Little Bruce looked at Shiller with some disbelief and asked, "Save Gotham? Come on, if they could unite to save Gotham, would it be like it is now?"
"Yes, if it were as you say, then Gotham would be nearing destruction. But hasn't this city always been on the brink of annihilation every minute of every day? Why haven't they gathered artifacts from all over the world and united to solve the root of darkness then?"
"Secondly, that's also absurd. Do you think Jerome could bear working with his brother to save Gotham? How could that madman ever tolerate that? Even if he could endure it temporarily, he would definitely be the first to pounce and twist Jerome's neck after their plan succeeded. He's the most vicious madman I've ever seen!"
"Then there's the point I find most incomprehensible, which is that it's been 20 years, not 200. Apart from my parents' unexpected deaths that might require their descendants to resolve, 20 years doesn't really span two generations, right? Is there really a need to pass information by such an ancient method as a diary?"
Little Bruce leaned forward, looked into Shiller's eyes, and said, "Not to mention anyone else, but Falcone is still alive, isn't he?"
"With the godfather of Gotham's mob still around and the Four Families united in sincerity, they have plenty of money and energy to hire people to search for these metals. Even at the cost of lives, 20 years is enough for them to have collected a ton each. So why must they use their own family members?"
"Think about it carefully. 20 years ago, Falcone was in his prime. Gotham was his cash cow and his golden pit, and he was not some superhero. He didn't care if Gotham was being controlled or not. He only wanted to enjoy his wealth, power, and authority here and didn't care about anyone's life or death."
"So how could he possibly stand on the same side as Thomas and Martha? Take a step back, if some Evil God took control of Gotham, wouldn't Falcone worry about this new god elevating someone else? He'd be scared to death and would do everything in his power to protect his position, cutting off all threats to his dominion."
"As for my parents' motivations, they're even more dubious. Let's not even mention that I don't think they would have accepted becoming monsters given their conservative nature. They were shrewd businesspeople. How could they not see that their deal with Nya was a total loss?"
"If it were really Thomas, he would never agree to become a servant of an Evil God, not just for the sake of justice, but because of the nature of a businessman. They're good at sitting on the fence, acting according to the wind, and profiting from both sides. To completely join one side would mean completely offending the other. No businessman would want that."
"And not to mention bringing along Martha and me. Businesspeople always say not to put all one's eggs in one basket. Our family never travels on the same plane; we prefer to take three separate ones, concerned that a single accident could wipe us all out. How could we possibly cast our lot with just one party?"
As Little Bruce said these words, he stood up and walked to the bedroom. Seeing the bottle of red wine, he shook his head and said, "I think you probably drank too much last night and had a nightmare."
Then, after a moment's hesitation, he added, "Okay, I know I didn't leave a good impression on you when we first met, but that doesn't mean you can label me the Son of the Evil God and say I was raised by two Evil Gods. That's just too preposterous."
"Indeed, I am now using the power of the Evil God, and you might doubt my sanity has been tainted. I can't produce evidence that it definitely hasn't been, but logically, cooperating with me is more to Nya's benefit than completely controlling me."
"You know as well as I do that there is more than one Batman in the cosmos, and Batman is a very important existence. Although I don't know much about this, I understand that it seems like the existence of each Batman is tied to the survival of a universe."
"Nya is not the kind of god who needs to devour a cosmos to gain power. You know this better than I do. Controlling a mindless puppet and completely corrupting this world would only eliminate his chance to enjoy the drama and might even provoke those Angels. That's not a good deal at all."
"But if he lends me his power and works with me, one day I'll be able to visit other universes, meet many different Batmans, learn their stories, and even fight alongside them. That's what's meaningful for Nya, isn't it? Otherwise, why would he linger here without leaving?"
"Well, let me elaborate. Nya seems to be quite fond of Batman's suffering. I don't know if he's some sort of unique pervert or something, but it seems he can derive extreme satisfaction and joy from it. For a long period before, he seemed to be trying to delve into the darkest tides of my heart, he appeared very interested and wanted more."
"That's the condition of our deal, I take him to see more Batmans, and he lends me the power to make my hometown a bit better."
Bruce spread his hands helplessly and said, "He also told me that Jerome has become so powerful because I have become stronger. It's as if Batman and Joker's strength is in dynamic balance. I asked him if there was a way, and he only seemed delighted and even schadenfreude."
"I know he's not reliable, so I came to you. Even if we can't completely eradicate him, we at least need to teach him a lesson, make him behave. I still have serious things to take care of. The pollution in the business district has almost been eradicated. If it weren't for his interference, the Gotham River purification project would be complete."
Shiller felt a headache coming on, and this wasn't just a metaphor for his mood; it was a literal description of an ailment, his head was throbbing with pain.
Shiller glanced towards Bruce and suddenly saw a room filled with dense tentacles, the darkness swirling in the room, with dense patterns pushing and shoving before his eyes.
