Treating the Ventriloquist

The Ventriloquist sat down against the wall.

He held a gun in his hand, like a helpless prisoner waiting for the door to slowly creak open.

Judging by his appearance alone, no one would ever guess that this balding white man in his fifties or sixties, small and frail, was the infamous Ventriloquist of the underworld. Frankly, his trembling demeanor hardly made him seem like a dangerous figure.

The nearby hostages huddled together like quails, shaking.

They were all employees of the Evidence Bureau. One guard lay panting on the ground, half his body stained red with blood.

He had tried to resist, but before he could even draw his gun, the Ventriloquist shot through the back of his hand.

"Oh, Mr. Socks..." A white woolen sock was slipped over the Ventriloquist's left hand—a substitute personality he'd created when he couldn't find his usual puppet, Scarface.

"Is it really right to hurt others like this?"

He cowered timidly, speaking cautiously to his own left hand:

"Look, he's bleeding."

"Enough, Mr. Ventriloquist. You're far too cowardly."

His mouth stayed shut, but the voice came from his belly. The hand with the sock made it open and close, as if the sock itself were speaking—unnerving and bizarre beyond words.

"What an idiot. Without hostages, what do we trade for Scarface?"

The sock on his left hand swung alertly at his side, like a venomous snake coiled to strike: "Charity has its time. That bastard earned his bullet. As long as they cooperate, I won't hurt them, right?"

"But, but..."

"Shut up! Don't waste energy on this nonsense. Batman could burst in any moment..."

The Ventriloquist whimpered pitifully, but dared not argue with Mr. Socks. Instead, he tearfully apologized to the wounded guard.

"I'm so sorry..."

Thump thump thump!

A violent knock cut off his words.

The Ventriloquist's gun instantly aimed at the hostages, his voice switching to Mr. Socks' tone—low, dark, brimming with manic brutality, like a beast whose territory had been invaded: "I told you, if you come in, I'll blow through—"

"Knock knock. It's Batman."

Arnold's hair stood on end. He knew that voice too well—it was definitely Batman—but something felt off today.

Everyone knew Batman never used the front door, and he never knocked.

Mr. Socks tensed every muscle in his body, crouching low and raising the gun, ready to strike. The moment Batman stepped in, bullets would lick him in a spray of fire—

"Open up quick, let Bat-daddy fill you with the sweet milk of justice~"

"???"

The normally stern Batman's nonsensical ramblings sent the Ventriloquist's brain into a momentary freeze, allowing Chen Tao to push the door open without facing the attack he should have received.

"Batman, you..." After a brief lapse, the Ventriloquist snapped back.

But the moment was fleeting, my friend.

"Scarface!"

The wooden puppet blocked his gun, trapping his finger as if locked in place, unable to pull the trigger.

"Bastard, let me go this instant!"

In an instant, a new voice erupted. If Mr. Socks' voice had been that of a raving thug, this new one was the embodiment of darkness itself—the dark side of the Ventriloquist's soul!

Endless malice nearly dripped like ink onto the floor.

The Ventriloquist rose from the ground. The timid, cowardly old man was gone. He straightened his chest, flexed his back, as if a demon had taken residence in that small body.

His mouth stayed shut, the sock on his left hand opening and closing, his voice echoing in the cramped space:

"Give Mr. Scarface back to us—"

"No, don't do that. I've talked with Batman."

The Ventriloquist froze.

The voice came from Scarface.

Chen Tao kept his mouth shut. So you're not the only one who can throw your voice?

As an actor, mimicking others was basic skill—including voices.

The moment they first met, the Ventriloquist should have shot his head off, but he didn't—

So! Now, it was his turn.

He never planned to cure the Ventriloquist through normal means.

Mr. Socks sensed danger and loudly ordered Arnold to shoot.

"Don't shoot. I've talked with Batman. You're a good person. All the bad things you did before were forced by me, weren't they?"

