Shiller's backyard housed a large machine that initially served merely to detect brainwave frequencies, but later became a device used by the Primary Universe Batman for analyzing a mysterious metal that had polluted many Batmans.
Later, we discovered that this so-called metal was not really metal, but a brainwave pollutant, a psychotronic weapon created by the Laughing Bat to corrupt the Batmans of various universes and draw them into his ranks.
Batman then hypothesized that it might be a hybrid of Joker and Batman's blood, thereby learning of the existence of an entity that was a fusion of Joker and Batman in this world.
With research reaching this stage, Batman could no longer afford to continue his investigation, so he teamed up with the Joker from the Prime Universe and began recruiting candidates across different universes to form his own team.
However, more than their assembled team, Shiller was actually more interested in Batman's machine.
Because in Marvel, there were also people studying brainwaves and Soul Theory, and Gray Mist was researching as well, having gained the dual intelligence boost of Batman and Iron Man, Gray Mist could also be considered a genius scientist.
Most importantly, his life form was especially suited for such research, for he had no brain to speak of; all his thoughts were transmitted in the form of waves—much clearer and more direct than humans.
He suggested that the method used by the Laughing Bat and other demons to corrupt human souls was essentially a psychotronic strip.
It was like placing a jammer around a human, continuously disturbing their brainwaves, causing their souls to mutate and endowing them with thoughts they originally lacked. When they had to make important decisions, this shifted their way of thinking, naturally resulting in them acting as if driven mad.
Shiller wanted precisely this conclusion.
He wasn't concerned with the struggle between Joker and Batman; he didn't care about how large a following the Laughing Bat aspired to recruit; he merely wanted to know if human brainwaves could be manipulated by external forces.
Since research proved it could be done, then so could he.
Returning to the backyard of Shiller's house, Raven and Dick looked at the big machine with a touch of awe. "This has Batman's signature all over it," Dick said, "and not the Batman from our universe, but the kind that a traditional Batman would come up with."
"What is it used for?" asked Raven.
"Now it's a brainwave radiation device," Shiller replied. "It can radiate certain specific brainwaves."
Raven and Dick both frowned—this sounded very sinister. But in fact, Shiller's intentions were even darker than they imagined. Shiller planned to use the power given to him by the Sanguine Demon as filler, using its energy to irradiate all Clones.
"What's the point of that?" Raven asked.
"It would turn the Clones from puppets controlled by certain law enforcement agencies into puppets of the Sanguine Demon."
"But what does the Sanguine Demon need puppets for?" Raven was still puzzled as she spoke, "Are you helping him invade Earth?"
"On the contrary, right now he can't get in, and you possess power that descends directly from him. These people will not be the puppets of the Sanguine Demon, but rather your puppets."
"But I don't need puppets... Oh, I see. I can use them to protect Earth, to protect Azarath, right?"
"Exactly, you should learn how to wield that immense power within you. As long as the Clones have the same power as you, you can impart your power to them to make them do what you want them to."
"But... I can't. I'm not up to it," Raven said, clutching the hem of her garment tightly. "I can't manage that many people, I won't be able to."
"No one is born knowing how to manage that many people," Shiller stated. "If you don't know how, then learn. Doesn't the Gotham Magic Academy have a principal who's extremely adept at management?"
Raven had a moment of realization, but she still seemed nervous. After pondering for a while, she said, "But my energy isn't limitless. What if I run out one day?"
"Ask your dad for it," he said.
"Huh???"
"Literally," Shiller explained. "He has only one precious daughter. If you ask him for spending money, can he really refuse?"
"But how can I ask him, I mean, aren't I using the puppet army to fight against him?"
"Are you going to tell him that?"
"Uh, probably not. I guess if I did, he wouldn't believe it anyway."
"What is your father's goal?"
"To invade Earth."
"I mean, his purpose regarding you."
"I don't know," Raven shook her head as she spoke; "It seems like he wants me to work for him."
"Then work for him."
Raven felt her brain was about to smoke, when Dick elbowed her and said, "How come you can't think outside the box? Your dad's locked up, he has no clue what you're doing outside. If you tell him you're managing his company and that the business is performing poorly, needing funds, could he really refuse to send you money?"
Raven was stupefied; she turned her head to stare blankly at Dick as if she were seeing him for the first time.
"And I've already confirmed it," Shiller spoke up, "His current condition isn't good either. Facing my provocation, he still chose to endure it. I'm a stranger, but you are his daughter."
"The fact that he kept his eyes on you while he could do many things, just proves that you indeed have something special, that you have value in his eyes. As long as there is value, there is room to operate."
Raven thought silently for a while before saying, "I can do that, but this will likely cause trouble for you because the clone's original owner won't let them go easily."
