Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1172 Interception Operation (First Update)

The entire castle's floor and walls were embedded with meticulously designed silver threads, using chaotic energy to disrupt the formation and release of magical mental models. However, this interference was insufficient to trouble the Sorcerer Supreme. After ransacking the massive liquor and snack cabinets in his disciple's office, the Sorcerer Supreme, ignoring the Latvinian Emperor's repeated eye-rolls and the combat robots in the office that had automatically activated upon detecting abnormal extradimensional energy disturbances, gleefully pushed a trolley into the forcibly opened portal. It was as if the greatest purpose of training the most outstanding sorcerer in Kamar-Taj's history was to provide the Sorcerer Supreme with free snacks and drinks; this behavior was no different from previously cracking Salomon's mini-fridge in the Kamar-Taj headquarters dormitory.

Amidst Emperor Latvinia's sigh, the intelligent combat droids were manually shut down, and Hammurabi and the Sisters of the Clergy, who had rushed into the office with tense expressions, returned to their posts after being calmed down. The Emperor then sat behind his desk, smiled at the messy office, and continued working on the tasks necessary in the Regent's absence.

The murders are still ongoing.

"Hold on tight," he whispered to the unfortunate man whose carotid artery had been severed. Initially, the soaring blood pressure sprayed oxygen-rich blood onto the walls and door, but massive blood loss caused the poor man's heartbeat to weaken further, rendering him powerless even with his head pressed against the doorframe. "Hold on tight," he repeated, his eyes, covered by two blood-red round lenses, appearing like a demon in the dim light. His expression beneath the bulletproof mask was... "If you don't want to die, hold onto this grenade tight."

He immediately grabbed the bleeding man, and his companion kicked open the door to help him shove the man into the dimly lit passage. The shouts and curses from inside had barely begun when a flash and a deafening explosion illuminated the passage. The armed squad that had been waiting by the door rushed in. Before those inside could even react to the shockwave, ruby-red lasers pierced through ceramic bulletproof plates and human bodies, even burning through skulls in an instant. The enemy's sporadic counterattacks were ineffective; the high-speed bullets couldn't penetrate their black combat suits, and they quickly annihilated the team entrenched there.

"Outpost D has been cleared; the list is now being checked."

"There are three enemies around the corner ahead, armed with automatic assault rifles."

"Roger that." He gestured for the squad to crouch and take cover in the debris, replying to the information the scouts had gathered from the drone. The burnt-out human bodies at his feet emitted a pungent, acrid smell, which even the recirculated air in his fully enclosed combat suits couldn't completely eliminate. The brain is made of fat—he suddenly remembered this knowledge he'd learned before, but quickly forgot it. "Calling Harrier," he asked. "Can the sniper handle the mission?"

"Falcon received, visibility clear, mission complete." Three ruby ​​lasers ripped through the night sky at close range, followed by the distinct sound of a body falling to the ground, audible in the abandoned apartment building. Screams were choked in their throats before they could even escape. "Mission accomplished, continue the blockade." He gestured, and the team members in the back, armed with light bulletproof shields and pistols, and others with laser rifles, moved past the assault team in front, taking a few steps forward under cover of the assault team's gunfire, and entered the corner. "Kill confirmed, three." The team fired a few more shots. "Facial recognition in progress, enemy identity confirmed, information uploaded to data center."

Upon receiving the message, he gestured again, signaling the team to advance for a deeper search until they reached the next target location. Silent, well-trained, and ruthless—these were the highest praises one could receive for a soldier in a classified regiment. This ghostly squad knew they were facing an equally well-trained enemy. Ordered by the CIA to smuggle themselves across the Black Sea coast on fishing boats, the Black Ops team consisted of elite soldiers selected from US Special Forces. However, the CIA's Black Ops team underestimated their adversaries' capabilities and infiltration abilities; Latvian intelligence had learned the details of their mission the moment they landed.

