"No, I'm not that sleepy right now." Schiller gently shook his head. "I hope you can prepare a car for me. I want to take a tour around the city. Don't worry, I absolutely won't cause you any trouble."
"I trust you completely." Carter said. "It seems someone else is causing us trouble now. I'll send the license plate number to your phone shortly. But I suggest you not go out in that outfit, it's really too hot."
Schiller glanced outside the window. As the sun rose higher, the city's temperature quickly increased. The air close to the ground became somewhat distorted. Heatwave was no longer just a metaphor, but visibly apparent. The tree leaves glistened bright, turning broadleaf plants into a sea of green. Under the shade of trees, people wearing light clothing, sunglasses, and holding cold drinks were everywhere.
"Thank you, madam." Schiller said. "It's time to be a genuine tourist."
After going downstairs, Schiller saw the car Carter had prepared for him. A Rolls-Royce two-seater convertible sports car, custom-painted in light blue, it was clearly a rich man's ride but quite fitting for the summer.
Even if he didn't like wearing sunglasses, Schiller had to put them on. The midday sun was just too blinding. Besides, driving such a car without sunglasses makes it easy to be stopped by the police and mistaken for a car thief.
In fact, because Schiller was wearing a black suit with a business vibe while driving this car, he got stopped twice on the road. Fortunately, the Rebirth Alliance provided a special passport for otherworld travelers, and once the police saw that, they let him go.
Back at the hotel, Schiller seriously thought about it. He might need to change into some vacation travel attire, or else he wouldn't match the summer car Carter prepared for him.
In the past, when Schiller went on vacation, he often wore T-shirts and shorts. The only reason stopping him now was the realization that this wouldn't be the last time he'd be called to the Rebirth Alliance to clean up somebody's mess. Without formal wear, there's just no deterrent.
But upon realizing that classic outfits only intimidate Gothamites, and are of no use against Peter Parker or the Human Torch, Schiller decided to give up.
He changed into a very comfortable vacation outfit, ditching even the linen suit, opting instead for just an ordinary T-shirt and beach shorts, though he still put on a light cream-colored sun-protection jacket with a standing collar. Now driving that car didn't seem so out of place.
Just as Schiller opened the car door and got in, Natasha emerged from behind a tree. The Agent lady wasn't wearing an agent's uniform; rather, she donned a Bohemian floral bustier and denim wide-leg pants, with her red hair cascading down, sunglasses hanging from her neck, and a light green chain bag slung over her shoulder, embodying the look of a tourist.
"Mind giving me a lift?" Natasha stood in front of the car door, arms crossed, and asked.
Schiller looked her up and down and said, "Are you sure we have the same destination? Because you look like a tourist ready to shop till you drop on a beach commercial street."
"Pretty much." Natasha nodded and said, "But I'm headed to the street behind the tourist commercial street, and you're going there too, right?"
"What's there?" Schiller, unfamiliar with the map of Forward York City, asked.
"Bar Street." Natasha took out a compact and touched up her makeup, "The two of us going together makes it less suspicious, don't you think?"
Schiller got out of the car to open the door for her. After Natasha sat down, she pulled a mini earpiece from her bag and handed it to him, saying, "I think I'm more professional in this regard, listen to my instructions later, okay?"
"No problem." Schiller nodded, "It seems there's quite a secret at play here, having the head of the Security Department step in."
Natasha put on her sunglasses and said, "I'm not the head of the Security Department, just a team leader. Our group is an emergency response team, so it's naturally our responsibility when unexpected events happen."
Schiller started the car. Natasha applied lipstick using a mirror while saying, "I'm quite interested in the agent version of you, is he coming?"
"How did you meet? Battleworld?"
"Not quite." Natasha said, "I've worked for the Primary Universe Batman before, we were colleagues and worked well together. My team has a few rookies that need guidance, and I want him to come mentor them."
Natasha capped her lipstick and sighed, "The security personnel at the wedding location were already insufficient, and now with this incident, their objective might be to cause a ruckus at the wedding. I need more seasoned agents to help."
"He'll come." Schiller said, "But if you want him here sooner, I can help you contact him."
"Thank you." Natasha adjusted her earpiece, and soon Schiller heard her voice in his own earpiece. She then handed Schiller a tie clip, which seemed to have a micro camera on it.
As Schiller took the tie clip and looked at her, Natasha also turned and looked at him, then her gaze fell, realizing Schiller wasn't wearing a tie.
"Sorry, the old-fashioned impression you gave me was too strong." Natasha took the tie clip back from his hand and directly reached out to remove Schiller's sunglasses and handed him a new pair with a chain, also equipped with a camera.
Schiller took it and weighed it a little, finding it surprisingly lighter than regular sunglasses. His reluctance to wear sunglasses was mainly because most are heavier than glasses and uncomfortable to wear.
But clearly, the Rebirth Alliance has put effort into this, and the quality of the sunglasses Natasha handed him was on par with many branded ones. So Schiller put them on.
