Chapter 1188 The Cry of the Lamb (Part Nine) (Patreon)

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In the completely dark prison corridor, security personnel wearing night vision goggles pushed a heavy prisoner cage forward.

The tires rolled over the smooth ceramic tile floor, making a dull sound, and the clinking of the chains colliding with the bars of the cage sounded like intermittent wailing.

There were no lights or illumination in the corridor, and there were no windows at the end of the corridor either. This was a completely sealed dark space, so people without night vision equipment could see nothing.

The cage entered the elevator again, and there were no buttons or control levers in the elevator either. Everything was remotely controlled.

The entire transportation process was too silent, permeated with a terrifying atmosphere, but the fear was not felt by the prisoner, but by the escort personnel who realized what it meant to transport prisoners in such a harsh manner.

Silence, silence, and more silence. The rumbling sound of the elevator running was not covered by any other sound. It was clear that the elevator door opened, and the escort team continued to advance until they reached a special door.

There was finally a little light here. This door was very special, it was not a normal single door, but a double-door like a grate door. There was a red indicator light above the door, and it was this light that provided the faintest illumination.

One half of the door was opened, and the cage was aligned with the door again. The escort personnel went through the same procedure, and when Schiller stepped into this special room, he saw a person sitting at the long table in the center - that was William Denechette.

But Schiller's gaze did not linger on him for long, but passed over him and looked at the wall behind him.

There was nothing on the wall, but Schiller's gaze passed through the disguised wall and fell on the group of people in the observation room.

"He sees us," Davis spoke up.

In the dim room, there were several rows of seats like a movie theater, gradually extending backwards from low to high.

And this time, Davis was not sitting in the central seat of the front row, but a thin black woman.

"Of course he can see us," the black woman's voice sounded, low and sharp, with a faint trace of complex emotion.

"I have long admired Schiller Rodriguez, not only for his renowned reputation as a psychologist, but perhaps you would like to hear the story of his other identity?"

Davis turned his head with some interest and said, "Amanda, at this point, don't be coy, we're all quite curious about how you chose Schiller."

Davis turned his head back, looking through the one-way glass at the scene in the room, and said as he felt his chin with his finger, "I know you've taken a lot of pressure for this, a lot of people didn't want you to do this, you've paid a lot for Schiller."

"The intellectuals who know about this plan don't agree with it, they feel it's a challenge to their class."

"And when Schiller got involved in the events in Central America, a lot of people wanted him to disappear, and you paid a lot to save him."

"We're all curious, what do you value him for?"

"You only know that he is a famous psychologist, but you don't know that when he was young, he used to chase serial murder cases all over the world, observing and studying the killers," Amanda's voice sounded.

"Perhaps he harbors an ideal, wanting to thoroughly deal with the cancer cells born in human society, wanting to find the answer to this insoluble problem," Amanda slowly narrowed her eyes and said.

"When he was observing serial killers, I was also observing him. Over the decades, through his relentless pursuit, he has established a club of serial killers, becoming their master, becoming the god of the lunatics, the shepherd of the lambs."

Amanda slowly closed her eyes, and the suddenly lit room illuminated the cold expression on her face. She spoke again, "But in my eyes, he is the criminal himself, not their master, and he can never become a qualified shepherd."

"I know he is trying to control those criminals, but the way he controls them is to let that group of lunatics chase an even crazier fellow, to let the serial killers see him as a high mountain, and always want to climb and surpass him."

"But this is not really an effective method at all," Amanda shook her head slightly and said, "When he is there, the lambs remain quiet out of reverence, but if he is not there, those who have chased him before all want to replace him."

"The shepherd is human, not a sheep, he cannot mix with the sheep, cannot let this group of innately cruel lunatics think that their master is their own kind."

"To become a true shepherd, you must make them feel the pain deep in their bones, whether the shepherd wields a whip or not, they will be terrified and panicked, and will never have the idea of replacing him."

"Is this what you are doing?" Davis looked at Amanda and said.

Amanda neither acknowledged nor denied it, she just stared at the situation in the room and said, "Nothing can prove my point better than making a lamb wearing the cloak of God lower its proud head."

