American comic book: Transmigrated into Dior and adopted by the Wayne family

The blond boy questioned the doctor in front of him, while a burly man struggled behind him.

The female doctor looked terrified and breathed rapidly, while the boy opposite her laughed even more happily.

"Goat Spirit, what a great idea! Now, can you answer my question?"

"Could your method work for a person in a vegetative state?"

Marcos's lips were trembling.

She looked at the blond boy in front of her, and at the burly man still struggling on the ceiling behind him.

She worked as a psychologist for twenty years and saw all sorts of crazy people.

But no one has ever made her feel like she's in danger of even breathing, as she does now.

"say."

Dio's voice was neither loud nor soft, and he had somehow already raised a revolver in his hand.

Marcos swallowed hard, his words stammering.

"No...no, not for a person in a vegetative state..."

Dior tilted his head, his smile unchanged, but his eyes grew colder.

"Why not?"

"Because implanting a false personality requires the other party to have... a primary personality."

Marcos's fingers gripped the hem of his white coat tightly, his knuckles turning white, yet he still forced himself to stand firm.

"He needs to have memories, emotions, and... something that can be replaced."

"The impulses of obsessive-compulsive disorder patients during an episode are like an unlocked door."

"I simply pushed open the door and shoved the spirit of the goat inside. But what if there isn't even a door..."

"If there isn't even a door, you won't know where to put it," Dio finished for her.

Marcos nodded, nodding emphatically, as if to prove he wasn't lying.

Dior remained silent for a moment.

He could tell that the other person wasn't lying; things were just as she said, and there was nothing he could do about it.

But those within the family know their own situation; Claw's condition is similar to that of a person in a vegetative state, but not entirely.

That guy's personality was probably clouded by mental energy, but his intelligence was definitely not a problem.

There might still be room for maneuver.

Write down the method.

Dio smiled, casually pointed the gun at Marcos, and threatened:

"You know how to hypnotize, how to implant a personality, and how to create a goat spirit."

Write down all the details, steps, and precautions, thank you.

Marcos's eyes were red-rimmed. He picked up his pen with trembling hands, opened his notebook, and wrote the first line on a blank page.

"Why shed crocodile tears?"

Dio chuckled. This doctor was really interesting; no wonder he came up with something like the Spirit of the Goat.

Five minutes later, the specific steps of the psychological manipulation were written down in detail in the notebook.

Dio picked up the notebook, flipped through it with satisfaction, put the gun back at his waist, and gently patted Marcos's face.

"Well done. Very well done."

"Later, an idiot named Jim Gordon will come to arrest you; he's a cop."

"If you don't want to be locked up in the most dangerous area of ​​Blackgate Prison, just let him arrest you, okay?"

Marcos nodded stiffly; out of her sight, a knight's sword was pressed against his neck.

The feeling of being pricked by thorns only subsided after the blond boy's figure disappeared outside the clinic door.

She slumped in the chair, gasping for breath, as if she had been pulled from the bottom of the water.

She had a feeling that if she refused, the consequences would be dire.

It's worse than going to jail!

Dior walked out of the clinic with his notebook, feeling the wind rushing into his collar, and squinted.

There was a man standing at the bottom of the steps, wearing a security guard uniform and his hat pulled low, but he recognized his eyes.

Upright, pedantic, and unwavering.

"Officer Gordon," Dio smiled, stepping aside to let the door open, "the prisoner is inside."

"I realized there was still hope for her, so I used persuasive language to influence her, and now she has admitted her mistakes."

Gordon frowned.

He wanted to say something, like, "You're a twelve-year-old kid, how could you possibly reform a serial killer?"

But he swallowed the words back down his throat.

Gordon remembered who had pulled strings to bring him back from Arkham, so he took a deep breath and strode into the clinic.

The consultation room was a mess.

The coffee table was overturned, documents were scattered all over the floor, and a burly man was hanging on the wall, suspended from the ceiling by ropes.

Dr. Marcos, sitting in an armchair, immediately raised his hands when he saw Gordon enter.

"Arrest me! I confess! I did it all! I created the Goat Spirit! Arrest me now!"

Gordon froze on the spot.

He glanced at Marcos, then at the burly man on the ceiling, and looked quite surprised.

When will Gotham residents welcome the police to come and arrest me?

It all went so well.

He had been a policeman for most of his life and had never seen a criminal raise his hand and say "arrest me".

Gordon slowly pulled out the handcuffs, a smiling face of a blond boy flashing through his mind.

After arresting Marcos, he walked quickly out of the clinic, only to see the taillights of a taxi.

-----------------

Wayne Manor, cold storage.

Dior opened the freezer door, and Claw was still lying there, its chest not rising or falling at all, as if it had entered some kind of hibernation.

Seeing Claw like this, he was actually a little doubtful. He had been so confident just now, but now he felt that things were really in jeopardy.

After a while, Claw finally woke up from its hibernation and its body began to regain its color.

The faint sound of breathing was clearly audible in the silent cold storage.

"Give it a try."

Dior exhaled a puff of white breath, then simply moved a chair to sit next to the freezer, opened his notebook, and began to read.

In his other hand, he held a pendant, a hypnotic tool recommended by Dr. Marcos, which could relax people by gently shaking it.

The pendant swayed back and forth under the lifeless gaze of the claws.

After a long and detailed introduction, at the very end:

"You are a patient, and you need to listen to your doctor."

no response.

"You are a soldier, you need to obey orders."

no response.

"You are the spirit of the goat, and your master is Dio Brando."

no response.

"hiss."

Dior took a deep breath, somewhat impatient.

There's absolutely no response. Do I have to wait a little longer?

Or was it because Claw's gaze wasn't following the pendant as it swayed back and forth?

He tried again for a while, but Claw's eyes remained empty, showing no reaction whatsoever.

Dior read a few more pages, from hypnotic induction to personality implantation, from memory overwriting to behavioral anchoring.

Not a single word was missed.

They even used quite a few hypnotic tools recommended by Dr. Marcos.

Finally, he came to a conclusion: the goat spirit, modeled after a demon, could not pry open the subconscious claws.

Dior closed his laptop, stared at the living corpse in the freezer, and remained silent for a long time.

"It's alright." He stood up, brushed the ice crystals off his trousers, and said, "If the Goat Spirit doesn't work, we'll get another one."

"It doesn't matter, I have many more stories to tell anyway."

He walked out of the cold storage, across the corridor, and pushed open the door to the study.

Dio pulled out "Grimm's Fairy Tales" from the third row of the bookshelf, the seventh book from the left, and opened to the first page.

"A long, long time ago-----"