Chapter 1140 Professor (Part Twelve) (Patreon)

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Schiller strode into Jonathan's room, looking at him sternly and said, "The nurse said you've been agitated again and have a tendency to hurt people. Didn't we already get you the newspapers?"

Jonathan was pacing back and forth in the middle of the room, appearing very anxious. As soon as Schiller took a step closer, Jonathan became a bit wary, but after realizing it was Schiller, he relaxed slightly and said, "I'm so fed up!"

"Some hick from the middle of nowhere has the audacity to provoke me?! Just wait, I'll make him realize that his pathetic skills are nothing in my eyes!"

"What happened now?" Schiller asked.

Jonathan angrily said, "Last night, some idiot who calls himself a 'VProfessor' called me on the phone. He said he's the best chemist in the world and he'll prove to me that the path of medicinal chemistry is completely wrong, and that I'm just a common mediocre talent!"

Schiller paused for a moment, then said, "VProfessor? Who's that?"

"Who knows? He's never been in the newspapers, so he must not have done any decent cases! That's why I said he's just a hick from the middle of nowhere, probably never even read a newspaper, yet he dares to be so arrogant. It's ridiculous!"

"Since you said he's never been in the newspapers, why bother arguing with him? And he only dared to call you on the phone, he didn't even show his face. He's just all talk."

Jonathan snorted and said, "Nowadays, anyone can call themselves a Professor! No, I have to see what gives him the right to be so presumptuous. Give me a discharge certificate, I'm going to go meet him!"

"No, your mental state is unstable right now. If you go out and get provoked, it'll ruin the hospital's reputation."

Jonathan rolled his eyes and said, "Alright, I know you're worried I'll go bother Batman. Don't worry, this time my target isn't your prized student, I have no interest in him now. But I have to make that idiot who provoked me pay the price!"

Seeing Jonathan's agitated state, Schiller sighed and started writing in the medical record. As he wrote, he warned, "Looks like if I don't let you out, you'll just break out on your own."

"But we have to set some ground rules. You deal with your personal grudges without causing any citywide poisoning, okay? My office's water purifier system isn't installed yet..."

Jonathan snorted disdainfully and said, "Does he think he's someone important? Does he have that much clout to make me go all out?"

"Alright, alright, we know you're the best chemist." Schiller said dismissively as he tore off the paper and handed it to Jonathan, then added, "I heard a lot of people who've been in the newspapers have entered Gotham. You'd better be careful."

Jonathan took the certificate Schiller had written and as he walked towards the door, he said contemptuously, "They're the ones who need to be careful."

After seeing Jonathan off, Schiller heaved a sigh of relief and went back to his office. As soon as he sat down, a loud boom was heard.

Schiller instinctively turned his head to look out the window, only to see a huge mushroom cloud rising on the Gotham skyline, which seemed to be coming from the direction of the Wayne Chemical Plant.

Less than half an hour later, Gordon arrived at Arkham Asylum, dragging JokerJack and throwing him to the ground, saying, "Thank Broccoli, the ground at the chemical plant was destroyed, so they can't start construction. This lunatic didn't blow up the employees, he just leveled the chemical plant."

Jack lay on the ground and didn't get up until Gordon left. Then he stood up with a grin and said to Schiller, "You know what? I did a great thing!"

Before Schiller could ask, Jack started stomping his feet and cursing. From his fragmented words, Schiller finally pieced together what had happened, and it all started with Broccoli's invasion of Gotham.

The giant Broccoli growing in the city would definitely destroy the ground, and since all the buildings were built on the ground, many of them became dilapidated and needed to be repaired.

But to repair the houses, they needed building materials, and to transport the materials, they needed heavy trucks. Recently, the truck drivers had been working non-stop, barely sleeping, and Jack was no exception.

Since the last time his little bat had hurt his heart, Jack had decided to give Batman the cold shoulder. He believed that without him around, Batman must be very lonely, and might even cry in his bed.

Meanwhile, Jack could seize the opportunity to make a lot of money. When Batman came to the slums again, Jack could bury him with cash.

Thinking about that day coming, Jack was filled with enthusiasm. But just yesterday night, as he was driving a night shift, he suddenly hit something.

As most people know, truck drivers who work night shifts almost never drive at the speed limit. Jack was especially crazy in this regard - not only was he overloaded, but he also drove his heavy truck like a spacecraft about to take off, without any countdown.

In such a situation, hitting something could be fatal. Jack's truck was already a bit rickety, and what he hit turned out to be something quite sturdy. It got caught under the tires and the truck couldn't move anymore.

