OBS Chapter 4506 The Darkest Night (34)
Chapter 4506 The Darkest Night (34)
Chapter 4506 The Darkest Night (Thirty-Four)
Gotham in the long night seemed to have traveled through time. The heavier the snow fell, the deeper the traces of crime were buried. This was a truth every Gotham resident understood. They also knew that some monsters only appeared in such heavy snow, emerging with the sound of wind cutting through the pine forest, dragging the entire city into a terrifying hunt. The feast continued until the dawn mist rose, but tonight was the darkest night.
"It's been a long time since I've heard from you, Professor." The convenience store owner, known as "The Deer Hunter," picked up a piece of suede from the side and gently wiped the gun barrel, a thin mist rising from his mouth.
“No one’s life is about murder.” Schiller sat at the table, looking at the dark, snow-covered ground. “Some people walk into the snow tonight because they have no other choice.”
The Deer Hunter scoffed. "I noticed your sharp eyes the moment you walked in. I wouldn't lie to someone like you. I should be in the East End right now, sitting by the fireplace, discussing the Christmas menu with my wife. But the snow's too heavy, you know?"
“I thought you’d received an invitation from 'Moriarty',” Schiller said, looking at him. “Aren’t you interested?”
"Do you know why I'm called 'The Deer Hunter'?" The Deer Hunter paused, raised the muzzle of his gun, and wiped the handle of the rifle. "Hunters always hunt alone. I'm not interested in hunting in groups. But I'm curious, who would call themselves 'Moriati,' and how did you offend him?"
“I told you, the night is still long, we can talk slowly.” Schiller picked up his coffee, took a sip, and then said, “Don’t you like the nickname ‘Moriarty’?”
"Who would actually like that?" The deer hunter scoffed, pausing his movements as if gathering his thoughts before speaking. "What's the point of comparing yourself to a character in a pre-written novel? Is he implying that he's not himself, but a fictional character created by an author?"
"You've never seen anyone like this before, which is why it seems incredible. There are people in this world who go to great lengths to not be themselves."
"Then what are they fighting for?"
“Desire,” Schiller said softly, “a rapid, intense desire that belongs only to the present moment. Nothing else.”
"Hmph, sounds even more foolish and short-sighted than me, a roughneck who's only had two days of schooling." With a "click," a bullet was loaded into the shotgun, the crisp sound echoing the tinkling of the wind chimes at the door.
The woman took off her thick down coat, revealing a stunning figure clad only in a strapless long dress. As if oblivious to the deer hunter's rifle, she smiled knowingly at Schiller.
"Long time no see, Professor. I saw your car."
“'Nightingale,' what are you doing here?” Schiller pronounced the woman’s name accurately. “Gotham University should be off-limits to you.”
“I don’t usually come here. But who doesn’t know that someone is trying to hunt down the famous professor? I’m here to watch the show.”
The deer hunter looked on with a look of recollection, as if trying to remember who the woman was. He quickly remembered, raised an eyebrow, and said, "You're not in the sex trade anymore?"
“You’re really out of the loop, big guy. I wasn’t a prostitute before, just a stripper. You might even have seen me perform.” Nightingale chuckled and sat down by the counter. The strong scent of perfume hit her nose, and the Deer Hunter waved her away with some disgust: “Get away, don’t bother my sense of smell.”
She took a few steps back, then looked down at the corpse on the ground and said, "Looks like I'm a bit late; I missed the exciting part."
“You’ve come at the perfect time.” Schiller looked out the window. His car sat all alone in the snow. The snow was falling heavier and heavier, almost burying the old car. There wasn’t a soul on the road; it was eerily quiet.
Nightingale walked over to Schiller, pulled out a tissue, and wiped the blood from her finger knife. "I took out a sniper when I came in, but there are definitely more outside. Professor, who exactly have you messed with?"
"Do you remember the former director of Arkham Asylum?"
“That depends on how long ago. Don’t tell me it’s from the Roman era.” Nightingale paused in her work, then said, “Looks like he’s still not giving up.”
"Who?" the deer hunter asked.
"Hugo Strange. This guy is dedicated to capturing all the 'abnormal' people in Gotham and putting them in his mental hospital for research. He's got some skills. One of my sisters was captured by him, and it took me a lot of effort to get her out."
The wind chimes rang again at the door, and this time a small figure entered. He looked no bigger than a six or seven-year-old child, but had an adult's face, suggesting he had dwarfism.
"'dwarf'?"
"It's me." The other person nodded, climbed onto a chair and stood there, then said, "You guys are here pretty early. Has it already started?"
He glanced at the corpse on the ground, then curled his lip: "Someone actually dared to do this. That 'Moriarty' is insane."
“Have you heard of Hugo Strange?” Nightingale asked.
