Chapter 795: Deadly Joke (Part 22) (Patreon)

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Bruce first sized up Schiller and said to him, "There's a rule in this game, and that is not to use any special abilities."

Following Bruce's gaze, Schiller looked at the umbrella in his hand and said, "This is just an umbrella. I won't use it for anything else."

Bruce stared at him for 30 seconds, and in the end, Schiller made the umbrella disappear into thin air. He said, "Alright, it's a cruel world where you have to buy your own umbrella. So, where is your place?"

"Do you intend to stay at my place? Don't you plan to find your own home?" Bruce asked again.

Schiller took a deep breath and said, "Bruce Wayne, I hope you can show some basic respect to a teacher who has been hounding you for more than two months for papers, checking assignments for more than two months, and pushing you for more than two months."

"So, you insist on having me experience life in the slums, not allowing me to bring any money or abilities, and now you want me to find a house on my own on the first night?" Bruce retorted.

Schiller replied, "What's the matter? Haven't the past two months of failed slum life taught you that showing respect to your teacher is one of the few ways to preserve your humanity when you've turned into a stray dog both physically and psychologically?"

Hearing Schiller's words, Bruce actually breathed a sigh of relief. Schiller's demeanor had been so strange just now that he even felt Schiller had softened.

Fortunately, his professor returned to normal within a few minutes, resuming his usual style of hating everyone equally.

So Bruce nodded and said, "My place is quite far. If you want to come, it might take a long walk."

"Why don't we just take a car then?" Schiller suggested.

"There are no taxis here," Bruce replied, adding, "If you want to hitch a ride, how will you decide which cars are safe?"

Schiller raised an eyebrow as if he thought Bruce had some issues with his thinking. Bruce made a gesture as if to say, "Figure it out yourself."

Schiller shrugged lightly, but instead of looking at the cars on the road, he looked around. He noticed that even though the area was deserted, there were a few shops, and one of them was a nightclub.

In Bruce's view, he saw Schiller heading straight for the nightclub. He thought Schiller was going to ask for directions, and the excitement that made him want to burst into laughter once again filled him.

However, he soon stopped laughing.

That was because Schiller entered the nightclub, and after a while, he dragged someone out from inside.

Judging by the attire, it was probably a nightclub bouncer who now lay unconscious on the ground. Schiller held the man's gun in his hand, checked the magazine, reloaded it, and then chambered a round.

He held the shotgun and stood in the middle of the road. After a screeching brake sound, before the truck driver could even curse properly, he had a gun pointed at his head.

Schiller stood by the window, shaking his head at Bruce, indicating that he should tell him the destination. Bruce opened his mouth but said, "No, we can't..."

"Don't kill me! Don't kill me!" the driver exclaimed. "Where are you crazy people from? You dare to rob Viper's goods?"

"We don't want your goods," Schiller said calmly. "We'll give you a location, and you'll drive there."

The driver, who had just been shouting, suddenly sounded a bit teary. He said, "Goods... We'll give them to you. Spare me, I haven't offended you..."

"Get in the car," Schiller tilted his head again, looking at Bruce, who was still standing in place. "What are you waiting for? Open the cargo door."

With that, he walked straight into the car and took the passenger seat, but he put the gun away. The driver didn't dare to move, even though there was another gun within his reach.

Schiller glanced at his wristwatch, pushed up his glasses, and said, "Can you make it before 9 o'clock?"

"Uh... yes, as long as there's no traffic jam," the driver replied, swallowing hard and stealing a glance at Schiller. Then, without saying anything else, he stepped on the gas and sped off.

A journey that should have taken half an hour was compressed into 15 minutes. When they got off the truck, Bruce felt dizzy from the speed. Schiller, holding the shotgun, pointed ahead and said, "Where's your home? Lead the way."

Speechless, Bruce looked at the truck, which had disappeared into the Gotham night at breakneck speed, leaving no trace of exhaust fumes.

He had to lead the way because Schiller now had the gun, and he didn't.

"Did you kill that bouncer?" Bruce asked.

"Of course not, why would I kill him?" Schiller replied as he continued to survey the surroundings. Bruce asked again, "How did you knock him out? Did you cheat?"

Schiller shook his head and said, "It's very simple. I made a little noise in the adjacent storeroom, distracted one of them, and then took a vase from the storeroom and hit him on the back of the head. Anyone taller than 1.6 meters can do it."

Bruce was left speechless for a moment, then he walked towards the nearby shallows and pointed at one of the cans. He said to Schiller, "This is my home, but it doesn't look like you can stay here."

Schiller surveyed the surroundings, and Bruce's house was not the only one. The buildings in the can area all had a similar style, a kind of war-damaged look that was almost an insult to Syria.

"You live here?" Schiller's voice was slightly distorted by the sea breeze, but Bruce had no intention of beating around the bush. He pointed to an unlit fire pit nearby and said, "We need to start a fire before it starts raining, or we won't be able to light it later."

Schiller looked up at the cloudy sky, and it was clear that rain was imminent. He pointed his gun at Bruce and said, "It seems we need to find a house urgently tonight."

