Shane Freak
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Chapter 1018: Schiller in 1991 (Part 1)
🕑 Added 2024-02-25 07:28:53 +0000 UTCIn DC World With Marvel Chat Group : Table of Content/Chapter List
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After Superego uttered those words, Schiller didn't feel particularly surprised. After all, there were very few outsiders in this high tower. The infected Joker from the Joker virus counted as one, and the sudden appearance of the system at the beginning could naturally be counted as another.
His gaze shifted away from the corpse of Schiller lying on the table in front of him, but instead of returning to Superego's face, it landed on the chair behind the table.
It wasn't a comfortable chair, not even an ordinary one. It was a metal chair used in 20th-century interrogation rooms, with locks fixed all around.
The entire room, aside from a faint light bulb hanging from the top, had no windows. Schiller didn't need to look to know that the door behind him was tightly shut. What was more important was Superego's smile at this moment, which wasn't very friendly.
"If you're inviting me, there's no need for such tight measures," Schiller shook his head. "We are one and the same. If it benefits me, I won't run away."
"But this isn't to prevent you from escaping," Superego pointed to the desktop again, looking at Schiller. Schiller paused for a moment, but his expression remained unchanged. He walked over and sat down, seeing Superego manipulating the lock beside his left arm. He spoke, "Do you think I have some psychological burden about the types of food?"
"Wrong guess again," Superego commented, then explained, "This is to prevent certain excessively violent personalities from getting too excited midway."
After speaking, Superego glanced back at Schiller's corpse lying on the bed. Schiller followed his gaze instinctively, beginning to observe the condition of the corpse. From the outside, the corpse was dressed in a regular shirt and suit pants, with the missing limb wounds very neatly cut, indicating precise amputation.
As this conclusion appeared in Schiller's mind, he suddenly denied his own thoughts, as he noticed some unusual marks on the arm wounds, making him feel very uncomfortable.
Frowning, he said with disgust, "What are you doing? No, stop your actions, take the plate away. I won't eat this thing. You've handled it too crudely. My goodness, I'm having difficulty breathing..."
Schiller's breathing did indeed become somewhat rapid, even worse than when he had difficulty merging before. Superego pursed his lips, circumventing from behind the chair to fasten the lock around Schiller's right wrist. He said, "You see, this is why I have to restrain you. That wound wasn't caused by me."
While bending down, Superego brought the lock from the chair's back to Schiller's waist side, saying, "Do you remember, we encountered some trouble before, so I let the sick one go out?"
Schiller tilted his head, trying hard not to look at the wound that had gone wrong. He absent-mindedly nodded, and Superego continued, "Before he left, I worried that his Soul power was insufficient, so I invited him here, intending to give him a hearty feast as a farewell."
"But you know, that guy always gets too excited in such situations. I prepared the food for him and left, thinking he would sit there and eat obediently. But unexpectedly, he was not satisfied with the food on the plate..." Superego shook his head with some helplessness. "Do you think the missing piece on the right side of the wound looks like a bite mark?"
"Damn it!" Schiller cursed. He suddenly became very agitated, struggling constantly. Superego gently patted his shoulder, and Schiller calmed down, but he still gasped for breath, speaking in a low tone:
"That makes me feel very uncomfortable. He did something terribly wrong and irreparable. I feel like I should leave now and find some medicine to take. I'm really feeling terrible..."
When facing another version of himself, Schiller always seemed more straightforward. Superego shook his head. "I advise you to finish eating first. Your fusion has just been completed, and it's the time when you need to replenish your strength. Besides, you should also consider that Batman is not as easy to deal with anymore."
"He's not important at all. If it weren't for that curse, I wouldn't even bother with him." Schiller's face became somewhat pale again. He pursed his lips and turned his head aside, completely ignoring Superego's actions of fastening him to the chair with the lock.
Superego reached out, pressing Schiller's neck, pulling him back so that his back was completely against the chair's backrest. Then, using the neck lock, he secured Schiller's neck, saying, "When the little guy from the Asylum came here, he refused to take off his mask no matter what. When I tried to act, he almost bit me."
"Of course," Schiller still kept his head down, but because of the lock around his neck, he couldn't lean forward. He could only lower his head slightly, looking at the ground, and said, "As I said, guilt is a good knife."
"We should all remember that during the time of hospital treatment, initially, no one noticed that the dosage of medication given to me was insufficient. This caused me to have an outbreak, completely losing control, and biting the nurse who had been taking care of me all along. She was just an ordinary person and almost died."
Superego continued, "That little guy is the product of that psychological trauma, so he has never wanted to take off his mask since birth."
"However, he's been doing much better lately because he found out that the goddess Hippopotamus is serious about introducing her daughter to him. Even Khonshu has the same intention. They all hope the Egyptian Pantheon will have a son-in-law who can handle things... He's been hiding in the hospital room lately."
Superego smiled, arranging the plate on the table, then walked to the bedside and began preparing the food. Schiller, who had fallen back into an anxious state, although weak in tone, spoke quickly:
"No, don't cut it like that, follow the muscles... Yes, yes, right there, make the cut... No, the cut is too deep, my god, you've messed everything up. Throw away that piece of meat; I won't eat it!"
