The days of being a spiritual mentor in Meiman.

Chapter 3772 Rapid Pursuit (7)

Chapter 3772 Rapid Pursuit (Seventeen)

"This is……"

"Do you like the gift I gave you?" Schiller sat at his desk, one leg crossed over the other, his forearms resting on his knees, and said, "You probably didn't expect that, with three Jokers in this universe, I'd be the one to surprise you first, did you?"

“…I really didn’t expect that,” Batman said slowly. “Is he still alive?”

“Yes, he’s not only alive but can also think, he’s probably playing dead because he’s afraid I’ll kill him again.” Schiller patted the laughing man’s head as if he were picking out a watermelon, and said, “If I gave him to you, what would you do with him?”

"Find a safe to store it."

"Aren't you doing research?"

The main universe's Batman was determined to impersonate Bruce Wayne, so instead of wearing the Batsuit, he sat behind a desk in a suit. He stretched out an arm and rested it on the desk, tapping the surface with his fingertips, seemingly deep in thought.

“It’s too dangerous,” he finally said. “There are many dangerous Batmen in the Dark Multiverse, but he feels very special to me…”

“Stop praising him,” Schiller interrupted Batman. “If you keep saying nice things about him like that, his brain will boil.”

Schiller's strong dissatisfaction made Batman begin to scrutinize him more cautiously.

"What are you looking at? Are you afraid a clown will suddenly pop out of my body?"

“If you can do that, then it’s actually a good thing that a clown comes out,” Batman said.

"That sounds familiar."

"How are you feeling?" Batman asked. "Is the drug still working?"

"Do you think I can't do these things without the stimulation of drugs?"

"Sorry, but you really do sound like the clown."

“I might be a little too excited,” Schiller said with a soft sigh, “but at least I’m not a die-hard fan of yours. I’m asking you a very serious question—aren’t you planning to study this particular guy?”

“I’m answering you very seriously,” Batman said. “I know many of his gadgets have amazing abilities, including the eye patch he’s wearing now, but everything from the Dark Multiverse is extremely dangerous. I wouldn’t be inclined to use them unless it’s an emergency.”

"So, in an emergency, how would you use it?"

When Batman heard Schiller use a personal pronoun, he knew he was referring to the maniac laugh, so he said, "I've had a few brief encounters with him while exploring his origin universe. He seems to have the ability to foresee the future, so perhaps I'll ask for his opinion."

“I’m not some little bird you’re keeping in a dark cave,” Schiller said, patting the head again. “Let’s skip the kids’ show and jump straight to adult time—tell me your thoughts, detective, something that matches your brilliant mind.”

Batman hesitated for a moment, then uttered a single word: "Brain."

“Yes.” Schiller leaned back, stretched out his arms, rested his elbows on the armrests, and waved his hands outwards. “The best way to deal with a cunning opponent who is good at lying is not to listen to what he says, but to see what he thinks. He just happens to have a mind-reading device on him, like the deliveryman who delivers your frying pan is a cow.”

“I won’t use his equipment,” Batman said. “This stuff might be contaminated, and I would never use it directly. Even without this, I have ways to read brainwaves.”

"Using his brain as a machine for prophecy is a good idea; it might come in very handy at times. But I have other uses for this brain. What are you going to do about it?"

"Are you encouraging me to take what you have?" Batman couldn't help but say. "If you want to kill me, you can just do it. There's no need to light a lamp on your head first."

"Why don't you do that? Do you think fighting me is too risky?"

"Because it's not necessary. If I need to, I can ask you."

"Ask me? Or ask arrogance?"

“Isn’t it the same?” Batman said. “I ask him, and he goes to ask you.”

How did you know I would answer him?

“I believe he can convince you.” Batman’s tone was sincere. “You are one person, sharing one body and one set of memories. There is no need for you to fight each other.”

"Do you believe he would ask me this question because of your request?"

"Yes, the doctor has always been so helpful."

Greed, sitting in the Tower of Thought Theater, was practically convulsing with laughter. He slapped the armrest of his seat, laughing as he said, "Even the morbid probably hasn't seen someone so stubborn, right? Hahahaha!"

"What the hell is going on!" the detective yelled. "What nonsense are they spouting? Did they not wake up properly this morning?"

“I knew you wouldn’t understand.” Greed laughed even harder. “It’s hilarious that someone wants to fish, but the fish just won’t bite.”

"So why did the psychopath take that head to Batman?" the agent asked.

"You said it yourself, completing this plan isn't that simple. Just resurrecting the Maniac Laugh requires a lot of things, like a suitable body, and we also need to keep a close eye on the newly born one. By knowing who the Maniac Laugh implants the 'egg' in, we can at least glean some insight into his subsequent plans. Do you think the morbid would do this on his own?"

