Chapter 958: Schiller's "Escape" Journey (Part 2)

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In the pitch-black corridor, two glowing eyes suddenly pierced the darkness. Batman emerged first, his gaze fixed on the path ahead, illuminated by the faint glow of the Cigarette dust from the explosion. Following closely behind was a towering figure, standing at about two meters tall, forced to stoop within the narrow passage.

The first thing to emerge into the light was a crocodile's mouth, followed by limbs that resembled a mix of a crocodile and a human, and an enormous tail. Batman turned his head and asked, "Waylon, can you still smell their scent?"

The massive Crocodile Man lowered his head, sniffed lightly, and then spoke in a deep, gravelly voice, "They left through this passage; my sense of smell won't be wrong."

His heavily wrinkled face contorted even further, giving him a more menacing appearance. He remarked, "It's too dry here; I really don't like it."

"Dry?" Batman questioned with a hint of confusion. "Are you sure? This location is beneath Gotham's underground waterways, which are rich in groundwater. It shouldn't be dry at all."

"That's what's so strange about it," Crocodile Man replied as they continued forward, causing the tunnel to vibrate with each step. "I used to live in Gotham's sewers, and it was always damp and dark there, which I enjoyed. But here, it's the opposite; I feel like I'm drying up."

Batman squinted his eyes and walked alongside Crocodile Man, saying, "Thanks to you, Waylon, I wouldn't have known how to track them down in this dark and narrow environment otherwise."

"No need to thank me, Batman," Crocodile Man responded. "You saved me back during the warehouse fire. Without you, I might have been crushed to death." He glanced at his abdomen; his powerful regenerative abilities had left no scars there, but he vividly remembered the sensation of being pinned under heavy objects and burned by the fire.

Initially, Bruce had visited the slums and worked in the warehouse alongside Killer Croc when he became the warehouse manager. During a sudden warehouse fire, Bruce had rescued Killer Croc. Later, he had even visited Killer Croc and heard his story.

Killer Croc had been born with anti-mutant genes, making him the target of mockery from classmates and friends since childhood. Eventually, unable to fit into normal society, he had come to Gotham. Initially, he had lived well in the sewers, but the Freeze Gotham incident had nearly trapped him there. Unable to stay in the sewers anymore, he had sought a house on the surface, but to do that, he needed a job.

Most jobs couldn't hire someone as peculiar-looking as him, but he found stable employment as a strong laborer. It paid well and even allowed him to save some money, which had helped him during his recovery at home.

"We need to hurry," Killer Croc said. "I only took half a day off, and if I'm late going back, I might miss dinner. The boss said he'd save me a live chicken for tonight."

The sound of his swallowing echoed in the dark tunnel, prompting Batman to quicken his pace, following the direction pointed out by Killer Croc.

Meanwhile, Schiller had been brought to the larger stronghold mentioned by the agents. He was seated in a chair.

Seeing Lorena take out a rope, he shook his head and said, "I advise against wasting your efforts like this. It might delay us when it's time to move."

"We won't be moving you again," Scott, standing nearby, replied. "We will stay here until our boss arrives with reinforcements to take you away. You'll soon be on a plane heading to Washington, Professor. You better hope the people over there have my patience, or else..."

He let out a cold snort, making his threat unmistakable. However, Schiller's attention wasn't focused on him. Instead, he assessed the structure of the entire stronghold. It appeared to be more extensive and well-equipped than he had anticipated.

Specifically, there were seven major corridors leading in different directions, ample lighting that made the space brighter than the smaller rooms, and most importantly, defensive fortifications at every junction, with numerous ammunition crates stored deep within the rooms.

The agents who had just arrived at this stronghold were changing their gear. Initially tasked with escort duty, they had only carried handguns while keeping two rifles in their vehicles. However, here they found various types of rifles, as well as rocket launchers and grenades. The abundant ammunition supply was enough for a small-scale war.

