Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1152 On-the-spot reaction (First update)

Half a second after the gunshot rang out, Hammurabi charged toward the emperor on the high platform with his shield raised, his greatsword, crackling with electricity, pointing menacingly downwards. The Sisterhood immediately raised their guns as well.

The reconnaissance drones belonging to the Imperial Guard pinpointed the assassin's location using firing angles and radar. A second after the gunshot, the small, bipedal war engines, standing a full twenty meters tall, began to operate. The upper half of the steel behemoth, with its explosive cannons mounted on either side, rapidly rotated. The fire control system precisely adjusted the gears and bearings in a very short time, aiming the pent-up cannons at the building where the assassin was located. The Fire Knights deployed nearby immediately activated their jetpacks and surrounded the building.

Panic began to spread. Local celebrities and ordinary citizens alike clearly heard the gunshot coming from a nearby apartment building. The explosive rifles in the hands of the Fire Knights, spanning over a hundred meters, cocked in unison, the chainsaws clanging and clattering simultaneously. Even the armored vehicles that had never been idle started moving in unison. Orders to destroy, search, and protect were being executed within seconds; vehicle-mounted plasma cannons, heavy explosives, and laser cannons were poised to unleash a barrage of fire on the crowds and the city at any moment.

However, all movement ceased when the Emperor raised his hand. He reached out and retrieved the still-spinning, scalding bullet from the air. Holding the bullet, he scanned the crowd below, his emotionless, dark eyes scrutinizing their vulnerability and fear. Although he had hoped to emulate constitutional democratic politicians before arriving in Selajevo, the appearance of the gunman brought him no joy. The people of this city, focused only on this small place, turned against their former comrades with swords because of populist incitement and religious differences—in the Emperor's eyes, the most foolish behavior in the world.

The Emperor raised his head to look at the building, drawing a deep crimson thread of anger and sorrow from the taut sea of ​​his mind. The gunman's memories and emotions were laid bare before him; in a fleeting instant, he knew the gunman's life inside and out, even things the gunman couldn't remember or didn't want to remember churning in his mind. Blood began to seep from the gunman's eyes and nose. The Emperor could even see the approaching Infernal Knights through the gunman's blood-blurred eyes, hear the engines of the jetpacks and hovercraft pounding in his eardrums like a relentless warhammer, and taste the dry, bitter, and slightly sweet rust on his tongue.

Having survived the siege of Seraphim, her father was killed by a sniper in the street, and her sister was raped and killed by gangsters.

To support him, his surviving mother sold her body, exchanging it daily for a can of beans and a strip of bacon from street gangs, while silently enduring drug control and abuse by the gangs. After the 1435-day siege ended, his mother took him out of the city and handed him over to relatives, then returned to the city to continue selling her body for drugs. She eventually died naked and malnourished on the street, her arms covered with marks from years of intravenous injections.

After that, the gunman's life consisted of joining gangs and using drugs; converting to a religion, joining religious armed groups, and using drugs again; contacting foreign intelligence agencies to get money to buy more and better drugs. This is almost a carbon copy of the war orphans in war-torn countries like Iraq, Afghanistan, Yemen, and Syria today. The gunman's identity was that of a sniper and liaison planted in the city by an extremist religious organization that had fled into the mountains. He was responsible for meeting with local gangs to exchange for supplies and weapons, and with religious forces in the city to exchange for financial support.

However, drug trafficking gangs and border smuggling groups are now being melted down by laser cannons from armored vehicles, pulverized by heavy explosives, or cut in two by chainsaws, or transported to Martian mining sites to become human computers or bio-engineered slaves. The amount of drugs in the entire Seraphim region has drastically decreased in a short period. Coupled with the powerful crackdown by law enforcement, the gangs have very little room to survive. Former law enforcement agencies that colluded with the gangs were immediately wiped out by the new law enforcement agencies, with few remaining. Illegal activities east of Seraphim and along the Bohe coast have almost come to a standstill. Even though those gangs possess powerful firepower, the Sisterhood and the Fire Knights, who are clearing them out, are even more powerful. They can even use rocket launchers and fighter jets to attack drug-trafficking villages, forcing everyone inside to come out and surrender.

