Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1166 Crime Scene Investigation (First Update)

"Are you kidding me? I'm filing a complaint. This isn't some supernatural event; it's just a regular crime!"

The shadowy figure inside remained silent in the face of questioning. The rifle in his hand, illuminated by the dim light streaming through the window from the streetlamp, appeared as sinister as a deathly shadow. His breathing was mechanical due to the air filtration system, and the visor of his fully enclosed helmet was as red as the blood flowing from the corpses at his feet. The soldier's emotionless eyes, peering through his integrated low-light night vision goggles, scrutinized the young man standing in the doorway. Sherlock Holmes raised his hands to indicate he meant no harm, lest the soldier lurking behind him pull the trigger.

"I'm almost at the end of the road where these guys are delivering their goods," Sherlock Holmes said irritably. "Hey! I'm unarmed, so whatever you're hiding around the corner, don't fire."

"The drug smuggling case has been taken over by the First Class Secret Service."

The words had barely left his lips when a soldier, lurking in the shadows of the corridor, silently emerged, holding a matte-finished monomolecular-coated combat knife upside down against Sherlock Holmes's back, forcefully shoving him into the room. Holmes felt the hand pressed against his back lack the roughness of a tactical glove or the softness of flesh, only the hardness and coldness of steel. During the search, the prosthetic steel arm pulled a stun gun from his pocket. Holmes shrugged, watching his weapon being confiscated. However, he insisted on keeping his cigar, claiming it was a gift.

The closer Sherlock Holmes got to the corpse, the stronger the stench emanating from its morbid, foul blood became. By the dim light of the streetlamp, he discovered that the shaved head of his target was covered in a jumble of bloodstains, consistent with the self-harm symptoms he knew of after taking that addictive drug, but even more severe than those of his previous victims.

The deceased was left-handed, and the direction of the wounds and the cuts on his left fingers confirm that he inflicted these injuries himself with a razor blade. The furnishings in the room, the items in the trash can, and the distribution of bodily fluids suggest that he indulged in extreme sexual activity during this period, symptoms similar to those of taking such illicit stimulant drugs.

The wounds were old and showed no signs of healing. The inflamed, swollen skin was surrounded by dense clusters of yellow blisters. The informant who witnessed the person several days prior hadn't mentioned such wounds. These wounds and blisters appeared within a few short days; what happened during that time? Could it be related to contraband?

There were few signs of a struggle inside the room, and the door lock had been broken. The victim was killed instantly, without time to react—very professional. Why would they deploy a professional military force to deal with ordinary contraband smugglers? Is the danger of these contraband items worth the Latvians risking transnational smuggling to solve?

"My lord summons you, Sherlock Holmes," the soldier with the rifle added. Although the heavy, fully enclosed triple-protection armor completely obscured the wearer's gender due to the breathing filter on the mask, Sherlock Holmes could still hear a hoarse, Lebanese-accented female voice. The soldier with the combat knife and pistol also spoke, but his accent was completely different from the female soldier's; it was hard to imagine that these two could set aside their ethnic hatred and work together.

However, Sherlock Holmes did not pay attention to this issue that was irrelevant to the case.

"One of the people in this organization once attempted to attack the Prime Minister. MI5 and MI6 are eager for his confession." He crouched down, illuminating the wound on the corpse's scalp with his small flashlight, fearlessly using his sense of smell to identify the scent of blood, and then casually taking out his scalpel to gently separate the pus from the wound. This was practically a mockery of the security procedures and momentary leniency of the First Class soldiers. Another soldier wanted to immediately confiscate the dangerous item hidden in the cigar tube, but was stopped by the female soldier. Seeing that he wasn't foolish enough to directly touch the biological material, but instead wrapped his palm with a handkerchief and kept his distance to avoid splashing bodily fluids, the First Class soldiers temporarily lowered their guns.

Sherlock Holmes noticed their actions but did not apologize. "What illness is this? Is it related to the illegal drugs he's smuggling? Do his accomplices also have these symptoms?"

Seemingly uncomfortable with Sherlock Holmes's curiosity, the soldier pointed his gun at him again.

"As I said, this case is handled by the First Class Regiment. There will be no biological traces left here," the soldier with the rifle warned, offering no answer to Sherlock Holmes's questions. This brief statement revealed the professionalism of a seasoned soldier. Judging from the explosives and accelerants another soldier had brought into the room, Sherlock Holmes realized this was far more than just leaving no biological traces; it was highly likely that the apartment and the drug addicts hiding within would perish. "Don't come any closer. My lord has not demanded that you reach your destination intact."

"Alright, I'll go with you." Sherlock Holmes inserted the used scalpel into a cigar tube stuffed with alcohol-soaked cotton balls, stood up, and dusted off his knees. "If his accomplice has been killed by you, and you can't find any leads, you could ask the sex workers in the neighborhood. I don't think he's still sensible enough to use Tinder; searching for his communication history is a complete waste of time. Besides, judging from his needs in his last few days, leads don't need to be gender-specific; both men and women could be involved. I need to know when these blisters appeared; for now, I can only pinpoint it to 76 hours ago."

Seeing no response, Sherlock Holmes had to speak again, "Furthermore, if you don't want this arson case to be the focus of the police investigation, I suggest you reduce the area of ​​the fire and create some thick smoke, giving the others in the apartment building a chance to escape. That way, those dimwits and insidious news media in Scotland Yard will simply conclude that a drug addict lit a mattress with a cigarette butt. You could also pay attention to the reports of suicides and self-harms received by the London police; that might be helpful."

Still no reply, so Sherlock Holmes stopped mincing words. "Now we're on the same page: tracking down this drug smuggling route. I need you to share intelligence, and I'll investigate the truth for you. I'm confident your superiors will approve of this partnership. What do you say?"

"Contraband from the Hedonistic Cult." Victor von Doom considerately handed over the intelligence he had gathered to Diana, who had arrived at the Regent's Office. The Regent's Office was the central hub of the royal castle. Departments such as the Ministry of the Interior, the Ministry of Military Affairs, the Ministry of Justice, and the Ministry of Transportation, as well as their subordinate agencies, could, with permission, use the departmental channels to enter the Regent's Office to report on their work or to ask the Regent for answers to work-related questions. "The First Secret Service has dismantled the contraband smuggling ring and eliminated all contacts in the British Isles, but I still need your cooperation to find the contraband's origin in the United States. All evidence points to this contraband originating in the United States, and it is very likely to become popular among the upper class."

Victor von Doom calmly issued orders to Hydra, and Diana Lister offered no objection. All of Hydra knew that the Regent represented the Emperor's authority, and the Emperor would support him regardless of the circumstances. The Emperor's trust in the Regent was unwavering, even to Stephanie Malick. For some less competent officials, the Regent's boundless energy and all-knowing eyes were the greatest deterrent. Regent, representing the Emperor's authority, held the power of life and death over any official and was extremely ruthless in using it. Hydra's plan to use financial means to win over the Regent and his direct subordinates was rejected by the family's leadership as soon as it was drafted, because it would simply give the Emperor an excuse to take up arms.

Diana nodded, took the documents, and the Regent indicated that the assistant standing beside him would deliver any other documents Diana needed to her office. Strangely, neither Hydra nor Latvia's own population records could identify these assistants; some speculated that the Regent's assistants were all clones. "I also need a low-key welcoming ceremony, something like this in the castle," Victor von Doom said, his expression completely hidden behind his iron mask, his cold gaze intimidating Diana. "Don't be so tense; Sherlock Holmes needs some preparation before entering the magical world."

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(End of this chapter)