PFC Chapter 4408 Project Farstar (26)
Chapter 4408 Project Farstar (26)
Chapter 4408 Project Far Star (Twenty-Six)
If it can be proven that Martians do exist, it would be beneficial to some people, such as opposition parties who want to use the excuse of "Martians infiltrating human voters" to hold new elections.
Luther was right, Clark thought. These politicians had gone mad, lost all sense of purpose, and were desperate to drag everyone into this insane election game. At this moment, everything happening on Earth could become an excuse for them to hold another election or not.
Clark also realized that his earlier move to move Capitol Hill might have been somewhat reckless. If he hadn't set that precedent, politicians probably wouldn't have gone to such lengths.
Originally, the opposition party had lost many votes in this election, and the president's re-election was promising. If the general election had proceeded smoothly, re-election would have been virtually guaranteed. At that time, the opposition party was in a state of semi-abandonment because they had performed so poorly in the midterm elections, and they themselves were not very willing to fight anymore.
However, the election was plagued by problems, and the vote counting process was fraught with ups and downs. This gave the opposition parties a glimmer of hope: to reap the benefits.
I haven't worked very hard this year, and if nothing unexpected happens, I'll accept it. But if there's a chance to turn things around through some clever tricks, then I'll definitely put in all my effort.
It's like this: if a college student doesn't study much for a semester, failing a course is to be expected. But if they find out that a teacher is lenient, they will definitely try every means to get out of it.
Essentially, it means that the desire for success itself isn't that strong, but the desire for success through shortcuts and effortlessness is extremely strong. The idea of obtaining something without effort is more insane than the act of obtaining it itself.
So now the opposition party is acting like they've gone mad, going all out to revive the vote. They've gone mad, and the ruling party can only follow suit. Because compared to losing everything, having put in all that effort only to have it exploited and then lost is far more unacceptable.
The two sides were locked in a fierce battle, so intense they seemed oblivious to the world around them. In this situation, let alone the loss of two lives, they would absolutely do anything to blow up the place with a missile, even if it meant one side would win.
Clark immediately realized that Schiller was right. Having gone to such lengths to set up this scheme and mobilized so many resources, they wouldn't be content with nothing. Killing one more person in public was the best option.
The guests at the banquet were all under police surveillance, but who among the police could actually monitor them? There are countless examples of law enforcement officers embezzling from their posts, making them the perfect targets.
Clark began to look around. He had already checked, and none of the police officers and agents who had come in later showed any abnormalities. He assumed they were all human; it was quite difficult for humans to murder their own kind, especially to do so right under his nose.
But Clark wasn't sure either. For a well-trained law enforcement officer, a sudden murder could happen in a second, and he might not have enough time to stop it. He needed to know where the perpetrator was most likely to strike and then get there in advance to stop them. But he couldn't figure out where the perpetrator would strike.
So he looked at one of the suspected experienced serial killers. Clark looked at Schiller and said, "Where do you think they'll strike?"
“How would I know?” Schiller said. “After all, I’m a serial killer with superpowers. How would I know how an ordinary person would kill?”
Clark clenched his fists. But he still patiently asked, "If it were you, where would you make your move?"
Schiller looked up at the courtyard above.
Clark's sense of urgency grew stronger. Ignoring the surprised looks of the crowd, he took flight and hovered in the center of the courtyard, quietly listening to the sounds coming from the entire building.
Then he heard Schiller whisper, “...but those cops probably aren’t that artistically inclined.”
"boom!"
A loud crash came from the back of the banquet hall. Clark, enraged, flew over in a flash and saw a figure lying in a pool of blood. It was a woman in a formal dress, who had slumped out of the restroom door, her head struck hard; she looked like she was dead.
Clark flew into the bathroom but saw no one. He scanned the area but found no trace. Good, these people had definitely planned this for a long time. Even though he arrived so quickly, he still couldn't catch the killer.
He went over to check on the woman, and as expected, she had stopped breathing. He wanted to ask the police why they had let her go to the restroom, but then he noticed from the side of her disheveled dress that she was wearing nursing pads. She was probably still breastfeeding, and the police couldn't really stop her from going.
All his emotions coalesced into a long sigh. Clark stared coldly at Schiller as he approached. He was definitely misleading him on purpose.
If he had remained in his original position, he would have been only a dozen meters from the restrooms behind the banquet hall, a distance he could reach in an instant. However, after flying to the atrium, he would have had to descend first and then rush towards this side, and the descent could not be too rapid, otherwise the resulting airflow would slam all these vulnerable humans against the wall, unknowingly wasting a few seconds and giving the murderer time to escape.
He didn't understand why Schiller would do this. What benefit would he gain from making a big fuss and confirming the existence of Martians?
