When a loud bang echoed, the entire space seemed immersed in dense glue. Every item, each speck of dust, every fragment was slowed down.
A bullet pierced through the central part of the office door, and the scattered wood splinters created by the bullet penetration looked like fireworks eternally frozen frame by frame in a film. The moment of explosion shattered everyone's reverence for eternity.
As the quickest to react in the room, Bruce saw the tightening of his facial muscles with each millisecond he turned his head. From his eyebrows to his hair tips, every strand carried tension and shock.
The vibrant red in Harley's slowly opening mouth deepened, and as her blood spouted slowly, one could even glimpse the struggling veins trying futilely to hold back the ebbing tide of life.
Valentine's eyes were still bleeding, but he raised his head with effort, trying to comprehend what was happening.
And as that bullet bore through layers of dust, yielding pronounced ripples and trails, it finally stopped not too far from the heart after passing through suit fibers, skin, and stacked muscles, causing Shiller to step back from the inertia.
The pupils in Bruce's blue eyes contracted to their minimum. He heard a gurgling sound and saw the glue gradually diluting, time returning to its normal speed, a bullet hole appearing in Shiller's chest. There wasn't much blood, but it stained his suit jacket red.
Intense tinnitus began to cloud Bruce's thoughts. He forcefully closed his eyes, shook his head to clear the jumbled images in his mind, and when he opened his eyes again, he saw a figure wielding a gun walking in.
Shiller, clutching his chest, remained stationary in place. He appeared somewhat weak, supporting himself against the table with his hand.
Bruce suddenly remembered that when he first met Morbid, he was told that he wouldn't use any special abilities, that he relished the thrills of playing a deadly game with his prey.
Instantly, Bruce's genius mind told him that the bullet wasn't powerful enough to penetrate into the heart, but his logical analysis also revealed that the perpetrator had done this deliberately. He did not intend to kill Shiller.
Bruce had known from the start that Rhomann was part of the serial killers targeting Shiller. If he didn't seize the opportunity to kill Shiller now, it was an indication that a terrifying and insane conversation between serial killers was about to begin.
"We meet again, Professor Shearer," Rhomann, with bandages still around his head from when Shiller felled him with a vase, his wounds still fresh, marched in.
Shiller glanced at his chest wound then up at Rhomann, "Is this your payback?"
Rhomann shook his head, holding the gun. His eyes reddened, tears gathering, but the muscles around his nose tensed, repeatedly twitching, his eyelids trembling, appearing both fragile and fierce.
Shiller's complexion turned abnormally pale at a rapid rate. He pressed against his wound, slowly moving towards a single-seater sofa and, holding onto the armrest, lowered his head to regulate his breathing, looking like an old man on his deathbed.
Bruce started experiencing tinnitus again as Shiller turned to look at him. He heard Shiller's voice from somewhere near yet far,
"Bruce, open the second drawer on your side, take out that first aid box, and come over. Help me get this bullet out."
"That's not a good idea, professor." Bruce turned to look at the drawer as he spoke. When he turned back to look at Shiller, he discovered Shiller wiping the blood on his suit with a towel.
Bruce pulled the drawer open with a snap, taking out a box filled with surgical knives, bandages, and other items for wound treatment. Shiller's voice came from the sofa, "Throwing a tantrum is a baby's way of expressing emotions. You can say outright if you don't want to save me."
Before Bruce could respond, Rhomann at the door slowly lowered his gun. He glared at Shiller and said, "Even if I fired right into your heart, you would only be willing to converse with Bruce. It's always like this with you guys. Only Bruce Wayne exists in your eyes!"
Shiller took off his suit jacket and started unbuttoning his shirt. Bruce, holding a box, made his way to him. With a snap, he placed the box on the coffee table, ready to help Shiller remove the bullet.
"Bang!"
Another gunshot rang out, but this bullet didn't strike Shiller or Bruce. Or rather, this bullet deliberately missed both of them.
Shiller, bowing his head, suddenly inhaled sharply. He looked at Bruce and spoke, "I sincerely hope you're not putting your own axes to grind against... Harley, Harley! Over here, I need a professional nurse."
Harley, who had stealthily approached Rhomann from behind along the shadows of the bookshelf at the corner, sheathed her dagger with a "Whoosh" and, somewhat annoyed, waved her hand, striding over to Shiller's side. She pushed Bruce aside, "Move, big guy. You should catch up with your stinkingly rich friend!"