Elliot's eyes widened in anger, completely caught off guard. Talya was evidently more experienced; she stepped forward to shield Elliot behind her, then lowered her head to examine the face of the corpse.
Her grip on Elliot's arm tightened suddenly, because the fallen person was wearing the uniform of the Assassin's Union—it was unmistakably one of the two bodyguards she privately hired from the Assassin's Union to protect Elliot.
"Bang!"
The Joker fired a warning shot.
"Everyone, crouch down with your hands over your head! Let me see your hands! Crouch down immediately!"
The socialites scattered in all directions, but because the entrance was blocked by the police, none of them could escape and were forced to crouch down with trembling hands extended. Among them were a few particularly unusual figures.
"What's going on?!" Harvey Dent roared, "How is there a body here? Who killed him?!"
"Yeah, what's going on?" the crowd murmured in whispers.
"Look at the clothes he's wearing, why do they look so strange? He doesn't seem like a guest here for the party either."
"Isn't that the attire of Eastern Martial Artists? Did Elliot arrange for a martial arts performance?"
Elliot suddenly turned his head to look at Talya. Talya was briefly panicked but quickly calmed down and said, "Do you think I would be that foolish? You're still our best option."
Though her words were ambiguous, Elliot clearly understood. He pressed his lips tightly and said to the Joker, "I'm very sorry for everything that's happened here."
"You should be sorry." The Joker lifted his gun at him and said, "The tax issues are no longer important. How do you explain this body?"
"I certainly didn't kill him," Elliot said, raising his hands. "I've been in my office the entire time before the party started, with a solid alibi."
"But it happened right under your nose," the Joker insisted relentlessly, "Don't think I didn't notice you recognize this outfit. This means you're implicated. Everyone must come back to the station with me, right now!"
Elliot's face darkened, revealing anger and helplessness. But he clearly had no better options. This cop with the bizarre makeup was a tough opponent, and in a public setting, he couldn't afford to be too aggressive with the police, or it might affect his upcoming presidential election.
Indeed, Elliot was preparing to run for president. It seemed with such substantial financial power, he was invincible, but in reality, his biggest rival March also had significant backing. Even with all his maneuvers, Elliot could only match him evenly.
The accident at the party today would surely greatly impact the upcoming battle. Being escorted into the police car amidst the flash of reporters' cameras, Elliot almost gritted his teeth to pieces; he was determined to make this damn mad cop pay!
At the police station, Chief Brock seemed shocked by such a big commotion, especially with a body being brought in. Just as he was about to ask the Joker some questions, he saw Elliot and Talya walking in together. He hurried forward to greet them, smiling as he spoke:
"Sorry, ladies and gentlemen, you know how tricky those folks at the tax bureau are. They came to us for a joint action, and we couldn't refuse. But what happened here? How did someone end up dead?"
"I was just about to ask you," Elliot seemed to regain his confidence in Brock's presence and said, "In the middle of the party, a body falls from above, and your good detective just hauls us all back!"
Brock wiped the sweat from his forehead, continually smiling apologetically and soothing them. But Elliot's gaze remained fixed on the Joker. He was determined to be president and wouldn't allow anyone to disrupt it.
He saw the Joker walking toward the other side of the corridor, and another slender figure flashed by. Elliot thought the person looked familiar, but he couldn't quite recall who it was.
"Name."
"Thomas Elliott."
"Talya Leixiao Gu."
"Oswald Cobblepot."
"Harvey Dent."
"Jason Todd."
...
"Schiller Rodriguez."
"Click."
The interrogation room's light suddenly flickered on.
"Name?"
"Schiller Rodriguez," the person sitting in the chair repeated.
The skin around the eye sockets, corroded by the pale chemical substances, suddenly became full of wrinkles, like an unbroken series of snowy peaks.
"You shouldn't be here," the Joker said.
"That really has nothing to do with you," Shiller replied. He turned the ring on his finger, surveyed the interrogation room, and then sniffed lightly before saying, "Looks like the interrogation earlier was intense."
"That also has nothing to do with you," Joker said, placing both hands on the tabletop, "Are you the Rodriguez of this universe?"
"You can think of me that way," Shiller said nonchalantly.
"Did you kill the person?"
"Could be. It depends on whether your target is Elliot or me."
"He has a solid alibi."
"But all those who justified him are his own people, their testimony is unreliable. I can help you point him out, but you also have to do me a favor."
"Looks like you're not from this universe," Joker slowed his speech as well, saying, "Or maybe you're not Rodriguez."
"I am, and I'm also sure no one in the Multiverse dares to impersonate me. Let's not beat around the bush. The reason I'm here is definitely different from yours, and there will be no conflict between us. I gave you a big gift, shouldn't you do me a small favor?"
