Luring the Tiger to Devour the Wolf (Part 1)

The soft clink of knives and forks against the tableware mingled with the fizz of wine settling. Gordon was the first to raise his glass. "Congratulations on the new house!"

Bruce, Harvey, Schiller, and Victor all raised their glasses. After they clinked them together, Schiller took a sip. The slightly spicy wine went down, and warmth rose from his chest. Firelight from the fireplace shone through the glass like a burning flame.

"You really should have bought a house long ago," Harvey said. "I’ve told you before, nobody should live in a faculty apartment for that long. There isn’t even a coffee machine there. I only stayed two nights, and the bed boards left my back aching."

"I think it’s quite nice," Victor said. "Gotham University’s facilities are pretty good. Of course, they can’t compare to a manor like this. I hope you’ll save a room for me here."

"You’re welcome anytime." Schiller raised his glass to him. As Bruce cut the steak on his plate with a dinner knife, he said, "You should save a room for all of us. After all, I’ve kept rooms for every one of you at Wayne Manor."

"That’ll be enough," Schiller said.

"God bless me with enough money to buy a large manor one day. I’d be more than happy to give all of you rooms too." Gordon took a bite of sausage.

"How have you been lately? You should be close to saving enough money by now, right?" Harvey asked.

"My income has dropped a little recently, but it’s still not bad." Gordon picked up his napkin and wiped his mouth before continuing, "The Godfather still hasn’t made a move, while the other gangs are getting restless. This may be the calm before the storm."

"When you’ve saved enough, make sure you tell me," Schiller said, lightly tapping his dinner knife with his fork.

"Why?"

"Nothing. I just think I could help you consider apartment options. I looked through plenty of information before buying this place myself."

"Perfect. I was just worrying about which building to buy. What do you think of Pelican Heights? I actually prefer Molly’s Tail Alley, but if we might have a child in the future, it’s a bit too small, and there’s no nursery."

"Have you considered Ninth Avenue? How about becoming my neighbor?" Harvey asked with a smile.

"Good lord, that’s way too far away. Besides, aren’t most of the people living there single men like you?"

Just as Schiller was lifting his glass for a drink, he let out a snort. Gordon looked at him in confusion, and Schiller smiled. "You’ve been so busy lately that you don’t even know about something this big."

"What happened?" Gordon glanced at Harvey. "What did I miss? Is he not single anymore?"

Victor asked, "Have you and Christine officially gotten together? Then you two should be a little more discreet at school. You know, there are almost as many girls interested in you as there are boys interested in her."

"All right, it happened last week," Harvey said with a shrug.

Bruce stared at him in considerable surprise. "Really? God, you got the sexiest and prettiest girl in all of Gotham University so quickly? I thought you were an old-fashioned scholar too."

Schiller lightly tapped the rim of his plate with his fork again, then said, "I hope you aren’t implying anything. Do you think you’re sitting at this table eating with me because you only scored a 69 on your final exam?"

Everyone laughed. The fireplace blazed, while reflections from the many metal utensils on the dining table danced together, casting rings upon rings of soft halos. As the lights overlapped, the entire room seemed illuminated.

After dinner, they sat on the sofas before the fireplace. Harvey was a little drunk as he said, "What is this? Our bachelors’ night? Gordon is getting married too. Before he does, we can still have one last wild night like this…"

"I’ll be leaving first." Victor had already put on his coat and hat. Schiller turned to him and said, "Take the bag by the door. There are two bottles of wine and a pack of cigars inside."

"Oh! Thank you. Why are you willing to give me such good Cuban stuff?" Victor asked with a smile as he opened the bag.

"I remember you mentioned that the other day was supposed to be your wedding anniversary with your wife…"

"Oh, sorry, none of us knew!" Bruce said. "Professor Freeze, I’ll send a gift to your office tomorrow."

"No, no need. You don’t have to be so formal." Victor smiled. "Honestly, I’m already very happy that you understand me."

Victor meant it sincerely. No matter how one looked at it, freezing his wife in a cryogenic chamber sounded frightening. He had never expected anyone to understand such a mad act. The kindest responses he had received from people who learned of it before were merely attempts to persuade him that everyone had to be born, grow old, fall ill, and die, and that he should let it go.

Yet most of the new friends he had made in Gotham had shown tremendous tolerance toward it. They did not avoid mentioning it, either. In truth, Victor disliked people looking at him with pity, then avoiding the subject whenever marriage or family came up. That made him feel like a bad omen.

But these friends were not like that. It was as though his wife merely had a minor illness and was in the hospital. Whenever something came up, they never forgot her share. It comforted Victor, making it feel as though his wife truly was only hospitalized for an ordinary illness and would recover soon.

