Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1108 (Second Update) - Two Conversations

The royal guards raised their halberds to block her path. The time had come, and she was given permission. To approach the Emperor of Latvia required thorough psychological preparation; otherwise, one could easily be overwhelmed by witnessing his perfection and brilliance. She struggled to suppress her racing heart and the deep-seated urge to get closer, leaning down to whisper in the monarch's ear.

"My lord, they have arrived."

"It seems our conversation must end here today. Governing a country is no simple matter, and I cannot devote all my time to such relaxed conversations, which is a pity," Emperor Latvinia said with a hint of regret, a sentiment echoed by his audience. He gave a few more instructions, then escorted T'Challa to the entrance of the reception hall, where staff guided them to the guest rooms prepared for the Wakanda in the City of the Earth.

"Only Steve Rogers, I want to speak with him first. Then there's Natasha Romanoff, she's too deeply involved, she has to continue cooperating." After the Wakanda left, his tone took on a thoughtful quality. "I don't have time to meet with everyone, so only a few people can I speak with. As for the rest… I think you can handle them, Diana. By the way, tell Gideon Malik the stock market should be open; if he hasn't been slacking off, our acquisition should be complete."

"Do you know how to make the dead speak? Different civilizations have different interpretations of the dead. Different cultures have different attitudes towards death, and the varying degrees of acceptance of death in different cultures will lead people to view the dead from different perspectives. When modern science truly entered people's lives, due to fear and uncertainty about new things, as well as the long-standing Christian cultural background, people in Europe and America once again embraced a lot of superstitious ideas. Spiritualism also began to spread widely at that time, and even some celebrities at the time believed in it, such as Conan Doyle and his wife."

The Emperor of Latvia spoke eloquently from his seat. "Without exception, all mediums are frauds, because necromancy is an extremely dangerous technique. The fact that those mediums can live and move freely in high society proves they haven't faced any mortal danger through channeling. For Latvia, however, necromancy is a very rigorous science. Although the process is quite perilous, by delving into the quantum realm, where time has no concept, to seek echoes of the past, one gains the ability to make the dead speak. Do you want the dead to speak, Steve Rogers?"

Steve Rogers was uncomfortable with this rambling conversation that was drawing to a close. He struggled to keep up with the host's pace of thought, as if the man were simultaneously engaged in numerous conversations and contemplating hundreds of different things. He couldn't understand why the Emperor of Latvia would ask this question after he had received answers about Hulk's healing and reassurance.

Why would I do that?

"Because Tony Stark dialed my number."

“I don’t understand.” Steve Rogers shook his head, deciding not to try to understand a problem he couldn’t. He didn’t know what it was like to be a smart person, but watching Tony Stark and Bruce Banner’s conversations was enough to give him a headache. “So, are you agreeing to our request, or are you going to hand us over?”

"If the fake doctor you mentioned wants to travel from Germany to Siberia, it would take a long time even by the usual route. I can get you there before the estimated arrival time, so... yes, I can let you use the teleportation room. You know the conditions; it's a strategic-level device."

"I will appear in the media, and I will assist the military and police in maintaining order."

"A title, an honor—you'll soon be wielding that shield." The Emperor of Latvia raised his glass, gesturing to Steve Rogers across the long table. Rogers noticed his old friend seemed unusually languid, yet his body language remained alert, chillingly like a lurking beast. "As for whether you want the dead to speak, you'll get an answer. Lady Diana, have a servant escort Captain Rogers to the guest room. I'd like to see James Buchanan Barnes next. Don't worry, I won't make things difficult for your sweetheart. I need to speak with my protector; otherwise, how will I know if I should face economic sanctions for him?"

Bucky Barnes is certain that the room Steve Rogers described is not this one.

He couldn't understand why, despite entering the same door, he saw completely different things from everyone else. It wasn't the spacious living room Steve Rogers described, nor the luxurious one Natasha Romanoff had described, but a factory filled with dark, iron-black machinery, made of steel and oil. The factory's concrete floors were covered in dust, insulated cables lay haphazardly in the corners, and in the center stood a massive throne made of steel bars, gears, and cables, its dim industrial lights illuminating only its base.

"Hello, is anyone there?" He clenched his metal fist, becoming more alert, and tiptoed towards the unlit corner. This place reminded him of the place where Alexander Pierce had brainwashed him, filled with the same smell of steel and machinery, a feeling that made him extremely uncomfortable. He cautiously lingered at the edge of the shadows, ready to deal with any possible attack.

"Talk to me." The voice was barely louder than a whisper, but it conveyed the speaker's authority.

Like a cold wind blowing down his neck and back, the color drained from Bucky Barnes' face, and a shiver swept over his entire body.

He was certain that the throne had been empty before, but now a tall figure shrouded in shadow sat there. He could barely make out that the person wore jet-black armor, the robes clinging to the surface of the power armor like flowing night. Intricately carved golden eagles were embedded in the shoulder armor, visible only by the wind blowing through the robes. Dense scratches covered the armor's surface, proving it wasn't just decoration but armor that had witnessed fierce battles. A familiar two-handed greatsword leaned against the throne, and a large-caliber gun, its muzzle still emitting chemical propellant smoke, rested on the leg armor.

Bucky Barnes stepped forward.

By the pale moonlight streaming into the factory, he saw that the person on the throne wore a black hood, with a golden laurel wreath around the black fabric. The person wearing this wreath had eyes like those of a total solar eclipse, and the hair covered by the hood reflected a white light in the moonlight. He could not resist the will conveyed by those eyes; it was a more painful experience than the brainwashing Alexander Pierce had inflicted on him.

"Let's talk."

This time it's an order.

"This is outrageous!" Stephanie Malik exclaimed angrily. "The White House is claiming that everything they've done was orchestrated by Hydra? Okay, I admit Hydra did some things, but it's not entirely our fault! I mean, the old Hydra conservatives and radicals were just a bunch of thugs. There's never been a better environment for Hydra than the United States. After all, no other country can openly accept bribes and bribe officials. Hydra is just... an elitist ideology, an interpretation of order and authoritarianism. Nowhere is more suitable for elites to hold power than the United States, which monopolizes education and the judiciary. We're neither a military-industrial complex nor Jews, not even Freemasons, Moloch, or pedophiles, yet these politicians dare to say that all those bad things were done by Hydra, as if Hydra pushed them to embezzle and accept bribes!"

“I don’t understand why you’re complaining to me about this. It’s outside my jurisdiction.” Hammurabi looked down at Stephanie pacing back and forth, completely baffled as to why the Winter Soldier’s testimony was so infuriating to her. “If you don’t have any questions, we should put those Winter Soldiers back in. Heinrich Zemo will take care of the last problem.” He looked at the soldiers awakened from the cryogenics and the servants copying the archived testimonies. “Their testimonies will be compared with James Buchanan Barnes’s testimony so we can decide whether to kill him.”

Thank you for your cooperation.

Bucky Barnes opened his eyes groggily. The dim, warm light made him feel like he had just taken a nap. He couldn't make out what the person at the other end of the long table looked like, or even remember their voice. "You look tired. Drink this and get some rest. You'll be well taken care of. I promise you'll wake up tomorrow feeling refreshed, like you've been cared for by your mother all night."

Please vote for me!

(End of this chapter)