No one stopped them to check the car this time, and they passed through everywhere smoothly. As they got closer to the seaside, a variety of colorful sports cars became more frequent. Since it was the weekend, many local wealthy people also came to party. On the streets, you could see many influencers taking pictures and checking in, gathering in twos and threes under the shade.
"Almost there," Natasha said, "Find a place to park, and let's go in and have a look."
The car they were driving was also among the most expensive of all the sports cars. So as soon as the speed slowed down, a valet came running over. Schiller glanced in the direction he ran from, which seemed to belong to a restaurant at the street corner.
"Have you had lunch?" Schiller asked.
"Not yet. But the seafood in this area might have issues. Are you sure you want to eat here?" Natasha rested her arm on the car window, pinching a tip for the waiter, looking over her sunglasses at Shiller.
Shiller stared at the restaurant on the street corner and then said, "This restaurant should be fine."
"How do you know?"
"I've seen this restaurant in Gotham."
"Does that mean Gotham's restaurants have the antidote?"
"Let's not stand here in the sun. We can talk inside." Shiller pushed open the car door, walked around to the other side, and opened the door for Natasha as well. Natasha tidied her hair and stepped out. The two of them walked toward the restaurant.
As soon as they entered, the waiter enthusiastically approached them. They chose the quietest spot upstairs. Natasha started ordering first, skillfully avoiding the seafood, and chose a dish of pork loin with asparagus. In contrast, Shiller deliberately ordered seafood, choosing baked sea bass with cabbage, as well as a signature thyme salmon risotto, quinoa salad, and mussel soup.
When the food arrived, Natasha refused all the seafood dishes, only eating her own portion along with the quinoa salad. Shiller chuckled and said, "You really are a professional, ma'am."
"As far as I know, you're not a Cyborg," Natasha said. "Even if you were, I wouldn't suggest eating the seafood here. No matter how good your impression of Gotham is, it's not safe enough."
"Someone supplied problematic seafood to nearby bars and restaurants." Shiller cut a piece of sea bass and put it in his mouth, then said, "That seafood is larger, more vigorous, and cheaper. The owners have no reason to refuse it."
Natasha nodded, gesturing for him to continue. Shiller went on, "However, any owner who manages to run a restaurant in Gotham knows better than anyone else what kind of seafood is problematic. Especially high-end restaurant owners, they won't accept that batch of seafood."
"We could place a bet, ma'am." Shiller lowered his eyes to look at the food on his plate, "The bar where Peter and they fought is in New York, not Gotham."
"You seem quite confident. What are we betting?"
"These sunglasses." Shiller touched the sunglasses hanging around his neck and said, "If I win, these will be mine. How about it?"
Natasha laughed. This Black Widow was different from the Natasha of the Central Universe; she was more tense, more stern, and even when she laughed, there was a touch of icy coolness.
"Most people despise Agent gear, as the monitoring devices on it might invade privacy." Natasha was poking at her food with a fork, evidently still lacking appetite.
"But aside from that, the Agent's equipment is very well-crafted."
Natasha's smile widened, she nodded and said, "Alright, though I don't think Gotham owners are that capable."
"They're certainly sharper and more perceptive than you imagine." Shiller pressed the service bell. Shortly, the waiter came over.
"Is there anything you need?" the waiter asked with a smile.
Natasha pulled her badge out of her bag and handed it to the waiter along with a tip, tapping the table lightly with her finger, "Please have your boss come over."
The waiter looked a bit surprised but quickly turned to find the boss. Not long after, a middle-aged man in a suit walked over.
"Hello, I'm Evan Brick, the restaurant owner. Ma'am, may I ask what you need..."
"Has anyone tried to sell you seafood recently?" Natasha asked.
"People always try to sell us seafood," Evan thought for a moment and said, "Recently, market competition has been fierce, and several new suppliers are trying to capture the Forward York City share. They're constantly offering better prices and introducing many new seafood varieties."
"Have you considered changing suppliers?"
Evan shook his head and said, "No. This establishment isn't a street stall. More important than cheap prices is stable quality. If they can't provide seafood that's consistently of stable size and freshness, they can't become our suppliers."
"Has anyone provided you seafood that far exceeds normal sizes?" Natasha asked, wiping her mouth.
Evan's expression paused, then he said, "Yes, but I didn't accept it."
"Why didn't you?"
"It's not good stuff." Evan frowned and said. "Too large, too vigorous, eyes turning red, probably treated with something, or they ingested some chemicals by mistake..."
Natasha's expression also became serious, and she said, "How do you know?"
"I've encountered this kind of thing several times." Evan said, "When Forward York City was still Gotham City, people used to poison the sea, discharge chemical pollutants illegally, or acid rain would pollute the seawater. Those owners who couldn't tell what seafood could be sold have long gone bankrupt because customers got sick. This restaurant has lasted until today thanks to my keen eye."