Chapter 4990

Natasha leaned back in her chair with her arms crossed. Even without a uniform, that sense of oppression still hit you in the face. She stared at Evan and said, "Why didn't you call the police when you clearly knew there was a problem?"

"We generally don't call the police to solve problems," Evan replied. "Of course, I also know this isn't Gotham anymore. If we went to the Revival Alliance, it might help. But..."

"But what?"

"The person who delivered the seafood to us seems to have connections to the sea clans," Evan provided a crucial lead. He said, "Although he was covered up tight and nothing could be seen on the surface, I have a hunch he isn't purely human."

Evan paused for a moment, then continued, "I know both current rulers of the ocean have joined the Revival Alliance. I can't be sure if this is something they tacitly allowed. And that seafood might not have a problem either, or maybe it just looks weird but is actually fine to eat. I don't want to take that kind of risk."

"Alright." Natasha nodded and said, "What was strange about the door-to-door salesman?"

"He had a very heavy sea stench on him," Evan said. "People who make their living at sea do have a smell, but his smell was different from ordinary fishermen. It wasn't a fishy smell, but the smell of seawater itself. That aroused my suspicion."

"I was worried he'd cause trouble in the restaurant, so I didn't let him in at all. The back door surveillance only vaguely caught a silhouette. If you want to see it, I can send you the video."

"No need," Shiler said. "Sorry for the disturbance. We'll just eat up to here. Thanks."

After the two left the restaurant, Natasha asked, "Why didn't you ask him for the surveillance video?"

"Because I already got it." Shiler took out his phone and handed it to Natasha. "No need to startle the snake."

Natasha took Shiler's phone and found there was indeed a video of the back door, but just as the restaurant owner said, since he wasn't let in, only a silhouette could be seen through the door crack. It was even less possible to smell anything.

The person was wearing a hoodie, most of their face hidden beneath the hood, but faintly visible was light-colored skin. Judging by height and build, it might be a man.

Natasha handed the phone back to Shiler and shook her head. "Not much use, but I'll send it to the forensics team for further analysis."

The two of them didn't drive but walked toward the bar street. Brainiac had marked the bar where Peter and the others had the conflict on Shiler's phone map. It was on the other side of the bar street, about a mile away still.

Fortunately, Forward York City had good greening. Trees lined the streets, providing shade to stay under, and there were quite a few people cooling off underneath. But precisely because this was a bar street, the area was a mix of all sorts, all kinds of people.

They had only walked halfway when a man wearing a short-sleeved shirt with tattoos covering his whole arm blocked Natasha's path. He whistled at her and said in accented English, "Hey, babe, wanna come have a drink with us?"

Natasha directly pulled out her badge from her bag and flashed it. "I can take you to the precinct for a drink."

The man hurriedly backed up a few steps, waving his hands. "No, no, no. I mistook you for someone else."

"Don't leave." Natasha stopped him. "Have you seen any strange people around here recently?"

The man wore a "why am I so unlucky" expression and leaned against a nearby tree. "This place is full of strange people everywhere."

"Don't play dumb with me. Have you seen any seafood salesmen operating in this area?"

"I've seen them, but I'm not a restaurant owner, so I'm not familiar with them." The man saw that things wouldn't end well today unless he spat something out. He sighed and said, "Recently, those guys hauling goods have been increasing in number, and they stay the whole day."

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, seafood is delicate, especially those saltwater fish. They can't withstand daytime temperatures at all. So most seafood salesmen come at night, and at most just make one trip. If they can't sell, they have to hurry and haul the fish back, or they'll all die."

"But recently, this bunch wanders ashore every day, hauling those boxes back and forth in broad daylight, like they're not worried about the seafood dying at all. That's not normal."

"Then why didn't you see them today?"

"Don't know." The man also reacted. "Yeah, how come they didn't come today?"

Natasha and Shiler exchanged a glance. The only variable today might have been the fight incident, but that was basically known only within the Revival Alliance internally.

Meaning, it was possible an insider leaked the news. Knowing someone would come investigate, the mastermind didn't let that group of seafood salesmen come over anymore.

Natasha sighed and walked straight toward the bar. Shiler quickly caught up. He had just wanted to say something when he heard a commotion up ahead. A bar's back door opened, and several employees ran out in a panic.

Natasha immediately fell back behind cover. Shiler went to the other side of the street. Immediately after, a sea bass over two meters long flopped out from the back door. Everyone on the street screamed and dodged.

Shiler saw Natasha squeeze her eyes shut hard, as if confirming whether she was hallucinating. But when she opened them, the sea bass was still there, and it was actually charging straight this way.

Natasha pulled a handgun from her bag. Bang — a shot hit the fish's belly. This didn't stop the fish; instead, it flopped even more joyfully.

