PFC Chapter 3758 Rapid Pursuit (3)
Chapter 3758 Rapid Pursuit (3)
Chapter 3758 Rapid Pursuit (Part 3)
Elliott's eyes widened in fury, completely caught off guard. Talia, on the other hand, was far more experienced. She stepped forward to shield Elliott behind her, then looked down at the corpse's face.
Her grip on Elliott's arm tightened instantly, because the person who had fallen was wearing a League of Assassins uniform and was none other than one of the two League of Assassins bodyguards she had secretly hired to protect Elliott.
"boom!"
The clown fired a warning shot.
"Everyone, stand still with your hands behind your heads! Let me see your hands! Squat down right now!"
The celebrities scattered and fled, but because the entrance was blocked by the police, none of them could escape. They could only crouch down tremblingly and extend their hands. Among them, a few figures were particularly unusual.
"What on earth happened?!" Harvey Dent roared. "How did a body end up here? Who killed him?!"
"Yes, what exactly is going on?" the crowd whispered among themselves.
“Look at his clothes, why are they so strange? He doesn’t look like a guest attending a banquet.”
"This looks like the attire of an Eastern martial artist, doesn't it? Did Elliott arrange a martial arts performance?"
Elliott abruptly turned to look at Talia. Talia was momentarily flustered, but quickly regained her composure and said, "Do you think I'd be that stupid? You're still our best choice."
Although her words were ambiguous, Elliott clearly understood. He pursed his lips and said to the clown, "I'm very sorry for what happened here."
“You should regret it,” the Joker said, pointing his gun directly at him. “Tax issues are irrelevant now. What’s your explanation for this corpse?”
“Of course I didn’t kill him,” Elliott said, raising his hands. “I’ve been in my office since before the banquet started, so I have a solid alibi.”
“But this happened right under your nose,” the Joker persisted. “Don’t think I didn’t see it; you recognize this outfit. That means you’re involved. Everyone’s coming back to the station with me, right now!”
Elliott's face was grim, revealing anger and helplessness. But he clearly had no better option. This strangely made-up policeman was a tough nut to crack, and he couldn't afford to be too forceful with the police in public, lest it affect his chances of winning the presidential election later.
That's right, Elliott is preparing to run for president. With his immense economic power, he seems invincible, but in reality, his biggest rival, March, is also formidable. Despite using every trick in the book, Elliott has only managed a draw with him.
The incident at today's banquet will undoubtedly have a significant impact on the upcoming battle. Elliott, being led to the police car amidst the flashing lights of the reporters, practically ground his teeth to powder. He was determined to teach that damned, insane cop a lesson!
Upon arriving at the police station, Chief Brock seemed shocked by the commotion, especially with a body being carried in. He was about to ask the Joker something when he saw Elliott and Talia walk in together. He quickly went to greet them, smiling and speaking to them:
"I'm sorry, sir and madam, you know how difficult those tax officials are. They came to us for a joint operation, and we couldn't refuse. But what happened? How come someone died?"
“I’d like to ask you that too.” Elliott seemed to have regained his confidence by talking to Brock. “The banquet was halfway through when this body fell from the sky, and your good detective brought us all back in handcuffs!”
Brock wiped the sweat from his brow, offering a forced smile and words of comfort. Elliott, however, kept his gaze fixed on the Joker; he was determined to be president and wouldn't allow anyone to interfere.
He saw the clown walk towards the other end of the corridor, and another slender figure flashed by. Elliott felt that the person looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place who it was.
"Name."
Thomas Elliott.
“Talia Ressougu”.
"Oswald Coppert".
Harvey Dante.
Jason Todd.
……
Schiller Rodriguez.
"Click."
The lights in the interrogation room were suddenly turned on.
"Name?"
“Schiller Rodriguez,” the man in the chair repeated.
The skin around the eyes, corroded by the pale chemicals, suddenly became full of wrinkles, like an endless snow-capped mountain range.
“You shouldn’t be here,” the clown said.
“That’s none of your business,” Schiller replied. He twirled the ring on his hand, surveyed the interrogation room, sniffed slightly, and said, “Looks like the interrogation just now was quite intense.”
"This has nothing to do with you," the Joker said, placing his hands on the table. "Are you Rodriguez of this universe?"
"Just consider me one of them," Schiller said casually.
"Did you kill the person?"
"It could be. It depends on whether your target is Elliott or me."
"He has a solid alibi."
“But all the testimonies on his behalf are from his own people, and they’re not reliable at all. I can help you identify him, but you have to do me a favor in return.”
“It seems you’re not from this universe,” the Joker said, slowing his speech. “Or perhaps you’re not Rodriguez after all.”
“I am, and I’m certain no one in the multiverse would dare impersonate me. Let’s stop beating around the bush. My purpose here is definitely different from yours, and there won’t be any conflict between us. I’ve given you a big gift; shouldn’t you do me a small favor in return?”
