Chapter 806: How Schiller Broke Apart Initially (Part 2)

"Last question…" Victor looked into Schiller's eyes and asked: "Since you're now a full-time, active employee, why let that corrupted personality replace you and do all this to Batman?"

Schiller crossed his arms and said: "Victor, you need to understand—I'm not a patient person. I've already shown excessive patience toward this student, Bruce Wayne."

"For two months, I chased him daily for papers, assignments, made him attend class, watched him study—what did he give me in return? I glanced at another student, and he skipped class for a full month!"

Schiller threw a notebook onto the hospital bed and said: "Most importantly, with his credits still far from graduation, he missed the internship round with the highest possible score! And he'd just assured me he wouldn't delay graduation!"

After listening, Victor lowered his head and sighed: "Alright, I understand why you're angry, but this has gone too far—Bruce is too badly injured…"

Schiller shook his head and said nothing. Victor knew he wasn't without explanation—he simply couldn't say certain things.

What Schiller didn't explain was anything about the Joker-Batman.

In the earlier explanation of his dissociative identity mechanism, he omitted one crucial point: these personality traits are fully severed fragments, yet they share memories.

Memories are stored in a room inside the Tower; any personality can access them. The Administrator can block a personality from viewing certain memories—but Joker Schiller is the half of arrogance. He and the current arrogant Schiller were originally one personality trait.

The current Schiller can access memories. Joker Schiller can too.

After viewing Schiller's memories, the most absurd thing to Joker Schiller wasn't the truth that everything was a comic story—it was the Joker-Batman.

No clown in this world could tolerate that bastard.

Joker Schiller is the fusion of Joker and Schiller. Joker dislikes the Joker-Batman. Schiller dislikes the Joker-Batman. Their mutual dislike doesn't add up to two—it multiplies.

Moreover, Joker Schiller is also part of arrogance—he's equally obsessive and stubborn.

From the moment Joker Schiller saw this character, he stopped causing chaos inside Schiller's Tower of Thought.

It wasn't because he suddenly turned good—he knew that before the Joker-Batman, Schiller and even Batman weren't his enemies, but his allies.

If it meant making the Joker-Batman go back to hell, Joker Schiller would cooperate with anyone.

That's why, on several occasions before, Joker Schiller obediently followed other Schillers' orders to create mischief or chaos.

This incident was, in fact, Schiller's payment to Joker Schiller—or rather, not payment at all; their core interests aligned perfectly: make the Joker-Batman vanish from DC.

What Schiller didn't tell Victor was that Joker Schiller and Joker Jack had planned this from the start. Their first step wasn't to confront the Joker-Batman already born in other universes—it was to prevent his birth in this world.

The Joker-Batman could still emerge here. After all, when delving into Bruce's consciousness, Schiller and Joker Jack had unearthed a Joker-egg.

That meant this universe still harbored Joker seeds. They'd dug up one—there might be another somewhere else. They couldn't search the entire world for seeds.

If so, they had to use another method: prevent the Joker's emergence entirely.

The Joker-Batman is simply a Batman who laughed—except, in the comic backstory, Batman laughed after being infected by the Joker virus.

Since they couldn't stop the Joker's birth, why not make Batman laugh louder?

Throughout the three clowns, Joker Schiller always held dominance, because Joker Jack knew Schiller had many judgments beyond reality—judgments capable of breaking inevitable tragedies.

This time, Joker Schiller didn't plan to cure the Joker-Batman—he planned to push Batman forward.

There are many kinds of laughter in this world, but the clown fused with Schiller understood: being infected by the Joker virus is the most meaningless, thoughtless, philosophically barren form of laughter.

Did Batman really laugh?

Yes, he laughed.

But did he truly want to laugh?

No—he merely changed his expression after accidentally ingesting a drug, like a stroke victim.

The Joker-Batman never laughed from the heart.

So Joker Schiller would make Batman laugh for real—genuinely, brilliantly.

A fake can never defeat a real one.

A Batman who truly wants to laugh cannot be matched by some idiot glued to a smiling mask.

For this, Joker Schiller and Joker Jack devised a series of plans. Joker Schiller knew Bruce would one day realize Batman's path was dead-end—if guided just slightly, Bruce would turn his gaze toward the slums.

In the slums, the hundred dollars Joker Jack gave Batman wasn't a key to unlock his chains—it was a hand dragging him into the abyss.

Only by having money to rent a room and staying in the slums could he witness deeper darkness.

Arrogant Schiller knew everything. He didn't want to do this—but he had to admit: it was the best way to deal with the Joker-Batman. Devastating. Humiliating.

Imagine one day, the Joker-Batman, excited, opens a new universe like unwrapping a gift.

But inside the box isn't a group of paranoid, mentally ill patients obsessed with control—he finds a Batman smiling at him, saying, "Surprise."

That's terrifying.

Schiller paused, then shouted: "Bruce's credits are still as far from graduation as from here to the Soviet Union—and he still missed an internship round!"

Victor hurriedly said: "But fortunately, the healing serum you provided is working—maybe he'll make it in time for the second round…"

Schiller sighed: "He probably won't make it. His credits are still far, far below the graduation threshold."

