Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1191 Sigsauer, p. 226 (Second Update)

This was confirmed by the Navy SEALs who infiltrated Latvia, the relevant information obtained by a Hydra senator, the samples obtained by an assassin who returned to the United States under a false identity, and finally, the samples were compared at the Immortal City Bioengineering Laboratory, leading to the conclusion that this was the US military's umpteenth super-soldier experiment. Researchers at the genetic engineering laboratory found Steve Rogers's genetic fragments in the samples and the bodies of Navy SEALs—the US military was still trying to find the effective components of super-soldiers, and the only samples in the world were Steve Rogers's serum (those extracted by S.H.I.E.L.D.). Because the Department of Defense's military contracting projects were all outsourced to private companies, some drugs that mimicked the effective components of super-soldier serum were submitted to the Pentagon, which then used them on soldiers for testing.

Of course, they assumed the medical staff were injecting them with essential supplements like vitamin B12.

"What's worse, I believe they have biological samples of the Hulk. They're hiding it now to make money and maintain stability, and I can predict what will happen in the future." Salomon sighed. "All conglomerates can't suppress their desire to make money, so they set up many investment departments. The ones who are really feeding that Irish gang and providing them with protection are not the real estate developers; they are just tools for that company to invest in real estate and make money."

"Where did you get this information from?"

"Shareholding structure chart. Don't be surprised, you still have a lot to learn, including those little money tricks." Salomon handed the binoculars to Lorna Dane, then snatched the ice cream cone from her hand and stuffed it into his mouth without a word. "I've marked the target with the binoculars; you can find it by pressing the 'nota' button. After Frank Cassel's operation begins, the target will receive a phone call and leave the building… See that black sedan parked on the side of the road? Those are the FBI agents. The FBI will follow the target the whole time he leaves with his bodyguards; we have to find a way to get rid of them."

"How do I do it?"

“It’s simple.” Salomon waved to a homeless man. Although Midtown is one of the most bustling areas of Manhattan, it still has its share of homeless people. They sit in front of brightly lit shop windows with shopping bags full of things, or nest under any building that can shelter them from the wind and rain. The drain grates along the streets are piled high with orange needles. “A hallucinogenic substance was very popular during the hippie movement in the last century. Its scientific name is lysergic acid diacetamide. Almost all the homeless people you see have been through that period. Although it’s no longer popular, as a substance that activates synaptic receptors, once you use it, you can never quit…” He said to the homeless man, who looked puzzled. “Hey buddy, want something interesting? Don’t be so tense. I’m not a cop. I just want to make a deal with you. You’ll like it.”

Few people can say no to a Benjamin Franklin $100 bill.

The homeless man took the money and led the other man to Salomon. The man then took out a Benjamin Franklin note. Within twenty minutes, Salomon had established a connection with the drug trafficking network among the homeless in Midtown Manhattan. Some even tried to sell syringes. Although these homeless people were just low-level consumers, their source of drugs was the same target Salomon had pointed out to Lorna not long ago. After several introductions, Salomon, still sitting on the bench, had a syringe of yellow, oily liquid lysergic acid diethylamide in his hand, not yet touched by the blotting paper.

He then separated two drops of the liquid from the small tube and placed them in test tubes, handing one to each of the two homeless men waiting nearby. He then took out some banknotes and pointed to a hot dog stand on the street, promising to give them the remaining medication afterward. The homeless men were very happy to help. "Even FBI agents can make mistakes during surveillance missions. For example, they buy food nearby; mobile food trucks and hamburger trucks are their first choice, since they don't have time to eat in restaurants or wait in line," Salomon said. "Another effect of this drug is incapacity; after taking it, they can no longer drive and track the suspects."

"What is the safe dosage for this substance?"

"There's no such thing as a safe dosage, Lorna. Lysergic acid diacetamide (LSD) can remain in the brain and is difficult to metabolize, continuously stimulating dopamine receptors. Even without taking it, you can suddenly fall into a state of post-drug euphoria and experience hallucinations." Salomon glanced at little Lorna out of the corner of his eye. He didn't need to guess what the little girl was thinking, so he deliberately emphasized the threatening tone in his voice to prevent this increasingly rebellious punk girl from causing any trouble. "Many of these homeless people you see have been influenced by Timothy Leary's ideas. They take drugs for a long time, and when they stop taking them, they fall into depression because the synaptic receptors in their brains have been completely burned out. Such people are basically incapable of any productive activity, let alone experiencing happiness; they can only spend their lives in depression."

"Okay, I got it." Little Lorna shrugged. If it were an adult like a teacher lecturing her, she might frown and walk away impatiently, but when Salomon lectured her, she could accept it. "I won't touch this stuff, I promise," she said. "How long are we going to wait here?"

"We'll wait here. If you've carefully read the target file I gave you, you'll know that FBI agents will be going to the food truck over there to pick up the food in ten minutes, and the medication will start to take effect in at least ten minutes. Then we just need to wait for the explosion."

Salomon gazed toward Hell's Kitchen, which bordered the central city, and waited quietly for the mortar shell to explode.

Hell's Kitchen, also known as Clinton, has always been a working-class or even impoverished Irish-American community. However, as the development pressure of Midtown began to spread to the surrounding areas, housing prices in Midtown also began to rise steadily. Areas such as the New Yorker Hotel on Eighth Avenue, the Manhattan Center complex, the Port Authority Bus Terminal, and Club 54 on the east side have become indistinguishable from upscale communities. The poor Irish workers who originally lived here had to relocate again, and the gap between the rich and poor in the community widened again, creating a number of gangs.

When the explosion was heard, Salomon pulled little Lorna up, who was still eating a burger from a food truck.

"The operation begins." He shoved a SIG P226 tactical pistol into the girl's hand and led her across the street to the office building. He instructed Lorna to carefully conceal the silenced pistol in her coat and never take it out unless absolutely necessary. His own weapon was also a silenced pistol, hidden under his coat; it would be impossible to detect him carrying a firearm unless observed up close. "After we've interrogated this poor guy, we'll head to Hell's Kitchen," he said, leaning down at the girl. "The fight there is much more exciting."

"Why didn't you use magic to solve the problem? Didn't you already use teleportation magic?"

"That's technology, not magic. This is a problem of the material universe; it can't be solved with magic." Salomon and Lorna stood behind the FBI's black sedan, took out their pistols, released the safety, and cocked them. The target and his bodyguards had already emerged from the company gate, less than ten meters away from the FBI vehicle.

"You steal the car, I'll handle the rest." He'd barely finished speaking when he leaned out and fired a shot at the bodyguard, the corpse blocking the target's path to the car. The enemy's counterattack was swift, but Salomon, unfazed by the bullets, strode forward and continued firing. The bullets grazed weakly in front of him, and Salomon needed no cover. "Twenty seconds! We need to get out of there as fast as we can!"

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(End of this chapter)