Chapter 796: Deadly Joke (23)_1

"There's only one pizza left, but as the saying goes, 'Guests come first', so you should have it," Shiller turned on the stove in the kitchen, warmed up the pizza, poured two glasses of water, and brought it all to the table.

Bruce sat at one end of the dining table, looking at the steaming pizza. However, he did not feel any appetite. What occupied his mind was the two-legged chair, to him, it felt more important than anything else.

Nevertheless, bodily needs don't fade significantly with time; Bruce was really hungry. Over the last few days, he'd only eaten a bit of whelks and seaweed. Unable to resist the tempting aroma of processed food, he picked up a slice of pizza with his trembling hands before taking a bite.

Every standard apartment in Hell's Kitchen comes equipped with a fridge. The introduction of amorphous ice lowed the cost of refrigeration significantly while enhancing its preservation abilities.

As a result, the pizza tasted as though it had just come out of the oven. While he mechanically stuffed his mouth with pizza, he asked halfway through, "Aren't you eating?"

"No," was Shiller's response.

"Aren't you hungry?", Bruce further questioned.

"If I were, I'd get something to eat myself," Shiller took a sip of water, turned away, using his cup to cover his mouth.

Bruce's mind started connecting the dots to something unsavory, and he instantly lost his appetite. At that moment, Shiller coughed twice before spitting out the water from his mouth.

"God! This water tastes awful!" Shiller frowned at his cup and said, "Didn't you have a water purifier installed?"

Bruce, having finished his cup of water, responded, "Yes, we do have a purifier. But it's a basic model and doesn't improve the taste. It's not like the purifiers in the wealthier districts."

Shiller scrunched up his face in disgust, put the cup back on the table, and said, "I need someone to bring me some clean water, this is undrinkable."

"That is clean water," Bruce replied, "The purifier guarantees its safety, it's just the taste that's subpar."

"Exactly," said Shiller, standing up from the table.

He walked to the telephone situated in the living room and started dialing, "I saw an ad on the wall when I came in which had the local mob's number on it. Let me think... Oh, hello there."

"... I'm the new tenant, Rodriguez, and today's my move-in day. I was wondering if you'd like to grace us with your presence at my housewarming party, maybe bring a cup of clean water as a gift?"

"No, this is not a prank call. I'm seriously asking you. If you can't make it to the party, just sending over a cup of water would also be acceptable."

"You think I'm kidding, right? But I really do need a cup of water. I can tell you the consequences of not getting that water."

"I have a principle: If I don't have an umbrella, it mustn't rain. If I can't get water, then neither should anyone else."

"If you don't bring me a cup of water, I'll walk about 8.7 kilometers southeast to the ACE Chemical Factory at the edge of the East District."

"They're currently producing a chemical compound for making pesticides. Even diluted by about 1800 times, it's still lethal to humans."

"I'll arrive at the northwest gate of the ACE Chemical Factory at 11:10 tonight, distracting the guards there. By 11:30, I'll have made my way into the management office to locate the chemical compound."

"By 11:40, I'll be in the factory warehouse, where I'll fill up a container with the concoction and bring it back to Hell's Kitchen."

"At 2 am sharp, I'll find the valve controlling Hell's Kitchen's water supply, and along the pipeline to the purification area at the bottom, where I'll introduce the compound into the water supply in small batches."

"I'm not a chemist, so I can't estimate how many deaths would occur in the event of large-scale water poisoning. But certainly, blame would be cast upon you. Or perhaps you could shift the blame to that idiot who manufactures the purifiers."

Shiller took a glance at Bruce and said, "Anyway, it's Batman's fault. The purified water he produced tastes awful."

Shiller hung up the phone. In less than five minutes, there was a knock on the door. When he opened it, a burly man attired in a suit and sunglasses appeared, followed by four or five fully armed bodyguards.

Shiller stepped up and shook hands with the burly man, "Hello Mr. Hans, welcome to my new home. Please, come in."

Instead of moving, Hans sized up Shiller from head to toe. He signaled for his men to put their guns down, confident that the man standing in front of him was just what he'd imagined.

In Gotham, everyone knew one thing for certain: If you found a scrawny, weak-looking man, speaking in a formal, mild tone in the East District, there was only one thing to do—run.

It was a simple logic: how did such a seemingly vulnerable person survive in a city with Gotham's law and order situation?

