Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1008, Part 1004: A Spark of Hope (Second Update)

"These are the things you'll need when you carry out your mission."

Helmut Zemo suddenly felt a weight in his hand. Looking down, he found a briefcase in his grasp. Startled by this strange occurrence, he looked up to ask what was wrong, only to be met with a wave of steam carrying the smell of mud. The intense light made it almost impossible for him to open his eyes, and in a daze, the sounds of cars and people surged towards him like a tide. When he finally managed to open his eyes, he found himself sitting on a park bench, a wide river flowing slowly before him. One moment he was in a dark tent, likely in Latvia, filled with the sweet aroma of tea and honey mixed with the cold metallic smell of power armor; the next he was sitting on a park bench, vehicles and pedestrians slowly passing by in the shade behind him.

The sudden change of scenery sent chills down his spine, his heart pounded, and his nostrils filled with the smell of ionized air.

Was he transported here after being injected with anesthesia, or did he somehow forget what happened not long ago? Was it an injectable or inhaled anesthetic? What kind of drug could cause him to lose memory of a specific period of time? How did they transport him here without arousing suspicion?

He kept listing all the possibilities in his mind, but he quickly dismissed them.

Because he was sitting there perfectly intact, with no numbness in his extremities, normal blood sugar levels, and normal body temperature, it meant he hadn't been anesthetized and transported there. He had absolutely no idea what had happened; the whole affair was bizarre and eerie. A bone-chilling fear left him stiff and unable to move, confined to the bench—he understood this was a tactic used by the other side to demonstrate their power and force him to follow the plan. However, when he gazed across the river, the life-or-death anxiety, the involuntary anger and pain, were instantly washed away by the beautiful scenery before him. Past memories overwhelmed him like a surging tide.

It was a familiar pointed building with rows of vibrant red roofs, the complex radiating a fairytale-like warmth under the sunlight. The gently flowing river resembled a shimmering black ribbon of gold, and greenery peeking out from between the white walls of the brick buildings adorned the scenery on the opposite bank like leaves in a flowerbed, highlighting the tiered architecture that rose from the Kafka Museum, the Little Town Bridge Tower, St. Nicholas Church, and the Lokwitz Palace, to the magnificent pointed palaces in the distance. Helmut Zemo breathed cautiously, as if even the air itself carried a dreamlike quality he dared not disturb.

He is currently in Prague, the capital of the Czech Republic, also known as the City of a Thousand Cities.

That was Prague Castle, and next to it was St. Vitus Cathedral, a place he had once visited with his wife. The river in front of him was the Vltava, and the steel bridge not far away must be the Charles Bridge. The scenery before him stirred memories. He remembered dining at Restaurant Pod Věí, a Czech restaurant opposite the Karl Zemann Museum, during their honeymoon, and also attending a performance by the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra at the Rudolf Concert Hall. Every brick here had witnessed his and his wife's laughter. He would never forget the afternoons they spent strolling along the banks of the Vltava, eating cranberry ice cream, nor the sunlight filtering through the greenery and illuminating her beautiful smiling face. The verdant leaves and white walls, the plump orange cat and the woman in the white dress—the scene was breathtakingly beautiful.

After a long while, Helmut Zemo lowered his head again.

He gritted his teeth, wiping away the regret and sorrow on his face, and summoned the anger deep within his heart. With stiff fingers, he opened the briefcase. He carefully examined its contents—the briefcase contained several fake identities, several safe house addresses, several accounts opened under these fake identities, some Czechoslovakian kroner and Hungarian forints, and a phone number for emergency contact. He could recall the purpose of these items and every detail of the plan with remarkable ease, as if someone had crammed the entire complex plan and all the necessary intelligence into his mind. Part of the plan followed the steps he had originally devised, but many details and objectives had been added, and the resources he could utilize (human resources, material resources, and networks) were beyond what he had ever dared to imagine. He even had the opportunity to call in ballistic missiles to attack a designated location; the only cost was a few more people on the list. He could get everything he wanted.

However, he couldn't recall what the person he had spoken to looked like, what clothes they wore, or what their voice sounded like. He only remembered a giant in magnificent golden armor; a blank space filled his memory, as if he hadn't been talking to a warlord but to a devil, engaging in a Faustian bargain and getting what he wanted. He also found a cell phone in his briefcase. It was his phone, confiscated by the women in black power armor during his arrest. This worthless phone contained no confidential information; he treasured it because it contained a recording.

He pressed play, closed his eyes, and listened to his wife's last words one last time. Although the fear still lingered in his heart, Helmut Zemo felt no regret. If he had already sold his soul to the devil, then he had sold it for a good price and gotten what he wanted.

The Immortal City has a disaster reconstruction mechanism, which includes a contingency plan specifically for homeless people separated from their families. Compared to the aid models for refugees in Europe and America, the Immortal City's approach is far more comprehensive. For example, it conducts work relief programs under the guise of businesses, and while implementing standardized management, it provides assistance to women, the elderly, children, and the disabled, rather than simply handing out money and ignoring everything else. The lazy are weeded out, and the diligent are promoted. The Immortal City's influence gradually takes root in the region along with the aid program, eventually forming the de facto ruler of the area.

Due to a shortage of human resources in the Immortal City, Stephanie would try every possible way to absorb outsiders, including training specific talents among refugees. The reason was simple: education was Salomon's primary concern. His ideal world of reason required knowledge as its foundation. Temporary schools established by the Immortal City existed in Latvia, Ukraine, Africa, and Latin America. Propagandists tirelessly instilled the Immortal City's *Unified Truth* into young people—a book that, by incorporating a large amount of Marxist-Leninist theory and advocating for a world of equality based on reason and science, and for creating freedom for both the whole and the individual, filled the intellectual void in Eastern Europe after the collapse of the Soviet Union.

The doctrine of "Unity of Truth" is highly aggressive and inflammatory. Its advocacy of unity and the principle that individual interests must be sacrificed for the greater good is particularly suitable for refugees seeking survival through community, thus gaining widespread support from ordinary people. Once they adopted this way of life, the latter part of "Unity of Truth," concerning the future of humanity and a new order, became more readily accepted. It also strongly evoked images of the now-defunct Soviet Union, where most people abandoned religion (at least ostensibly, as this abandonment is no longer mandatory) and turned to the ideals promoted by the Immortal City. Similar scenarios are playing out simultaneously in Africa and Latin America, welcoming both guerrilla groups and liberation theology.

Salomon's ideals began to ignite across the world like sparks, though currently only tiny flames. He firmly believed that a raging fire would soon follow. The world needed a thorough cleansing, without a doubt; otherwise, humanity had no future.

Stephanie looked up and glanced at a message on the computer screen. "Diana," she gestured to her secretary, "have Mrs. Zemo, the scribe, come to the office."

Please vote for me!

(End of this chapter)