Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1143 Consumers and Producers (First Update)

In her eyes, it was a narrow canyon formed by a black mountain with smooth, angular peaks and a deep brown cliff perpendicular to the ground. As she ran her fingers along the mountainside, the fine, even lines traveled through her fingertips to her brain, and her innocent eyes revealed a joyful emotion. Then she touched the cold metal embedded in the deep brown cliff, her fingertips tapping against the rock face, producing a dull echo. She carefully climbed upwards, the rock, composed of animal tissue, supporting her knees and thin limbs, her loose white dress trailing behind the mountainside with a soft rustling sound.

Reaching the first rest stop, she looked up and saw the cliff top covered in fluffy white snowflakes and sweet-smelling, colorful pebbles. The buzzing, massive black rocks and the shimmering, rectangular pond constantly drew her attention, the light forming incomprehensible symbols and patterns in the air—a few specks of dust tickled her nose, and she sneezed. When she reopened her eyes, countless numbers cascaded towards the sky like a waterfall, as if offered as sacrifices to the gods painted in the heavens. This magical sight spurred her on, ignoring the pain in her knees from accidentally slamming into the metal cliff face. Clinging to the metal, one foot on the cliff face and the other on the mountainside, she leaped, landing steadily on the soft, black summit.

"My lord, Commander Constantine has led the Knights of the Fire to the Golden City parade. Skysword Station logistics have replenished the Knights' ammunition with a basic load, as well as a large number of repair parts for vehicles and power armor, as requested. Commander Constantine believes it's necessary to guard against potential rebellion from T'Challa and the Golden Horde. Politically, this possibility is small, but he told me that not everyone can make rational and correct choices, especially mortals. Furthermore, you will be attending the ceremony, so I believe caution is necessary, and all the Royal Guard agrees with this decision."

Hammurabi's tone carried a hint of disapproval, but he still agreed with the commander of the Imperial Guard's ideas.

"The crew is ready, and the fortress-type combat robots have entered the cargo hold. I have submitted the list of personnel and vehicles participating in the Wakanda parade to the database, which can be accessed at any time. Commander Malcolm and all levels of legions have also received orders. After the last battle, I believe they have sufficient experience to deal with the Wakanda who will fight to the death."

"PaPa!"

Salomon, who was adjusting equipment nearby, came over upon hearing the commotion and immediately spotted the girl standing on her office chair, hands on her hips, pointing at the holographic communicator. He picked up the haughty girl and placed her on the ground, then knelt down to stroke her neatly combed long hair. The girl was as small as a kitten that had just been weaned, and Salomon's every movement was extremely gentle, as if afraid that the slightest force would hurt her.

"Sweetie, would you like some gummies?"

The girl nodded, her eyes wide as Salomon placed a gummy bear bigger than her head in front of her, letting out a cute gasp. Salomon grinned, taking a big bite of the enormous gummy bear and pinching her cheek contentedly—although the child's presence greatly hindered his and the witch's physical pleasure, no one would blame her for it. It was just that the witch couldn't wear beaded lingerie (the kind with only pearls) in the living room, no big deal; she could wear it in the bedroom too. "Don't use your desk as a climbing target next time; it's easy to get injured, like this. Let me treat the scrape on your knee. Just one spell and a short ritual… What should we chant?"

"κκαθαρει!" the girl said, uttering a word she herself didn't understand.

"That's right! A commanding tone, a bit of diamond dust, a circle drawn, a flick of the finger, and we can make reality submit to our will. We can use the power of another dimension to change the past, present, and future. κκαθαρει!" He released his hand from his knee; the shallow scrape had vanished. "Why don't you and Cheshire go and supervise how Bayonetta's mousse cake is coming along? I bet she'll fail again, don't you think? Oh, and make sure she doesn't sneak a sip of the rum for the dessert, okay?"

Watching the girl skip and hop away from the office with the Cheshire Cat (while making sure she didn't choke on her gummy bears), Salomon pressed the communicator. Three days had passed since the coronation duel, and T'Challa and Shuri had spent some time restoring order to Wakanda. For three whole days, Salomon had been absent from all official business in the Immortal City and Latvinia, and not a single troublesome document had reached his eyes.

While temporarily setting aside official duties would allow him to relax considerably, an emperor doesn't have holidays; 24/7, 360 days a year, is the norm. That said, it was precisely to find an opportunity for a break that he appointed Victor von Doom as regent, giving himself a chance to breathe. Victor von Doom was the most admired talent in the world; he was capable of single-handedly supporting an empire, and Salomon trusted him to manage it in his absence.

"Go on, what other preparations did Constantine make?"

"You seem like a good father, my lord."

"Do you want me to put the candy in front of you, Hammurabi? Do you want to taste fatherly love?"

"If you'd like, I wouldn't mind having some gummy bears," Hammurabi joked. "And another thing, Mycroft Holmes assured us that MI6 had no plans to target the estate. It could be an independent action by the local police; after all, our first priority upon arrival was to eliminate all destabilizing elements, namely the gangs and drug dealers, and buying such an expensive estate is no small matter in this town. Or perhaps he's lying, considering we still have a large amount of illicit income waiting to be purged."

At this point, the Imperial Guards were not in a good mood.

Wilson Fisk, as Salomon's partner in the United States, not only made a fortune from the byproducts of the Immortal City's chemical labs but also became a presidential campaign donor. Even his imprisonment couldn't stop him from being a player in capitalist constitutional democracy; with the help of numerous lawyers, his charges were reduced from serious crimes like murder to minor offenses like tax evasion, meaning he could be released after paying a sum of money. Unless an entire system could be overthrown, the Daredevil of the streets—Matthew Murdoch—couldn't change anything by putting more Wilson Fisks in jail. After using him to gather information on the Hand's extradimensional summons, the Immortal City discarded him. He was too short-sighted and foolish (and a Catholic at that) to make any worthwhile decisions or judgments; involving him in operations would only harm the intended outcome. The Immortal City's pragmatic approach was completely incompatible with him.

Salomon now uses the money Wilson Fisker earned from American drug addicts to subsidize farmers in Latin America, who would otherwise prefer to grow marijuana and poppies rather than food, as do farmers in Afghanistan and the Middle East. The chemical lab's output requires no plants; it's purely chemical synthesis, and the researchers in the lab could produce a month's worth of goods with their toes.

This behavior is ironic, because the farmers who grow illegal crops in Latin America, the Middle East, and Afghanistan don't earn much money either. The real beneficiaries are Latin American drug lords, the CIA, and the bribed DEA. Now, the consumers at the end of this supply chain they've cultivated are turning around and eliminating the producers upstream—this money is also used to fund many Latin American guerrilla groups to violently eliminate drug lords supported by the CIA and DEA, and to protect farmers who want to grow food. The Immortal City also recruits many trained and combat-ready elite soldiers to fill Latvian black ops squads around the world, used to kill corrupt officials supported by capitalism worldwide.

"We're fighting the CIA for territory, we're cutting off their illicit income, and that alone is enough to warrant them using all their black ops teams to assassinate us," Hammurabi said. "Unless we take down the CIA first, a single bombing won't do any good. If things are really that bad, I suggest we act now to resolve all the issues."

"Honey, come help me stir the cream! Don't steal any cream, you little glutton!"

“You heard me too, Hammurabi, I need to finish my work in the kitchen before I can go to the tarmac. Don’t worry, I believe we’ll make it.” Salomon shook his head. “You discuss the CIA matter with Stephanie Malik and Victoria Hand. If Mycroft Holmes is lying, that’s killing his family. You must make him realize that this world is no different from Eton College, where those who wield the cane wield power.”

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(End of this chapter)