Bruce, who was checking out the clock thrown on the bed, seemed to sense something and, after realizing what was happening, his face turned pale with shock. The tentacles disappeared in a whoosh, and he rushed over to Shiller saying, "Are you insane?! You can't look directly at the power of the Evil God! It will cause you to have a mental collapse!"
With a thud, Shiller passed out.
Bruce inhaled sharply and yelled toward the door: "Call an ambulance! Call an ambulance now! Someone's fainted!!!!"
The stretcher was quickly carried out of the hotel and loaded onto an ambulance. Across from Wayne Hotel, in a small alley, a figure stepped out, watching the departing ambulance with a sly look, muttering, "Is this the helper that guy brought in? What kind of act is this now?"
When Shiller woke up, all he felt was dizziness and a lack of strength throughout his body, as he stared blankly at the ceiling.
A figure waved a hand in front of him, and Shiller thought it was Little Bruce, but when he turned his head, he saw a smiling face instead.
Shiller realized his hands were tied up, and then it dawned on him that he wasn't in a hospital at all but lying on a surgery bed.
Under the shadowless lamp, smiling down at him was Jerome.
Shiller sighed and asked, "Why did you bring me here?"
"I just wanted to ask you, what's your relationship with that octopus? Why did he ask for your help, and how did you end up... uh, looking so down on your luck?"
"Well, that's a long story." Shiller blinked, trying to regain some semblance of clarity. He turned to Jerome and asked with a somewhat hoarse voice, "Where's your brother?"
A knife had gone directly into Shiller's shoulder, and with a baring of his teeth, Jerome said, "Why bring him up?"
Shiller seemed to be lost in thought and didn't respond. The pain didn't snap him back to reality, as if his thoughts had completely detached.
He was indeed contemplating something very important.
He had drunk Nya's wine, Nya had let him go, so everything was back on track. He had met Little Bruce, who had requested his help, and then almost immediately, he was kidnapped by Joker. It all seemed so real and sensible.
Little Bruce had brought up a very good point, and when Shiller had time to think, he also realized there were issues with Thomas and Martha's plan—not just in the chemistry of it, but also sociologically.
The other Three Families and Falcone were unlikely to engage in such activities with the Wayne family, because it would cost them too much for too little gain, essentially making wedding clothes for the Waynes.
The logic of Thomas was also a bit rubbish; becoming a Servant of the Evil God meant losing any chance to negotiate, right? What's the difference between being a puppet and dying unexpectedly?
So was that all just a nightmare?
He had arrived at the hotel, drunk the wine, and had a bizarre nightmare. Upon awakening, he found himself back in the real world, ready to complete his true mission.
If only it were that simple.
But now, the world around Shiller felt even weirder, terrifying at every turn, filled with countless oddities, yet he couldn't grasp a single clue.
The suddenly familiar guests appearing in his peripheral vision, the redhead at the front desk who flickered past, the act of lighting a candle only ushering in inexplicable darkness—all were off, but nothing was within grasp.
"Where in the world am I?"
Shiller murmured to himself as he stared at the ceiling.
"Geez, turns out he's a lunatic!" Jerome said with a look of disgust.
"Let me go! Let go of me!!" Shiller suddenly began to roar, desperately struggling on the operating table, even ignoring the knife plunged into his shoulder. Jerome tried to pull the knife out to put it to his throat, but Shiller's struggling was too violent, Jerome couldn't even reach.
Bang! Clang!!!
Shiller flipped the operating table over, breaking the rails, rendering the ropes useless. Once one of his hands was free, he untied the other one as well. Jerome lunged at him and was kicked over; Shiller didn't even care to deal with him and madly rushed out the door.
On his way, he pulled the knife out of his shoulder, pocketed the blade, and burst out to realize he was in the basement of a building in an alley.
Shiller smashed a car window, twisted the car door handle, seated himself and drove like a maniac to the hotel.
Entering the elevator at top speed, a click was heard and the lights went out. Shiller saw his own reflection, a dark, bloodied silhouette against the mirror, pale-faced, looking like a hobgoblin that had crawled out of hell.
"Nya, I know you're here!" Shiller looked up at the ceiling. In the reflection from above, Shiller standing on the blue elevator carpet looked as if he were in a vast and hazy cosmos, insignificant and tiny.
With a ding, the elevator arrived at its destination. Shiller rushed into the 19th-floor corridor, used his card to open the door and after bursting into the room, he started to look around, whispering.
"If this is a dream, where would I be now?"
"On the hotel bed? In the elevator? In the dining room? Or..."
Suddenly, Shiller turned to look at the living room wall clock. As the minute hand moved, it struck midnight.
A gust of wind blew in from the hotel window. Instinctively, Shiller raised his arm to shield himself and lowered it only to see a hotel skyscraper flying towards him from outside the window.
Shiller looked across to the opposite window and saw a figure walking through the door into the hotel living room.
The figure picked up the TV remote, and the midnight drama began to play on the screen. As the light from the TV illuminated the room, Shiller saw the figure's face clearly—it was his own.