As Natasha's roar echoed, a flash of lightning streaked past the window. The heavy rain in Gotham always seemed so untimely, or perhaps too clever. The lightning illuminated the first floor's dark environment, allowing Natasha to see the direction in which her opponent fled.
She charged out like a bolt, the explosiveness and stamina of a genetically modified person were on full display. Her acceleration in a straight line was unmatched, bringing her almost close enough to grasp her opponent's shoulder.
However, with a nimble maneuver, her opponent evaded and jumped off the stairs. Natasha pursued. They descended flight after flight of stairs, not knowing how many floors they had passed, until finally, at a landing, the opponent dashed into the corridor.
Natasha didn't rush to chase; instead, she stood at the start of the straight corridor, raising her pistol, aiming at the back silhouette, and said, "If you run again, I'll shoot. I believe you aren't like me, who can take a bullet anywhere and act like nothing happened."
"I did indeed underestimate you," her opponent's voice was deeper and raspier than imagined, accompanied by a light sigh, "You really are quite like that guy, completely beyond the human category."
Natasha advanced slowly while wielding her pistol, stopping more than two meters away from her opponent. She remained ever vigilant, keeping the barrel pointed at the opponent's chest.
"Tell me what all of this is about," Natasha said, "Who are you? What did you do? Why are you doing it?"
"First, let's hear your deduction," the opponent turned around, but the cap she wore was pulled low, the brim obscuring most of her face. From the contours of her mouth and chin, it was clear she was a beautiful woman. Perhaps beauties are similar, she indeed resembled Natasha a bit.
"You found a way to swap Batman's routine visit schedule, making him miss the routine Amazon visit, damaging the diplomatic relations between the two nations, trying to make Wonder Woman stop trusting Batman, driving a wedge between them."
"Then, you somehow lured Abidonis, causing him to disrupt his original solid alliance of interests with his wife, deliberately revealing your appearance in front of Mrs. Abidonis, pushing her to the brink, forcing her to kill her husband, attack me, and provide a testimony containing physical appearance information to frame Barbara."
"Next, through an email, you persuaded Luther to cooperate with you, providing him with the ambiguous photos of me and Batman taken by camera number 14 under your control, using the power of the Luther Group to spread the photos, tarnishing the President's reputation, and letting the media and the public learn of my existence and doubt my identity."
"Then, you kidnapped Barbara, leaving her hair and footprints at her Clock Tower Base, making us think of the previous hacker technique and Mrs. Abidonis's testimony regarding appearance, leading us to suspect Barbara."
"To quickly rescue Barbara, we must force you to show up. So the President and I attended this party together, you led me upstairs, making me think you were waiting for me there, wanting to compete with me, but the one who actually attacked me was the President's security advisor."
"After I injured her, you let the journalists rush in, letting the security advisor pin the evil act of itinerary switch on me, combined with my suspected KGB identity, further cementing the charge of me being a spy, while also arousing Wonder Woman's dissatisfaction toward me. If Batman wants to defend me, a rift might form between them."
"Did you notice any of the anomalies among them?"
Natasha paused her actions and said, "Of course, there are two major anomalies. First, regardless of what you wrote in the email to Luther, he should not have easily agreed to cooperate with you."
As Natasha finished speaking, the woman in front took off her hat. She indeed had a head of red hair and a beautiful face, but her features were unfamiliar; Natasha didn't recognize her at all.
"Allow me to introduce myself," she said, looking at Natasha, "Selina Luther, Alexander Luther's sister."
"No wonder," Natasha squinted her eyes and said, "No wonder he was willing to cooperate with you and so flamboyantly arrived in Gotham by helicopter. This was prearranged by the two of you, wasn't it?"
Selina neither confirmed nor denied; she merely said, "Then, what's the second anomaly?"
"Who took the photos from camera number 14?"
"I did," Selina said.
"You're lying," Natasha stared at her intently.
"Why do you think it wasn't me who took them?"
Natasha was momentarily silent. She thought, because the psychiatrist's profile of you was entirely inaccurate. Between "Shiller was wrong" and "the world is wrong," Natasha usually preferred to believe the latter.
Selina was clearly not the kind of unisex person Schiller described. She was very beautiful and knew how to use her beauty. Abidonis was likely seduced by her looks. She wasn't someone still exploring as a learner, but rather a master in this field.
Natasha felt puzzled, suddenly, an idea emerged in her mind, causing her a bit of dizziness.
When Natasha recalled seeing Selina in the crowd, her posture was completely unshocked, unfazed by the fact she was unaffected by the drugs, had no reaction to bullets piercing her calf, and took down the security advisor within three moves. Selina Luther was not surprised at all by the female agent's capability.
Natasha remembered something else Shiller said — "Besides me, no one knows your true strength."
Yes, besides Shiller, no one knew she was a genetically modified person. But what if that's not the case?
