Martin is a thin, dark-skinned young man with thick black hair, but almost no eyebrows and curved eyebrows. He has big eyes and long eyelashes common among Latinos.
As soon as Schiller walked over, he immediately stood up from his chair, showed a warm smile, and greeted him to see the so-called Mexican souvenirs he had brought from his hometown.
What surprised Schiller was that Martin almost didn't have the slightly tired eyes of the people at the bottom of Gotham, no matter what he looked at, nor did he look at him with vigilance that was engraved in his bones. His eyes were simply clear.
The smile is also very hearty and enthusiastic.
No wonder he was able to get away with it, Schiller thought, but he also felt that this person might not be simple. If he didn't have some special abilities, he wouldn't be able to get along so well at the bottom of Gotham.
Schiller turned on his spiritual vision, and sure enough, the things he called ancestral relics in this stall were all useless small commodities. Only the crystal ball he held in his hand when he was reading the newspaper had magic power in it.
Although Schiller noticed it, he didn't say much. There were many weirdos in Gotham, and he was no exception.
Schiller smiled and chatted with him. It was obvious that Martin followed the rules that any low-level Gothamite would follow, which is not to mess with those who seem to be gentle.
Schiller wore a long gray woolen windbreaker and a plaid scarf. Because he was not wearing a formal suit, his hair was simply combed without hairspray. It was illuminated by the early morning sun and turned into a brownish-gray color with a slight twilight.
It was curled and looked very fluffy.
In addition to the glasses he wears, the temperament revealed by his gestures can also be seen that he is not an individual manual worker, but a clerical employee who sits in an office all year round. Judging from his age, he may be an expert or professor.
But ordinary experts and professors will not come here to buy things. Class segregation in the United States is very serious. Classes operate within the same scope. No one from the elite middle-class community will come here to buy things, nor will they go to the slums to buy things.
There will be people from lower-class communities who go to middle-class supermarkets.
Then the purpose of his appearance here is very intriguing. Judging from Martin's experience, the purpose of those sanctimonious and gentle upper-class people coming here is to select victims.
Killing a poor person is much easier than killing a rich person. Most poor people go out and walk to most places by themselves. No matter how many dangerous communities they have to pass through, the places they walk are not monitored that much, and some are even in the wilderness.
The poor do not have such a dense social network, and even if they do, they will not maintain it all the time. Everyone is not particularly aware of each other's movements, and they don't have that much energy to care.
If a person suddenly disappears, and his importance to anyone comes from emotion rather than profit, it will be difficult to put a lot of pressure on the police, and it will naturally be difficult to solve the case.
"...I'm afraid I have to ask, sir, what are you doing here? Maybe I can introduce you to the structure of the shops here." Martin was still so enthusiastic. Although he remained far more cautious than before, his expression was...
Not even a cent was revealed.
"I want to buy some garden soil. My housekeeper is on a business trip, and I haven't visited the market for a long time. It's quite lively here." Schiller turned his head and looked into the distance, and the sunlight made him squint his eyes.
"Oh, yes." Martin said with a smile: "This is quite big. If you want to buy gardening supplies, you have to go to Area J, which is similar to here. It is a diagonal distance. If your car is parked next to it,
If there is a parking lot, you’d better drive there, just go around this road.”
Martin pointed the way to Schiller, hoping that this big trouble would leave quickly, but Schiller's eyes fell on the crystal ball he placed on the chair and said: "Is that for sale?"
Martin looked back and saw the crystal ball. He shook his head and said, "No, sir, I won't sell it. It's my mother's relic."
Schiller stared at him.
"Okay, I won't hide it from you." Seeing that he was exposed, Martin showed a smile and said: "This is not a blessing prop, it contains the power of a curse, which will bring bad luck to ordinary people, but it can't
Sold to you."
"I haven't had very good luck lately."
"Then I can introduce you to a transporting statue." Martin began to introduce the small commodities behind him in great detail.
Schiller really took a fancy to a small statue. It was in the style of the Aztec civilization. It was made of dark wood with gold threads manually outlined on it. It was completely different from the assembly line products produced in factories.
"How much does that cost?" Schiller pointed to the statue he was interested in.
"God, you have really good taste. I really brought this from the local area." Martin quickly took down the small statue and said.
"Where is your hometown?"
"Home? Mexico, of course."
"I know, are you from the South or from the North? Or are you from Guadalajara?"
