PFC Chapter 3879 The Nameless Bat (49)
Chapter 3879 The Nameless Bat (49)
Chapter 3879 The Nameless Bat (Forty-Nine)
After the thunder, people on the same floor heard screams. A man in a beige plaid shirt and sporting a small mustache began frantically banging on the door. A woman in a gold sundress and ruby earrings frantically hid behind the bed. The children, who had just turned on the television in the room, looked back in bewilderment. Even the pet dog lowered its voice and let out a defiant growl.
Rapid footsteps soon filled the corridor. The burly bodyguards hired by the Penguin filled the entire hallway. Two of them knocked on the door of the room from which the screaming had originated, but there was no response.
With a loud bang, the door was smashed open. A blood-soaked male corpse lay on the floor in front of the doorway. A woman sat slumped on the carpet beside the bed, her head drooping, seemingly lifeless.
The bodyguards, guns at their sides, cautiously entered. The woman, who had been motionless, suddenly stood up and lunged at them, brandishing shards of glass. The well-trained bodyguards used their rifles to push her away and then shoot her down. Just as they were about to fire, their teammates behind them stopped them.
"Don't kill her, the boss needs a confession."
The two men knocked the woman unconscious and dragged her out of the room. The body on the floor was quickly taken away as well. Those who had only dared to open the door a crack to peek out finally peeked out, but upon smelling the strong stench of blood in the corridor, they turned pale and closed the door again.
Natasha leaned against the door, listening to the sounds outside. When it quieted down again, she pondered, "The corpse that appeared in the bathroom earlier didn't seem like the work of the Eden Killer. What about this one?"
“Tell me first why you think that corpse wasn’t killed by the Eden Killer,” Schiller said, still sitting by the window.
"This killer's actions follow a pattern. He kills two people at a time, usually a man and a woman, with some kind of illicit relationship between them. The copycat killer has grasped this pattern to commit those confusing crimes. But there was only one body in the bathroom, which clearly does not fit the Eden Killer's modus operandi."
"And what about this case?" Schiller asked again. "Judging from the commotion just now, the victim in this case is probably also a single person."
"No. Even if this case wasn't committed by the Eden Killer, it couldn't have been the Penguin. The corpse in the bathroom was probably his enemy or rival, which was enough of a deterrent. To kill another one in such a short time, especially after making a prior promise of safety, would be completely contradicting himself. He had no reason to do that."
Natasha frowned, clearly analyzing the situation. She said, "Everyone's only been separated for a short time now. Even if someone wants to take advantage of the chaos, they won't act so quickly. So I'm more inclined to believe the Eden Killer was prepared. He wouldn't let the Penguin solve the problem so easily, which is why he killed another person in such a short time. Those high society people are probably terrified now; they won't let the Penguin manipulate them anymore."
"Fuck you, Oswald Copperfield!" a neatly trimmed white-haired old man cursed into the phone. "Something happened on your turf, and you locked us up. Now some lunatic is killing people in our midst! You wouldn't happen to be in cahoots with that Eden Killer, would you?! You want to wipe us all out here?!"
"I don't care what you're investigating!" A gaunt woman with bright red lipstick paced back and forth in the room, spitting into her phone. "You can't guarantee our safety at all. Let us leave right now!!"
"You think you're any better than those cops?! Huh?! What did you say when you took my brother away from me? And what happened?!" A burly man with a thick Russian accent cursed into his phone. "Fuck you, Cop! My men will be here soon, and I'll have them chop your head off!"
“Mr. Cobblestone, gathering us here is really not a good idea,” said the well-mannered man in a suit. “I know you may want to investigate the Eden Killer, but with so many prominent figures gathered here, it’s far too easy for him to take them all down. It’s just murder now, but what if there’s a bomb or plane attack later? We really shouldn’t take this risk…”
"Where's Batman? How could he tolerate assassins operating in the city for so long? And that damn Cobblestone. Didn't Batman stop him several times? What's different this time?"
"Good heavens, we really need to think of something."
"What do you guys suggest we do? That Cobblestone guy must be insane!"
"Since the signal isn't blocked, we need to call someone to rescue us as soon as possible. We can't just sit here and wait to die!"
Another flash of lightning illuminated every room in the manor. Countless anxious figures paced back and forth by the windows, complaining, confiding, and pacing back and forth.
In the largest room on the top floor, the Penguin glared at his subordinates and said, "Get something out of that woman no matter what! Then throw her into the Atlantic Ocean!"
As he was speaking, a man in a jacket knocked on the door and came in, saying with a grim expression, "Ms. Sikine is dead."
"What?!" The penguin looked at him in disbelief.
"Upon examination by your private physician, it was found that she had overdosed on drugs approximately 10 minutes prior and exhibited very pronounced delirium symptoms. The doctor suspects that her aggressive behavior may also be due to drug-induced mental confusion."
