Shiller and Jonathan entered Jonathan's ward one after the other. Shiller flopped into the chair, letting out a long sigh.
A smirk appeared on Jonathan's face. Shiller threw up his hands, asking in exasperation, "Where are all these meddling kids coming from? Why are they so determined to make my life miserable?"
"Have you ever considered that it might be because you look very... collectible?" Jonathan arched an eyebrow, looking at Shiller. "Or rather, your life is very collectible."
"I'm very..." Shiller echoed the words, a look of confusion crossing his features. He gasped in sudden realization. "Oh, I'm still a famous psychologist."
With crossed arms, Jonathan stood still, a smirk on his face, "From the moment you cured Batman, you've become the most famous psychologist in the world."
"Seems like these arrogant kids want to use you as their debut, hahaha!" Jonathan burst into laughter. Between laughs, he said, "Killing the world's most famous psychologist is quite an accomplishment for any serial killer. It seems you're going to be rather busy."
Jonathan sat down across the table, looking at Shiller with amusement. "Now, killing ordinary people is no longer satisfying for these self-aggrandizing kids. They want to kill another serial killer to prove they're the cream of the crop among us."
"But such targets aren't easy to find. Serial killers don't wear their titles on their foreheads... Oh, my apologies, I forgot, you do."
Shiller shot him a glare, and Jonathan chuckled again, saying, "Or rather, anyone can learn about your background by purchasing a people's magazine for a few cents. Then it becomes clear, you are an auspicious target. It's a miracle that they haven't found you until now."
"That's just because typical serial killers can't get into Gotham." Shiller retorted, "That's one of the reasons I chose to stay in Gotham. I've had enough of these clumsily staged tricks. If I had to witness them several times a day, I would've gone insane."
"So, what are you going to do about it?" Jonathan asked.
Shiller sighed deeply, a look of pain on his face. He then spoke, "You know, I am thankful. It's a lucky break that they showed up this late. Otherwise, I'd be dealing with their antics and Bruce's papers at the same time."
Simultaneously, on the roof of Wayne Hospital, a slender figure overlooked the nocturnal cityscape of Gotham. Swiftly, he dived down like a meteor, following the scent of blood to a street below.
It wasn't difficult to chase an injured man. Even though the murderer had extraordinary counter-detection skills, Batman was not just another ordinary policeman. His technologically advanced methods and keen observation skills allowed him to quickly lock onto the traces of the killer at the hospital.
It was evident that the murderer had been severely wounded, hence the easily discernible traces near the hospital. However, it seemed he had superior treatment materials at his disposal. About a kilometer away from the hospital, the trail of blood almost vanished.
Batman surmised that the killer must have a stronghold nearby. Otherwise, with such grave injuries, he would have been better off staying in the hospital for treatment. The fact that he dared to flee, sure of not losing his life, indicated his confidence in getting immediate treatment.
From the way blood spattered at the crime scene, it seemed Harley's attack had hit an artery in the culprit's thigh. An injury this severe was not something that could be remedied with simple bandages. It meant the culprit might have access to vast medical equipment, or even hired a doctor.
Batman narrowed the search area to within a 1.5-kilometer radius from the hospital, his suspicions gravitating towards a densely populated residential area in the southeast.
Wayne Hospital was situated in a middle-income community. To its southeast, there was a newly developed residential district intended for middle-income buyers. Due to substandard construction, other than the location, these homes had no upsides, leaving many unoccupied units.
If someone wanted to move large equipment in without attracting attention, this would be the ideal place. Since the apartments were gradually being sold off, renovations followed, and moving trucks came and went regularly. Moving a large piece of equipment would not arouse suspicion.
Following this train of thought, Batman visited the residential area, believing that the inexperienced killer would try to quickly cover up any evidence. Therefore, he would opt for the seemingly safest but most flawed method - incineration.
Many assumed that incineration was a foolproof solution, but in a city, it was the most dangerous approach. The fear of fire is ingrained in humans and smoke and flames are bound to arouse suspicion, especially in densely populated areas.
After one round around the complex, Batman had narrowed the potential sites to a few, most of which were secluded, had little foot traffic, and were ideally located for the dispersal of smoke. As suspected, he discovered traces in one such location.