Nevertheless, Schiller's gaze remained fixed on the three largest corridors in front of him. He hesitated for a moment and then said, "Please don't tell me those roadblocks you placed in front of the corridors are the so-called defensive fortifications?"

Following Schiller's gaze, Scott shook his head and responded, "You don't have to use this method to undermine our confidence, Professor. We are well aware that you are a renowned psychologist, skilled in various psychological tactics."

"In the initial attacks, you intentionally warned us in advance to flee and even devised a plan for us to escape, appearing as though you were on our side, trying to lower our guard."

"You continuously emphasized your weakness, even allowing me to inject you with double the amount of sedatives, all while creating the illusion that you were implanted with something that would prevent you from resisting or escaping physically."

"However, I've seen the reactions of individuals who've been overdosed on sedatives. They lose almost all logical thinking and can barely move due to drowsiness and sluggishness. Unlike you right now, who still has the energy to taunt us."

"After creating the impression that you were on our side and genuinely weak, you began crafting an image of a formidable enemy, making it seem as though he was the hunter and we were the prey, attempting to pressure us."

Scott shook his head again and continued, "But in reality, the situation is quite the opposite. Your first two attacks not only failed to harm any of us but also exposed your location and thought process."

"Our initial strategic shift wasn't an escape; in fact, if it wasn't necessary to ensure your safety, we wouldn't have had to run."

"After the so-called 'close call,' you began giving orders and advice on more matters. If it were an ordinary person, they would have fallen into your trap by now, thinking you're a harmless strategist capable of dealing with the current crisis. They would believe that relying on and trusting you is the only way we can escape from here."

"But in reality, all these deceptions and assumptions are traps set by you. Among the criminals we've arrested, this tactic has been used countless times."

Scott approached Schiller and said, "I dislike dealing with highly intelligent criminals like you because every action and word you say is meant to set traps for me."

However, what they didn't expect was that Schiller skillfully continued their conversation, speaking in a dreamy, almost hypnotic tone, "And you know, dealing with them, the best way besides ignoring them is to use violence to silence them."

Scott halted his mid-air fist, and Schiller raised his head, looking at him through his lowered eyelids. He then revealed a triumphant smile and said, "How do you know that the purpose of me setting up this series of traps is to escape, and not to die here?"

Schiller closed his eyes and spoke in an even lower tone, "You're well aware that I'm a renowned psychologist. Even if you've administered a sufficient amount of sedatives, I have a way to induce a state of extreme bradycardia through self-hypnosis."

"At this moment, if subjected to violent stimuli, I could easily go into shock. I'm certain that you have no conditions to rescue me."

Schiller, on the edge of half-consciousness, let out a low chuckle and continued, "Do you want to try continuing to strike me? Let me scream in pain and then gamble on whether the heart rate monitor strapped to my wrist will forgive your discourteous behavior?"

Scott clenched his fists in mid-air, then released them and lowered his head, using both hands to support his knees. He brought his face close to Schiller's and looked into his eyes, saying, "Professor, even among the most cunning and ruthless criminals I've encountered, you are by far the most astonishing."

"But I must remind you that your verbal tactics will lose their effect once you reach Washington, where medical conditions are excellent."

"Thank you for your reminder, Agent," Schiller replied, tilting his head downward as if drifting off to sleep. He murmured, "I must also remind you that your fists will lose their effectiveness sooner than my words."

The echoes of rapid gunfire filled the air:

"Bang! Bang! Bang, bang!!!!"

"Intruders! We have intruders!!"

"Whoosh, whoosh, bang, bang, boom!"

"Oh! What is that?! My God! A monster! There are monsters!! Help!!! There's a crocodile monster charging in!!!"

Scott instantly turned around, and what he saw in the central corridor of the three was a massive figure leaping out, rendering the roadblock and the traps in the middle of the corridor utterly useless, as they were crushed underfoot in an instant.

In the dim light of the room, Scott could see a gigantic half-human, half-crocodile monster. Ordinary handgun bullets ricocheted harmlessly off its crocodile-like armor, producing only sparks. Just as the female agent Lorena was about to open fire, she was sent flying by the colossal tail.

