Schiller stood before a desk in the CIA Gotham base's Evidence and Forensic Technical Department, staring at the report in front of him. Natasha stood beside him, her forearms crossed on the desk as she waited for Schiller's conclusion.
"That's right," Schiller said. "Of the twenty-six cameras in the ballroom where the photos of you and the president were taken, the wear from movement during the week before the incident was 1.3 times greater than that of every camera in the surrounding rooms. That supports the conclusion you got from the psychologist—the other party had no idea what the two of you would do, so they even adjusted cameras in every nook and cranny."
"If the killer was an Electronic Life, then everything makes sense," Natasha said. "No traceable email records, not even any signs of activity, a complete lack of understanding of human sexual psychology, and the ability to recognize me... Could it have been an Ultron from some universe?"
"It wasn't impossible." Schiller braced both hands against the edge of the desk. "The question is, how did he get here?"
"That part's easy," Natasha said. "He only needed to convince a Battleworld Player to bring over a subserver. Electronic Life like that would spread through the network as fast as cockroaches."
"No. If that were the case, he wouldn't have targeted you. He would have targeted me. My reputation in Battleworld is greater, and whoever worked with him would definitely have warned him about me. Even if he didn't know who Moon Knight was, he could at least recognize me by my face. There was no reason to ignore me and target you instead."
Natasha frowned, not because she disagreed. On the contrary, she thought Schiller made sense, but that only made the identity of the mastermind even