mtl008 Chapter 3877 The Nameless Bat (47)
Chapter 3877 The Nameless Bat (47)
Chapter 3877 The Nameless Bat (Forty-Seven)
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Cobblepot family's charity dinner!" The Penguin's obese body stood above the second-floor atrium, blocking out a large portion of the light. When his shadow fell to the ground, it looked like a turtle swimming in shallow water, somewhat comical, but no one dared to laugh.
“I know things haven’t been peaceful lately,” he continued in a very gentlemanly tone. “Some people are killing people relentlessly, while others are trying to save lives. I think you must be the latter. So, in these turbulent times, I have to step forward and send some reassuring signals—how could a city collapse because of a mere serial killer?”
“I want you to believe that I will catch this damn bastard sooner or later. Maybe in a few days, maybe today.” The Penguin twitched his hooked nose, making him look particularly menacing. He gritted his teeth and said, “I believe the killer is among you, or at least you know where he is. Is anyone willing to step forward and provide a clue?”
A hush fell over the room. Many lowered their eyes, while others showed fear. But the Penguin suddenly burst into a few loud laughs and said, "Alright, I was just joking. You're all decent people, how could you possibly be assassins? I won't let the filth of the Lower City soil my floor. Alright, everyone, eat and drink well, dance to your hearts' content. I promise, by tomorrow morning, everything will be back to normal!"
After he finished speaking, he turned and left. After he left, the deathly silence in the room finally began to liven up. People whispered among themselves, but as the minuet music started, the dance floor quickly filled up.
The Eden Slayer caused such a stir that Gotham was in a state of panic since the mayor's death, and no decent parties had been held for many days. Socializing is in the blood of the upper class; they can't go a day without a ball. With the Penguin's assurance, whether or not he can actually deliver, at least tonight they have a reason to numb themselves and spin around to their hearts' content.
Natasha withdrew her gaze from the penguin and leaned slightly against the window frame to get a better view of the entire banquet hall. However, her attention remained fixed on Schiller, not on the men and women twirling on the dance floor.
“I should have known when you made up that story,” Natasha said. “People who haven’t had that experience wouldn’t have this kind of thinking. I’m just a little curious, though, that I’ve been around Greed for so long and he’s never shown me any particular interest.”
"Have you spoken Russian in front of him? Except for swearing."
Natasha opened her mouth, as if to argue, "Give me a reason to speak Russian in an American superhero group? Aren't their red allergies severe enough?"
"So you didn't say that?"
“Maybe once or twice,” Natasha said. “When I was communicating with those KGB agents at S.H.I.E.L.D., I would occasionally say a word or two. But I would be interrupted very quickly because those Americans couldn’t understand me.”
"Did you hear that, Greed?"
“He’s right next door, he should be able to hear us,” Natasha said after a moment’s thought. “No, that’s not the point. The point is he should realize…”
"Realized that you are a Soviet war orphan? You think you should play a more important role in his plans?"
"That won't be necessary. But you are, after all, one person, yet you differ greatly on this issue. How can I not be puzzled?"
“You gave up.” Schiller also leaned against the window, looking into the banquet hall, and said, “...He didn’t.”
What does "'none' mean?"
"There are no tombstones in my universe."
Natasha suddenly looked up.
"While it's hard to say how much of the soul remains, at least the body is still there. And there are new sparks, new... comrades." (Russian)
This is a long sentence in Russian, heavy, solemn, cold and somber. But to the ear, it is as short as a butterfly that only lingers on a petal for a moment, light, graceful, and fleeting.
Like a string of footprints, like an avalanche. Like a person resolutely facing death, like a group of people traversing the vastness of the world.
Natasha let out a long sigh.
“Didn’t he give up?” Natasha said, looking into Schiller’s eyes. “If he hadn’t given up, but instead wanted to nurture you and help you reverse the tragedy, you would definitely not be like this now. Answer me, didn’t you see the tombstone in his heart?” (Russian)
This passage is longer and heavier, like a tall, majestic tombstone that can occupy eighty percent of a person's soul.
Like a father. A silent, desperate father, every bit of love and hope he had for that innocent child was expressed by personally adding a shovelful of soil to the grave and carving a word on the tombstone.
As Schiller drifted into thought, Natasha noticed a gentle light emanating from the shadows beneath his eyelashes. She then realized she wouldn't find the name in that great work, but rather in a picture book or storybook.
Then she realized that she wouldn't find her name in any great work, but more likely in those ridiculous romance novels—the kind she used to consider superficial and absurd, the kind she'd tossed into a basket under her bed and disdained to read.
