coughs.

"Cough cough... cough cough cough..." Oliver coughed hard, and finally turned into dry retching. His hands supported the ground, trying hard to turn over and return to the sofa, his eyes looking at the ceiling blankly.

During this period, he experienced physical torture and mental exhaustion, and was now extremely weak.

"Thank you..." Oliver finally made the first syllable. He said: "But I don't need comfort. Let me stay alone for a while."

"Yes, you don't need comfort, and I don't intend to comfort you. I am here to treat you..."

"I don't need treatment." Oliver said again: "I'm not sick. It's not me who is sick. Thank you, doctor, leave."

Schiller picked up the water cup again, handed it to Oliver, and said: "Drink some water first. We can chat. You can say whatever questions you have. I have the patience to listen..."

Oliver sat up from the sofa, picked up the water cup, drank all the water in one breath, and choked himself with a few coughs. Afterward, he said: "Thank you, I'm fine, I'll be better soon..."

Looking at his still-trembling arms, Schiller also picked up the water cup, took a sip of water, and said: "If you don't want to chat, then drink more water, and then go eat something to replenish your strength. You haven't eaten for too long."

"Yes, I will go, but I just want to stay alone for a while." Oliver behaved very autistically. He kept responding, but didn't give any answers, didn't initiate topics, and had no desire to vent. For a psychologist, this is the most difficult situation to handle.

"Can you tell me your current confusion? Perhaps I can give some different answers?"

Schiller kept asking Oliver, but he just wouldn't say anything, and often lost his focus, his attention very scattered. Schiller could see that every time he lost his focus, he was actually recalling those things before. This was a very bad signal.

All the states of stress trauma were reflected in Oliver. Stupor, re-experience, panic, emotional closure, refusal to communicate. Generally speaking, in this situation, the doctor would let the patient calm down for a period of time before treatment.

However, Oliver was afraid he couldn't wait. First, he suffered not-light injuries during island survival, then water deprivation, food deprivation. Wait another two days, he was afraid he would go directly into shock.

At that time, the extremely low physiological state would lead to a more unstable mental state. By then, stress trauma might turn into permanent mental trauma, and wanting to treat it again would be troublesome.

After Schiller tried repeatedly to no avail, he sighed deeply and decided to change a way.

Schiller stood up, walked back to the room, took out his suitcase, took out a few books from it, and took out a file bag. When he returned to the sofa, he put this pile of things heavily on the coffee table, making a "bang" sound.

Oliver opposite looked at him somewhat blankly. Schiller sat opposite Oliver again, pressed his hand on the pile of books, and said:

"Re-introduce, Schiller Rodriguez, secret intelligence personnel of the 16th Bureau of the Soviet State Security Committee, KGB agent..."

Schiller elongated his tone and said:

"... a communist." ===== CHAPTER 658 =====