Chapter 1620: Fishing Day (13)_1

"What do you think makes the fish bite the hook?"

"Hunger? Arrogance? I don't know."

Natasha still stared at the fishing line that disappeared onto the water surface, as if trying to discern a fish from that hole. Shiller's fishing line floated not far away from him. The bait seemed not too heavy, even overly lightweight for ice fishing. Even the soft midday breeze could ripple the fishing line.

"Generally speaking, I wouldn't consider a mutually-consented one-night stand as immoral," Natasha cautiously said, "Maybe to some people, it symbolizes licentiousness, but obviously I am not one of them."

"But I believe that it is necessary to obtain the 'comprehensive' consent of the other party before starting."

"Did you tell each of your one-night stands that you are the Black Widow?"

Natasha seemed to roar in pain. She leaned forward and said to the ice, "They don't need to know! Does it benefit our upcoming romantics?!"

"So you also didn't inform them about your danger."

"That's because I wouldn't…"

"Really wouldn't you?"

Natasha fell silent for a while before she finally said, "Most of the time, I wouldn't. My encounters with those boys are usually just romantic. If they keep it within that boundary, they wouldn't be in danger."

"But some people want more."

"Men usually want more." Natasha sighed deeply and said, recalling something, "After they think they've conquered my body, they start exploring the possibility of capturing my mind."

"Although a bit rude, I can understand, because I gave them the illusion that such a possibility exists, in order to distract them from my aggressiveness. Otherwise, they would be too timid to do anything, just like Tony Stark."

"He is the smartest person in the world. I dare say that he noticed something was wrong the moment he saw me. But then, he was in a bad mental state, like he was seeking death, probably looking for a romantic way to die."

"But he chickened out."

"No smart person wouldn't." Natasha looked up at Shiller's eyes, saying, "Especially smart detectives like you. I only need to bare more than thirty percent of my upper body, and you would know that I'm a cold-blooded killer."

"So, those who willingly slept with you and got killed by you, they did so because they were stupid."

Great, they were back to square one. Natasha thought in annoyance, why did she think she could persuade a psychologist?

"I'm curious, why did you try to stop me, but do so by reasoning? I guess it's not your usual approach, ma'am."

Natasha glanced at Shiller again, saying, "How would I know that if I tried a different approach, you or I or both wouldn't get hurt, leading the situation to become more uncontrollable?"

"You are one of the few agents who construct a big picture."

"If I weren't, I would have vanished a long time ago." Natasha's tone was sad.

The Manhattan area was still bustling with traffic on the streets. Even the advanced hovercraft did not reduce the number of vehicles. Strange, who sat in the driver's seat, honked impatiently, startling Stark in the passenger's seat.

"God, haven't you gotten used to New York's traffic?" Stark took off his sunglasses and said a bit impatiently, "Honking does no good."

"But it makes me feel better," Strange said impassively, "They will never know how many people will die if a skilled surgeon is held up. The God of Death should give them an award."

"Are you sure you can find where Shiller used to live?"

"I told you, it's registered in the Elder Council's medical personnel information. I actually found the emergency contact's phone number, but it has been cancelled." Strange looked out the car window and said.

Soon, their car drove into an alley behind an apartment building in Manhattan. After the two of them got out of the car and walked to the entrance of the apartment building, Strange pulled out the authentication card from his suit pocket.

"When I got this information, I called the landlord. He said that someone is still renting that apartment. I guess that person is Shiller, but he doesn't live there. So, I think he probably has something stored inside."

"Wouldn't it be a bit rude to just barge in like this?"

"If you were worried about that, you shouldn't have come with me." Strange said as he walked into the elevator, Stark followed behind him.

"I'm quite sure that he had been drinking the first time I saw him. Judging by his dilated pupils, he could have also taken some drugs, not professional drugs, probably some sort of overdose of painkillers."

"Hard to imagine." Stark shook his head.

The elevator quickly arrived at the designated floor, Strange stepped out without hesitation and walked briskly down the apartment corridor before looking up to check the number on the door.

"2128...here." Strange motioned to Stark behind him, then began unlocking the door.

"Do you remember what Shiller said about another world?" Stark asked first.

"You mean the world he comes from? Perhaps there is such a world, but we first need to understand how he started in our world."

Strange entered the room, found the light switch on one side of the wall, and turned on the light. Inside, the room was remarkably tidy – a very standard upscale Manhattan apartment. One could imagine that the floor-to-ceiling window opposite the entrance would provide a view of the bustling night scene, which accounted for 80 percent of the rental value.