"I don't consider it a big gift," Joker said, "No matter how unreliable Elliot's testimony is, you, an otherworld visitor, can't stand in court and testify against him."
"That depends on who died," Shiller said unhurriedly, "If it's just an ordinary celebrity, there might indeed be some trouble, but that corpse was a killer from the Assassin's Union. Elliot not only owes the public an explanation, but he also owes one to the Assassin's Union."
Joker suddenly stood up. He walked to the front of Shiller's table and looked down at one corner. Shiller's gaze followed him there to a barely noticeable stain of blood.
"Do you know how intense the interrogation process was?" Joker suddenly laughed. That previously serious attitude like a police officer vanished instantly, and when he laughed again, he seemed like a complete madman.
"Are you thinking of attacking me? I must remind you, I will fight back."
Before he finished speaking, Joker reached out directly to grab Shiller's hair. Shiller ducked his head, kicked the table over with one foot. The table crashed directly onto Joker, his arm held up in front to endure, but the force overturning the table was beyond measure. The table smashed onto him, splitting in half directly, with splinters flying everywhere, Joker's arm trembled from the sharp pain.
Without letting him withdraw, Shiller swung the back of a chair with his handcuffed hand. Joker dodged by ducking, drawing a gun with his right hand.
"Bang!"
A shot hit Shiller's left shoulder. Shiller didn't even flinch, and as if nothing happened, he smashed the chair down over Joker's head. Joker failed to stow the gun and took a hit. "Bang!"
The chair hit his right shoulder, and instantly he felt like his shoulder blade was about to shatter, rolling to the left to open up distance out of necessity. Before steadying himself, the chair flew directly toward him. He dove to the right to dodge, landing on the ground and raising his gun.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Three shots hit two, but due to the angle, both shots were on the legs. Joker didn't know if it was his own illusion, but after the opponent's leg injury, the speed didn't slow down, but got even faster. With the arm holding the gun yet to lower, the opponent had already grabbed his hair.
"Bang," Joker's head was slammed toward the ground. Instantly his nasal bone broke, ribs also cracked, blood flowing out.
Officers outside, hearing the gunfire, had already rushed in. Joker, lying on the ground, shouted, "Don't shoot!!!"
But it was already too late. Two young officers emptied their clips at Shiller. But Shiller was too fast, he dodged behind the shattered table debris, then quickly approached one of the armed officers from the other side.
The other thought he was trying to grab the gun, hurriedly swung the hand to the other side, lost balance, and was directly knocked flying by Shiller. The two officers beside him were knocked down by the impact. The last officer aimed the gun, wanting to shoot, awkwardly succeeding but likely hitting the arm, still without any effect. Shiller's figure directly disappeared at the interrogation room door.
"Damn, it's that kind of monster again," Joker cursed as he stood up from the ground. He took out his phone, dialed a number, and said to the other side, "You didn't tell me there'd be a madman... What? Who else could it be, it's that Rodriguez!"
In a dim room, the face of the Main Universe's Joker froze, the smile on it stiffening noticeably.
"What did he say?" the Main Universe's Joker asked.
"He said nothing. He took me down first, then wreaked havoc in the police station. Shot four or five times and still acted like nothing happened. This is what you call 'no worthy opponents'?"
The Main Universe's Joker suddenly frowned, then said to the person on the other end of the phone, "Are you sure you're not suffering from illusions? As far as I know, Shiller isn't a superpower user, so how could he take four or five shots without reacting?!"
"Oh, right, I forgot to mention. He didn't have no reaction, he got faster! He's not a superpower user, so are there stimulants in the police's bullets?!"
The Main Universe's Joker's eyebrows were nearly twisted together. He said to the person on the other end of the phone, "Focus on your task, I'll deal with his issue!"
Joker hung up the phone, first retrieving the surveillance in the interrogation room, copied the footage and sent a copy to the Main Universe's Joker. Initially, the Main Universe's Joker planned to act, but after seeing the sent footage, sat down to watch it carefully again.
The more he watched, the stiffer his smile became, as he realized Joker's words were true – this guy took a bullet from a handgun at point-blank range and acted like nothing happened. Moreover, the Main Universe's Joker could see, following the normal pain reflex was an excitement reflex. It was completely unnatural. Where the hell did this madman come from?!
"That really hit the mark," Greed leaned on one side of the chair's armrest, saying, "For Morbid, bullets are stimulants, especially small-caliber handgun bullets that hurt but aren't deadly when hitting the body. Morbid's pain threshold is so high, if pain perception enhancement maxes out, wouldn't that be equivalent to opening the whole Gotham map perspective?"
"Well, things just got interesting," the agent said with some schadenfreude, "Originally, drugs had very limited enhancement on illusion vision, but now it's boosted with the pain state... Someone's in deep trouble."