Chapter 600: Who Can Do Destruction In Schiller Manor? (Part 2) (Patreon)

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Inside the elegant British-style library, faint morning light filtered through deep red curtains, casting its gentle glow on the well-maintained wooden floor, where every grain of wood was distinct.

Between the cracks of the solid wooden bookshelves and display cabinets, specks of light shone through, illuminating the figure at the book table. It revealed the patterns on their pajamas and the black cat cradled in their arms.

If not for the events of the previous night, this scene could seamlessly belong in a "Godfather" film. However, the truth was, both the person and the cat had fought throughout the night, leaving no room for peaceful sleep.

In the end, they found themselves falling asleep in the library not out of newfound friendship or reconciliation, but because Schiller had finally grown tired of his Bat Cat's destructive antics. He had subdued the cat with a generous dose of potent alcohol, and both of them entered the dream realm.

Raising a Batman?

When confronted with such a question, one might find themselves contemplating its feasibility, and perhaps even feeling a bit tempted. However, it is advisable, even when one's love for pets knows no bounds, to consult a doctor.

Batman's persona in comics may be fascinating, appealing to readers who relish the enigmatic, dark, and invincible vigilante. However, in the real world, stepping outside often results in a series of three beatings, and that's hardly unusual.

Many individuals harbor deep resentment for the Riddler trophies in Batman games, even rallying cries like "Riddler, leave Gotham" have been heard. But if your family member, loved one, or even your pet were Batman, it would be akin to enduring a constant stream of Riddler side quests, numbering in the hundreds daily, with more refreshing each day.

Batman's character is inherently designed such that if he were to appear in your vicinity, it wouldn't take three days before you'd send him to a mental hospital. That alone should attest to his perilous nature.

So, what happens when you combine Batman's personality with that of a cat? The sleeping pair in the library chairs already provided the answer. Even Schiller, who had set up countless puzzles in his Manor's various rooms to keep himself entertained during idle moments, didn't anticipate the cat's interference. Consequently, while Bat Cat couldn't replicate certain human actions, he resorted to more violent methods when stumped by Schiller's puzzles.

Schiller's puzzles were primarily designed for humans to solve, and he never considered that a cat might come along and dismantle everything. Thus, when Bat Cat couldn't mimic certain human behaviors, he resorted to somewhat destructive means.

The aftermath left quite a mess, but with Merkel on hand to clean up, it wasn't a significant issue. However, the destruction often came with considerable noise. Except for the brief hour when Schiller was almost asleep, he spent the rest of his time hunting down Bat Cat, guided by the sounds.

From this, it was clear that Schiller had never owned a pet. When dealing with a rambunctious cat, the best approach was not to chase it, as that would only make it think you were playing with it, further fueling its antics.

Schiller failed to grasp this concept, so he resorted to unconventional methods—luring the cat into his Temple of Thought and then engaging in a fight with him.

Unsurprisingly, Schiller won, but anyone who had owned a cat knew that winning once didn't signify the end; it marked the start of an enduring battle.

After several days of such battles, Schiller reached his breaking point. He headed to the headquarters of the Green Lantern Corps and brought back Pikachu, the chatty electric rodent who worked in the Green Lantern power battery. Schiller hoped that the incessantly talkative yellow electric mouse could vanquish Bat Cat.

Ten minutes later, Pikachu, pursued and harassed by Bat Cat, yelled out in frustration, "Schiller! What were you thinking?! You sent a mouse to deal with a cat?! Seriously!"

Schiller blinked to his left, dodging Pikachu's electrical discharge. He retorted, "Where's your 100,000 volts?! Shock him!"

"Are you sure? Don't you care about your Manor?!" Pikachu inquired as he used his electrical powers to interfere with Bat Cat, who was chasing him. Meanwhile, Schiller tried to capture Bat Cat while avoiding Pikachu's electrical attacks.

Finally, Schiller's frustration overcame him, and he yelled at Pikachu, "Use the 100,000 volts!"

"Zap!"

Just as Clark, who had just flown over Gotham City, was about to intervene, he witnessed an intense burst of electricity from Professor Schiller's Manor. Electric currents emanated from windows and doors in all directions, transforming the entire Manor into a sphere composed of thunderbolts.

Clark stood there dumbfounded, ready to rush in to rescue, when he saw Schiller emerge, holding onto something.

In his hand, he had Bat Cat by the tail, though the cat was entirely black, so it was impossible to tell that it had been electrified. In Bat Cat's mouth was Pikachu's tail, and behind Pikachu was Merkel.

"What's going on? Professor, did a spherical thunderbolt enter your premises?" Clark asked with concern as Schiller held the black cat's tail and presented it alongside Pikachu.

"Do either of them look like a spherical thunderbolt to you?" Schiller retorted.

"...What is this? Is this a mouse? Why is it so yellow? And this black cat... Why does it look familiar? Oh my... Bruce! How did you turn into a cat again? Am I still dreaming?!" Clark rubbed his eyes, shook his head, and stared in astonishment at the black cat, which bore an uncanny resemblance to the one he had encountered in the dream.