Martin was really stunned at this time. He said: "It's really rare that you can still distinguish several states in Mexico. The vast majority of Americans think that the United States occupies the entire Americas, whether it is Canada or Mexico.
It’s just an island in the ocean.”
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Schiller laughed and said, "I'm not that ignorant. I have a few friends working in Guazhou. If you can tell me the name of your village, maybe I've heard of it."
Martin hesitated for a moment, but still said a Spanish word. Schiller thought it sounded familiar. He said: "Is it on the west side of the Vladimir Mountains? There is a village near Fernando. There is a large field to the south of the village. It used to be
It's a poppy plantation."
"Oh my God, you have really been to my hometown, my God." Martin said a series of Spanish words in a rapid tone.
Schiller knew almost no Spanish, but he could understand some of the words. He said: "They shouldn't grow poppies there now, right? I heard that they have grown spring wheat instead?"
This time Martin was completely stunned.
He opened his mouth, squeezed the statue in his hand, and looked Schiller up and down again.
In fact, Schiller just caught the conversation and chatted with him. After all, you can't just ask him to provide information like a spy. This is not the way for ordinary people to socialize.
But it seems that Martin seems to have misunderstood a little, but maybe he didn't misunderstand.
Martin immediately calmed down his expression, put on a smile and said: "You are really well-informed, sir. To be honest with you, the situation in my hometown has improved, and I don't have to take care of me at home."
Only my disabled mother and my brother who are always too busy with farm work can come to the United States to try their luck."
"When did you come? In the last few years?"
"Two years ago, it was almost time for the first wave of publicity for the music festival. Taking advantage of this opportunity, I made a lot of money."
Martin's eyes glanced left and right without trace, and then said: "Sir, if you like this statue, I can give you a discount. In addition, we also provide door-to-door service. You can give me your address tonight.
I will send it to you."
Schiller immediately realized what he was implying, so he took out the business card in his pocket. Martin saw Schiller's first and last name, especially the last name. Rodriguez is a common Spanish surname.
"There is something else I want to ask you." Schiller said: "I heard at the newsstand over there that you are very popular among the Mexicans here. I want to ask you about someone."
As soon as he heard about the newsstand, Martin understood. He rolled his eyes gently and said: "I am so young, how can I be better? I haven't been here long, I have just established myself, but
I am familiar with everyone here, who are you looking for?"
"I don't have a specific name, but I know he has a tattoo on his back." Schiller took out a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Martin.
Martin picked it up and wasn't too surprised. There are many people here who look for people based on tattoos or appearance. It can be regarded as a custom left over from the gangster era. Gangsters in each area have different tattoo characteristics. Just look at the tattoos.
You can know where this person came from.
But the moment he saw the pattern, Martin's pupils suddenly shrank.
"Sorry, sir, I don't think this is a local tattoo. I have never seen such a gangster tattoo. Let's do it this way. I will ask you for it in the afternoon. If there is any news, I will tell you when I deliver the goods in the evening."
Schiller nodded, knowing that he might not want to say it here, so he said: "Thank you then. How much does this statue cost?"
"Don't rush yet." Martin quickly wrapped up the statue, then rushed to the recliner where he had just been with a long stride, and wrapped up the crystal ball that Schiller had just looked at under the newspaper.
He just put the larger wood carving into a box and put it at the back, but he put the crystal ball in a handbag and handed it to Schiller and said: "If you really like it, of course I can sell this to you.
But it’s best not to open the package easily and just put it in the corner of the room.”
This made Schiller a little interested. He showed a playful smile and said, "Didn't you say this will bring bad luck? Do you want to curse me?"
"That's not how you see it, sir." Martin said glibly: "The energy in every divine object changes with the energy of the person. In different auras, it will show different appearances. Some things
In one's hands some may bring misfortune, but some may bring him luck."
"Do you think the aura of this crystal ball matches mine?"
"Of course, you are its unique master, but sometimes the energies will affect each other, so you'd better not open its package and just wait for the luck it brings you."
Schiller picked up his handbag without saying anything, turned around and left after paying, heading towards the road Martin just pointed out.
Martin stared at his back, and the smile on his face gradually disappeared. He walked back to the lounge chair and picked up the newspaper he had just read. It was all in Spanish, and the front page headline read in one line of large letters - "Guadala"
The anti-government forces in Hara State are retreating steadily, and the domestic situation has become stable and steadily improving."