The CIA planned to smuggle a former Hungarian nuclear power plant manager, who was attempting to defect, out of the country. Their aim was to obtain copies of upgrade data from the plant implemented after Latvian control of Hungary, hoping to uncover cybersecurity vulnerabilities and launch a cyberattack. Unbeknownst to the CIA, the former manager and his family were already imprisoned, and the rebels providing them with guidance had secretly surrendered, intending to exchange the heads of a CIA black ops team for their lives.

"The last five enemies are ready to defend, and the guide is also in the room," the scout reported. "They have machine guns, just as the intelligence described."

"A hawk?"

"The enemy was hiding behind debris and cover, and there was no clear line of fire."

"They're tense, Sergeant Griffin," said a man standing behind him, dressed drastically differently from the rest of the team. This man wasn't fully armed like the others, carrying only a pistol for self-defense and a gas mask. A six-pointed star with embedded psycho-wires was tattooed on his forehead, and just hearing his voice sent chills down Griffin's spine. "Tension to the extreme leads to a snap. I can do that. I've detected the cracks in their minds. The previous deaths have terrified them to the extreme, because they know exactly what they're facing. Just a little illusion, a little suspicion, and those who once trusted each other will turn their guns on their former friends."

Although Sergeant Griffin loathed such witchcraft, this trained and certified spellcaster was ultimately a member of the Special Branch of the Secret Service, assigned to his squad for this difficult capture mission and temporarily under his command. Sergeant Griffin nodded, agreeing to the spellcaster's actions—the sorcerer pressed the power switch on the black collar around his neck, chanting incomprehensible prayers, an unnatural glow emanating from his closed eyes. The air grew colder, and the night-vision goggles revealed a blurry, ghostly figure in the corner. Every whisper from the sorcerer felt like a worm crawling under his scalp. Sergeant Griffin recalled his own experience of being parasitized by fly maggots; the feeling was unbearable, and he could only hope the sorcerer's work would end quickly.

After a few barely suppressed Southern-accented profanities, pistol shots rang out from the storage room. Sergeant Griffin reacted instantly, ordering his squad to rush in and throw all the flashbang grenades they had into the storage room. He then led his team inside to capture two men lying in pools of blood, and incidentally killed a soldier who, blinded by rage, was firing at anyone in sight. "Facial recognition in progress," Sergeant Griffin said, showing his data tablet to the captured SEALs while his team provided emergency treatment to the enemy. "All enemies captured, two arrested, nine killed, mission complete," he told command center. "Get the interrogation department ready, and contact the medical personnel on the evacuation plane. The enemy was using live ammunition, not laser weapons, during the infighting; we could only stop the bleeding for now."

"Interrogate Corporal Finney, who is seriously wounded, on the spot." The intelligence officer in command center issued this order to Sergeant Griffin after seeing the information sent back from the front, including details of enemy casualties. Corporal Finney was the unfortunate soldier who had been shot in the thigh by his own men during the infighting. Intelligence knew all his personal information, so they immediately sent the standard interrogation template and Corporal Finney's information to Sergeant Griffin's data panel. "Administer Alpha-3V, three times the standard dose, via jugular vein."

"Roger that." Sergeant Griffin carried out the mission without hesitation, taking a syringe from his emergency medical kit on his back, adjusting the sight, and injecting it into the neck of the wounded soldier mentioned in the order. The unfortunate man's heart rate, which had been soaring due to adrenaline, suddenly slowed down, and his consciousness, which had become somewhat blurred due to blood loss, suddenly cleared. However, this state was like the lucidity before being drunk; he was aware of what he was doing but unable to control himself. "Emergency interrogation initiated, requesting remote interrogation assistance."

"Send a fake communication to lure American helicopters to intercept them." Victoria Hand received a report from her subordinates regarding the interception operation in a Black Sea coastal city, and asked a few key questions. She then nodded and issued the next level of operational orders. "Contact the air defense forces in Constanta. I want them to force the American helicopters to land, to land safely, understand?"

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(End of this chapter)