Chapter 4989

"No need, I'm not that sleepy right now," Shiler shook his head lightly. "I hope you can prepare a car for me. I want to drive around the city. Don't worry, I absolutely won't cause you any trouble."

"I couldn't be more at ease with you," Carter said. "Right now it looks like the one causing us trouble is someone else. The license plate will be sent to your phone later. But I suggest you don't go out dressed like that; it's really too hot."

Shiler glanced out the window. As the sun climbed higher, the city's temperature rose rapidly. Near the ground, the air became somewhat distorted. The heat wave was no longer an adjective, but became visible to the naked eye. Tree leaves shone glittering in the sun, patches of broad-leaved plants turning into a green sea. Under the tree shade were people everywhere dressed coolly, wearing sunglasses, holding iced drinks.

"Many thanks, ma'am," Shiler said. "It's time to be a proper tourist."

After Shiler went downstairs, he saw the car Carter had prepared for him. A Rolls-Royce two-seater convertible sports car, with a custom light blue paint job at that. One look and you could tell it was a rich man's ride, but very suitable for summer.

Even though he disliked wearing sunglasses, Shiler could only put them on. The midday sun was simply too glaring. Besides, driving this kind of car without sunglasses makes it easy to get pulled over by police and mistaken for a car thief.

In fact, precisely because Shiler was wearing a corporate-style black suit driving this kind of car, he still got pulled over twice on the road. Fortunately, the Revival Alliance provided special passports for otherworldly travelers; the police took one look and let him go.

Back at the hotel, Shiler thought seriously. He might have to change into vacation travel wear; otherwise he wouldn't match this summer sports car Carter prepared for him.

When Shiler went on vacation before, he also often wore T-shirts and shorts. The only reason stopping him now was that he realized this absolutely wouldn't be the last time he got summoned to the Revival Alliance to clean up someone else's mess. Without formal wear, he still lacked too much deterrence.

But thinking that the classic skin basically only has deterrence against Gothamites, and is useless against Peter Parker or Static Shock, Shiler decided to give up on it.

He changed into a very comfortable vacation outfit, not even wearing the linen suit, just an ordinary T-shirt plus beach shorts, though he still threw on an off-white stand-collar lightweight sun-protection jacket. Driving that car felt much less out of place now.

Shiler had just pulled open the car door and sat down when Natasha walked out from behind a tree. This agent lady wasn't wearing an agent's uniform, but a bohemian-patterned tube top and wide-leg jeans, her red hair loose, sunglasses hanging on her neck, a light green chain bag on her back — the spitting image of a tourist.

"Mind giving me a ride?" Natasha asked with arms crossed, standing in front of the car door.

Shiler looked her up and down, saying: "You sure we're heading the same way? You look like a tourist wanting to shop 'til you drop at the beach commercial street."

"More or less," Natasha nodded. "But the place I'm going is the street behind the tourist commercial street. You're going there too, right?"

"What's there?" Shiler wasn't too familiar with the map of York City yet.

"Bar street," Natasha took out a compact to touch up her makeup. "The two of us going together attracts less suspicion. How about it?"

Shiler got out and opened the car door for her. After Natasha sat down, she took a tiny earpiece from her bag and handed it to him, then said: "I'm more professional in this area. Later listen to my command, no problem?"

"No problem," Shiler nodded. "Looks like this matter has quite the backstory, even needing the Anquan Force chief to make an appearance."

Natasha put on her sunglasses and said: "I'm not the Anquan Force chief, just a team leader. And our team happens to be the emergency response team. When something unexpected like this happens, of course it falls to us."

Shiler started the car. While applying lipstick in the mirror, Natasha said: "I'm very interested in that agent version of you. Is he coming?"

"How did you two meet? The Fighting World?"

"Actually no," Natasha said. "I've also worked for the Prime Universe Batman. We were colleagues once, worked well together. The brats under me fall too short. I want him to come lead the newbies."

Natasha capped her lipstick and sighed: "Originally security manpower at the wedding venue wasn't enough. Now this happens on top of it. Their goal is very likely to cause trouble at the wedding. I need more veteran agents to help."

"He'll come," Shiler said. "But if you want him to arrive earlier, I can help you contact him."

"Thanks." Natasha adjusted the earpiece. Shiler soon heard her voice in his own earpiece. Then she handed Shiler a tie clip, which presumably had a micro-camera on it.

Shiler took the tie clip and looked at her. Natasha also turned to look at him, then her gaze moved down, only to discover Shiler wasn't wearing a tie.

"Sorry, the impression of you as an old-fashioned stiff was too deep," Natasha took the tie clip back from his hand, directly reached out and took the sunglasses off Shiler's face, and handed him a new one with a chain, also with a camera.

Shiler took it and weighed it in his hand, discovering it was actually lighter than ordinary sunglasses. The main reason he didn't like wearing sunglasses was that most are heavier than glasses, uncomfortable to wear.

