Shiller sat on the bed in his dark and chilly cell, holding a black umbrella in his hand. He didn't search for any evidence at all; his sole purpose for leaving was to retrieve his umbrella.
The process of being taken away was not worth mentioning; it was just a car stopping in front of him, someone telling him to cooperate or die. Shiller chose to cooperate, and it seemed that they didn't notice anything peculiar about the umbrella. They just placed it by the passageway on this floor after locking him up in the cell.
After retrieving the umbrella, Shiller kept sitting in the same spot. Soon, the elevator stopped on this level, and a group of people came down, cursing and swearing. Quickly, someone was thrown into the neighboring cell.
The two cells were separated by a wall, and Shiller couldn't see the other person's appearance, but he could guess who it was. Before he could speak up, the person turned over and said,
"Were you also captured by them? You must believe me, I'm not crazy. They want me to admit I'm mentally ill so that my testimony would be invalid, but you must believe me, I really haven't lost my mind! I saw what they did!"
"Who are you?" Shiller asked.
"I... If I tell you, maybe you won't help me." The voice that came from the other side was female, and she sounded young, with a distinct Gotham accent, likely a local.
"Just say it," he urged.
"My last name is Richie... but I have nothing to do with that mob boss named Richie. To be precise, we're distant relatives, but he's never helped us, and I've never been involved in any mob dealings. You must believe me!"
The person on the other end emphasized trust repeatedly, which likely meant that few, if any, had believed her in the past.
"Richie..." Shiller repeated the surname, feeling some familiarity, but it seemed to be from a long time ago.
"Yes, I'm somewhat related to that gangster family, but that's not important. What's important is that my sister was killed by them! Because she witnessed their devilish acts, they murdered her!"
"Who are they?" he asked.
"Of course, the people who kidnapped you!" The other person raised her voice, "Before they brought you here, someone must have made contact with you, don't tell me you don't know who they are!"
"I truly don't know," he replied.
The person on the other side seemed frustrated, pounding the ground and then saying, "Everyone calls me crazy, but only I know I'm not! They slandered me just to get me into an insane asylum! That way, my sister's death and their vile acts would never come to light!"
From her choice of words, Shiller could tell she was well-educated, at least knowledgeable about grammar, indicating she came from a decent background, which matched what she said about being from a branch of the gangster families.
"I might not make it out alive, but I think you must be very important to them. If possible, you must expose them, or else more children will get hurt!"
"Children?"
"Yes, they are a gang, a gang that specifically... specifically harms children! My sister happened upon them once... and they ended up killing her! She sent me a distress signal before her death, so that's how I know..."
"How did she send you a distress signal?"
"Use text messages!"
"The text message?"
"It was deleted when they discovered me."
"You didn't conduct a private investigation, did you?"
"I just want to know what really happened to my sister! She wasn't allergic to endive at all! I saw her eat that dish more than once at home, how could she possibly die from an allergic reaction?!"
"It seems you have really gone mad," Shiller said calmly. "Perhaps you never truly knew your sister, and all this is just your fantasy."
The other party no longer spoke, but the feeling conveyed wasn't one of dejection; she seemed to have no intention of giving up.
Sure enough, after a while, Shiller heard the sound of a lock being picked across from him, and the lock was quickly opened, but the person went out for a round and then came back.
Shiller wasn't surprised at all, because there was actually nothing on this floor, or rather, places that might hold clues were inaccessible to ordinary people, and the elevator couldn't be started. If that wasn't the case, he wouldn't have gone to such great lengths to bring the Scarlet Witch over.
In order to make the kidnappers confuse Barbara and Wanda, Shiller had put in a lot of effort. Fortunately, the two of them looked very much alike, with a similar build and more importantly, they both had long red hair. As long as one didn't get too close, they could easily be mistaken for the same person.
Shiller first went to the police station, drawing all attention to Gordon, just as he had told Gordon. The behind-the-scenes manipulator would think that Shiller, a scholar, couldn't delve deeply into the investigation, but Gordon, a police chief who had been in Gotham for many years, posed a much bigger threat.
Because they had no scruples, once they understood Gordon's heavy-handed approach, they would pin their hopes on kidnapping his family to force him to compromise; naturally, they would arrange for people to surveil the vicinity of Gordon Manor.
Their surveillance aimed to determine how many people were inside Gordon Manor and what the defense forces were like. So, Shiller hired a courier to deliver a package to Gordon Manor.
According to Shiller's understanding, Wanda was a restless person. Shopping, cooking, cleaning the house, tending to the yard, and receiving packages were all done by her alone. Not only did she not feel tired, but she also enjoyed it, the epitome of a natural-born housewife.
As expected, once the package was delivered, Wanda came out to get it herself, giving the watchers an impression that at that moment, Mrs. Gordon was the only adult in the manor.
In their view, people who lived in such a manor wouldn't personally come out to get things if there were others in the house. Since she came out for the package herself, it must mean that there was no one else.
The moment this information was passed back, the behind-the-scenes manipulator would immediately realize it was a good opportunity to strike, so they would order their subordinates to act.