"So he wants Batman to take over. Couldn't he just say so?" the agent said impatiently. "What's there to speculate about? Just throw your head in his face, and he'd probably ignore it."

“Your method might actually be more effective.” Arrogance shook his head helplessly. “If someone wants to fish, they’ve picked the wrong target. Batman isn’t like those stupid fish next door; if he wanted to, he could wander around here all day.”

"Did you hear that? He said you're helpful. Hahahaha!" Greed was still laughing.

Batman and Schiller were still chatting, their conversation circling from the Maniac Laughter to Batman and the Joker, then back to Schiller himself, and then back to the Maniac Laughter. The two of them sat at the desk and talked for over an hour, seemingly saying everything, yet also seemingly saying nothing at all.

“If there were a scene like that in a movie, I would definitely fast-forward through it.” The agent sounded a bit agitated, rubbing his forehead. “What’s the point of filming dialogue that doesn’t contribute to the plot at all?!”

"You talk as if you've even seen the dialogue that's meaningful for advancing the plot." Greed hit the nail on the head.

“I’ve had enough,” the agent said, standing up and turning to walk out of the theater.

"Where are you going?" Greed turned around and shouted at him.

"Go press that damn skip button for them!"

After he left, greed returned, and arrogance couldn't help but laugh. He said, "That guy's fishing skills are as good as ever."

"Yeah, but who are you calling a stupid fish?"

"My mistake, they were innocent."

"Bruce also fell for morbid tricks, so is he exceptionally naive?"

"No, he's a really stupid fish."

With a "bang," the door to Batman's office was pushed open, and another identical Schiller strode in.

Schiller, sitting with his back to the door, revealed a barely perceptible smile, which did not escape Batman's notice.

Upon reaching his desk, Schiller, who had rushed in, slammed on the brakes, pointed to another version of himself sitting down, and then to the door. The seated Schiller stood up, buttoned his suit jacket, turned around, nodded, and walked unhurriedly out of the office, gently closing the door behind him.

"Please have a seat," Batman said. "What's your name?"

“Agent. You look more like a marriage matchmaker.” Schiller didn’t sit down; he turned his laughing head so the laughing face was facing Batman. “Listen, here’s the plan: dig out his brain, store it, wait for the backup to activate, and then resurrect him. How about that?”

"I don't understand the point of this."

"In over an hour, you still haven't finished discussing the meaning of everything in the entire universe?"

Batman seemed surprised. He said, "Why do you say that? That's impossible. Agent, won't you sit down and talk?"

Schiller drew his gun and cocked it.

Batman immediately raised his hands and said, "Don't be impulsive. I guarantee Wayne Enterprises will help you. But you have to tell me what the point of doing this is."

"Wouldn't it be better to let the two laughing bats fight each other?"

"It's not that it's impossible, but this matter really needs to be considered carefully..."

“I think it’s good.” Another voice came from the computer on the side of the desk. It was Arkham Batman. He said, “Wait a moment, I’ll be right there.”

Indeed, it only took a short wait before that exceptionally strong figure appeared in the office. The rain hadn't dried on his metal armor, and a faint smell of blood still lingered. He looked at Schiller and said, "What do you need?"

"A water tank that can perfectly preserve the brain, a body for resurrection, and equipment or manpower that can lock onto him the moment the newborn laugh appears."

"No problem, the first two are from the universe where I did the mission before. As for the last one, I'll talk to another Batman."

"Then I'll take my head back to the original universe first. Contact me directly as soon as you have any news."

"No problem, send me your DouJie number."

With a bang, the door was kicked open, and another Batman burst in. Elliott angrily ripped off his mask, glaring at the blue-eyed man behind the desk, and yelled, "Bruce Wayne, what are you up to?!"

“Long time no see, Thomas,” Batman smiled at Thomas. “I was just telling the shareholders to thank you for your contributions to Wayne Enterprises over the years. By the way, I’ve got the loan agreement; we’ll head over there in a bit…”

“You’re dreaming!” Elliott raised his voice. “You’ve never been crazy, have you?! You’ve been hiding in a mental hospital, laughing at me! Then you came out to cause trouble on the eve of my election, shooting down my helicopter with a missile, and even turning Talia against me to assassinate me!!! You damn bastard!!!”

He took a deep breath, his face growing increasingly grim, his expression twisting, and said in a sharp tone, "It seems you've completely forgotten how you clung to my parents' legs and cried after they died. You're nothing but a pitiful little thing fostered by the Elliott family. If it weren't for my parents, you would have died on the streets of Gotham long ago! Do you think anyone else would genuinely help you? You'll always be that unwanted orphan!"

"boom!"