"Damn it." Natasha gritted her teeth and cursed. She'd only brought a compact spy pistol for today's investigation. That kind of pistol had decent lethality at close range, but its stopping power was poor — stopping effect was practically nonexistent. There was simply no way to make this fish quiet down.

Natasha was about to call for backup when she saw another bar's back door open. A middle-aged woman in an apron held a shotgun. Boom — a shot, and the sea bass's belly was instantly blown apart, innards spraying all over the ground.

Immediately followed by another deafening shot. The head was blown to pieces too. The big fish finally stopped flopping and lay still on the spot. The woman also cursed, carried her gun, and went back inside.

"If I'm not mistaken, that bar should be Gotham's, right?" Natasha walked out from behind cover and looked up at the bar the woman had just come out of.

Shiler also walked out and nodded. "Should be."

Natasha had completely lost patience. She directly pressed her earpiece and called for backup. Before long, the whole street was sealed off.

"Didn't want to cause this big a scene originally." Natasha let out a long sigh. "But looking at it now, a bar street filled with this kind of seafood is already completely unsafe. It must be sealed off. No one allowed near."

Finished speaking, she took a uniform jacket from a subordinate who had rushed over and put it on, threw the bag in her hand to the subordinate, took a larger-caliber service pistol, and walked toward the bar where the incident happened earlier.

The bar's back door wasn't closed yet, but everyone had already run off. Natasha entered very smoothly. The back kitchen lighting was dim. Natasha only saw water stains all over the floor, then found the tank the big fish escaped from in the corner of the room. Glass shards littered the floor, obviously smashed violently.

Shiler also walked in. He took a look and said, "Judging from the distribution and shape of the glass shards, it was broken from the inside."

"That should be impossible, right?"

"Fish don't have that kind of strength," Shiler said. "Most don't."

Natasha followed the back kitchen to the front hall. At this moment, the bar owner hurriedly came downstairs. The moment he came down, he started cursing: "You damn bastards, why run! The fish ran off, can't you go catch it back?! What are you doing..."

He hadn't finished speaking when he saw Natasha's pitch-black gun muzzle. The bar owner instantly went silent. Natasha asked, "Where's the seafood from?"

"Bought it," he said.

"From who?"

"Don't know." The other party shook his head. "Just someone came peddling. I saw the quality was good and it was cheap, so I bought it..."

"Are you a New Yorker?"

The owner nodded.

Shiler put on his sunglasses.

"Couldn't you tell the fish had a problem?" Natasha asked.

"What problem?" The owner was a bit bewildered.

"Extra large and fierce, eyes red too. You think that's a normal fish?"

"But Forward York City doesn't sell normal fish either," the owner said. "Ever since the Atlantis brand and Seven Seas brand started their trade war, the fish have been getting bigger by the day, cheaper by the day. Customers eat them with no problems and say they'll come back next time."

Natasha's hand holding the gun paused. She immediately realized the crux. She said, "Then which brand is this batch you bought?"

"This... I didn't ask either." The restaurant owner lowered his voice. "They told me it's surplus stock from those two brands, no trademarks or quarantine, so they sold it cheap to me..."

"Without a trademark and quarantine, you dare to sell it?"

"Because it's cheap." The boss defended himself, "And besides, this fish is so fresh, jumping around, what could possibly be wrong?"

Natasha put down her gun, but soon more agents rushed in and sealed off the bar. Natasha exited through the back door, directing the agents to carry away the already battered fish for inspection.

The agents then went door to door, tallying the sales of all bosses who had bought the fish. In reality, it was not optimistic—this fish had been sold for at least half a month, and who knows how many customers had eaten it; it was impossible to investigate further.

Natasha was checking the situation with her subordinates, while Shiler had already entered the bar where the woman who had shot the fish with a gun was. The lighting in the back kitchen was equally dim, with a fishy smell, and the woman was preparing a small-sized salmon.

"Wait a moment, Mr." she said, "I'll be back shortly."

Soon, she carried a plate to serve the food. After returning, she took out a pack of cigarettes from her pocket and handed it to Shiler, who refused. She smoked on her own, then said: "There are always fools who think pies will fall from the sky—I've warned them, but it's no use."

"You've already done your best, ma'am." Shiler said, "How do we find those fish-delivering people?"

"Their delivery truck tires are stuck with alfalfa, a plant that doesn't exist in Gotham, so they must be operating in New York's territory. I suspect it's on that island."

"Long Island?"

"Possibly." The woman said, "The southern part of that island is all fish farms, and it's also where the Seven Seas Brand seafood supplier is located—you can go check there."

"I understand, thank you so much." Shiler nodded, walked out of the door, walked over to Natasha, and said, "Ma'am, we need to go to Long Island."