Chapter 18: Farewell to the Fish Forever
Next to the ambulance.
“Stu, you hung up the phone—I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye.”
Dizzy and disoriented, Stu stared in horror at the unfamiliar man who had suddenly appeared before him. He recognized the voice—it was the same man from the phone call just moments ago.
Chet! The killer was him? The delivery guy wasn’t the murderer!
The killer wore an expression brimming with supreme confidence and control, clearly pleased with how he had toyed with Stu and the New York police.
“The New York cops are all useless. They can’t catch me at all.”
“Even if I stood right in front of them, they wouldn’t recognize me.”
“How boring~~~”
“With these incompetents around, how could New York ever be peaceful?”
The killer sneered inwardly and mused, “I feel sorry for that pizza delivery guy, but I didn’t want to miss the reunion scene between you and your wife…”
Earlier, the killer had forced Stu to confess everything. To protect his wife’s life, Stu admitted his infidelity and publicly revealed that he was a liar.
“You don’t need to thank me. I just hope the honesty you’ve finally found can last. If not, I’ll call you again.”
With that, the killer calmly grabbed his suitcase and walked away between the police cars. He even glanced at the nearby phone booth, as if admiring his masterpiece.
...
Not long after, he arrived at an alleyway in Manhattan and stepped into a phone booth, preparing for his next crime.
He had been modifying these public phone booths in advance to wiretap conversations, selecting his targets from the public.
Stu had become his victim this way.
At that moment, a delivery man wearing a hat and mask approached and knocked on the glass door of the phone booth.
“Hello, delivery here. Your fish are here: two yellow perch and one trout.”
“???”
The killer, confused, opened the door and spoke to the delivery man.
“You must have the wrong place; I didn’t order any delivery.”
But this scene felt eerily familiar... hadn’t he used a delivery man to send food to Stu before?
—Have you ever heard of someone delivering food to a phone booth?
Wait, why was he even doubting whether it really was a delivery?
Suddenly realizing something was wrong, he quickly reached into his coat pocket—but it was too late.
A silenced bullet struck his heart at close range.
The killer’s body stiffened and collapsed into Luca’s arms, looking as if they were embracing.
Passersby didn’t notice; one man was close to death.
Luca supported the killer inside the phone booth, smiling as he said, “No mistake—it’s your delivery. Fish, to us Sicilians, represent death.”
Sicilians? The killer’s gaze began to blur. He didn’t understand how this group of mafia, given his nearly nonexistent social footprint, had targeted him.
Luca secured the killer’s body inside the booth and casually stuffed the receiver into his hand.
“You like making calls, don’t you? Go ahead, make as many as you want. Hope you enjoy this way of dying.”
“Rest forever with the fish.”
“Goodbye.”
Luca turned and disappeared calmly into the bustling street.
With his remaining strength, the killer opened the delivery box to see what kind of fish would accompany him in death.
Inside was no fish, just a plain pizza.
---
The killer’s already broken heart stopped beating completely; he died in frustration.
...
[You have slain the true mastermind behind multiple sniper attacks, preventing further killings… You have defended the peace of New York.]
[Skill points gained: 15]
[Skill fragments gained: 10]
[Vision +0.1; your unaided eyesight reaches 1.2 (normal standard is 1.0)]
[Remaining skill fragments: 26]
“Vision improved? Not bad at all.”
Luca blinked, noticing that some details in his surroundings had become clearer.
I am Luca “Eagle Eye” Greco!
...
About half an hour later, the killer’s body was discovered.
Unlike the high-profile sniper phone booth case that had exploded in the media, the killer’s death passed quietly—just another ordinary scene in New York City.
When William and the others returned to the precinct, they belatedly received notification that another person had died in a different Manhattan phone booth.
But this person’s identity was unusual.
No social security or related records could be found. In the suitcase beside the body, authorities discovered a large cache of wiretapping and weaponry equipment—coincidentally resembling the weapons found in the Times Square room.
Following the trail, they found that the delivery man who died in that room had phone records connecting him to this newly found victim.
Combining previous clues, William guessed that this newly discovered deceased was likely the true mastermind behind the multiple sniper attacks.
But who killed him?