Victor understood his implication and raised an eyebrow: "You seem to be focusing more on his credits than his academic ability."

As Schiller turned to leave, he left only one final remark: "For a mentally unstable patient, you can't ask for more."

Both left. Bruce lay alone on the bed, his wounds healing at a visible rate—but with so many, recovery would take time.

After Schiller and Victor departed, Bruce on the bed gradually quickened his breathing. He twitched his eyelids, then opened his eyes—but his gaze revealed he hadn't just woken up.

After leaving the ward, Schiller returned directly to Gotham University. He'd planned to pick up Jason, but halfway was stopped by Captain Cold, who said:

"Just now, we received word from Central City—they say the Pied Piper has been missing for over two months. They claim he was hired by Savage, came to Gotham, and with no contact this long, he's likely in danger, Professor—we'd like to ask you…"

"The Pied Piper?" Schiller frowned, recalling—he remembered only that he was a villain from Central City.

He thought: Savage had no idea what he was doing—luring villains from the safest city in the world and sending them to Gotham. In high terms, it was reverse thinking, creative. In low terms, it was idiotic. Absolute idiot.

So Schiller asked: "What can the Pied Piper do?"

"He controls others through flute music—but his nature isn't evil. He's just…"

Captain Cold explained the Pied Piper to Schiller, adding: "His musical skill is excellent, and he's young. I heard Gotham University has a music department—if he starts preparing now, he might even get in by September."

Schiller nodded. Captain Cold made sense.

Central City's villains weren't bad. If dumped into Gotham, they'd be rare moral exemplars—each with unique talents, exceptional potential. Recruiting one reduced the risk of delayed graduation. A smart investment.

So after class, Schiller called Cobblepot to find someone. As the King of Kids, Cobblepot was the best choice.

Cobblepot was still hiding in Arkham Sanatorium, determined to avoid the mad Batman—he even planned to stay until year's end. When he got Schiller's call, he frowned but issued the search order.

Following Captain Cold's physical description, the kids turned Gotham's streets upside down—but found no trace of the Pied Piper. Given his distinctive appearance, he shouldn't have been unfindable.

During the search, a child learned from a gang member the last known location of the Pied Piper: a street with a record store.

After extensive coordination, Cobblepot's final report: a strange man in a green hood and black bodysuit had appeared outside a record store, shot multiple times by gangsters, then vanished.

When Schiller received this, he knew the Pied Piper hadn't escaped on his own. Central City people didn't live in constant gunfights—once shot, they'd immediately lose resistance.

Who saved him? Schiller had a guess. Savage had sent the Pied Piper here—if his life was in danger, he'd have begged Savage for help.

Schiller's guess was accidentally right: the Pied Piper had indeed been rescued by Savage—but not on the street. After Batman dragged him to the Batcave and locked him up, Savage found the Batcave and took him away.

This time, Savage didn't enter the Batcave to steal Batman's plans.

Savage knew of Batman, but didn't take him seriously. Batman's reputation had recently been shattered—Savage lost interest in cooperating with him and didn't consider him a top enemy.

Savage only wanted to rescue the Pied Piper. The Outlaws had lost so many members already. His available skilled operatives were scarce. Losing another would bring him one step closer to being a one-man army.

The Batcave wasn't easy to enter—but Savage had acquired a strange artifact from another ally, capable of moving freely through any barrier.

Since meeting Constantine, Batman had set magical traps in the Batcave. But the artifact Savage held was unknown to Batman—its properties were unanticipated, unguarded.

Batman's Batcave now sat in the hills outside Gotham, unfinished. Much of the lower level remained raw rock—after all, he'd only been Batman for a short time.

Add to that Bruce's two-month disappearance to experience life in Gotham—the Batcave had been empty. Savage exploited this vacuum, using the artifact to sneak in and rescue the nearly starved Pied Piper.

Savage's goal wasn't to steal plans—but as he entered this strange base, he realized its owner was no ordinary man.

He had no password, so he couldn't activate any surveillance systems. But seeing the countless screens, he knew: while people moved through Gotham's streets, a shadow sat in this chair, watching everything through cameras.

This made Savage take the place seriously. His own agents had all failed—but this base's owner had placed cameras in Gotham's hidden corners. He was clearly the local kingpin.

Savage realized he needed intelligence most. He'd sent people to Gotham to gather intel—but they vanished. The hired thugs were useless. His own gathered intel had to be valuable.

So Savage began searching the Batcave. But every electronic device required a password—not simple numbers, but complex combinations. Guessing was impossible.

Unable to activate the devices, he turned to paper files. But Batman would never leave important documents exposed. The filing cabinets were fused with the mountain using special material—unmovable.

After trying many physical methods without success, Savage placed his hope on the artifact in his hand.

Entering the pitch-black archive room, Savage's primal face and wild hair were illuminated. He raised his hand—a lantern emitted mysterious light.

Carrying the lantern, he approached the nearest filing cabinet. Within its glow, he passed his hand through the cabinet wall and pulled out a file.

He saw it labeled: "Gotham City Dangerous Criminals and Potential Criminals Response Protocol 3. . ."

Under the lantern's light, Savage squinted and opened the file.

He didn't notice the tiny line at the bottom of the cover: "Created: December 9, 1987."