Book 4: Chapter 19: Indiana Jones

“Bang!” A crystalline crack resonated in the air. A mirror-like magic array scattered into the wind. At the same moment, two swift figures crossed paths mid-air.

“An alter ego skilled in close-quarters assassination?”

Kathleen frowned slightly, stumbling upon landing. The pain in her thigh severely hampered her usual agile steps. Her face ice-cold, she turned to face the man radiating violent energy.

The corridor was pitch black. The serial killer had cunningly smashed all the explosion-proof lights overhead. His blood-red eyes now glowed with an eerie green night vision light, making him look like a demon accustomed to hunting deep in the night.

Kathleen closed her eyes, expressionless. She lacked night vision ability. Relying on her strong perception actually made dodging the enemy’s attacks easier.

Normally, unable to see with equipment, she’d wisely choose to retreat first. But this time, she couldn’t. Though not her first visit to the underground shelter, she still couldn’t remember the corridor layout clearly.

Earlier, Kathleen’s movement speed far surpassed that German shooter. Now, wounded in the leg, facing an enemy with night vision, strange speed-enhancing magic arrays, and wind drift art, blind flight would only leave her more vulnerable. The only sound strategy now was to hold her ground and wait for backup. If she could stall for just ten minutes, the allied forces above ground should break through and enter the shelter. Then, it would be this split-personality demon running for his life.

“Hey, stalling for time?” Joey’s lips curled into a savage smirk. “I’ve seen plenty of fools who’ve tried that in front of me, Joey. They were all stiff before any guards showed up. Wanna know why? Let Joey educate ya!”

Joey suddenly leaped backward, putting distance between them. Then he launched himself high into the air, pouncing towards Kathleen, who stood with eyes closed, sensing. While still airborne, a mirror-like magic array shimmered beneath his feet.

“Bang!” With the shattering of the crystal mirror magic, Joey’s form left an afterimage in the air. But he wasn’t finished. Along the straight path, mere tens of meters between him and Kathleen, seven or eight more crystal mirror magic arrays materialized one after another, like a chain of crystalline gourds.

“Bang! Bang! Bang… Boom!” Quantity brought a qualitative change. His speed skyrocketed until finally, a sonic boom shattered the air – he had broken the sound barrier!

What Qin Lun had only used as a maneuver for evasive speed boosts, Joey the “Dissector” now wielded to propel himself past the speed of sound!

In an instant, before Kathleen could react, Joey’s savage demon face was pressed right up against her beautiful face! Their unique scents, masculine and feminine, invaded each other’s senses.

…

Elsewhere in the corridor, two equally tall and powerfully built men leaned against opposite walls, breathing heavily.

Grant’s body was crisscrossed with countless bloody lash marks. His limbs were bruised in many places, some joints unnaturally swollen or dented – signs of previous fractures.

Any other superhuman might have collapsed by now. But the Joker’s Viral Parasitic Bloodline granted potent regenerative abilities, seemingly tailor-made to counter powerhouses like Doctor Jones.

Doctor Jones was powerfully built, but he wasn’t a dedicated superpowered combatant. Beyond his mastery of flashy whip techniques, his skills were balanced – he could handle guns, close combat, and swordsmanship.

His standout strength lay in his vast knowledge and quick wits. He won many fights through clever strategy and improvisation, not head-on clashes.

Pure combat-wise, Doctor Jones might rank near the bottom of the Justice League list. But Grant’s bloodline level was too weak; he wasn’t a formal superpowered being either. That’s how the Doctor kept him under control.

In just ten minutes, Jones had inflicted numerous bloody wounds with his whip and even snapped Grant’s limbs multiple times. If not for Grant’s recovery-focused bloodline shrugging off such “soft” damage, this fight would’ve ended long ago.

Yet, after healing so many injuries, Grant’s Viral Parasitic Bloodline was nearing its limit. His recovery rate was slowing significantly. Doctor Jones, meanwhile, had exhausted much of his stamina, forcing him to pause his attacks more frequently to catch his breath.

Suddenly, both men sensed something. They looked up, startled, towards a branching corridor. They weren’t looking at the walls; they felt something – a chilling dark presence.

It felt like the bone-piercing cold wind of a winter night. Even through the corridor walls, far away, it sent a shiver down their spines, like walking alone in a graveyard thick with spirits at midnight.

