"I thought Gothamites were all very stiff," Shiller thought to himself, "but this only makes it more unexplainable how they managed to turn this city into what it is."
"Wasn't it said that there are magic powers and certain rules involved?" Gray Mist said, "This prevents most people from realizing what the problem is, and even if they do realize it, they can't change anything."
"But things are different now, do you think we should fuel the fire?" Shiller considered, frustrated by the sluggish pace on their side, "I find it hard to believe that they are still using dial-up internet connections."
"I believe they are on the right path, and we shouldn't interfere too much, but if you decide to take action, that could change things," Gray Mist said with an evident pessimistic tone, "A train may be slow, but you can't turn its tracks into roller coaster rails just because it's moving slowly."
Shiller thought about it and agreed; after all, he was just coming to work, not a shareholder of the company, so why bother working so hard. He had already found his entertainment; it was time to go back to sleep.
However, on Shiller's way back to the city, events seemed to hit the fast-forward button, or perhaps the long-standing foreshadowing had finally erupted.
Feeling a bit bored on his drive back to the city, Shiller turned on the car radio, and the host's voice came through in a panicked tone, as if disaster loomed: "We interrupt this broadcast with an urgent international communication. Anti-government Army leader in Mexico, the well-known terrorist Oliver Queen, has arrived in Moscow at two o'clock this afternoon. The Kremlin has released news that this meeting with Queen aims to discuss the re-establishment of the Fourth International."
"13 minutes ago, Washington sent a message to Moscow, urging them to recognize the widespread situation of international terrorism, and indicating they do not wish to see the mistake of authoritarianism repeated in any country..."
"The White House spokesperson announced that within a short span of 30 minutes, Moscow has sent out 172 telegrams, and the President is considering whether to view this as a signal of the Cold War turning into a hot war, with the other side planning to unify the front first."
Shiller was stunned. He glanced at his watch. It was 2:40. How did Oliver get to Mexico?
Although Oliver had left early in the morning, it had only been four or five hours since. Even with a direct flight from Gotham to Moscow, it would take around eight to nine hours. How did he manage to travel there?
And more importantly, how did Oliver make contact with Moscow?
This wasn't as simple as making a phone call and saying who you are. In such connections, the most important and troublesome part is verifying identity.
For instance, if I say I'm Oliver Queen, and I need your help, come pick me up, Moscow would have to verify that he is indeed Oliver Queen. If it was the Federal Bureau of Investigation or someone from Moscow they were meeting, they surely wouldn't be able to return, and they would end up as leverage in the hands of the FBI.
Therefore, unless there is absolute certainty that the person on the other end of the phone is indeed Oliver Queen himself, lucid and free, and genuinely in need of help, Moscow would definitely not come to pick him up.
Moreover, if Oliver had made contact with Moscow well before today, planning to leave early this morning, he would not have sought out Shiller to discuss renting a house. But if he hadn't made contact in advance, then four or five hours is simply not enough time for Moscow to confirm his identity.
Spy dramas oversimplify the process of making contact. In reality, receiving information, passing it down, making multiple contacts, sending people out locally to communicate, and then relaying the information back—these necessary steps would take at least two days. None of it made sense.
Wait, Shiller thought. There was one exception—that someone vouched for him.
The vouching and introduction system was the mainstream way of handling relations among many countries' organizations for quite an extended period. This system was designed to address the issue that most organizational relationships could not achieve both reliability and efficiency.
As long as one person is verified as reliable, whoever they introduce is very likely to be reliable as well. And since the introducer's identity is public, should the person they vouched for cause any trouble, they themselves would be implicated, making them reluctant to guarantee anyone unless they were absolutely certain of the person they were introducing.
Shiller thought of that phonebook.
In fact, even to this day, he wasn't very clear on where exactly Arrogant had placed which phonebook, or rather, his information was outdated, his recollection of most local habits having remained from when he first arrived.
Shiller suspected he might have given the wrong phonebook, but at the same time, it seemed too coincidental that the one he provided was from the sixteenth bureau, and weren't they being too lax? Don't they check with the introducer when they receive a referral?
Wait a minute—they would have called a mobile number, right?
Shiller took out his mobile phone, and in the instant he saw the keyboard, he realized that during the era when he left his contact details for the sixteenth bureau, mobile phones probably didn't exist.
Shiller floored the gas pedal, eager to get home quickly to check the landline, when suddenly, a loud crash echoed as a utility pole fell, smashing directly onto the hood of the car in front of him.
Shiller slammed on the brakes, his forehead hitting the steering wheel. He immediately pushed open the car door and got out—fwoosh, fwoosh, fwoosh—three fireballs flew towards him.
Shiller turned his head and saw a group of people in trench coats standing on the rooftop, while another group swiftly crossed the road blocked by the fallen utility pole, their guns revealing they were from a law enforcement agency.