The ashes had been entirely cleared away, but the killer had overlooked a crucial factor. Smoke would have stained the walls above, and Batman, after evaluating the wind direction, indeed found traces of smoky stains under the window curtains in a two to three-floor high building.
Considering that the killer was injured and would have taken the shortest route to dispose of any items, such as blood-soaked bandages or other tools, Batman made a few educated guesses and narrowed down the potential buildings in the dense residential area to just two.
With the search area narrowed down this much, even the exhaustive method would produce results quickly. However, Batman had another lead; the killer was eager to eliminate all evidence.
Batman did a quick survey of the two buildings and then chose the cleaner one. As expected, he found a newly-purchased doormat outside an apartment on the fourth floor.
This mat showed no signs of being stepped on, nor was there any wear and tear on the adhesive tape on its bottom. However, upon lifting it, traces on the ground suggested that the original mat had been moved. This indicated that the mat had been replaced recently.
Batman exited the building and located the window of the room. After climbing up to a balcony, he peered inside and found no signs of movement.
Upon picking the lock and entering the room, Batman discovered that there were no traces of blood - a sign that the room had been meticulously cleaned. Yet, the equipment in the room couldn't be faked. This was undoubtedly the killer's base.
It appeared that the murderer was very alert. Despite being severely injured, he had relocated overnight. Batman thought to himself: his modus operandi wasn't outlandishly crazy, but he was still extremely cautious and difficult to deal with.
Moreover, the equipment here was expensive, indicating that the killer was not an ordinary criminal, but a wealthy one, very wealthy in fact.
On the living room table, Batman found some documents which, he speculated, were deliberatively left behind by the murderer. Just like other serial killers, it was likely his crime announcement in advance.
Batman picked up this stack of documents and found the first few to be actual photos of his crimes at the hospital.
Besides the hospital photos, there was also an extensive profile of Doctor Richard. Several parts were annotated, but to Batman's eyes, these lines of thought were meaningless.
Giving the killer the satisfaction of looking through these documents would serve his purpose. These items were left here in hopes that someone would appreciate his "masterpieces".
From Batman's standpoint, having to analyse such crimes and foresee the perpetrator's next move was like attaching an eight-time scope to a squirt gun.
Batman quickly skimmed through these files, discerning them as overtly theatrical rather than reflective of the killer's thought process. He then skipped over them, fast-forwarding to the photos.
The murderer had taken many pictures of nearby residential buildings, hospital buildings, Doctor Richard, some nurses at the hospital, the most frequent taxi drivers waiting in the area, and even the head of the local mob.
With mechanical movements, Batman flipped through these photos, not thinking at all until he reached the very last photograph.
A frontal photo of Shiller.
At first glance, this photograph was not taken by the killer. It looked more like an official photo published in a magazine to introduce academic achievements, and its texture was different from the other photos, as it wasn't developed from a negative, but printed on a piece of white paper.
Batman looked at the paper with an almost laughable feeling.
To him, the killer's greatest mistake was not sticking this piece of paper directly onto Doctor Richard's forehead. Otherwise, he wouldn't have had to be out in the cold wind at this late hour. Instead, he would be by Aisha's bed, telling her a story.
Batman placed the photo of Shiller back on the table and turned to leave. Why should he bother with such a murderer?
Batman realised that upon seeing Shiller as the next target, he had already made peace with the perpetrator. What could Batman say when Shiller was the target? He could only wish him success.
But just as Batman was about to leave the room, a gust of wind blew in from the window he had opened, knocking the paper with Shiller's photo to the ground. When Batman turned at the sound, he noticed a few lines of text on the other side of the paper.
The killer intentionally wrote in a drunkenly staggered manner, but Batman still managed to decipher the content:
"The world's greatest psychologist, like a rare gemstone, or like the first piece of meat seen by a pack of jackals after a hungry winter."
"When I read the news from the newspaper, I knew that a hunting carnival had begun! The world's craziest and most perverted serial killers are converging on this city, competing on who will claim this crown..."
"Batman, I know you're watching me, and you will continue to watch me - as I am crowned!"
The next morning, Shiller woke up early to examine patients that Gordon had sent his way. He worked like a quality control inspector on an assembly line, constantly calling out: "Next!"
That was until a familiar face appeared before him. When Shiller looked up, he saw Bruce's smile. At the same time, a form was handed to him.
"Good morning, Professor Shiller, I am returning to the psychology department."