"Dude, I'm still wearing power armor!"

The Emperor tossed the bullet onto a platform made of molten granite, calming the crowd below with a relaxed tone and cheerful expression. Aside from the Infernal Knights who had gone to arrest the gunman, all other armed forces around the hall obeyed orders and retrieved their weapons. "You may know I possess some special powers. I can assure you, it's simply science you can't yet comprehend," the Emperor said. He used his power to soothe the surrounding crowd. "There's no need to panic. This is just a bullet in the wrong place. The wars I've experienced are far more dangerous than this. Many of you know about the clearing operation that took place nearby this morning, and I believe some of you saw the flares and rockets. I know what the public thinks of me; perhaps some worry that I will bring war back to this city—no, never. My purpose is to save you from the scars of war, not to give you another one. I want you to live, to live healthily and with dignity, unless you don't want that kind of life."

The buzzing of post-disaster discussions gradually replaced the suffocating silence, and some civilians who had experienced the trauma of war even burst into tears.

"Bring him here, but don't hurt him."

The Emperor spoke in a low voice to Hammurabi, and the Royal Guard relayed the order to the enraged Knights of Fire. A short while later, an armored vehicle, escorted by the Knights of Fire, arrived at the City Hall Square. The Knights of Fire led the prisoner out of the armored vehicle; at the Emperor's instruction, agents had already wiped the blood from the gunman's face and even injected the listless gunman with a stimulant.

Viktor von Dum watched the Emperor's speech on television and nodded in satisfaction.

Now, almost every news channel in Latvia is broadcasting the live coverage. The Regent sees the Emperor inviting the gunman forward to recount his life story and why he planned the assassination. Initially, the gunman is unwilling to cooperate, but driven by an inexplicable force and emotion, he feels the words stuck in his throat, causing him immense discomfort, as if acid reflux is burning his throat. Only by venting can he find relief—so he begins to speak, rambling on and on, incoherently, weeping uncontrollably, trembling all over. Some previously vague memories suddenly become crystal clear, because the receptors and neurons that died from the drugs have miraculously revived, and the memories he wanted to forget are cutting through his muddled life like sharp blades.

When the gunman recounted his family's ordeal during the siege of Sarajevo, the audience below the platform felt a deep empathy, for many mothers at that time sold their bodies to prevent their children from starving, and some of these audience members were even survivors of that war. Following this, the Emperor declared that if the gunman was willing to accept legal punishment, undergo drug rehabilitation at a hospital, and sign a guarantee promising to renounce his extremist religious group, abandon his religious beliefs, and diligently study in prison, he would forgive the gunman and refrain from any personal revenge, for the war had already inflicted enough harm on this sinner.

"Is it really not someone sent by the Guardians?" Victor von Doom asked Hammurabi over the encrypted communication channel while watching the television broadcast. The regent was amazed by the turn of events on the scene. He had to praise the emperor's quick thinking and resourcefulness. He was certain that Victoria Hand and Stephanie Malik would never arrange such a scenario, so it could only be Nick Fury, who was outside his jurisdiction and belonged to the Guardians' intelligence department, the Watchmen—Victor von Doom had never underestimated the man's despicable nature, especially after obtaining firsthand files on S.H.I.E.L.D. The regent knew that Nick Fury was no different from Hydra; both were supporters of exceptionalism.

"This is perfect. Using the trauma of war to forge a new consensus, I can imagine how much the people in this city will support him, even to the point of a redemptive loyalty."

"That's hard to say, my friend," the Emperor said over the communication channel, the Regent detecting boredom and tedium in his tone. "I think my work in this city is finished, isn't it?"

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(End of this chapter)