“I don’t think that’s a big gift,” the Joker said. “No matter how unreliable Elliott’s testimony is, you, an outsider, can’t possibly stand in court and testify against him.”
“That depends on who died,” Schiller said calmly. “If it were just an ordinary celebrity, it would be troublesome, but the body belonged to a League of Assassins assassin. Elliott not only has to give the public an explanation, but he also has to give the League of Assassins an explanation.”
The clown suddenly stood up. He walked to the table where Schiller was and looked down at one of the legs of the table. Schiller's gaze followed him; there was a barely noticeable bloodstain there.
"Do you know how intense the interrogation was?" The Joker suddenly laughed. His serious demeanor, just like a policeman, vanished instantly. When he laughed again, he seemed to be that complete madman once more.
"You want to hit me? Let me warn you, I can fight back."
Before he could finish speaking, the Joker reached out to grab Schiller's hair. Schiller ducked and kicked over the table. The table slammed into the Joker, who raised his arm to brace himself, but the force of the kick was outrageous. The table shattered in two upon impact, splintering wood as the Joker's arm trembled with excruciating pain.
Before he could stop, Schiller grabbed the back of the chair with his handcuffed hands and swung it at him. The Joker ducked and drew his gun with his right hand.
"boom!"
A bullet struck Schiller in the left shoulder. Schiller didn't even flinch, acting as if nothing had happened, and proceeded to smash a chair down on his head. The Joker, unable to withdraw his gun, took the hit. "Bang!"
The chair slammed into his right shoulder, and he felt as if his shoulder blade was about to shatter. He had no choice but to roll to the left to create distance. Before he could regain his footing, the chair flew straight towards him. He dodged to the right again, and as he lay on the ground, he raised his gun.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Two out of three shots hit, but due to the angle, two of them struck the legs. The Joker wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but the opponent's speed didn't decrease after the leg injury; in fact, it increased. Before he could even lower his gun-wielding arm, the opponent had already grabbed his hair.
With a loud thud, the clown's head slammed into the ground. His nose broke instantly, his ribs fractured, and blood flowed freely.
Police officers who heard the gunshots rushed in. The clown, lying on the ground, yelled, "Don't shoot!!!"
But it was too late. Two young officers emptied Schiller's magazines directly. But Schiller was too fast; he slipped behind shattered pieces of the table and swiftly approached another officer with a gun from the other side.
Thinking he was going to grab the gun, the man quickly flung his hand to the side, lost his balance, and was sent flying by Schiller. Two officers nearby were knocked down by him. The last officer then aimed his gun again, this time hitting the officer, but it seemed to have struck the arm and had no effect whatsoever. Schiller's figure disappeared into the doorway of the interrogation room.
"Damn it, another monster like this!" the Joker cursed as he stood up. He pulled out his phone, dialed a number, and said, "You didn't tell me there was another lunatic... What? Who else could it be, that Rodriguez guy!"
In a dimly lit room, the Joker's smile froze, and the smile that remained on his face became rather stiff.
"What did he say?" the Joker from the main universe asked.
"He didn't say anything, just knocked me down, and then caused a scene at the police station. He was shot four or five times but acted like nothing happened. Is this what you mean by 'not having any decent opponents'?"
The Joker from the main universe suddenly frowned, then said into the phone, "Are you sure you're not hallucinating? As far as I know, Schiller isn't a superhuman, so how could he be shot four or five times and still not react?!"
"Oh, right, I forgot to mention. He's not unresponsive, he's getting faster and faster! He's not a superhuman, so are there some kind of performance-enhancing drugs in the police bullets?!"
The Joker's eyebrows were almost knitted together. He said into the phone, "Focus on your mission, I'll handle his!"
The Joker hung up the phone and first retrieved the surveillance footage from the interrogation room, then copied the footage and sent a copy to the Joker in the main universe. The Joker in the main universe was already planning to take action, but after seeing the sent footage, he sat down and watched it carefully again.
The more he looked at him, the more his smile stiffened, because he realized the Joker was right—this guy could take a bullet at close range and be completely unaffected. Moreover, the Joker in the main universe could see that after the normal pain reflex, an excitatory reflex followed immediately. This was completely abnormal. Where the hell did this lunatic come from?!
“He’s absolutely right about that.” Greed leaned back on the armrest of his chair and said, “Bullets are like stimulants for the morbid, especially low-powered handgun bullets. They hurt but aren’t fatal. The morbid’s pain threshold is so high. If he really maxed out his pain amplification, wouldn’t that be like having X-ray vision of the entire Gotham City?”
"That's great," the agent said with a hint of schadenfreude. "The drug's effect on enhancing hallucinations was already limited, but now it's added to the pain state... Someone's going to be in big trouble."
The weather has suddenly gotten hot lately, and my stomach has been upset. Everyone should pay attention to their diet.