Hell's Kitchen was located around the central part of the district, surrounded by mob territories, notorious ones at that.

To get into this place, there were two ways: either you look intimidating with a tattoo-covered burly figure (a tough guy), or...

That works. As long as no one knows you're coming in, you can get in.

Gothamites aren't afraid of the very strong men, as such men are everywhere. Gangsters have disciplined themselves into fierce figures to gain an advantage in the fiery combats.

Those who appear completely non-threatening, speak very calmly, and don't curse, yet manage to survive in the slums must be employing different tactics, ones that are varied and challenging to approve of.

Of course, there are some out-of-towners who try to blend into Gotham using this style. The smart ones camouflage their real selves with rough exteriors for convenience. The less astute ones certainly wouldn't make it to the Living Hell alive.

So, here lies the answer to what this person's true identity might be.

Gothamites also know very well that it's not wise to start a fight with such people unless you're confident of annihilating them. Or else, you might see him grinning at you beside your bed the moment you close your eyes tonight.

He shook hands with Shiller very seriously and said, "The water here tastes awful, doesn't it? Did you just move in today, sir?"

Shiller nodded and said, "Yes, in fact, it's my first time to the East District. You can tell I am not a native Gothamite. I haven't been here long...Oh, look at me, so impolite. Making you stand outside for this long. Please come in."

Hans took a step back and said, "No, sir, I won't disturb your housewarming party. Here's the water you need."

Hans handed a bottle of water. Shiller stepped forward and took it without a second thought. He twisted open the cap, took a sip, and nodded, "The taste of pure water is the best. Thank you, Mr. Hans. If you run into any trouble, feel free to find me. I'd happily offer a decent reward for this bottle of water."

Hans waved him off, "So, good day, sir."

"Goodbye."

Shiller closed the door, took a few more sips of the water and sighed contentedly. He proceeded to clean two glasses, filled one with purified water and said to Bruce, "You should try this. This will make the water you just drank pale in comparison."

Bruce covered his eyes, "You can't… "

"Can't what?" Shiller looked at Bruce and said, "You're not gonna say I can't deal with the mob, are you? Please, have you looked at our current situation?"

"I was asked to live here all of a sudden. I don't know anyone here, and I don't have a friend. I need to first settle myself, meet some people and then look for a job, right?"

"Looking for a job?" Bruce's voice wavered, he pressed his lips together and asked, "What job do you plan to get?"

Shiller sat down, sipping his water as he said, "I hope this job could provide me with enough food and water, not be too exhausting, and preferably satisfy my personal interests."

He lowered his head and shook it, "A little daydreaming, isn't it? But we have to dare to dream in order to dare to do."

Bruce was reminded of some terrifying thoughts by his job requirements. He carefully observed the professor on the other side. In fact, he had never been so close to Shiller before.

This closeness wasn't physical distance, but their circumstances.

Most of the time, Shiller was in the position of a teacher. In such situations, he would habitually use his words to oppress Bruce to gain the upper hand.

And Bruce would usually busy himself looking for opportunities to fight back, to regain the initiative. Their talks were always tit for tat, seldom held calmly and cordially.

But now, their situations and statuses were identical. Bruce could observe Shiller more carefully.

Then he discovered, some of this professor's actions were indeed a little strange. For instance, whenever he put down the water cup, it was always on the same spot, with no deviation. The octagonal cup, the side facing him was always the same.

Shiller would deliberately stare at the cup he put down, making sure it was placed correctly.

Also, many of Shiller's actions were rather stiff. Bruce noticed his eye movements were unusual. Following his gaze, Bruce realized that Shiller seemed to be counting the floor tiles.

Bruce carefully thought back. He realized that it wasn't the first time Shiller had done such things.

Actually, Shiller had always had subtle differences from ordinary people. These differences weren't about his ability to turn into mist or his mind-reading technique; it was about how he acted out some daily instincts that were different from others.

This didn't quite resemble obsessive-compulsive disorder, as he didn't have pathological compulsions. Rather, it was more like an instinct or a naturally occurring habit.

At this point, Bruce remembered hearing from Victor that Shiller was a patient with autism, especially well-known for being a 'scholarly' type.

Scholar syndrome is a peculiar mental disorder where sufferers show extraordinary genius in certain areas, but cognitive disorder in others.

If Shiller has cognitive disorders in some areas... Bruce didn't need to think much to know which those areas were — simply anything related to human connections.