The behind-the-scenes manipulator wasn't from gangster families and didn't have their own team of hitmen. Or rather, the team wasn't just made up of professionals. Tasks like surveillance were usually handled by local thugs.
The local thugs were from the area; they had seen Barbara coming and going from Wayne Manor before she had the child. But precisely because they were low-level hoodlums, even if you gave them ten times the courage, they wouldn't dare to approach the home of the local police chief. So, even if they saw Barbara, it was from far away, they couldn't see her face clearly, and could only confirm she was a redhead.
Wanda was also a redhead and happened to walk out of the manor. When the kidnappers arrived, the hoodlums naturally pointed them towards Wanda, saying she was Mrs. Gordon.
As they were figuring out how to break into the manor and kidnap the person, Wanda herself came out.
The saying "strike while the iron is hot" certainly applied here, as this bunch didn't waste any time before kidnapping Wanda on the spot.
After all, who else could the red-haired beauty living in Gordon Manor be? Even if she was not Mrs. Gordon herself but a sister or sibling-in-law, they still had to save her.
However, what they didn't anticipate was that not only was Wanda in no way related to Gordon, but she was also the Scarlet Witch, and what's more, she had evolved from an angry woman to a wrathful mother, her powers reaching a terrifyingly new height.
The words Shiller had said to Wanda were meant to provoke her to seek out the truth. To an ordinary person, the security measures here might seem tight, but to the Scarlet Witch, it was all a piece of cake—there was nowhere she couldn't go.
Even though Shiller also had no idea what these people were hiding here, he could imagine that it was something utterly mind-polluting.
Wanda must have been furious. She might just erase them all from existence and blow this wretched place sky-high—that would be best.
Then everything would be settled once and for all, and Shiller wouldn't need to run around in the scorching heat anymore—he could go home and enjoy the air conditioning in peace.
However, Shiller sat there waiting and waiting but saw no action. He noticed a flash of red light, but there were no screams, no buildings collapsing, and it seemed like no one had vanished.
What was going on? Could the Scarlet Witch have changed her nature?
Shiller waited a good while, and when nothing happened, he sighed internally. These Marvel folks were unreliable; none of them followed the script! In the end, he'd have to take matters into his own hands!
"Do you want to take revenge for your sister?" Shiller suddenly asked.
Miss Richie next door immediately fell silent. After a while, she finally said, "Did you know? My mom has mental issues. She went completely mad when I was about five, and my dad died in a mob shootout. My sister practically raised me; otherwise, I wouldn't be so obsessed with uncovering the truth."
"Believe it or not, I'm determined to avenge her," Miss Richie said with a tone of sorrow and anger, "but I can't even lay eyes on that damn man—I know it was he who, in collusion with others, slandered me as a mental patient... "
Miss Richie went round and round with the same story, making Shiller think that she probably suffered from anxiety and compulsive behaviors, but that actually wasn't important.
Shiller could feel that she was one of those rare individuals who never despaired—stubborn might be a less flattering way to say it, but she was someone with an iron-willed determination.
"I can help you get out, and I might even find someone to assist you, but you have to promise me one thing."
"What is that?"
"Before that, let me ask you a question, how do you plan to take revenge?"
"Of course, I'm going to kill that bastard!"
"Is that all?"
"What else?"
"Did you ever see your sister's body?"
"No, they didn't let me see it at all," said Miss Richie, her tone laced with sadness. "I don't believe she died of an allergy. I asked for a forensic re-examination, but nobody would listen to me."
"Where is her body buried?"
"I don't know; no one would tell me."
"Can you find something your sister left behind? Something she always kept with her would be best."
"Of course, I have her favorite stuffed teddy bear. She used to sleep with it all the time when she was little. It's just a pity that after she got married, that scoundrel wouldn't let her take it, so it stayed at our home."
"Good, after you leave, take this toy to Arkham Asylum and find Doctor Brand—he'll know what to do."
"What are you planning?"
Shiller was silent, and Miss Richie, tapping on the wall panels, said, "Don't be silent; don't treat me like a madwoman."
"I'm just worried you'll think I'm the mad one."
"I won't. Even if you end up not being able to help me, I'm already grateful that you're willing to talk to me like I'm a normal person. It's been a long time since I've had a normal conversation."
Shiller could sense that Miss Richie's mental state was indeed a bit abnormal. She displayed clear signs of excitement, spoke quickly, and her speech was unclear. Her trembling voice also hinted at emotional distress.
Shiller suspected that she might indeed have an inherited mental illness, though not yet manifested, which is probably why Williams was initially willing to allow him to meet her. No regular psychiatrist would rule out the possibility that she was mentally ill.
"Brand will conduct a séance for your sister."
"A séance?!"
"Yes, don't you want to know the real cause of your sister's death?"
"I... "
"If you don't know, how can you understand the pain she suffered before she died, or talk about avenging the murder?"
"...Okay, I'll do it," said Miss Richie through clenched teeth. "How am I supposed to leave this place now?"
As soon as she finished speaking, she felt something stretching out from the bars next door. Miss Richie hurried over to the railing to look down and saw a black umbrella.
"Take this umbrella with you, and go, Miss."