When the deafening blast rang out, the entire space seemed to be soaked in thick glue. Everything here—every speck of dust, every fragment—slowed down.
A bullet pierced through the center of the office door. The wood chips sent flying by its passage were like fireworks frozen frame by frame in a film; the instant they bloomed, they shattered people's reverence for Eternity.
As the human with the fastest reflexes in the room, Bruce could see the muscles of his face tightening inward with every millisecond he turned his head. From his brow to the tips of his hair, every strand was etched with tension and shock.
Inside Harley's slowly opening mouth, the red of her oral cavity deepened. As the blood slowed in its flow, one could even see how the swollen blood vessels feebly tried to stop life from slipping away.
Valentine's eye sockets were still bleeding, but he struggled to raise his head, wanting to see where the sound had come from and what exactly had happened.
After the bullet passed through layer upon layer of dust glued in place, leaving visible ripples and a wake behind it, it passed through the fibers of a suit, parted skin, traveled through overlapping muscles, and finally stopped not far from the heart. Schiller took a step back from the force.
Bruce's blue pupils shrank to pinpoints. He heard a bubbling sound by his ear and saw the glue gradually thinning and dissolving as time returned to normal. A bloody hole appeared in Schiller's chest. It was not bleeding much, but it had stained his suit jacket red.
The violent ringing in his ears made Bruce unable to think. He squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head hard, and flung the chaotic images from his mind. When he opened his eyes