“Heh heh, showing your true colors at last, Dissector?” Grant murmured softly. He pulled a large, ragged human skin mask from his tunic and placed it over his face. Turning to Jones, he said, “Doctor Jones, your humble Joker at your service! Would you prefer my smile… wider?”

As Grant donned the mask, an inexplicably strange aura pervaded the corridor. Jones felt an absurdly intense, playful gaze watching him from the shadows above.

Jones became solemn, his eyes complex as he gazed at the Joker before him. He spoke slowly, “No. Your current appearance suits you perfectly. Is there… anything I can do for you?”

Facing Jones’s sudden turn towards friendliness, Grant trembled all over. He pressed a hand to his masked face, his tongue flicking across his lips. His shoulders shook as strange laughter bubbled up from low to high.

“Heh heh heh… Doctor Jones… Indiana Jones… The world’s greatest archaeologist-explorer! America’s legend! My admiration grows by the second! You are the first… the very first, who saw the truth the instant the mask went on! But truly… is there nothing you require of me?”

“Paranoid personality disorder!” Indiana Jones bowed his head, muttering to himself. “No wonder his pain tolerance is so freakishly high… Coupled with that potent regenerative bloodline… This is trouble indeed…”

Doctor Jones was born Henry Jones Jr., but disliked the “Junior.” So he took on the nickname Indiana, named after his childhood dog. Jones was an archaeology professor who loved global adventures. During the latter part of World War II, he thwarted several Nazi Germany treasure-hunting plans.

Of course, Germany’s searches weren’t ordinary archaeology. They sought legendary artifacts imbued with mysterious power, hoping to conquer the world.

Other Justice League superpowered beings might struggle to recognize Grant’s mental state mid-fight. But Indiana Jones was different. His archaeological expeditions worldwide exposed him to countless bizarre phenomena. Combined with his vast knowledge, he instantly identified the Joker Grant’s mental aberration.

“Paranoid personality disorder” has various forms, but they share one thing: extreme sensitivity and severe defiance. Pushing them is like urging a stubborn mule – you must coax them along.

Simply put, their “battle profession” featured a high rage meter. Rage equaled combat power. Paired with a powerful regenerative bloodline, it made him a near-indestructible cockroach – he could explode with fury and seemingly come back from any hit.

“Mister Joker, if a demand I must make… then allow me to pose a question!” The Doctor narrowed his eyes slightly, speaking calmly. “While known in archaeology, such renown carries little weight in Germany. Yet, you seem… genuinely impressed with me? Might I inquire… why?”

During the fight, Jones had noticed Grant’s peculiar gaze – a mad stare mixed with admiration.

Jones couldn’t know Grant hailed from a future timeline, an Earth Federation North American Sector serial killer. Nor why he’d admire him. But diverting a paranoid psychotic’s attention was a good tactic.

Knowing Jones was laying a trap, the Joker eagerly accepted. Facing the question, the masked Grant smiled grotesquely, feeling a flush of pride.

This wasn’t pride in Jones’s current feigned respect. It was aimed at Qin Lun, his temporary partner, the other serial killer.

Grant hailed from the Federation’s North American Sector. While his childhood was wretched, compared to the “Dissector” Qin Lun, who spent his whole life incarcerated, Grant had at least experienced society.

Legends like Jones – globetrotting adventurers – held immense allure for every North American Sector child. In Grant’s painful existence, reading and imagining such explorers’ escapades were rare, precious moments of joy.

The instant Grant saw Jones, a fierce desire to fight ignited. Just the thought of battling this childhood idol made him lose control, utterly ignoring Kathleen, who otherwise met his top-prey standard.

He charged recklessly at Jones specifically to deny Qin Lun time to think. He feared the “Dissector” might contest the prey. Qin Lun, devoid of life goals, fueled only by morbid curiosity might seize Jones if he learned his true identity.

Had circumstances not been dire and Qin Lun truly ignorant of Indiana Jones, Grant’s fear might’ve become reality. The two serial killers might have clashed fiercely before their enemies’ eyes.

“I love archaeological adventures!” The Joker tilted his head sideways.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it!” A faint red light flickered in the Joker’s eyes as he cackled strangely. “One question answered, Doctor… Don’t you want… to make a harder demand of your jester?”

“That counts as fulfilling my wish? Does he also have… Delusional Disorder with Autistic Traits?!” Jones’s eyes widened. His expression shifted, alarm washing over him as he whispered, stunned, “This guy is seriously messed up!”