Shiller revealed a smile, "That's exactly the trouble I want."
Soon, Shiller started the machine. He put the energy he obtained from the Sanguine Demon into it and adjusted the frequency to the clone's bandwidth.
With round after round of radiation, the milkman delivering milk, the office workers walking on the street, and the patrolling community police all gradually became indifferent, their eyes flickering with purple light.
Raven's eyes also emitted a faint glow. She looked up at the distant sky and murmured, "I can feel it, I feel the connection with their power…"
"Try to control them."
The sky darkened, and the moonlight dimmed. One after another, figures started gathering toward Shiller's house, resembling a terrifying scene of zombies besieging a city.
"Listen to me, feel me…" Raven whispered, "Feel the power that seeps into your souls."
Stream after stream of purple threads appeared at her fingertips, connecting to the clone's souls, controlling their thoughts and bodies.
Raven slowly closed her eyes, floated into the air, and more power spread along the purple threads until the soul fire within each clone grew more vigorous.
Click, click...
That was the sound of the devices on their frontal lobes and lumbar spines being burned off, a sign that their souls had broken through the limitations of the existing program.
Suddenly, Raven fell from midair, the light in her eyes completely extinguished, looking somewhat weak. Dick immediately rushed up to catch her.
"My god, what's wrong? Are you okay? Did something happen?"
"No, I'm fine," Raven said as she stood up, leaning on Dick's arm, "I've never felt so wonderful. The pressure of the chaos has left me."
Shiller could see that much of the huge, repressed energy within Raven had dissipated. Although the remaining amount still far surpassed that of an ordinary Mage, it was much better compared to her own previous state.
"Do they have your power now?" Shiller asked.
"Yes, now they are a bona fide magic legion," Raven said with the corner of her mouth twitching slightly, "I did not erase their self-awareness, but since the power supporting their souls is now mine, they will forever be loyal to me."
"Even over your father?"
"No, not him," Raven's voice was a bit hoarse as she said, "I discovered that my power is different from his. I don't know what the extra stuff I have is, maybe I was always different."
Unbeknownst to Raven, but known by Shiller, was that Raven's body likely held the power of the Original Sin of Pride, one of the seven deadly sins.
Shiller speculated that Raven's mother might have obtained a bit of the most original sin's power by chance and kept it within herself. With Raven's birth, this power was also passed on to Raven.
Though the magnitude of this power was nowhere near that of the Sanguine Demon's inheritance, considering Lucifer's status as the Original Sin of Pride, even such a small amount was high, and thus could easily compete with the power of the Sanguine Demon inside Raven.
Dick supported Raven, and Shiller followed them into the house. Raven's complexion visibly brightened as she took a deep breath, her tone fluctuating slightly.
"Can my father really not come in now? He can't see me anymore?"
"After all, you are blood kin. If he concentrates, he can still sense your state, but that's about it," Shiller said, "Maybe you can communicate with him proactively; it's a rare opportunity right now."
"What do you mean?"
"You might want to ask Jason," Shiller didn't spell it out, picked up a cup to pour water for Raven, and then said, "Ask him for a few introductory textbooks on psychology, with a focus on Stockholm syndrome."
Raven didn't understand, but, immersed in the joy of her relief and feeling a bit excited, she said, "I can arrange for them to work now. Professor, do you have any work that needs to be done?"
"Of course, I do. Why do you think I've gone to the trouble of helping you?" Shiller shattered Raven's illusion and said, "You may be special to your father, but not to me; you're just one of thousands of foolish students."
Raven let out a sigh of lament but dared not retort, as she hadn't forgotten about the big pit still lying in the backyard.
"I'll find a couple of people to fill in that hole," Raven said softly, "I've earned some money doing moving company jobs and will buy a new fridge to compensate you. I'm really sorry; it wasn't intentional."
"That's not urgent," Shiller said, "I'm throwing a camping housewarming party and need help setting up. I'll go to the second-hand market tomorrow morning to buy tents, canopies, tables, and a larger grill. You tidy up the house, and then help me set up the tents."
"Task will be completed," Dick gave him a thumbs-up and said, "Wayne Manor still has barbecue spices, charcoal, and camping lights left over from the last family gathering; I'll have Jason bring them over when he comes tomorrow."
"What about the groceries?" Raven asked, "I'm afraid the previous ones are no longer edible, and the vegetables aren't fresh enough. Do we need to buy new ones?"
"Someone will deliver them. Now go upstairs to sleep. Tomorrow I need to send out invitations again."
The next morning, Shiller didn't drive his own car; instead, he called Killer Croc who came over, and they drove a truck to the second-hand market.
They had to buy a lot of stuff, like tents and marquees, which a small car couldn't possibly hold, so a small truck was needed for transportation. Shiller didn't plan to make multiple trips and intended to buy everything in one go.