Davis lowered his eyelids, cleared his throat, and said, "According to information from the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Schiller may have some abilities beyond normal, and our current containment measures may not be effective."

Amanda shook her head again and said, "You still don't understand these lunatics. The more insane they are, the more fragile they are. They want their souls to stand up, so they are never afraid to let their bodies kneel down."

"For the sake of intellectual victory, they will even actively exclude all interference from outside factors to ensure that the environment for the debate is pure."

"They don't even bother to use brute force to break the situation, because that would prove that their thoughts are not as great as others, and they would only get angry and start swinging their fists."

Amanda turned her head to look at Davis and said, "The strict restraint measures you have formulated are actually useless. If he doesn't want to come here, you can't catch him at all, and since he has already come here, no punishment will force him to leave before he gets the answer he wants."

Davis shrugged and said, "I'm just doing my job, Amanda. You have to be clear that there are so many people watching this plan, you won't let them down, right?"

Amanda turned her head back, so Davis didn't see the trace of disgust that flashed across her eyes. Both of them turned their gaze to the room behind the wall.

Schiller's mask was still on, and he still couldn't speak. William handed him a stack of papers and a pen, letting him write down what he wanted to say with his handcuffed hands.

"Hello, Professor Rodriguez, we meet again. How have you been these past few days?" William smiled at Schiller, knowing full well what he was asking.

In the previous week, Schiller experienced complete sensory deprivation.

Although the time limit was one week, according to reliable experimental data analysis, in the human mind, the time experienced in loneliness and darkness could be about 20 times the actual time, which means that Schiller experienced about 5 months of torment in solitude.

"I'm fine," Schiller wrote on the paper.

"It seems that your mental condition is far from reaching the limit, which surprises me very much, because three of the Criminals who came here with you have completely gone mad, and we are comforting them and giving them professional mental illness treatment," William said, with a smile on his face, but if you look at his eye contact, he was not really smiling, and there was even a hint of malice in his eyes.

"Since your mental condition is still healthy, I think another month of confinement should be no problem, right?"

William's smile could no longer be concealed, and he let out a slight laugh, stood up, and leaned on the desktop, letting his shadow cover Schiller.

He looked down at Schiller's eyes and said, "Professor Schiller, you may have long forgotten that during your teaching at Columbia University, you once rejected a postgraduate application of mine."

"In the reply email I received, you judged my thesis as worthless, and now I have a Bachelor of Science doctorate from the Harvard University Psychology Department, while you have become an inmate."

Schiller frowned, he seemed to be thinking about which of the application articles he had seen was William's, but his still somewhat scattered eye contact showed that he couldn't remember it at all.

William's expression gradually became ferocious, and he could no longer tolerate such indifference. He slammed the button on the desk hard.

The special collar on Schiller's neck suddenly lit up red, and the electric current burst out, causing Schiller to convulse for a moment, using one arm to prop himself up on the desk to prevent himself from falling over.

Schiller shrugged his shoulders, lowered his head, and leaned his forehead against the desktop, only the rapid rise and fall of his chest indicating that he was not asleep.

William straightened up, stroking the button on the desk, and raised one corner of his mouth, saying, "Professor, you are as disheveled as a drowned dog, but I don't mind making you even more disheveled, this is the price you should pay for your Pride."

After saying that, William pressed the button again, and Schiller, who was lying on the desk, convulsed again and let out a muffled groan.

After dozens of seconds, a trembling hand covered with blue veins reached out to the side, and the pale fingers grasped the pen next to it, slowly writing in a crooked font on the paper, "Are they allowing you to do this?"

William let out a burst of laughter and said, "You are just a prisoner, and your mental assessment result depends entirely on the conclusion I write."

"To make you cooperate, I have taken some coercive measures, how could they not understand? You really don't think anyone would come to offend me for the sake of you Criminals, do you?"

Schiller's low laughter came from his chest, sounding slow and powerful, yet full of sarcasm.

William's hand was about to press the button again.

The next moment, the door opened with a "bang," and Amanda Waller, wearing a long suit, walked out with Davis, coldly saying, "Enough, get out of here."

William turned back, and Davis stepped forward, staring into his eyes, saying, "The mental assessment time for today is over, Doctor William, leave."