"No, no, that wasn't me, Scarface, saying that. I want you to shoot, shoot!"

"That's right, listen to Scarface—shoot—"

"No—I command you in the name of Scarface, you have to listen to the Bat—"

"Stop—"

Four voices tangled into one mess. Chen Tao's ventriloquism and the Ventriloquist's ventriloquism fought fiercely for control of the Scarface puppet.

This was the Ventriloquist's most fatal weakness: a split personality bred suspicion, and the trick of ventriloquism was no match for Chen Tao. He mimicked the enemy's behavior patterns, letting his imitation of Scarface's voice alternate with the real Scarface's voice, completely confusing the Ventriloquist.

Amid the violent argument, Chen Tao's other hand opened his satchel, which was stuffed with hand puppets—a type of toy you could slip your hand into to make the puppet move. All kinds were inside. Arnold's gaze was drawn to him, and he asked instinctively:

"What does this mean?"

Chen Tao suddenly thrust his hand forward.

"Damn it!"

In a flash, the Ventriloquist's gun barrel snapped toward Chen Tao's chin like a spring.

But it was too late. The Scarface puppet's voice had almost simultaneously given the Ventriloquist a contradictory order.

So by the time the Ventriloquist sorted out his muddled brain, Socks was already in Chen Tao's hands.

Armament disarmed.

?

"No! Mr. Socks!" The Ventriloquist let out an earth-shattering scream.

"What do you want to do to Mr. Socks?"

Without the help of Socks's personality, he reverted to that ordinary little old man.

Chen Tao ignored him. He kicked the pitiful old man into a corner: "You're safe now. Get out."

"Eeeek—"

The hostages exchanged glances, then screamed in unison, scrambling and crawling out the door. Even the guard who had been lying on the ground playing dead got up on his own, screaming and showing off his injured hand, running faster than a rabbit.

"..."

Chen Tao maintained his Bat-style deadpan until the hall was empty. He walked up to the Ventriloquist, expressionlessly raised the stinky sock, and then, right in front of the Ventriloquist... tore it to shreds.

"No!!!!"

The Ventriloquist lunged at the sock's remains like he'd lost his own parents: "Wah wah wah! No! Socks! How can I live without you—Socks! Socks, take me with you, take me with you, Socks—"

But before he could even finish half his crying, Chen Tao grabbed him off the floor and slapped him twice, sharp and loud: "Stop crying. Look, what's this?"

"Scarface!"

Arnold was about to pounce, but with a crack, Chen Tao twisted the Scarface puppet into a pretzel right in front of him, then stomped it to pieces on the ground.

"Aaaaaaahhhh—owowowowow!"

"Get up!" Chen Tao yanked the little old man, who was about to start wailing again, off the floor and slapped him left and right until stars filled his eyes, forcibly smacking the impending fit right back down.

After physically forcing his attention away, Chen Tao tossed him onto the satchel full of puppets: "Forget the old puppets. Try new ones. There are dozens here—pick any one!"

The Ventriloquist was dazed by the Personality Correction Fist. His eyes were vacant, still reeling from the blow of losing two personalities in a row.

In a daze, he grabbed a puppet. The next second, a new voice emerged from his belly...

Due to his extremely severe split personality disorder, the Ventriloquist had a tendency to create evil sub-personalities. In essence, these sub-personalities were all "protectors," meant to shield the weak main personality, "Arnold."

But in the span of just a few seconds, both of his protector personalities had been violently destroyed by Chen Tao.

Therefore, at this moment, he was in a state of extreme fear, lacking any protector personality.

Under normal circumstances, the Ventriloquist would involuntarily seek out something, give it a personified image, put it on his hand, and create a new personality to protect himself—just like he had done before, using an ordinary wool sock to create the evil personality "Mr. Socks."

But... what would happen if he was suddenly handed dozens of toys?

Hmm, is this Chapter 2?