"What the hell did you say?!" The Penguin rushed in front of the other man. "So that woman got herself high and then killed her husband?! Where did she get the drugs?!"
“Uh, sometimes they bring their own and add it to the drinks at the banquet, then go to the car when they’re slightly tipsy and the effects of the drug are kicking in…” The man gestured, and the penguin understood what he meant.
Penguin is a typical conservative. It's not that he doesn't deal in drugs, but rather that he doesn't use them himself and requires all senior and middle-level managers under his management to have no history of drug use. So, to some extent, he lacks understanding of just how far these addicts can go.
For Gotham's upper class, drug use isn't considered a serious offense because they have the money to obtain drugs legally, have private doctors to control their dosage, and regularly undergo various health maintenance programs to maintain their health as much as possible. Although they will most likely eventually die from drug addiction, they at least live a few years longer than the lower-class zombies. This issue has never been taken seriously.
Even if the Penguin could secretly manipulate Gotham's political scene, he couldn't possibly host a party where the use of any drugs was strictly prohibited. Even if he did, he couldn't possibly search everyone; even Wayne wouldn't have that kind of authority. Therefore, the presence of drugs at such a party was unavoidable.
If you walk by the river often enough, you're bound to get your shoes wet. Drug addicts are bound to break their spells sooner or later; those who quietly let themselves die from addiction are moral exemplars. But because of the overwhelming amount of dark energy in the minds of Gotham residents, most addicts end up causing a huge uproar.
The penguin man had been lucky before, never encountering such a situation. But God wouldn't always be on his side. He realized the problem—this was very likely a mentally unstable drug addict who had gotten high and accidentally killed her husband.
The Penguin felt like he'd punched a pillow. He'd thought he could finally have a proper showdown with the Eden Killer, but this was the result. And the killer, already a corpse from a drug overdose, was obviously incapable of getting anything out of him.
The penguin sighed and said to his subordinate, "Go call everyone in the building and tell them the truth. Tell them not to panic like a turkey before Thanksgiving and to stay quietly in their rooms. Otherwise, I'll make them regret it!"
Others were clearly surprised by this outcome. However, some people who knew the couple admitted that they were both drug addicts, and quite heavily so, and had previously caused an accident while driving under the influence of drugs, paying a huge bail to avoid jail time.
For the people of Gotham, this explanation was sufficient. After all, there were far too many people in this city who killed without reason, and a drug overdose was a reasonably plausible excuse.
But many people still felt uneasy. On one hand, they felt that this might not be the truth, but on the other hand, they prayed that it was the truth, that it was just an accidental incident, and that they could stay here safely until dawn and then get out of there safely.
But clearly, the peace wouldn't last long. The floor below Schiller's, the second floor, was the area the bodyguards focused on guarding, because it housed the most people and was the most likely place for trouble.
Three teams of armed bodyguards patrolled back and forth, leaving no gaps in their defense. Even Natasha would find it difficult to infiltrate silently under such circumstances. But as the second team of bodyguards came up the stairs, they suddenly heard some strange noises coming from the room next to the elevator.
The lead bodyguard immediately gave a hand signal. The two behind him set up their guns, while the two in front crouched and moved forward. But just as they were about to reach the door, it suddenly opened.
A little boy covered in blood walked out.
The hand on the trigger trembled violently. The lead bodyguard looked at the little boy in shock and said, "What's wrong? Where are your parents?"
The little boy took two more steps outside, opened the door completely, pointed into the room, and said, "They're all dead."
Ten minutes later, the little boy was brought before the penguin. The penguin looked at him and asked, "Why did your parents die?"
"I killed them."
Why did you kill them?!
"They were mean to me. And they were noisy."
The Penguin opened his mouth. He realized this was probably another evil genius or something, but he was so confused that he asked again, "Then... then how did you kill them?"
"While they're working, strangle them from behind. It doesn't take much strength." The little boy shook his head.
"you you……"
The penguin was at a loss for words. But then he realized something was wrong and said, "Who taught you that?"
"what?"
"Who taught you to do this?" The Penguin squinted at him. "You don't learn how to kill in school. An untrained, normal person wouldn't know this method. Who taught you to kill your parents like this?"
“A friend of mine,” the little boy said calmly.
"Friend? What's your name?"
Bibian.
"what?"
"My best friend Bibian."
The penguin was a little dazed, because it didn't sound like a person's name at all. Sure enough, the next second, the little boy pulled a small robot toy out of his pocket.
“Every time my parents beat me, I would talk to Bibian. He told me I could kill them. I had tried before, but failed. But here they had a serious argument, and one of them looked at the computer and the other looked at the phone. That gave me the opportunity to do it.”
The penguin snatched the little robot away, but after examining it for a long time, he couldn't figure out what was wrong with it. He angrily tossed the robot aside. The little boy rushed over to retrieve his own toy.
Where the penguin couldn't see, the eyes of the little silver robot named Bibian lit up with a yellow light, flashed, and then went out.