"Alright, I have something to tell you," Shiller said as he packed the gear on his desk, addressing his colleagues who he had called into his office without looking back. "Anything I do next has nothing to do with you. If anyone asks about me, you should know how to respond."
"Boss." One of the agents hesitated as he looked at the equipment on Shiller's desk—a specially designed concealed sniper rifle packed in a briefcase, a silenced pistol with two magazines, a tactical knife, night vision goggles, a scope, and a basic office laptop—and nervously asked, "What are you planning to do?"
"Haven't you ever had a colleague suddenly disappear before?" Shiller didn't stop tidying up but turned his head slightly to ask.
"Uh, but usually that's because something went wrong," another agent said. "Like they got compromised or something. They usually get arrested quickly and then tried in secret. I guess."
"That's not what I mean. I'm talking about those who receive an emergency mission and then suddenly disappear, never to return."
The others fell silent, and a younger agent tentatively asked, "So you got an emergency mission, Boss?"
"No." Shiller shook his head. "It's just that I might be leaving, but don't be sad. We'll see each other again soon."
With that, Shiller took all his equipment—excluding his ID badge, credentials, and work uniform—and left the FBI base. He caught a taxi to a bar in Gotham's Old Town.
When he went inside, he pulled his hat low, but once seated, he took off the hat, removed his trench coat, set it aside, and opened the laptop. On the communication software was a message from Barbara:
"Where did you go? On a mission? I didn't see you on the surveillance camera."
"Yes, I left. Don't worry, I'm just handling some business and should be back soon. By the way, I'm looking for Jason Todd. Can you tell me where he is?"
"I don't recommend looking for him, nor do I see the need for you to find him. Can you avoid it?"
"I'm afraid not. Even if you don't tell me, I can find out myself, you know. So to save us both time, you might as well just tell me his whereabouts."
"Alright, you have to promise not to harm him. He's now...wait, he's at the Brother Eye Headquarters."
"Where is that?"
"A place where the Brother Eye servers are stored. The control device is still in the Batcave, but many server systems have been set up in a building not far from Wayne building, underground. We call it the Brother Eye Headquarters. What's Jason doing there?"
"Alright, I got it, thanks."
Shiller closed the laptop, put his coat and hat back on, went outside the bar, and took another taxi to Wayne building. He found the building Barbara mentioned less than two miles away from the skyscraper.
It was another high-rise, indistinguishable from Wayne building, nestled inconspicuously within the Arkham Knight Universe cityscape. However, the security level here was indeed higher than the surrounding buildings, with no apparent flaws in the patrol personnel arrangement.
After circling once, Shiller did not linger. He hailed another taxi and told the driver, "Take me to the Black community in the Old Town."
The driver raised an eyebrow, seemingly surprised by the request. He glanced at Shiller through the rearview mirror, with his gaze finally landing on the briefcase beside him. Noticing its intricate seams and the metallic shine from inside, he chose to remain silent.
The car drove to the vicinity of the Black community in the Old Town. Shiller strolled around this street and finally saw graffiti sprayed on the wall at the end of a dark alley. Below the graffiti, there was damage, a brick had fallen, revealing a gap.
Shiller walked over. He gently knocked on the wall with his finger. A grunt came from the other side, as if someone had just woken up. Then he heard an older voice, with a Black accent, saying: "What do you want?"
"Get me a car, a black one, as inconspicuous as possible, without any smart control systems."
"Do you need a license plate?"
"It'd be ideal, but I'm not paying extra for it."
The other side knocked twice in response. Shiller took a roll of US Dollars from his trench coat pocket and passed it through the gap. The hand that took the money also held a silenced pistol, its muzzle flashing briefly at the opening.
"20 minutes," the person said.
Shiller stood there waiting, but it didn't actually take 20 minutes, just over ten. The other person handed him a slip of paper with an address written on it. Shiller turned and walked out of the alley, heading towards the address on the paper.
It's about two blocks from here, and soon he reached the location. There was only one car in the alley marked on the address, a black Chevrolet, an older model, but it looked in good condition.
Shiller walked over and pulled the car door, finding it was indeed unlocked. He got in, started the ignition, and noticed there was only half a tank of fuel, but he didn't mind. He backed the car out to park it by the roadside, and soon, a black youth in a jacket swaggered over, looking like he was high, leaning on his car window.
Shiller knocked on the window to shoo him away but took this opportunity to throw out a wad of US Dollars. The youth left without a word. Shiller checked the car's other features and, finding no issues, drove swiftly to the Brother Eye Headquarters.