Strange scanned the room from the doorway and touched the top of the shoe cabinet. "Someone has been cleaning here, but this apartment building is not supposed to have a cleaning service."

Just as Stark was about to walk in, Strange stopped him, took out two pairs of shoe covers and gloves, and said, "We may not be sure it's Shiller who's extended the lease, but no matter who it is, we can't just barge in and make a mess of his place."

Stark looked at Strange with a somewhat surprised expression. As Strange was putting on his shoe covers, he said, "Don't look at me like that. I may lack morals, but I've a sense of decency."

Once prepared, they stepped into the room. It was a typical one-bedroom, one-living-room, kitchen, and bathroom apartment suite, with the open plan kitchen and dining area connected to the living room.

If there was anything conspicuous in the ordinary modern-styled living room, it was the cabinet next to the dining table. Without any hesitation, Strange strode over and found that the cabinet was indeed strange, filled with several liquor bottles.

They were bottles, not the alcohol itself. The caps were completely gone, so was the booze. Some of the labels on the bottles still had wine stains, they didn't look like something that would be in a side cabinet of an apartment of this caliber.

"Oh god, are you sure it's Shiller who's been cleaning this place?" Stark squinted at the contents of the liquor cabinet. "Jack Daniels, seriously? Oh, this Chivas bottle looks decent, but it isn't aged. Since when did Shiller start drinking cheap whiskey?"

Strange opened the cabinet door, carefully took out the bottles with his gloved hands, and found that together, they were probably worth no more than 500 US dollars.

The price of alcohol in New York is high, the cost of living is already outrageous, and non-essential items are often marked up considerably. Even though $500 sounds like a lot, it's not much in terms of alcohol. Especially considering that all these bottles together were just a few hundred dollars, they could be considered the cheapest of the cheap.

As he removed the bottles, Strange found a few small medication bottles deep in the cabinet. He raised an eyebrow as Stark leaned over to take a look, and Strange handed him a bottle before examining another.

"MDMA? A central nervous system stimulant? What's this? Benzodiazepine?" Stark read the Latin names on the bottle.

Without looking, Strange placed the small bottles on the table and said, "In simple terms, drugs, stimulants, sleeping pills, and antidepressants."

Stark, staring at the small bottles, asked in bewilderment, "So we've got a drug-using insomniac with depression?"

"Now there's a question." Strange drummed on the table. "When did Shiller arrive, and in what form did he come?"

"You mean whether he brought his body here?" Stark tilted his head, quickly grasping what Strange meant, then shook his head. "I'm more inclined to say he did not, because Professor X said Shiller's body was unusually strong, but it's clear that his current body is normal. There are no signs of muscle overdrive."

"I cross-checked the timings with all the other early-era superheroes who have seen Shiller." Strange's fingers lightly tapped on the table as he spoke, "No one saw him earlier than I did, and when I first saw him he was clearly showing signs of excessive drinking and drug use."

"You're suggesting a junkie overdosed himself to death, and then Shiller took over his body?" Stark's brow furrowed as he guessed.

"The question now is, why would the owner of this body simultaneously take so many drugs?" Strange picked up another small medication bottle and said, "Moreover, he is a doctor. A psychiatrist should be fully aware that these drugs should not be taken together, especially the central nervous system stimulant and the sedative, not to mention alcohol. These could very well be deadly."

"Suicide?"

Strange stared silently at the bottles of alcohol and medication on the table. After a while, he began to speak, "It's difficult to think otherwise. Even a junkie who's lost his senses won't binge on such copious amounts of cheap whiskey and then specifically look for sedative drugs, it's far too consistent with a psychiatrist's method."

"So what was up with this poor guy?" Stark rubbed his chin, "Does Nick have his file? His resume?"

"I checked, but there was nothing extraordinary." Strange shook his head, "The records weren't very detailed. After all, he was just an ordinary person before this. What you could find in my files, you would find in his - mostly just information about his education."

"I remember everyone in the psychology field seemed to be his teachers and classmates."

"The world of psychology isn't that large to begin with."

After Strange finished talking, he turned to walk toward the bedroom. But this time, it was Stark who found something.

Stark bent down and pulled a large box from under the bed. After he opened the lid, he exclaimed in surprise.

"Oh, what's this? A sketchpad?"