As soon as Killer Croc got out of the truck, he gave Shiller a hug and said, "I thought you wouldn't call me. I've been saddened for quite a while, Professor."
Shiller looked at him with a probing gaze, and Killer Croc said, "You have no idea how popular the logo you designed is. They're still talking about Crocodile Moving Company. They don't know my name, but they know I'm a croc that moves."
After saying that, Killer Croc performed a standard crocodile head shaking and tail swaying motion, then burst into laughter and said, "When I heard you were throwing a camping party, I knew you'd need me. If you'd decided to find another mover and spend money without calling me, I would have been so upset that I'd cry."
Shiller wasn't too comfortable with his enthusiasm and simply smiled without saying a word. They both got into the truck, and soon arrived at the second-hand market.
Once out of the truck, Killer Croc hugged Martin as well, who patted his broad back and said, "You're early, buddy. Someone was asking me the other day where that moving croc had gone."
"The last decoration deal didn't work out, and I was too ashamed to come here for days..."
"What's that to worry about?" Martin responded with a Spanish phrase that seemed to be a proverb from his hometown before saying, "We all know it was the old man pricing too high. Such a pile of junk selling for so much, fortunately, it all got resolved smoothly in the end. Come on, I'll take you to the camping gear section."
They made their way to the camping gear section. In America, camping is a very common social activity, so there's a dazzling array of products here, much more than Shiller had imagined.
Upon hearing about the camping party, Martin began to count on his fingers, "If you're inviting hundreds of people, then you'll need two extra-large marquees, like these ones here."
Martin pointed them out to Shiller. These so-called marquees are actually tents without fabric touching the ground, supported by a few poles to shield from the wind and sunlight overhead.
"And then there's this." Martin patted a long table next to him and said, "One table can seat thirty people, so about three tables should suffice."
"There won't be that many people. I think no more than sixty will show up in the end."
"Then two tables will do, plus some matching chairs, as well as these pegs, tie-down ropes, and shovels..."
Martin glanced at Shiller's expression and said, "You're not quite adept at outdoor activities, are you? Although the weather isn't too cold right now and the sunlight is fine, the wind is strong. Without pegs to secure the tables and chairs, they will definitely be blown away."
Martin then introduced many more miscellaneous items, such as thermos flasks, heated seat cushions, ashtrays, and so forth—all things that Shiller had a vague idea about but hadn't really remembered to buy.
Martin was well-acquainted with the owner here, and after selecting the goods, he went on to haggle. Finally, they acquired everything for an amazingly low price.
Then they headed over to check out fishing gear. Shiller said, "I don't know what specific activities are done during camping, but I think fishing would be nice. There's a great stream right next to the camping site, and there should be plenty of people who can fish with lures, right?"
"Yes, but you can't just prepare that, Professor." Killer Croc said, "Not everyone likes quiet like you do. Many of us prefer to get moving. How about playing frisbee?"
"And there has to be poker." Martin snapped his fingers and said, "No one can refuse a couple of rounds of Texas Hold'em before a barbecue. Oh, and we haven't bought the blankets for the ladies yet. No worries, the fishing gear area will have those too."
"Don't we need to prepare some newspapers and magazines or something?"
"Of course not, Professor, you can't sit and read newspapers by yourself on such an occasion. Promise me you won't do that, okay?" Killer Croc said sincerely, "You would come across as a weirdo."
"It's not as if it's only been a day or two."
Killer Croc wore a puzzled expression and asked, "Do you think you're an outlier, Professor?"
"Maybe I'm quite the opposite of you," Shiller confessed his feelings, "I may look more like a normal human being, but in reality, I'm not, like I couldn't ask this question so directly."
"But that's not really abnormal," Killer Croc shook his head and said, "If someone hesitates to speak, showing that they have a question but don't know how to ask, I'd just think they're introverted or slow to warm up, rather than weird."
"So what's different about reading a newspaper at a party?"
"Aren't you attracted to those fun things?" Killer Croc asked, "Can you really settle down and read the newspaper when everyone is either focused on fishing or eagerly playing poker and chatting?"
Shiller wanted to reply, "Of course I can, because I'm annoyed, I find all of this noisy and it completely disrupts my routine," but after thinking about it, he didn't say it aloud.
"Does playing with others make you unhappy?" Killer Croc asked again, "Do you like being alone?"
Shiller nodded.
"Then why throw a party?"
Shiller opened his mouth but didn't speak.
"Come on, it's not like everyone who moves has to throw a party," Killer Croc said, "If you want to let people know you've moved, just write them a letter, telling them your new address."
"Wouldn't they think it impolite?"