William still wanted to say something, but seeing Davis' icy eye contact, he pursed his lips and turned to glare at Schiller before leaving.

Amanda stood in front of the desk, lowering her eyelids and looking at the still bowed Schiller, saying, "I'm sorry, Professor, he has taken some very impolite actions, and he will pay the price for it."

Schiller raised his eyes to look at Amanda, and at the moment he saw her face, he found that the few fragmented memories he had inherited from the original Schiller contained Amanda's grief-stricken expression.

"Long time no see, Amanda," Schiller's hand trembled, unable to write a complete letter, and Amanda's lips pursed, a complex expression appearing on her face, but it soon returned to coldness.

"Professor, I'm glad we meet again. I imagine sitting here and being electrocuted through your body must not feel good."

"But this should make you understand that your way doesn't work at all, you are not a shepherd."

Schiller looked up and saw the hatred in Amanda's eyes, and her tone gradually became deeper as she continued, "People like you, born Psychopaths, must be punished severely enough, to corrode the skin, break the bones, and tear out the heart."

"The so-called born madmen is a complete fallacy, they dare to unleash their madness without fear, only because they are not afraid enough, if they are afraid, they can only be docile lambs."

As the words fell, Amanda pressed the button again, and an unprecedented strong electric current burst out.

"Ugh..."

Schiller could no longer maintain his balanced posture, and he fell to one side, his forehead hitting the desktop, and a muffled groan came from his chest.

But Amanda had no expression of gloating, the frown on her brow and the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes were telling of her inner turmoil and pain.

Under Amanda's gaze, Schiller's chest rose and fell rapidly, and he was panting heavily, looking very disheveled. Amanda asked, "Now, do you still think you are a shepherd?"

Schiller could barely hold the pen, but he still wrote a line with his trembling hand:

"I have always been a lamb... the only lamb."

Amanda's pupils contracted, and Schiller continued to write:

"And the lamb's duty is to offer itself, to welcome... the new birth of the Lord."

U.S., New Jersey, Gotham, Gotham City Police Station.

The young police officer hurriedly ran up the stairs and handed the documents to Gordon, saying, "Captain, the state government has revoked the emergency support order, you don't need to go to the state police station to help anymore."

Gordon looked puzzled, and he asked the police officer, "Then how are they going to deal with the endless serial killer cases? Wasn't that why I was transferred there because of the lack of manpower?"

The young officer scratched his head and said, "Haven't you been listening to the radio lately? There have been no new serial murder cases for several days, and even the previously unsolvable major cases, the perpetrators have turned themselves in."

Gordon's eyes widened, and after his subordinate left, he looked at the documents in his hand, very confused.

But before he could carefully read the content, another female detective hurriedly ran up and said to Gordon, "Mrs. Miller from Arkham Asylum called the police station, saying that Jonathan Crane, who has been hospitalized there, has escaped, and his target seems to be the Gotham Police Station."

Gordon's expression immediately became serious, and he waved his hand, saying, "Go on full alert, that madman might be trying to blow up..."

"Gordon! James Gordon! When are you going to bring Schiller back?!" Jonathan's voice appeared at the door, and Gordon put his hand on his waist gun, but the Jonathan who walked in was still wearing a hospital gown, without any weapons or bombs.

"You have to let Schiller come back soon! Without the newspaper, I'm already bored to death! I even published a 'Natural Chemistry' paper!"

"What newspaper? What paper?" Gordon frowned and looked at him puzzledly, and after a few seconds, Gordon suddenly realized, looking at Jonathan, he said, "You're not talking about the secret code that you serial killers put in the newspaper, are you?"

"Do you know how long it's been since the code was updated?! This will make me miss the latest information in the academic world! You have to figure out a way..."

Suddenly, a sound came from the shadow in the corner of the room, and Gordon suddenly widened his eyes, turning his head to look.

He saw Batman, but it was not quite Batman.

Gordon saw that the eyes hidden in the darkness had a perfect fusion of divinity and evil.

A hoarse voice echoed in the room.

"The new code is 'full-width separator'."

I wrapped a thousand dumplings!

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

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