Shiller waited here for roughly a night and took a brief nap in the driver's seat of the car. When everyone went to work the next morning, he got out of the car and stood in the shade of a tree, observing the direction of the crowd's flow.
When he noticed several people with coffee cups of the same sleeve design, he walked against the crowd from the opposite side of the street toward the direction those people had come from. After about 200 meters, he saw a coffee shop.
He stood across the street observing the coffee shop. When he saw a few people in security uniforms among the suit-clad crowd, he approached slightly, pretending to be a customer buying coffee, lining up behind them.
"One cappuccino, one iced americano, one soda iced americano, two lattes..."
The two security-uniformed individuals bought several coffees. Shiller memorized the types of coffee they ordered, circled around the building, and came to the back door of the coffee shop. He observed the ground and indeed found marks left by the truck tires.
He pried open the kitchen door, examining the layout inside, especially the placement of the milk and the coffee maker's settings. If the milk sells out and gets restocked the next day, the milk used around 7:20 should be from the second box.
He drove the car over, parked here, and waited until evening. A truck came by, honked twice intending to call the staff out to receive the goods.
The burly truck driver came down from the driver's seat, had just opened the rear cargo door when he was choked and then knocked out with a punch. Shiller dragged him to the back of the truck, took off his jacket, put it aside, and put on the truck driver's jacket.
He climbed into the truck, inspecting the cargo, picking up a box of milk, injecting something into it with a syringe, then putting it back into the second row, neatly aligning all the milk and placing it aside.
Suddenly, a flashlight's beam flickered. Shiller put on a mask and walked over. The other person paused upon seeing him and asked, "Where's Kasder?"
"He's sick, I'm his nephew," Shiller shrugged and said, "Knowing your business is good, he can't delay, so he hired me for a high price to deliver for him."
The other person laughed and said, "So you're the rascal who dropped out of school and never goes home. Alright, give me the milk first, then the three bags of beans I asked for..."
As Shiller handed over the neatly arranged milk, he was scolded again, "That guy never tells a word of truth. The goods he hands me each time are scattered all over, and I have to reorganize them; you might be better suited for this job."
"Maybe I can take over his job," Shiller chatted skillfully, handing over the bags of beans according to the delivery list obtained from the truck driver.
After completing all this, Shiller dragged the truck driver to the passenger seat. He successfully found some powder residue on the driver's seat. In fact, he had already smelled it when knocking him out. He burned those residues, filling the cabin with the scent, and then smeared some powder under the truck driver's nose, trying to make him think he was high.
Just to be sure, Shiller still followed the original notes of the truck driver and checked off the name of the coffee shop on the delivery sheet. Then, he drove the truck to the next delivery location, making the truck driver believe the delivery here was already completed.
Returning to the coffee shop, he timed it just right as the staff were leaving through the back door. Shiller pretended to pass by, glancing inside through the gap, seeing the milk neatly stacked on the shelf, seemingly in the same order as before.
Shiller stayed in the car for another night. By the next day, sure enough, he saw the same two security personnel come to buy coffee at the same time. He drove ahead, watching them carry several cups of coffee back to the security room.
Soon, breakfast time was over, and they started patrolling. Shiller drove to the side door, and sure enough, saw the two security personnel nearby the side door holding their stomachs and rushing into the building in a hurry.
Since both of them had upset stomachs, there was no one to replace them. Shiller easily climbed over the railing, followed them through the side door, and entered the restroom.
Shiller pretended to wash his hands in the restroom, waiting for a while. Soon, the first one came out, his steps unsteady, face pale, having clearly just experienced diarrhea. Shiller easily grabbed him from behind, covered his mouth, dragged him out, took his ID, and changed into the security uniform.
He left the restroom as quickly as possible, heading underground. There seemed not to be any special defense system underground, and Shiller smoothly followed the emergency passageway to underground level one. However, the doors to store the servers here were all locked, with no conventional means to open them.
Shiller didn't mind. He listened for sounds at each door he passed, and when he reached the last door but one at the end of the corridor, he unsurprisingly heard muttered complaints.
Shiller knocked on the door.
The footsteps of tactical boots sounded on the ground. The door was opened, and the Arkham Knight said puzzledly, "Security? What are you doing here? Is there a problem upstairs?"
Shiller lowered his head, took off his hat, lifted his gray eyes slightly, and in a flash, the Arkham Knight let out a sharp screeching scream.