But obviously the Revival Alliance put effort into equipment. The quality of these sunglasses Natasha handed him rivaled many big-name brands. So Shiler put them on.

This time no one pulled them over. Smooth sailing wherever they drove. The closer to the seaside, the more brightly colored sports cars of all kinds appeared. Because it happened to be the weekend, quite a few local rich people came here to party too. You could still see many influencers taking check-in photos on the street, gathered in twos and threes under tree shade.

"Almost there," Natasha said. "Find a place to park. The two of us go in and take a look."

The car the two of them drove ranked among the very expensive even among all these sports cars. So the moment the speed slowed, a valet ran over. Shiler glanced at the direction he ran from; it should belong to a restaurant on the street corner.

"Have you eaten lunch?" Shiler asked.

"Not yet. But the seafood in this area might be problematic. You sure you want to eat here?" Natasha's arm rested on the car window, fingers pinching a tip for the valet, looking at Shiler from above her sunglasses.

Shiler stared at that corner restaurant, then said: "This restaurant should be fine."

"How do you know?"

"I've seen this restaurant in Gotham."

"Does Gotham restaurants have antidotes?"

"Don't bake out here. Let's go in and talk," Shiler pushed open the car door, walked around to the other side, and opened the door for Natasha too. Natasha tidied her hair, then got out. The two walked toward the restaurant.

Just as they entered, a waiter enthusiastically greeted them. They picked the quietest spot upstairs. Natasha ordered first, cleverly avoiding seafood, ordering a pork floss flat meat with asparagus. Shiler deliberately ordered seafood: sauced sea bass with Chinese cabbage, a special thyme salmon Italian risotto, quinoa salad, and mussel soup.

When dishes were served, Natasha refused all seafood dish portions, eating only her own portion plus the quinoa salad. Shiler smiled and said: "You're indeed very professional, ma'am."

"As far as I know, you're not a modified human," Natasha said. "Even if you were, I wouldn't recommend you eat the seafood here. No matter how good an impression you have of Gotham, it's not safe enough."

"Someone supplied problematic seafood to nearby bars and restaurants," Shiler cut a piece of bass into his mouth, then said: "Those seafood are larger, more vigorous, and cheaper. The owners have no reason to refuse."

Natasha nodded, signaling him to continue. Shiler went on: "But owners who can keep restaurants running in Gotham are clearer than anyone what seafood is problematic. Especially high-end restaurant owners — they wouldn't accept that batch of seafood."

"We can make a bet, ma'am," Shiler lowered his eyelids at the food on his plate. "The bar where Peter and them fought is in New York, not Gotham."

"You look confident. Bet what?"

"These sunglasses," Shiler touched the sunglasses hanging on his neck. "If I win, they're mine. How about it?"

Natasha laughed. This Black Widow was different from the Central Universe Natasha — she was tenser, colder. Even when smiling, she carried a few degrees of deep coldness.

"Most people dislike agent equipment. The surveillance devices on them might expose privacy," Natasha poked at the meat on her plate with a fork, clearly still having little appetite.

"But excluding that factor, agent equipment is top-notch."

Natasha's smile widened. She nodded and said: "Alright, I just don't think Gotham owners are that impressive."

"Definitely more shrewd and discerning than you imagine," Shiler reached out and pressed the service bell. Soon a waiter came over.

"May I ask what you need?" the waiter asked with a smile.

Natasha took out her credentials from her bag and handed them to the waiter along with the tip, tapping the table lightly with her finger: "Please have your boss come over."

The waiter was a bit surprised but quickly turned to find the boss. Before long, a middle-aged man in a suit and leather shoes walked over.

"Hello, I'm Evan Brick, the restaurant owner. Ma'am, may I ask what you..."

"Did someone peddle seafood to you recently?" Natasha asked.

"There have always been people peddling seafood to us," Evan thought a moment and said: "Market competition is fierce recently. Several new suppliers want to grab market share in York City. They've been offering better prices and brought in many new seafood varieties."

"Then have you considered switching suppliers?"

Evan shook his head and said, "No. My shop isn't some street stall; compared to cheap prices, stable quality is what matters more. If you can't supply seafood with consistently stable size and freshness long-term, you can't become our supplier."

"Has anyone ever supplied you with seafood far exceeding normal size?" Natasha asked, wiping her mouth.

Evan's expression paused, then he said, "Yes, but I didn't take it."

"Why not take it?"

"That's no good stuff." Evan frowned and said. "The build is too large, the vitality too strong, the eyes even glow red — most likely they've been doped with something, or else they accidentally ingested certain chemicals..."

Natasha's expression also turned serious. She said, "How do you know?"

"I've run into this kind of thing several times." Evan said, "Back when I was advancing toward York City or Gotham City, there were people dumping poison into the sea, illegal discharge of chemical pollutants, or acid rain falling from the sky contaminating the seawater. Those bosses who couldn't tell if seafood was sellable went out of business long ago because customers ate problematic food. My shop has stayed open till today entirely thanks to my sharp eye."