The old man squeezed his eyes shut in pain. After a long silence, he finally spoke, his voice hoarse and raw: "Frank, you win. Go ahead — what is it you want?"
"Ha! Old Eugene, what's all this 'win' business? We're friends — good friends! You scratch my back, I scratch yours. That's a win-win. Once Don—"
Before Frank could finish, the old man cut him off. "Frank. This is between the two of us. Don has nothing to do with it. I want to keep it that way — now and in the future."
"Fine, fine! You're his father, Eugene — your call. Now. Tell me who it was. Who killed my men and wrecked my operation?"
The old man hesitated, then finally gave in. "Honestly, we don't have a confirmed suspect yet. Based on a recorded call, we know the person who reported it was a woman — and from the voice, a young girl at that. But there were no footprints at the phone booth, no fingerprints on the receiver. We can't even establish whether the caller and the killer are the same person."
Frank rubbed his bald head, bewildered. "A girl? What was the killer's method?"
"Ballistics tells me there was one — and only one — killer on that scene. Not a single firearm was used. Well — mostly. One victim was blown apart, and the cargo hold door was apparently destroyed by some kind of high-tech weapon. Massive concussive force, no nitro residue — likely a high-powered air cannon of some kind. The man who was killed by the blast had no trace evidence on him either. Strange doesn't cover it. We're still analyzing. The man behind the door was reduced to a fine red mist — bones included. One dead by the blast, the other six all killed by the same weapon. A short blade — more specifically, the kind Japanese ninjas use. You know what a kunai is?"
The moment Frank heard "ninja" and "kunai," his jaw clenched. "Wilson Fisk and the Hand. It has to be them. No question."
"The Hand? What's that?"
"Nothing. Eugene — I want you to live long enough to see retirement. So we can keep working together for a few more years. You understand what I'm saying?"
"I've told you everything I know. I'm hanging up now," the old officer said. He didn't push further. At his age, he had no interest in getting dragged into this kind of trouble.
"Wait — Eugene. That batch of fresh product I had — you people still have them in custody, right? I need their current location. Or has Immigration already taken them?"
Frank thought of Senator Fitch's call from earlier. The senator's youngest son was waiting on a kidney transplant and had been hounding Frank for days.
"Ha." Old Eugene sounded almost cheerful. "Federal Immigration hasn't come by yet. Right now they're being held in a building at the corner of 12th Avenue and 42nd Street in Manhattan."
"Where the hell is that?"
"The Chinese Consulate in New York. Feel free to send your boys to try their luck."
"What the f—?! Immigration has always been our jurisdiction to handle — since when do they get a say in that?"
"This time it's not an immigration matter. Technically speaking, every one of those people is a trafficking victim. You know damn well what you were running wasn't just smuggling."
"..."
Maya had known the fallout from the rescue operation would generate some Influence Points — but she hadn't expected a windfall of over 7,000 in one shot.
She silently called out: System — show Influence Points.
A soft hum, and an interface materialized in her mind:
Influence Points: 12,779
Today's Gain: 7,352
Breakdown:
Wang Dachui: 17
Li Xiaoshuang: 154
Han Li: 231
Fang Han: 210
Yamada Keiko: 509
Park Daesoo: 173
New York Citizen A: 1
Citizen B: 0.5
Student C: 2
Going by the Influence Log, each rescued victim contributed an average of around 200 points. Not bad at all.
But all of New York City combined had generated less than 300 points? Are you kidding me? You're a world-class metropolis — tens of millions of people — and someone out there contributed half a point? Half? You're telling me Influence Points can come in fractions now?
After a round of silent swearing, Maya had to admit the logic: to the people she saved, this had been life or death — of course they gave more. To the average jaded New Yorker, a few bodies on a cargo ship barely registered as news. Someone died? So what else is new? The day nobody dies in this city — that'll be the headline.
As for the trafficking victims themselves, most New Yorkers hadn't even heard about it. The news cycle had barely touched it.
Still — saving lives had been the whole point. The Influence Points were just a bonus.
Maya sat in the president's office, eyes closed. After reviewing her Influence stats, she slipped into the Black Market.
The old shopkeeper's vortex spun and chimed, and a steaming bowl of noodles materialized beside him.
She didn't need to read the description. The two characters printed clearly on the side of the oversized bowl told her everything: Ichiraku.
She hadn't eaten there before — but she recognized the bowl instantly.
She checked the listing. Bronze Tier 7. Seven hundred Influence Points for a single bowl of ramen.
For reference: a halfway decent kunai ran about 20 points, and those were still ungraded. A basic explosive tag was Bronze Tier 1 at 100 points.
She read the item description more carefully:
Naruto's personal extra-large bowl, filled with his favorite seafood ramen. A dream item for Naruto fans — especially Hinata shippers.
Oh. So it was a bowl Naruto had actually used. No wonder the price was insane. Setting aside the cost entirely — who knew if the thing had even been washed? What if it was still coated in Naruto's spit?
What Maya had completely forgotten was that this bowl was worth far more than its listed price — surpassing most Gold-tier items, in fact. Because this wasn't a bowl meant for eating.
It was a quest item.
Specifically: it was used to raise Hinata's affection stat.
After more than a decade, Maya — the very person who had designed this system — had completely blanked on that detail. Not that it mattered now, since the system had long since lost its server connection and was running in offline mode. Half the skill and item data hadn't even been fully imported. There was barely even an offline game left to play — just grinding Influence Points, checking the daily Black Market, or spinning the gacha wheel.
Either way, Maya wasn't about to spend 700 Influence Points just to sample whatever Naruto had left on that bowl.
Her current Black Market slots held two items:
Slot 1: Shikamaru's Shadow Imitation Technique — Gold Tier 1, 10,000 Influence Points.
Slot 2: Sealing Scroll — Silver Tier 3, 2,200 Influence Points.
Shikamaru's Shadow Imitation needed no introduction.
The Sealing Scroll, however, had nearly given Maya a heart attack when she'd first seen it. She'd immediately mistaken it for the Scroll of Seals — the one that housed every S-ranked forbidden jutsu in Konoha's history.
Then she'd looked again.
In Chinese, their names were barely two characters apart — but they were completely different items.
Damn it.