After Victor left, Gordon soon departed as well. Bruce reclined against the sofa and said, "See? They’re all busy people. Only us, only a few idle guys like us, can stay here getting drunk all night…"

"Actually, only you, Richest Gentleman. I still need to revise my thesis later, and Harvey has legal filings to write. Only you, you idle rich man with nothing in that empty head…"

Bruce leaned back on the sofa with his eyes closed and waved a hand. He did not even bother speaking, clearly a little drunk. Harvey put on his coat and said, "I’ll take him home. We can’t actually let him get drunk here."

"His phone is in his pocket. Find it and call his butler. Tell him to send a helicopter to pick you two up. Don’t drive."

"In Gotham, what does drunk driving even matter? I could still drive at 120 miles an hour…" Bruce mumbled.

"Yes, yes, our genius racing driver…"

After Harvey hauled Bruce away as well, Schiller crossed to the other side of the living room, picked up the telephone receiver, and began dialing.

Soon, the lights throughout the manor gradually went out, and Gotham’s night sank once more into deep darkness.

The next day, Sheldon, the president of Gotham University, stood in his office with his arms folded and said in confusion, "You’re saying Professor Rodriguez was injured and hospitalized?… All right, then send a colleague to visit him."

That afternoon, Schiller lay in his hospital bed and accepted flowers from Anna. "Oh, thank you. I’m deeply grateful…"

He had just been about to continue when Gordon rushed in. Seeing someone else there, he hesitated. After Anna left, Gordon looked the room over. This was a luxury private room at Gotham City Central Hospital, extravagantly furnished. Schiller lay in bed beneath the covers, and there was nothing unusual about his complexion.

Gordon walked over and planted his hands on his hips. "I heard you were attacked last night. Damn it, I should have left later…"

Schiller smiled as though he did not take it seriously at all. Gordon said, "You can still smile? You already knew that group from Metropolis was probably coming after you, yet you didn’t become more vigilant and let them get you. Where were you hurt? Your organs or your bones?"

Then he added angrily, "And who knows where Batman went! If he’d stayed with you, this never would have happened!"

"You really have faith in him. But I wouldn’t want him staying here overnight. If his butler came knocking, he’d be more frightening than anyone else."

"Seriously…" Gordon looked Schiller up and down. "Are you really injured? Why can’t I tell at all?"

He raised his wrist to check his watch. "And when we left, it was already midnight. It’s only a little after seven in the morning now. Your injuries healed that quickly? Even if you were only stabbed, it should have taken at least a dozen hours to deal with it, right? Or has Central Hospital’s medical technology become that advanced?"

Schiller waved a hand at him, telling him to calm down. Then he threw back the covers, sat up, got directly out of bed, walked to the window, and stretched. Gordon’s eyes widened as he watched him complete the whole smooth sequence as though nothing had happened.

"Damn it! You weren’t injured at all!" Gordon shouted. "I rushed over here as soon as I got the news!"

"I’m touched," Schiller said. "Your old pickup got you from the Police Department to the hospital in only twenty minutes. Did you put a propeller on it or something?"

"I told you, I came first in my driving course at the police academy!"

Then Gordon shook his head. "Is that the point? The point is, why are you pretending to be sick? Have you finally had enough of those students at Gotham University?"

"Of course not… Well, all right, a little, but that isn’t the point…"

"Do you know how I got this news? This morning, the Police Department was howling in despair because they heard Arkham Asylum was temporarily shutting down due to having no attending physician. I’ve never seen them so miserable…"

"Yes, when Arkham Asylum shuts down, the police aren’t the only ones who are upset."

Gordon frowned. He was not stupid. After thinking for a moment, he said, "The gangs won’t just let this go. They’ve tasted the profits from this business."

"That’s right. They’re probably more anxious than you are now. After all, you’ve nearly saved enough money, and all you want is an apartment. They’re different."

"Why are you doing this? What do you gain by stringing them along?"

"I’m injured, and the asylum is closed. The duck they had right at their mouths is about to fly away. So why was I injured?"

"Why were you… You want to frame that group from Metropolis?" Gordon finally understood. "You want to use those gangs to wipe them out. Once they learn that you were attacked by that Metropolis group, and that those people are the real reason the asylum closed, they’ll definitely find every possible way to dig them out and kill them."

Gordon paced around the room as he spoke. "After operating for so long, many people have spent time and effort building their business into the asylum. They won’t be willing to give it up now. It’s like the final step of baking a pizza—they won’t be willing to stop."

"Once you fall ill, they’ll surely use every possible channel to find out what happened. The police already know who did it, so there’s no reason those gang bosses wouldn’t know too."

"But how can you be sure they’ll go after those people from Metropolis instead of doing what they did before and trying to replace you with someone else?"

"You were injured, but that doesn’t mean the asylum has to close. They don’t know this business is part of your plan. They might simply think that if the attending physician is sick, they can just replace him with another one."

"They don’t know, but Falcone does. That’s enough."