"Then you could write 'I don't like parties, so I won't invite you.' Given your usual style, if I received such a letter, I wouldn't be surprised at all," Shiller said.
"They wouldn't think I'm a freak?"
"It's weirder that you, who clearly don't want to hang out with everyone, insist on gathering people together, only to sit there reading the newspaper," Killer Croc said. "It's like a malfunctioning program, running in one direction one second and abruptly changing tracks the next. Too strange."
Watching Shiller's slightly complex expression, Killer Croc said, "Do you think we would forbid you from expressing your true feelings? Would we stop considering you a friend just because you are an introvert who doesn't want to host or attend every party?"
Shiller didn't know, because he didn't know how strong his connection with others was, whether that strength would allow him to express his true feelings.
"No, Professor, of course we wouldn't, no matter whether you've established a strong connection with us or not." As if Killer Croc was now the one with the Mind Reading Technique, he said, "A wise man should allow others to dislike a group, to dislike a certain lifestyle, and even make the incredible choice of darkness and solitude."
"Because humans are unable to fully understand each other, they must have their reasons for doing so. If we cannot understand, then we should choose to respect," Killer Croc added jokingly, "of course, within the limits allowed by law and morality."
"Of course, if you hosted a big party and sat there alone reading the newspaper, we would only find you strange, and that strangeness comes from not understanding, not understanding how you can resist the allure of boisterousness. But our silence signifies our respect for such behavior."
"The thoughts of ordinary people and popular choices don't necessarily coincide. We have all learned to call it our personality when going against the mainstream, rather than trying hard to live up to society's average, which would be the true anomaly."
Shiller seemed to understand something and said, "Because ordinary people often have personalities, they can't achieve the average, nor do they wish to try; thus, the society they build has a high tolerance for this."
"It even encourages it," Killer Croc said. "Otherwise, how could 'mediocre' have become a term with a slight derogatory connotation? We all want to have outstanding personalities, to live a life different from others."
"I seek the ordinary, while you pursue the unique," Shiller summed up. "So if I want to be truly ordinary, I should preserve my uniqueness."
"Yes, Professor, in my view, there's nothing particularly special about you," Killer Croc said, scratching his head. "Although I haven't known you long, I think other than sometimes being serious, you're not that special, but considering you're a teacher, it's normal to be authoritative."
"Even if I cancel the camping party?"
"Actually, we were all surprised that you'd arrange such a party in the first place," Killer Croc said with a grin. "Canceling it now is not unexpected, but since you've already spent so much money, wouldn't it be too wasteful not to go ahead with it?"
Shiller nodded and said, "Speaking of money, would it be strange if I didn't pursue wealth like ordinary people do?"
"Who said ordinary people are all chasing money?" Killer Croc asked, raising his eyebrows curiously. "Even though I haven't read much, I know the books are full of people who cannot be corrupted by wealth."
Killer Croc looked at Shiller and said, "So, are you earning money because you want to play the role of an ordinary person? Are you sure it isn't because you don't have money?"
Shiller remained silent.
He indeed had no money, but the salary of a professor at Gotham University wasn't low, and he didn't spend much, so whom could he blame for his lack of funds?
Thinking about those flashy, tailored suits in his wardrobe, Shiller sighed deeply in his heart.
But while choosing a fishing rod, Shiller thought carefully about what Killer Croc had said, aligning it with his recent experiences, and he found Killer Croc's words made a lot of sense.
Shiller had always pursued the life of an average person, akin to making the same choice as 80 out of 100 people because that would seem the most ordinary.
But in reality, the lives of ordinary people aren't like that; they might be part of the 80 at one moment, and in the next, they could become one of the 20, being part of the majority in one decision and the minority in another.
They become the minority not because they are foolish but because that's just their personality.
They are vivid beings with souls, not flat figures produced by some algorithm, unable to be placed above or below an average for comparison, because they neither wish to nor can reach that average.
But this is precisely the charm of ordinary people; their lives have peaks and troughs, unpredictable by themselves and not completely influenced by others. In the society they have built, everyone fully understands such situations.
Just as one wouldn't blame a person for being late to work due to an unexpected accident on the road, as much as one wouldn't expect him to check the traffic bureau's road plans a year in advance to prevent lateness.
And in their view, it would indeed be madness to follow Batman's approach of checking road plans a year in advance to never be late.
This understanding and tolerance are wonderful, treasures that Shiller experienced in his youth but didn't comprehend, and which he was willing to chase for the rest of his life.
Seeing Shiller holding the fishing rod and zoning out, Killer Croc waved his hand in front of him and asked, "What's the matter, Professor?"
"Nothing."
Shiller slowly smiled, and if someone who knew him very well were there, they would realize that this smile meant someone was about to have a very bad day.