Schiller held onto that string of things and asked Clark, "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, it's like this... I just wanted to come and ask, what exactly is going on? Since that person entered my mind, stole my memories, everything has been a bit... a bit..."

"A bit hard to understand, right?" Schiller turned his head and looked at his Manor, where black smoke was rising from a cigarette he had just lit. He walked over, patted Clark on the shoulder, and the two of them took a stroll along the pathways of the Manor district.

As they walked, Schiller said, "Not everything in this world can be understood by people. For instance, even if I were to tell you that my house exploded due to a battle between a cat and a mouse, you probably wouldn't believe it."

"I see now. That makes it understandable. Once, when my family's cat was catching mice in the barn, it made a mess of the straw, and one time, I don't know how, it caught fire. Both cats almost didn't make it out. If I hadn't been able to fly and was immune to fire, they would have been roasted."

"Wait, you mean you have more than one cat at home? How do you find them?" Schiller asked Clark.

"They're great. I love these little guys; they're smart and capable. They not only help with my mom's housework but also assist my dad in catching mice. You could say they're the best pets."

"I thought you might prefer dogs as pets."

"We have dogs at home too, a hunting dog. My dad takes them to the forest to catch wild rabbits. They're also pretty capable little guys." Clark smiled, clearly recalling many heartwarming memories. His smile was out of place in the city of Gotham, and the stories of family he shared were unfamiliar to the people here.

"So, you must have a lot of experience taking care of pets?"

"Of course, I take care of both the cat and dog's beds at home. I'm in charge of their baths as well. When you have some superpowers, dealing with them becomes quite easy, doesn't it?" Clark shrugged, relaxed in the company of Schiller, someone with similar abilities. He spoke candidly, without beating around the bush.

"That's good. You see, my house is in ruins, so there's no place to keep pets anymore. These two..." Schiller grabbed the black cat's tail and handed Pikachu and Bat Cat over to Clark. He said, "You can take care of them for now. You can bring them to the farm in Kansas; they'll help you catch mice."

"But I'm not going back to the farm, and the semester isn't over yet. I have to stay in Metropolis to study," Clark scratched his head. "Well, I'm happy to help, but I'm afraid this mouse won't work. Its fur is too conspicuous, and I'm afraid my classmates will notice."

"It's alright. When you get back to Metropolis, hand it over to Lex and let him take care of it."

Schiller said this while taking the telephone from Merkel's hand and dialing a number. When he mentioned Lex's name, Clark widened his eyes and said, "Lex? Are you talking about Lex Luthor? But I heard him say before that he got into Gotham University, and Gotham University's semester shouldn't be over yet. How could I run into him in Metropolis?"

"The semester indeed hasn't ended, but he got injured earlier and had to take a break to recover at home. Isn't his family in Metropolis?"

"What happened to him?" Clark asked. "I told him before not to enroll in Gotham University; it's pretty dangerous here. But he didn't listen. Not only did he ignore my advice, but he also came to my school to taunt me. Honestly... Is he okay?"

"Hello?" Schiller extended a hand, signaling Clark to be quiet. He asked on the phone, "Copperpot, it's me. Is Lex alright?"

"Oh... of course, of course, I understand you... What? No, you've misunderstood my intention. I'm not accusing you of attacking Lex."

"What I mean is, if he's okay, can you give him something to do?"

Several hours later, in the dark dormitory building of Gotham University, Lex abruptly opened his eyes. He quickly rolled out of bed, and just as he did, a flash of a knife reflected the cold moonlight. Copperpot was holding up a sharp knife.

Lex, however, didn't show the panic he had before. He took a step toward the edge of the bed, grabbed the bedsheet, and swung it directly at Copperpot.

As Copperpot's view was momentarily blocked by the bedsheet, he turned and ran backward. When he reached the shadow by the window sill, he hesitated for a moment but suddenly realized this wasn't a dream; it was reality.

So, he vaulted over the windowsill. For him, the four-story height was like a cliff. Lex hesitated only for a moment and then jumped.

Just as he was about to make contact with the ground, a gray mist enveloped him and gently lowered him to the ground. Lex, gasping for breath, looked up at Schiller, who had appeared beside him, and said, "Professor... You've saved me once again. Thank you..."

Standing next to him, Schiller held an umbrella in his left arm, a pen in his hand, and a medical record book in his other hand, jotting down something.

As Lex got up from the ground and was about to speak, he saw Schiller collect the medical record book and pen, and then both of his hands seized the umbrella. Seeing Schiller's expression, Lex took a step back and said, "Wait..."

"Bang!"

The last thing Lex saw was Schiller, holding the umbrella, expressionless, saying to him, "No need to thank me. Three months of medical leave."

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Next Chapter>>Chapter 601: Who Can Destruction Schiller Manor? (Part II)