Natasha crossed her arms and leaned back in the chair. Even though she wasn't in uniform, a sense of oppression still emanated from her. She stared at Evan and said, "Why didn't you call the police when you knew something was wrong?"
"We usually don't call the police to solve problems," Evan replied. "Of course, I know this isn't Gotham anymore. Maybe contacting the Rebirth Alliance could help. But..."
"But what?"
"The person delivering seafood to us seems to be connected with the Sea Clan," Evan provided a crucial clue. He said, "Even though he's well-disguised and nothing seems out of the ordinary on the surface, I have this gut feeling that he's not purely human."
After pausing for a moment, Evan continued, "I know both rulers of the ocean have joined the Rebirth Alliance, and I can't be sure if this is something they've consented to. Plus, the seafood might not actually be a problem—or it might just look strange but taste fine. I don't want to take that risk."
"Alright," Natasha nodded and said, "What was odd about the person trying to sell you the seafood?"
"He had a strong smell of the sea," Evan said. "People who make a living on the sea do have a scent, but his was different from a typical fisherman's. It wasn't fishy; it was like the sea itself. That raised my suspicion."
"I was concerned he might cause trouble in the restaurant, so I didn't let him in. The surveillance at the back door only vaguely captured a shadow. If you want to see it, I can send you the video."
"No need," Shiller said. "We've intruded enough for today, thank you."
After leaving the restaurant, Natasha asked, "Why didn't you ask him for the surveillance video?"
"Because I already got it," Shiller handed his phone to Natasha, saying, "No need to alert them."
Natasha took Shiller's phone and found that there was indeed a video shot at the back door, just like the restaurant owner said. Since they didn't let him in, you could only see a figure from the crack, and there was no way to smell anything.
The person was wearing a hoodie, with most of his face obscured beneath the hood. However, a glimpse of light-colored skin could be seen, and judging by his height and body type, he was likely a man.
Natasha handed the phone back to Shiller, shaking her head, "Not much use, but I'll send it to the evidence team for further analysis."
Instead of driving, they walked towards the bar street. Brainiac had marked the bar where Peter and his group had clashed on Shiller's phone map, approximately another mile on the other side of the bar street.
Fortunately, the greenery of Forward York City was good. The streets were lined with trees, providing shade to linger under, with many people cooling off beneath. However, because this street was a bar street, the mix of people was quite diverse.
Halfway through, they were blocked by a man dressed in short sleeves, with tattoos covering his arms. He whistled at Natasha and said in accented English, "Hey, cutie, want to grab a drink with us?"
Natasha simply pulled out her badge from her bag and flashed it, "I could take you to the station for a drink."
The man quickly stepped back a few paces, waving his hands, "No, no, no, I got the wrong person."
"Don't go," Natasha called out, "Have you seen anyone strange around here lately?"
The man leaned against a nearby tree with a look of "Why am I so unlucky" and said, "There are strange people all over this place."
"Don't play coy with me, have you seen the seafood vendors operating in this area?"
"Yeah, I've seen them, but I'm not a restaurant owner and don't know them well," the man realized he wouldn't get away without saying something and sighed, "These past few days, there's been more and more of those guys hauling goods, and they stay the entire day."
"What do you mean?"
"Come on, seafood is delicate, especially those sea fishes. They can't stand the daytime temperature. So most seafood vendors come at night, and at most, make one trip. If they can't sell it, they have to quickly haul the fish back, or they'll all die."
"But lately, these guys shuttle around all day on the shore, pulling those boxes back and forth as if they're not worried the seafood will die, which isn't normal."
"So why haven't we seen them today?"
"I don't know," the man realized as well, "Yeah, why haven't they come today?"
Natasha and Shiller exchanged a glance. The only anomaly today might be the fight, but that was something only the Rebirth Alliance knew.
Which means, maybe someone internal leaked the info, knowing there'd be an investigation, so the people behind it didn't let the seafood vendors come today.
Natasha sighed and walked straight towards the bar. Shiller quickly caught up, just as he was about to say something, they heard a commotion ahead. The back door of a certain bar opened, and several employees ran out in a panic.
Natasha immediately retreated behind cover, while Shiller crossed to the other side of the street. Next, they saw a bass over two meters long flapping out of the back door, and everyone on the street screamed while dodging.
Shiller watched as Natasha squeezed her eyes shut, as if to confirm she wasn't seeing things, but when she opened them again, the bass was still there, and it was coming straight towards them.
Natasha pulled a handgun from her bag, firing with a bang into the fish's belly. This only made it flop around more energetically.