“You also think he should be more superficial,” Natasha said. “He should value your appearance over your soul, exploit your abilities over devotion, and revel in conquering you over accepting all the pain and pleasure you bring him. Unfortunately, he wasn’t.”
"Unfortunately, he didn't." (Russian)
Natasha exhaled, gulped down the last mouthful of wine in her glass, and tugged at Schiller's arm, saying, "Let's go dance."
Schiller was clearly reluctant, but Natasha, using the gesture of linking her arm with his, pressed the widow's sting against his ribs and said, "I tested the dosage on another you, and thirteen tranquilizer darts were clearly too many; perhaps ten would be enough. Do you want to try?"
“Thirteen?” Schiller looked at him with some surprise. “I thought your long exposure to Greed had given you some understanding of us. I guarantee that if you add two more, the one who wakes up won’t be an agent.”
“I’ll leave that to Batman.” Natasha didn’t care about anything else; she pushed Schiller onto the dance floor and went in herself.
Perhaps because the city itself is rather somber, Gothamites prefer upbeat dance music. Most of the music is fast-paced, capable of taking you from the cathedral to the Gotham River. Natasha wore an incredibly vibrant red dress, and when she twirled, she looked like a drop of blood splashing into the snow.
Take three steps forward, stop and spin. Who sees whose shadow in whom? Superficial, profound. Take another step back, sidestep and spin. Who sees the same tombstone with whom? Tiny, towering. Take consecutive steps back, continue forward. Who speaks the same language with whom? Past, present.
As the music ended, Natasha lifted her skirt and walked out of the crowd, Schiller following behind her. Without turning her head, Natasha said, "Did you tell the agent?"
"what do you mean?"
"I want to use him to ward off those unwanted suitors."
"You can't do it, there's no need to tell him."
"Why?" Natasha roughly took a glass of wine from the waiter, turned to Schiller and asked, "You think I can't handle him?"
“I don’t think he can handle anyone else.” Schiller also picked up a glass of wine. “There are too many people willing to be moths to a flame for someone like you. Oh, not just people, maybe even gods. If you think he can handle someone like Lucifer, then never mind.”
"So you just wanted to emphasize this to me?" Natasha turned around and went to the window again. She was clearly a little drunk and rested her head against the windowpane.
Schiller, standing beside her with a wine glass in hand, said, "He certainly didn't tell you that he was created by greed. If anything happens to him..."
"Can greed cause heartbreak?"
"Greed will beat up your suitors for him. The agents can't handle Lucifer, but greed might be able to. If you don't want to lose some more cosmic administrators, you'd better not do this."
Natasha sighed again, then suddenly turned around and gave Schiller a big smile, saying, "I think you're pretty good."
"Excuse me, madam?"
“I think you’re the perfect shield,” Natasha said, nodding. “Considering your past, you have every reason to pursue me. Then you can use your mind-reading abilities to give them all a piece of your mind and make them run away. That way I’ll have some peace and quiet.”
"Forgive my frankness, but I'm afraid it's not feasible," Schiller said, shaking his head. "First of all, I don't have mind-reading abilities."
Natasha rolled her eyes at him, leaving not a single glint of pupil in her eye.
"Secondly, do you think they don't understand?"
"what?"
Do you think your suitors don't know who they are, or who you are?
Schiller's expression changed, and Natasha knew he was about to spew venom again. She moved a little further away, almost covering her ears.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you, Mrs. Romanov. They know perfectly well what they’re attracted to, what they’re doing, who you are, and what you want. But they can’t help it; they can’t control it.”
Is this based on your own experience?
“Perhaps.” Schiller’s aggression softened slightly. “Bucky Barnes, well, I’ve met him. I’m pretty sure you can’t expect him to fall in love with anyone else after he fell in love with you at 20. Clint Barton, you can’t expect him to fall in love with anyone else after he fell in love with you at 20.”
"Great, Batman doesn't love me." Natasha breathed a sigh of relief.
Schiller gave a slightly helpless smirk and said, "That's exactly what I was going to say about him. He's not in love with you yet, but he's very curious about you."
“That’s good. At least he won’t fight the first two. The trouble I have to deal with has been reduced by at least half.” Natasha seemed much more relaxed.
“Don’t rush me. After I analyze what he’s curious about, you probably won’t be so optimistic,” Schiller said. Natasha was certain she found a trace of schadenfreude on Schiller’s face. Damn it, she thought, they really were the same person. And the kind of amusement that can make greedy people gloat is usually terrifyingly large.
What could be more hilarious than three ex-boyfriends getting into a fight? Natasha couldn't help but wonder.
So what exactly is Batman curious about?
"The Soviet Union."