Following closely behind was a dark figure. Although not as massive and imposing as the crocodile monster, he was even deadlier.

Any agent who faced him was incapacitated within a single encounter. Scott noticed electrical surges emanating from the dark figure's pitch-black armor, rendering all agents who came into contact with the electricity instantly unconscious.

Their assault was so swift that the remaining agents had no time to equip heavier firearms. They helplessly watched as the two intruders charged straight at Schiller. Scott instinctively drew his combat knife and pressed it against Schiller's throat.

In an instant, the dark figure halted. Scott narrowed his eyes and said, "Whoever you are, I know your objective. Put down your weapons and have your companion stop, or I'll kill him right now."

Scott's grip tightened around Schiller's throat, and the blade was poised dangerously close to his jugular. However, because of this, he could hear Schiller's faint voice, "He didn't bring a gun, so he can't put one down."

"Shut up!" Scott hissed through gritted teeth.

"Lower your knife," Batman's voice was calm, but his presence loomed heavily. Schiller, held by Scott, looked even more disheveled than Batman had imagined.

His suit buttons had all but burst open, his tie was loosely hanging around his neck, and one side of his glasses was smeared with mud. However, judging by the condition of the exposed eye, he had likely been injected with an excessive dose of sedatives.

"You're violating the Geneva Convention. Release him immediately," Batman moved forward steadily, putting immense pressure on Scott.

Scott hesitated for a moment, not expecting that this bizarre confrontation would take such a legal turn. If Schiller accused them of mistreating a captive, it could lead to a lawsuit.

Who knew if there were any recording devices present? If this strange individual and Schiller were working together, presenting this footage in court to argue they had been coerced might create a significant obstacle during the trial.

However, at this moment, Schiller's feeble voice spoke again, "Ask him under what capacity he's interfering with the Federal Bureau of Investigation's lawful enforcement?"

Scott paused, and his mouth almost blurted out Schiller's question, but he quickly realized the implications. Schiller's question struck at the heart of the matter.

For Batman to oversee the FBI's operations, he needed to do so as a publicly recognized, legally compliant citizen. Neither Batman nor the Crocodile Man were currently in that position, making the questioning of their identities a valid concern.

"The FBI's operation is entirely lawful and authorized, with proper documentation and arrest warrants. We fully accept the reasonable supervision of any U.S. citizen. But are you a legitimate U.S. citizen?" Scott inquired.

Batman paused for a moment, squinting his eyes. It appeared that this time he had encountered a formidable challenge.

"You must have realized that the terrifying monster chasing you is not a figment of my imagination," Schiller spoke quietly, his head still lowered, keeping Batman from noticing that his lips were moving.

Scott also hesitated but acknowledged that Schiller's claim was accurate. The opposing figures did not appear to be ordinary individuals, far beyond what their unarmed escort agents could handle.

"Don't attempt to defeat him with words, and don't think you can pressure him into providing you with escape tools. The only option right now is to delay him for a few seconds, then take me with you," Schiller whispered.

With his grip on Schiller's throat, Scott replied through clenched teeth, "You better have a way to do that. You should know that if there's a chance our escort mission might fail, we have the authority to eliminate the detainee."

At this point, Batman had nearly reached the optimal position for a violent rescue.

Schiller's voice, still barely audible, resounded once more, "I know, I know... You've always tried to find my weakness but failed, so I didn't resort to such despicable methods before..."

"You brought this upon yourself, Batman."

Then, Schiller tilted his head slightly, revealing the side of his neck, and with a sinister smile, he muttered a low, ominous suggestion in Scott's ear:

"Do you see the scar on the side of my neck? Aim for it and give me a clean cut."

"The farther the blood splatters, the safer you'll be."

[Read at www.patreon.com/shanefreak, and thanks for the invaluable support!]

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Next Chapter>>Chapter 959: Schiller's Razor (Part 1)