Natasha turned her head to look at the rain outside the window.
Lightning? Wuyun? The elements that should have appeared on a rainy day were nowhere to be found. She stood at the end of the corridor, seeing the heavy rain like a solitary suspended river.
At this moment, the world began to tilt.
Police cars shuttled through the howling wind. The area in front of 12 Delhi Street was as crowded as a can of sardines. Various police officers in different uniforms and endless reporters stood before that blue door, reporting news that could hardly be called news.
The death news was suppressed for 12 hours. The police rushed to find the culprit, but unsurprisingly achieved nothing. When the news broke out, the Gotham Police Department was under tremendous pressure. Without Bruce Wayne's collaboration with Gordon, this pressure was stronger than ever, forcing Gordon to put aside considerations of child protection measures and bring Shearer and Nemocine to the crime scene.
Of course, Batman's authorization was also one of his sources of confidence. Since both Professor Shearer and Batman didn't believe that Nemocine's presence at the crime scene could harm her physically or mentally, Gordon could only heed their professional opinion. At least, this was how he comforted himself internally.
With police leading the way, the reporters were blocked to one side. Nemocine, bundled up tightly, followed behind Gordon. There was no tension caused by the bloody scene, only a kind of almost manic excitement.
This crime scene was much cleaner than the Red Light District's. But this house with luxurious decor was clearly unfamiliar to Nemocine. On the way from the entrance to the second-floor bedroom, the young girl exerted all her strength to absorb knowledge about the layout and decoration style. By the time she reached the bedroom door, she could almost become a designer of luxury houses just from this.
Gordon pushed open the door, but this time, the bodies had not been moved. This might be because both of them were clothed, at least covering the crucial parts. Nemocine could face the bodies left by the killer and the crime scene simultaneously for the first time. Clearly, this allowed her to use her full talent, previously unmatched.
Shearer and Gordon stayed at the door, one on the left, the other on the right. Nemocine entered alone, began observing the crime scene, circled the bodies, scrutinized everything in the room, then stood in place deep in thought.
"How is it?" Gordon asked.
"It's a copycat. The crime scene has a unique aura, but that's not what I want to discuss," Nemocine said. "If you had let me completely review the previous crime scenes earlier, these cases might not have happened."
"I'm sorry, but if it happened again, I would do the same. You're far more important than the Gotham Mayor," Gordon said. "Can you identify any characteristics of the killer?"
"I'm thinking," Nemocine said. "The copycat's level is much higher than the killer controlled by the Eden Killer. Though not perfect, he's worked hard to mimic, which gives me many interference elements. I'm filtering them out."
"Do we need to wait for the forensics team?"
"All the evidence is here." Nemocine said, "Just give me two more minutes. In two minutes, I will definitely have something for you."
Two minutes passed quickly. Nemocine, as if counting the seconds in her mind, spoke at the last second:
"It's a bit difficult, but I can still see something." She started pacing around the bodies and said, "The two of them were not killed in the middle of an intimate act but murdered separately and then staged to resemble a crime scene preferred by the Eden Killer."
"The Mayor wasn't stabbed to death but strangled, then stabbed. The prostitute had her throat slit by the window, and then was placed here."
"The killer is over 1.85 meters tall, weighs no more than the Mayor, isn't very strong, wears a suit and leather shoes. The suit should be light cashmere, the murder weapon was a silk tie."
"That's too broad," Gordon said. "Is there more detailed information?"
Nemocine thought hard again, obviously feeling strained, standing with a frown for a long time before saying: "Right-handed, short hair, slender build, wearing a high-end suit... the sleeves. The weapon is hidden in the sleeve."
She suddenly looked up at Gordon and asked, "Was the knife that stabbed them found at the scene?"
Gordon shook his head and said, "No, no weapon was left at the scene."
"Kitchen knife? No, too broad. Dagger? Too short. Awl? Too thin." Nemocine began pacing back and forth incessantly, suddenly, she stopped in front of the body, reached over, opened up a wound, and pulled out a fine fiber almost obscured by blood.
"There's something on the weapon after all. What is this? Feather? Paper? Cloth? ...Leather lining!"
Nemocine suddenly shouted: "The weapon pierced through leather with lining! The fiber from the fabric was brought into the wound! A sharp, slender, double-edged tool! A..."
Suddenly, her body stiffened, she turned incredulously towards the door, hearing the voice in her mind: "…a letter opener."
At this moment, the rain and night had edges of their own, the illusion and truth wounding each other. The red hair of two women was like the flames that ignited between wilderness and modernity over the millennia. A river spanning two universes poured rain on both ends.
Standing at different ends of the corridor, Natasha and Nemocine turned back at the same time, the same familiar face reflected in different pupils, hearing their and each other's inner thoughts through the ceaseless rain, calling out the name submerged in this damp and terrifying night: "—Schiller Rodriguez."