“If I hadn’t heard of him, how would I be here?” the dwarf said. “In fact, I escaped from him. I know all too well how insane that guy is.”
"Who else?" Schiller asked.
“Moonblade, fortune teller, Minnesota guitarist, tattooed face…” The dwarf shook his head and said, “Too many.”
He then turned to Schiller and said, "Professor, do you know why Hugo suddenly came back?"
“Perhaps it’s to give you a chance for revenge,” Schiller said. “Just like we agreed. You can keep the body, but I will keep the spirit.”
“Wait a minute,” the deer hunter said, “so you planned this all along?”
“Yes,” Schiller nodded. “Hugo Strange is back. How can he not see his old enemy?”
“I have no grudge against him,” the deer hunter said, “but I’m willing to help you. I hate arrogant guys like that.”
“It’s not about helping me, it’s about helping yourself. Your daughter has autism, doesn’t she?” Schiller looked at him and said, “and she’s on the high-functioning spectrum. Hugo is most interested in people like that.”
The Deer Hunter's expression changed. Nightingale added fuel to the fire: "My sister is one of them. She has trouble taking care of herself, but she can draw every street in Gotham with perfect accuracy. Hugo wanted to know how her brain worked. He used his expertise to make a mess of things. She's still in a mental hospital."
“I understand,” said the deer hunter. Then he looked at Schiller and asked, “What do you want me to do?”
Schiller rested one elbow on the countertop and lightly touched his lips with his bent index finger. This softened the aggressiveness of his words, making them sound like a responsible and professional assessment.
“Hugo is a very arrogant person, especially in his professional field. He believes that he was defeated by me last time not because he was not professional enough, but because I cheated. So this time, he will definitely try his best to create an opportunity for ‘fair competition’ to prove that he is by no means inferior to me in terms of professionalism.”
“That sounds so cliché,” Nightingale commented. “I’m not interested in academia. I just want to chop it up and feed it to the dogs.”
“There will be such an opportunity.” Schiller’s tone was cold but not heavy; rather, it was like a thin layer of ice, with certain breathy sounds like cracks, subtly extending, giving one a sense of uncertainty that it might shatter completely at any moment. It was more chilling than a harsh, commanding tone.
"Do you want to compete fairly with him?" the dwarf asked. "Or did you bring us here to sabotage everything? Don't get me wrong, I'd be happy to do so. But if it's really as you say, the real show will be if he loses to you again."
"Do you really think it will be fair?" Schiller smiled. The cold light from the streetlamp outside the shop window shone on his face, blurring every line of his muscles, making the fleeting smile seem less like an expression and more like an illusion.
You mean he'll tamper with it?
Schiller shook his head again and said, "He just thinks he's being fair. He creates an environment that he believes is perfectly fair, but that's only true for him. In reality, everything works in his favor."
"That sounds despicable."
"Me too. Otherwise, how do you think I beat him?"
“You showed him the right way,” the dwarf said. “So now he’s using the same trick against you. Are you confident you can beat him?”
“I don’t need to beat him,” Schiller said. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have called you here. I’ve said I’ll handle the mental issues. What you need to do is deal with his physical problems.”
"Then why not just deal with the physical body directly?" the deer hunter asked.
“It’s not that simple,” Schiller shook his head and said. “Hugo Strange is long dead. Nobody knows how he came back from hell. You can only kill his body. To truly defeat him, you must defeat his spirit.”
Schiller reached for his identification on the table, put it in his suit pocket, and said, “His time is running out. Once Gotham’s sewers are frozen, he’ll find a way to find me. Brainiac will send you my last location. It won’t be an exact location; you’ll need to find us first.”
Schiller looked at the deer hunter: "That's why I came to find you. You can keep chasing an injured deer in the forest until it collapses completely. You can also use that same hunting skill to find the two of us."
"So you watched that," the deer hunter said with a smile. "It was indeed a tense and exciting hunting competition. And the hunter always wins."
“If that’s all, we probably wouldn’t need so many people, would we?” Nightingale raised an eyebrow and said, “Hugo’s body isn’t tougher than anyone else’s. Once we find him, no one can withstand a single cut.”
“Someone will come to protect him.” Schiller glanced at the corpse on the ground and said, “Don’t forget, Hugo has always been a master of manipulation. Many will be willing to die for him. Some of them are demons returned from hell.”
“Then let me taste the devil,” the dwarf said. “My only concern is that you know this is a trap and you still want to jump in. Are you really confident you can hold out until we come?”
Schiller smiled again: "The detective and the professor jumped off a cliff together, and who came back in the end?"
"Are you saying that Holmes is guaranteed to beat Moriarty?"
"I want to say that I am both the detective and the professor."
"What about him?"
"An unfortunate passerby who died in an accident."