Jack got out of the car and was furious. What he hit was not a person, but a humanoid doll made of human limbs. The human parts had little strength, but the connecting parts were exceptionally solid, even deforming Jack's truck wheel hub.

Jack's temper was not exactly mild, you could say he was the type to explode at the slightest provocation.

Originally, night shifts were for urgent deliveries, with tight deadlines and good pay. But when the truck broke down, not only was the cargo not delivered, he might also offend the client. Jack was the type who got angrier the more he endured, and he didn't want to lose out.

He dragged the humanoid doll from under the tire and reassembled the limbs that were almost ground into mincemeat, also inspecting the welded parts of the connectors.

Then he determined that the production cycle of these horrific dolls must be very long, which meant their creator must have a dedicated base to store all kinds of spare parts.

After daybreak, Jack called a tow truck company to take his truck away. But when he returned to the truck driver's base, he heard that many other night shift drivers had encountered these dolls, with at least seven or eight such incidents in one night.

Following the locations described by the truck drivers, Jack inspected all the dolls and found they shared a common feature - the decay of the limbs was quite advanced, almost unusable.

Jack realized this was likely some kind of ritual. The doll creator deliberately left them on the roads to be crushed by the high-speed trucks, treating them like free disposable trash.

He also discovered that the freshest part of the limbs was the brain, meaning these dolls were conscious and aware before being ground into pulp, their leg connectors removed so they couldn't escape, only able to watch helplessly as a speeding truck bore down on them, hearing the sound of their skulls being crushed.

Undoubtedly, this was the perpetrator's twisted pleasure. Jack could imagine the doll creator had promised their creations that if they served well, they could have their original bodies back. But after dedicating their lives, they were only left to be hung on the truck hubs, leaving no trace behind.

Analyzing the locations of these incidents and the decay levels of the corpses, Jack quickly deduced that the doll maker's base was in the famous Wayne Chemical Plant.

This infuriated Jack even more. The audacity to use a facility with "Wayne" in the name as their base, when Batman still owed him $100 and he didn't even have a single Wayne-named building as his own base!

"So you took bombs and blew the Wayne Chemical Plant to the ground?" Schiller asked Jack. Jack vigorously rubbed his nose, clearly displeased, and said, "Poor my bombs, I collected them for so long, they were originally meant for my good friend Batman!"

"That damn stupid idiot with no taste, that lunatic! He wasted all my good stuff!!" Jack started cursing again.

Schiller sighed slightly and asked, "Did you blow him up?"

"How would I know," Jack said impatiently, but then he sneered, "Whether he's dead or not, his creations are definitely all ruined. That's probably worse for him than killing him."

Suddenly, Jack calmed down and spoke in a deep, slow tone, "I'm very clear on the kind of people these lunatics are. They call themselves artists, but they're just mediocre fools. What they value most are their insignificant collections."

"They enjoy manipulating the fate of others. Every time one of their artworks is created, they must arrange a dramatic fate for it - when it's born, when it dies, and how it dies..."

"For the same type of artwork, the time and method of death must be the same. They would never allow their carefully crafted works to not fulfill their predetermined fate."

"And now, a huge explosion has blown them all to the sky. 'Boom!' A lifetime of effort, gone to waste!" A cruel smile appeared on Jack's face as he said in a low voice:

"The dolls made from the limbs of refined women, and the ones made from the limbs of rough dock workers, all mixed together, no longer distinguishable... Just thinking about it makes me sad. If their master sees this scene, they might cry in anger, hahaha!"

Schiller silently watched Jack, clearly realizing that Jack was the type of killer who excelled at tormenting other serial killers, and killed in a way that crushed their souls.

Schiller arranged for Jack to stay in the same hospital room that Jonathan had occupied, which was a special observation room where doctors and nurses could respond quickly if any problems arose.

Afterwards, Schiller went to help check on the other still-recovering crazy citizens. After a busy day, that night seemed unusually quiet, with Jack obediently taking his medication and going to bed early. Schiller thought he could finally relax.

But less than two hours after he fell asleep, a loud "bang" came from upstairs, followed by the sound of shattering glass.

Schiller groggily got up from the bed, pushed open the window and looked up. A huge figure with a crocodile head and tail jumped onto the balcony, wielding two cleavers and roaring angrily at the room.

"You damn bastard!!! You blew up the chemical plant! You made me lose my job! I'm going to kill you!!!"

Schiller: I really will die.

[Read at www.patreon.com/shanefreak, and thanks for the invaluable support!]

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Next Chapter>>Chapter 1141 Professor (Part Thirteen)