"Step back a bit so the police can examine the body." Clark fell into thought. He certainly had plenty of time to think, because the man had died in full view of everyone, so he was not a suspect. The police were relatively polite to him, simply asking him to leave the crime scene so as not to delay their work.
The investigation into Rafanas had been concluded, but now another person has died, forcing an extension of the investigation. It's almost dawn, and still no one can leave.
Clark stormed over to a sofa on the side of the banquet hall and sat down. Then he thought better of it; what if they killed another one? Sitting in such a secluded spot, he might get framed again. So he simply moved a chair to the center of the banquet hall, as if afraid no one would see him.
He sat there and began to think about what exactly Schiller needed to ensure the success of the mastermind's backup plan.
I thought about it for a long time but couldn't figure out why it was necessary. Could it be that he just likes to stir up trouble and have fun?
Although Clark believed he was indeed that kind of person, he felt this time was different. Suddenly, a thought struck him.
He was misled—confirming the existence of Martians was not a backup plan for the mastermind, but rather the primary objective of the manipulator who stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind.
He had initially thought that the mastermind behind it all wanted to implicate both him and Schiller, then create a list to gain political advantage. Now it seems there might indeed have been such a plan, but it lacked a backup plan. This backup plan, confirming the existence of the Martians, was Schiller's doing.
The reason he combined the two plans was to mislead himself into thinking that they were both victims and neither wanted the backup plan to succeed.
Clark was indeed misled. He felt that confirming the existence of Martians would not benefit Schiller, so when considering where the killer might strike, he subconsciously sought Schiller's help, giving Schiller the opportunity to mislead him and ultimately leading to the failure to avert the second murder.
Schiller's previous analyses and reminders were all just prelude, designed to make Clark believe he was trustworthy, and then deliver a crucial blow at the critical moment, like prying open a small crack in an entire ice sheet to eventually create a massive iceberg.
Thinking about this, Clark began to ponder again: what benefits would confirming the existence of Martians bring to Schiller?
Because there were so few clues, he genuinely couldn't figure it out. Now, he didn't even need to open his phone to browse news websites; just looking at the dense crowd of reporters surrounding the manor, he knew that Schiller's goal had been achieved. This matter would definitely be exposed and blown up; everyone would know that the Martians had begun hunting humans, and that they were key figures in this hunt.
So far, Clark hasn't seen any other purpose besides spreading panic. Does Schiller think that making those important figures believe that Martians are hunting them will make them behave?
“If you still have any illusions about them, then I can only say you are too naive,” Clark said to Schiller, who was passing by his chair. “Even if aliens were hunting them, they would only think of sacrificing others to save themselves, or they would think that such a thing would never happen to them.”
Schiller pulled up a chair and sat down next to him, then said, "Why do you think I still have hope for them?"
“You… I can’t say for sure,” Clark said. “I can sense that you have a lot of hope for me. Maybe you’re just a very optimistic person.”
"I have hope for you because I'm your fan. As for those boring idiots, I don't care about them at all."
"Then why did you do that?"
“I’ve made myself very clear, I don’t care about anyone else. From the moment I came into this universe, everything I’ve done has revolved around you.”
"If the existence of Martians is confirmed, what impact will it have on me?"
"That's still not right. Everything that doesn't concern you is just a facade and a means to an end. Perhaps the impact is more direct."
Clark looked at him with great confusion. He sensed that Schiller wasn't lying to him or deliberately beating around the bush; he simply didn't know what the so-called more direct impact was.
Suddenly, he felt an unusual pulse emanating from the ground beneath his feet. This sent chills down Clark's spine.
His heightened senses told him that the subtle tremors coming from the ground at this moment could not be caused by damaging the surface. The entire Earth's crust, or rather, the entire planet, was shaking.
Clark jumped to his feet, glancing around in a panic. But no one seemed to notice anything, leading Clark to believe he was hallucinating.
But he knew he didn't; the ground beneath his feet was trembling, even if the tremor was very slight...
"boom!!!!"
Very well, this time it's not mild. The ground shook violently, everyone was knocked down, screams rose and fell, even the group of reporters outside the door screamed and ran out.
"Earthquake! Earthquake!!!"
"Earthquake in Metropolis! Run!!!!"
"God, there's an earthquake! Help!!"
Clark paid no heed to the sounds around him, for he knew that Metropolis was a coastal city, and the risk of a tsunami was very high should a violent earthquake occur. And if a tsunami did occur, the casualties would be devastating.
He flew out at top speed, intending to get to the beach immediately to stop the tsunami, but he was stunned as soon as he flew out.
On the distant sea, a giant "pin" is anchored in the Atlantic Ocean, towering into the clouds, immense in size.
The tremor that just now felt like an earthquake was caused by the nail piercing the earth's crust.