"Damn it," Natasha cursed through clenched teeth. Today, she had only taken a small spy pistol for the investigation. While deadly up close, it lacked stopping power, essentially useless for calming the fish down.
Just as Natasha was about to call for backup, she saw the back door of another bar open. A middle-aged woman in an apron appeared with a shotgun, blasting the fish, its belly instantly blown open, with entrails scattered everywhere.
Then came another deafening shot, and the head was completely blown apart. The big fish finally stopped thrashing and lay still on the ground. The woman cursed and carried the gun back.
"If I'm not mistaken, this bar should be in Gotham, right?" Natasha stepped out from behind cover and looked up at the bar the woman had just emerged from.
Shiller also stepped out, nodded, and said, "It should be."
Natasha had completely lost her patience and directly pressed her earpiece to call for backup. It wasn't long before the entire street was blocked off.
"I didn't want to make such a big fuss." Natasha sighed deeply, "But now it seems that this street full of such seafood bars is completely unsafe and must be sealed off, no one can approach."
After saying this, she took the uniform jacket from a subordinate who had rushed over, put it on, and threw her bag to the subordinate, grabbed a larger-caliber gun, and headed toward the bar where the incident occurred.
The back door of the bar was still open, but everyone had already run away. Natasha smoothly entered; the lighting in the kitchen was somewhat dim. Natasha only saw water stains all over the floor, and then found the tank where the big fish had escaped in the corner of the room, the glass shattered all over the ground, clearly broken by force.
Shiller also walked in, glanced around, and said, "Judging by the distribution of the glass fragments, it was broken from the inside."
"That shouldn't be possible, right?"
"Fish don't have that kind of strength," Shiller said, "Most don't."
Natasha made her way from the kitchen to the front hall, and by that time, the bar owner was rushing downstairs, cursing as soon as he arrived, "Damn bastards, why run away! Can't you just catch the fish that ran away?! What are you all doing..."
He didn't even finish speaking before he saw the black hole-like muzzle of Natasha's gun, rendering him instantly speechless. Natasha asked, "Where did the seafood come from?"
"Bought it," he said.
"From whom?"
"I don't know." He shook his head, "Someone came to the door selling it. I thought the quality was good and it was cheap, so I bought it..."
"Are you a New Yorker?"
The owner nodded.
Shiller put on his sunglasses.
"Couldn't you tell the fish had issues?" Natasha asked.
"What issues?" The owner was somewhat stunned.
"Unusually large and fierce, with red eyes. Do you think that's an ordinary fish?"
"But Forward York City doesn't sell ordinary fish either," the owner said, "Ever since the battle started between the Atlantis brand and the Seven Oceans brand, the fish have been getting bigger and cheaper every day. Customers never had issues and said they'd come back next time."
Natasha paused her grip on the gun, immediately realizing the key point. She asked, "Then which brand is the batch you bought?"
"This... I didn't ask." The restaurant owner lowered his voice, "They told me it's the leftover stock of those two brands, no trademark or inspection, so they sold it to me cheap..."
"No trademark and inspection, and you dare sell it?"
"Because it's cheap." The owner defended himself, "Besides, the fish was so fresh and lively; what's the problem?"
Natasha lowered the gun, but soon more agents rushed in and sealed off the bar. Natasha walked out the back door, directing agents to take away the battered fish for examination.
The agents went door to door, tallying up the sales situation of all the fish-buying businesses. The situation was actually very grim; these fish had been sold for at least half a month. It's countless customers who have eaten them, and tracing it all is impossible.
Natasha was checking the situation with her subordinates, while Shiller had already entered the bar where the woman who shot the fish was. The kitchen had similarly dim lighting and a fishy smell; the woman was preparing a small-sized salmon.
"Wait for a moment, sir," she said, "I'll be back shortly."
Soon, she brought a plate of food, then returned, pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, and offered one to Shiller, who declined. She lit one for herself and said, "There's always an idiot thinking pies will drop from the sky. I warned them, but it didn't work."
"You've done your best, ma'am," Shiller said, "How can I find those who delivered the fish?"
"The delivery truck tires have clover stuck on them; this plant doesn't grow in Gotham, so they're definitely on New York's turf. I suspect it might be on that island."
"Long Island?"
"Could be," the woman said, "The south of that island is all farms, also the location of the Seven Oceans seafood supplier. You might want to check there."
"I see, thank you so much." Shiller nodded, walked out of the room, went over to Natasha, and said, "Ma'am, we need to head to Long Island."