"No, I don't want that part. I'm not like Hannibal; I don't eat organs. They're too gamey. You should leave it for the glutton who isn't picky..."
"Do not use facial muscle tissue, the fat content is too low, it tastes bad. Neck meat is fine, but your handling technique has a significant problem... You put it in the frying pan, you're crazy, hurry up and throw it away!"
"I have to say, your chopping technique is pretty good, did you learn it from Batman? The way you put the meat in the roasting pan reminds me of some vegetarians, I mean, not bad..."
"Ding!"
Superego tapped the edge of the roasting pan with a spatula, lifted his eyelids, and looked at Schiller from above his eyes. Schiller stared back at him without backing down. Then Superego lowered his eyelids again and said, "If you don't shut up, I'll cut off the meat from the wound you hate the most and feed it to you."
"I knew it, this chair is here to prevent me from escaping, isn't it?"
After Schiller said this, he fell silent, not speaking again until Superego finished preparing all the food and stood by the table, cutting it into neat squares on the plate and then arranging them neatly inside. He then used a four-pronged fork to pick up the food from the center of the plate and brought it to Schiller's mouth.
Schiller shook his head and said, "Don't think I didn't notice, you flipped that piece of meat one less time. Hurry up and take it away."
Superego took a deep breath, showing a forced smile, and then put down the fork and knife, walking out of the room.
After a while, he brought a piece of black cloth, folded it diagonally, then folded it again, turning the square cloth into a strip, and then blindfolded Schiller, tying a knot behind his head.
"Do you think this will work? Do you think I can't taste anything?" Schiller remained unyielding. Superego then fed him another piece of meat. After Schiller chewed and swallowed it, he said, "This isn't the same piece as before. It should be from the lower part of the biceps, and the cooking is not bad..."
The fixing measures of this chair were very sophisticated; the neck, shoulders, upper arms, wrists, upper abdomen, lower abdomen, thighs, calves, and ankles were all locked, so Schiller couldn't move at all. He tried to appear relaxed, but because his back was tightly against the chair's backrest, he still seemed somewhat stiff.
So, he could only pretend to be relaxed and say, "This proves that your culinary skills are good. I think we can talk about the real issue now... I mean, the system."
"You can continue to express your opinions on my culinary skills; I don't mind." Superego said as he handled the food on the plate.
Schiller remained silent. He ate another piece of meat fed by Superego. After chewing it for the first time, he spoke, "It's a bit sinewy, the taste is not bad, but the cooking is lacking."
Superego's movements paused for a moment, but he continued speaking, "Since you were the first to wake up when we landed, didn't you notice anything unusual?"
"Just because I woke up first doesn't mean I was clear-headed at the time. Our Souls had not fully adapted to this body at that time, unable to activate the brain for thinking, and therefore unable to detect any abnormalities."
"But..." Schiller changed the subject, "I can speculate based on the scenes I saw at that time. First and foremost, the most important point is that the system landed before us."
"Or, the system didn't come here bound to our Souls, but stayed in the original body, waiting for our arrival. I guess the only conscious one at the time, should have discovered this earlier than me."
Superego continued to handle the food on the plate, saying, "Indeed, at that time, none of you were conscious, so you didn't notice that when we arrived in this world, we went through a long period of buffering, and after the buffering ended, the high tower descended."
"When the high tower descended from mid-air onto a barren and blank land, there was only one person there, and that was him, the system, or we can say, Schiller."
"Do you think he is the original Schiller?" Schiller asked. "I mean the real Schiller, not us outsiders."
Superego shook his head, although Schiller couldn't see his movement, he could still hear the denial in his tone.
"I am very sure that he is not a Soul, nor does he have any consciousness, in short, he is completely different from us. If you must say, it is just a force, a force so huge that we cannot imagine."
Under the blindfold, Schiller frowned. If Superego called it a force too immense to imagine, then this so-called system must have quite a background.
There was no other reason. Initially, Marvel Schiller had carried out a series of operations in Marvel. Just the waves of Member Gifts alone provided countless magic energies for their Souls. However, Superego never paid attention. Every time power was added, he would calmly let Marvel Schiller store this power in the warehouse.
The warehouse in the high tower was very ordinary and had no security measures. It didn't need to be hidden, which meant Superego didn't care if any personality secretly used up this power.
Such incidents were not impossible, after all, there were many personality fragments representing negative traits in the high tower of thought. They would steal things, but not with any intention to do anything with what they stole; it was just their nature.
To anyone in any world, the power Schiller obtained could be described as vast as the sea. DC Schiller was very clear that even Barbatos could not ignore so much power that Marvel Schiller had acquired. However, Superego had never cared.
However, Superego treated the system Schiller lying on the sickbed with great importance, even setting up a room specifically for storing him at the end of the Asylum, letting Moon Knight Schiller come to guard it. This showed that this force had grown so immense that Superego couldn't bear the consequences of losing it.
At this moment, Schiller thought of another point, and Superego seemed to be in sync with his thoughts, saying, "Correct, the defensive measures I have taken are not to guard against you, but to guard against greed."
"If greed finds out about the existence of this room, he won't leave you even a single hair."
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