The clothing section of this supermarket was extensive, but it didn't sell any custom apparel or luxury brands; all items were local brands of decent quality, yet somewhat pricey--a first choice for the middle class.
As soon as Raven entered the clothing area, she was dazzled. Unlike the boutiques Killer Croc had taken her to, this was a large department store with numerous clothes hanging on racks and walls, alongside fitting rooms bustling with people trying on different styles.
The sales associate greeted them warmly. Shiller made polite small talk and then said, "My niece is going to transfer to the high school on Lilac Street. I'll take her to meet her teachers before school starts. What kind of clothes do you think would be appropriate?"
Once the sales associate heard 'the high school on Lilac Street,' she had no more questions and quickly led Raven away to select some suitable clothes for meeting her teachers.
After all, Raven was still but a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old girl. Seeing all those clothes she never had the chance to wear made it hard for her to move on. From her look and posture, it was apparent that she couldn't care less about whether the loose item in his trunk was a dead human or Godzilla himself.
The sales associate quickly picked out a heap of clothes. Shiller told her to let Raven choose three sets. He left his card behind and then slipped away quietly.
He still needed to deal with the loose cargo in his trunk.
He had noticed when he first came in that all the supermarket employees wore uniforms, and there were surveillance cameras throughout the building's interior and exterior.
However, the cameras outside had blind spots. After all, for such a large building, only Batman would think of installing a 360-degree surveillance system without any dead zones. Normal people would just do it symbolically.
Shiller had spotted a delivery truck parked by the supermarket's side entrance when he arrived. He went to the door to check in his selected items, then told the security guard he was going to move his car.
There were cameras at the entrance. If he spent a long time inside and then left empty-handed, it would look very suspicious. But it would be quite reasonable if he left in the middle of his shopping to move his car.
Shiller had his plan ready in advance; his car was already parked in the VIP area. He went over, greeted the parking attendant, and said, "I received a call saying I took someone's parking spot. I'm really sorry. Where is the gentleman?"
The guard looked confused; he hadn't seen any new car arrive and park, but after thinking it over, he said, "If you're not a member of this supermarket and you've parked here, it's indeed possible that you've taken someone's spot. He probably saw the spot was taken and didn't want to waste time, so he went to the non-member area."
Shiller nodded, left a business card, and asked the guard to apologize to the person on his behalf. The guard nodded and smiled when Shiller handed him a tip.
In fact, this so-called person whose spot was taken didn't exist at all. Shiller was just putting on a full act to guard against any lunatic who might be tracking his movements.
He drove his car near the side entrance and found a parking spot. Because it was far from the main entrance and there were no doors for customers to use, few chose to park there, as it meant a long walk carrying heavy shopping bags.
However, since the mall was busy and all the good spots were taken, some cars that couldn't find a spot ended up parking here, making Shiller's choice not stand out.
The side of the supermarket was lined with trees; opposite the woods was a park. It seemed that the woods were planted to separate the park and the supermarket–a perfect place for action.
To approach the supermarket without looking like a customer, Shiller needed to procure a uniform first. Many staff members were walking and pushing carts; if they got close to the woods, they'd be in the camera's blind spot.
Shiller didn't have to wait long before a man of about his build came along--unsure luck for the man. Needless to say, Shiller easily knocked him out and took his uniform.
He checked the items the employee had been transporting: some flat-pack bookshelves. Clearly, he wasn't a fresh produce employee.
But Shiller didn't care. He wheeled the cart to his car, far from the main building and out of the cameras' range. He had ample time to unload the flat-pack bookshelf components from the box into his car, then put the loose "Human" from his car into the bookshelf box.
After the swap, Shiller briskly pushed the cart back toward the interior of the building, ignoring everyone he passed with a steady, defiant stride, until he reached the delivery exit of the fresh produce section.
"Who are you? I've never seen you before," a staff member called out to Shiller and asked.
Shiller seemed irritable as he replied, "Jones sent me. He said he has a stomach ache. Where's the trash compactor?"
That staff member immediately understood; this was the unfortunate soul tasked with trash duty for the day, so he waved his hand, indicating where Shiller should go.
As anyone could guess, dealing with stale fish and meat was nobody's favorite job. Working in the fresh produce section was dirty and tiring, but dealing with its trash was downright filthy and exhausting.
If the trash compactor broke or couldn't come, and there was no space in the refrigeration unit, that day's fresh produce garbage might pile up there. After that day's work, the smell would cling to you for days.
Having noticed the diluted blood on the box that Shiller had deliberately spilled, the worker knew today's fresh produce trash was relatively new. Despite the faint smell of blood, it wasn't particularly disgusting.
"Lucky you," he commented, "The trash compactor isn't stuck in traffic. It'll be here in ten minutes. Dump that and get your colleague back here quick or the manager will get chewed out again during the next inspection."
Shiller nodded silently and headed in the direction indicated. He knew the tough economic conditions had everyone on edge; people didn't get along well with colleagues, and there were frequent staffing changes—it was all too easy to blend in.
He pushed the cart to the trash area, where the trash compactor truck would back right up to the trash chute. The trash went straight into the compactor without any employee involvement.
At the factory, it was the same. The fresh produce waste was dumped directly into compost piles for fertilization, all handled by machinery without inspection.
Shiller opened the box and poured the broken-down components in. Data that could warrant scrutiny would indeed remain in the passage, but soon, batch after batch of fresh produce waste would come through, erasing and covering up any evidence.