Shiller was baffled.
The FBI was being pursued, but it wasn't by Batman or Deathstroke; it was a group of magicians unrelated to them.
Weren't the magicians fighting with the assassins on Black Island? When did they get into a conflict with the FBI? And how dare they openly throw fireballs at these agents in broad daylight?
It was only when Shiller heard someone yell in Russian, "Catch them!" that everything started to make sense.
Shiller was even more bewildered, the ones chasing after them were Soviets, a group of Soviets using magic, Soviet magicians???
Could this make sense???
Shiller looked at his phone involuntarily, but at this moment his phone rang. He answered the call and heard Mayor Roy shouting from the other side, "Professor, what's going on? Why are there fights everywhere in the city? The most grand music performance of the festival at 4:00 is about to start checking tickets. Tourists are here for this, how can they even leave their homes?"
Shiller really wanted to say, why don't you ask the turtle in the wishing well? It's not like I've installed two kilos of cameras under every eave in Gotham, how would I know how to get the tourists out in this situation?
But Shiller decided to first find out what exactly was going on. He took a deep breath and asked, "Who are the fighting parties?"
The Mayor was clearly stunned, speaking in an incredulous tone, "You're asking me?"
How come, shouldn't I ask you? Shiller was very dissatisfied with his attitude but he didn't voice it out. After sneering in his mind, he thought, even Arrogant is no better than me; it's always suspected to be his doing, whether it's an alien invasion or a street-side trash can getting kicked over.
"This is a clash of multiple forces," Shiller said with a grave tone. "Wayne Enterprises, the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Moscow, Washington, even magicians from both sides of good and evil."
The Mayor immediately fell silent. Just hearing these few names told him this was not something he could handle.
"I only hope the final concert can be held as scheduled and be grand and spectacular, Professor..."
"Don't worry, I have a plan."
What kind of plan could I have, Shiller thought after hanging up the phone. He didn't even know what was going on, so now he must first understand why everyone was fighting each other.
"Just look." While turning into mist and flying towards the center of the incident, Shiller said to Gray Mist in his mind, "The roller coaster tracks I twist might be thrilling, but they're safe. In the world of superheroes, if I don't twist, someone else will, and they'll just twist it into a tangled mess."
"All I want to know now is how you're going to explain this to Superego," Gray Mist said. "He will definitely think it was you, definitely."
"But it wasn't me," Shiller cried in his mind. "We share a memory bank, he can see for himself."
"But Superego says you have a history of deleting memories from the bank."
"I didn't do it, I didn't, stop talking nonsense."
Shiller first went after the Federal Bureau of Investigation agents being chased by the Russian-speaking magicians. These agents were indeed skilled, pursued by a group of magicians for so long without a single casualty.
That's also why Shiller sensed something wrong: these Soviet magicians were not weaklings. The decisive way they blocked the road showed that they must be professionally trained agents who possessed magical powers as well.
In this situation, ordinary agents of the Federal Bureau of Investigation couldn't possibly escape, but the present time was indeed quite different from the Marvel World, so Shiller couldn't be certain whether the FBI really had such an elite squad.
After thinking for a while, he decided to call Amanda, but the call wouldn't go through. When Shiller turned his head, there, Amanda was on television.
"Sorry to take up a moment of your time, I'm Amanda Waller. Some may recognize me because my agents and I often appeared at major case scenes," she said.
"The only proof of my identity now may just be my face, as all my uniforms, weapons, and credentials have been seized by the Federal Bureau of Investigation. The reason for this is because, even under immense pressure and threats to my life, I was compelled to disclose something to the public."
The broadcast flickered for several seconds, but this only drew more attention. Amanda moved her face closer to the camera, holding it steady, "They're trying to jam the signal now; I'll make this brief. The Federal Bureau of Investigation hired drug traffickers from the cross-national Penitent Cartel to fabricate a series of serial killings within the Federation."
"I know this doesn't sound like big news, but the key is their motive. This is a sacrifice, they're trying to...zzzt...Mexico...zzzt...run quickly...zzzt..."
Shiller saw the magicians chasing the agents stop instantly. They stood there, looking at each other, furrowing their brows deeply, their expressions growing more and more solemn.
They rapidly exchanged words in Russian, watching the agents get further and further away. They chose not to continue the pursuit but turned and walked back instead.
Shiller sighed. Without thinking, he knew Amanda must have had Bruce standing behind her. This was his revenge on the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
Seeing the skills of those agents just now, the desire of the Federal Bureau of Investigation to infiltrate Gotham was probably much stronger than anything Bruce had imagined. These elite agents were capable of posing a major threat to the city.
It was likely Bruce had confirmed this before he decided to take drastic actions, but how did he confirm it?
The key probably lies with Oliver, Shiller thought.