That remained a mystery.
The officers discussed it but found no leads.
At that moment, David pointed at the TV.
“Hey, look at the TV—isn’t that Greco?”
The officers focused on the screen, which showed Luca being interviewed by CNN.
The station, quite bold, did not cut out Luca’s initial remarks but aired them in full.
First, he harshly criticized Times Square, calling it a cesspool of chaos and denouncing Manhattan’s security as a disaster. Then, abruptly, his tone shifted to a passionate plea for peace, even complimenting the New York police.
The group of officers: “......”
Was this interview serious?
Was this some kind of Black comedian’s show?
Their expressions were mixed, as if they had just eaten a chocolate bar tasting like excrement. Getting praised by the mafia felt wrong everywhere—ants crawling all over.
Mostly, the contrast between the beginning and end of the interview was so stark that the latter praise felt like a staged absurd comedy.
Couldn’t those idiots have interviewed a random passerby instead of this guy?
Rich chuckled helplessly: “I bet the initial criticisms are Greco’s true feelings… That ‘cesspool Times Square’ remark will stick with people, making those capitalists and politicians’ hard-built landmarks a joke.”
“Surely, it’s just a joke, right?”
“Hahaha, not a very nice joke. I guess Times Square’s security will get improved in the future to fix that awful reputation.”
“I actually think Greco’s going to be famous. He’s handsome, stylish, like a Hollywood star. He attracts a lot of women’s attention.”
“But he’s mafia!”
The officers babbled among themselves.
Then again, mafia notoriety is common in America.
---
The infuriating Wealth Magazine had, ten years ago, published a list of the 50 most powerful gang bosses in the US.
That issue sold like wildfire, capturing nationwide attention.
Looking back now, that magazine was rather ominous—many of those bosses ended up dead over the decade, like characters from a “Death Note.”
Meanwhile, the precinct received a flood of calls from citizens.
Call volume soared, overwhelming many operators. Many callers just wanted to inquire about the handsome “helpful citizen,” including numerous women seeking contact information, and even entertainment agents and talent scouts.
Damn it! Call the TV station, not the police! Stop wasting police resources!
...
Inside Maligeo’s bar.
The patrons all watched the interview on the TV, the stark contrast between the segments causing uproarious laughter.
“Hahaha, the pigeon Luca’s fame has spread all the way to Manhattan.”
“Cesspool Times Square! Luca nailed it!”
“That interview was hilarious. No one’s seriously buying that praise for the cops, right? Luca’s got a knack for comedy—he should star in a comedy flick, hahaha!”
“I like his dark humor.”
“Damn Times Square, there are shootings every day, but it’s still safer than Little Italy!”
“Fuck New York! Cheers!”
...
That night, following the interview’s broadcast, Luca’s reputation skyrocketed in New York, earning him the nickname “The Most Handsome Helpful Citizen.”
The interview included footage of several police officers, many of whom sincerely acknowledged Luca’s crucial role in helping them quickly locate the killer.
At the time, those officers didn’t know what Luca had said to the reporters—they merely praised the helpful citizen out of goodwill.
Only when CNN compiled the footage did the comedic effect explode, nearly cracking the teeth of American viewers.
No wonder he called Times Square a cesspool—without his help, the cops wouldn’t have caught the killer so fast.
As for Luca’s later compliments, everyone sensed the biting irony.
No contrast means no pain.
The program’s impact was immense, easily surpassing several recent shows, boosting the network’s ratings by several points.
Luca became a minor celebrity, known within the precinct as the “helpful” mafia member.
Along with him, the nickname “Cesspool Times Square” gained popularity, with many enthusiastic New Yorkers calling it the funniest joke they’d heard in half a year, voicing support for Luca.
Soon, more onlookers flocked to Times Square, flipping it the bird and shouting “Cesspool Times Square!”
“Goddamn, I love peace~~~”
Then they took photos as mementos, as if it were a cool thing to do.
The New York City government issued a strong condemnation, calling it slanderous—a blatant defamation!
They expressed concern for the citizens’ mental well-being and urged calm and rationality, while quietly boosting security in Times Square symbolically.
To show that Times Square is not just about shootings,
But also about love and peace.