With that, Schiller walked away, and Bruce followed him. Schiller glanced back at the tent where he was supposed to stay and said, "This style of architecture is a bit premature for humans."

Before leaving the shallows, Schiller threw the gun to the ground, which surprised Bruce. He didn't understand why Schiller did that.

Schiller looked at the gun and said, "If I didn't want to get here quickly, I wouldn't have resorted to such violence. I actually dislike violence. Pointing a gun at someone has no aesthetic value. Let's go."

With that, he stepped onto the steps leading away from the shallows. Bruce had to acknowledge that he saw the gun Schiller had left behind and felt a pang of desire. No one understood the importance of a gun better than him. He thought Schiller had made a mistake.

Having a gun might not necessarily make things better, but not having one would definitely make things worse. That was what Bruce had learned in the past two months. He had owned weapons several times, but there were many situations that couldn't be resolved with weapons alone.

Schiller didn't hitch a ride this time but kept walking. Fortunately, it wasn't too far from his intended destination, and the Living Hell building was very conspicuous, visible from a distance.

Upon seeing the Living Hell building and the direction Schiller was walking, Bruce realized that his destination was Living Hell.

After Schiller entered the Living Hell building, it finally started to rain. Bruce said, "I know who to contact for renting a place. I can go talk to him, but you'll have to pay for it yourself. Do you have money?"

"I don't, but you can go find the landlord first, and I'll wait here and look around," Schiller replied, gazing at the overhead lights. "I'll be in this corridor."

Bruce didn't think too much and turned to go downstairs to find the landlord inside Living Hell. The security here had improved significantly, and he only needed to ask the guard downstairs for the owner of the apartment to go directly to the door.

When Bruce found the landlord, clarified the price, and then returned to find Schiller, he discovered that Schiller was not in the corridor. One of the doors that had been tightly closed before was now open.

He walked up to that door and found Schiller standing in the living room, holding a pack of cigarettes with a slightly disdainful expression, as if he was inspecting the brand.

Seeing Bruce's arrival, he turned his head and said, "Oh, you're here? Please have a seat."

His tone was as if he were in his own home, and his demeanor was relaxed and comfortable, as if he hadn't done anything at all. Bruce looked him up and down, from head to toe, and found no hint of guilt, only relaxation and comfort.

Schiller lit a cigarette, took a drag, and exhaled the smoke upward. He said, "This is a two-bedroom apartment. If you want to rent one room, you only need to pay me 5 US dollars per week."

"What about the original tenant of this place?" Bruce asked from the doorway. "Every tenant here is registered, and you could get kicked out."

Just as he was saying this, the landlord Bruce had contacted earlier walked up, puzzled by Bruce standing outside. He walked over and then saw Schiller standing inside the room. He asked with some confusion, "Who are you? Where's Joe?"

"Hello, I'm Rodriguez, the owner of this apartment. It seems there was a little misunderstanding earlier when Joe intruded. I scared him off, thanks for worrying about my safety," Schiller said, extending his hand to shake the landlord's.

The landlord was stunned because Schiller's words were so matter-of-fact that he actually began to doubt his own memory. He said, "No, what nonsense are you talking about? Are you drunk? I clearly rented it to Joe. Where did you come from?"

"Anyway, today is a day worth celebrating," Schiller stepped on tiptoe, appearing excited. He said, "A housewarming party should have some guests. Bruce, come in, and this gentleman, we can have a little party..."

With that, he turned and walked towards the refrigerator, opened the door, and said, "Oh, not bad, there's still a pizza here. I remember ordering it yesterday..."

Through the crack of the refrigerator door, Bruce saw a chair leg stained with blood, and he hesitated as he looked at the three chairs next to the square dining table.

"Gulp," a sound came from behind him, and Bruce turned around to see the landlord swallowing nervously.

At this moment, Schiller stood up from next to the refrigerator. He beckoned to both of them and said, "Why aren't you coming in? There are three chairs here, just enough for all of us..."

"No, thanks," the landlord, Mr. Rodriguez, said immediately. "I just came up to remind you that the rent is ten US dollars per week, due next Wednesday."

Bruce touched his chest, feeling a bit guilty. He asked, "What about the tenant named Joe?"

"I threw that intruder downstairs, but unfortunately, we're on the third floor. I hope he learns his lesson," Schiller replied.

Turning towards Bruce, Schiller said, "Gotham's law: Don't enter someone else's house without an invitation unless you're invited by the owner. Bruce, do you want to join the housewarming party?"

Seeing Schiller approaching him, Bruce instinctively shook his head, but he heard Schiller say, "Gotham's law number two: If the host invites you, you'd better come in quickly."

Bruce watched in shock as Schiller dragged a chair out from behind the door and broke off one of its legs, turning it into a sharp spike.

In the moment when their eyes met, Bruce stepped onto the doormat and said with a stiff tone, "Congratulations on the housewarming."

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Next Chapter>>Chapter 796: Deadly Joke (Part 23)