Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1373 The First Shovel (First Update)

In 1962, a farmer nicknamed "Johnny the Kid" was forced to sell his farm due to bankruptcy. Many farmers in nearby villages faced the same fate. These young farmers had many choices: they could sell their property and go to the West Coast to make a living in the newly established cities in the Nevada desert; they could rely on their strong arms honed by years of hard work to carve out their place in that land of guns, alcohol, money, and women; or they could simply hitchhike north to Canada, leaving their homeland behind to the tune of Marilyn Monroe's "Happy Birthday" for President Kennedy, and embarking on a journey to a country not yet fully developed by colonists.

Johnny didn't plan to leave America, nor did he intend to go to the Nevada desert. He reconnected with a classmate from elementary school who had long since left the village and joined a construction team in a nearby city. Although he knew nothing but farming and cattle raising, the city, greedily draining its population, money, and fuel, needed people like him; the ever-rising skyscrapers required the sweat and blood of countless rural youths. Johnny saw a movie for the first time in a shop window in the big city, including "Lawrence of Arabia." He saw the face of the captivating woman on the radio for the first time; though the image was blurry, her beautiful face printed in the newspaper had already made his heart flutter.

He learned the way of life of city dwellers.

Lucky Strike cigarettes and cheap whiskey were the best comforts after physical labor; noisy pubs, filled with the stench of sweat and feet, were his only refuge after get off work when he refused to return to his cheap rented room; and the scantily clad prostitutes on the street were his wives for weekend nights. But what he couldn't forget was the cheap coffee and the always-warm hot dogs. That was the first thing he ate after his arrival. His old friend had picked him up in New Jersey in a red Ford Galaxie 4-door sedan and then treated him to a hearty meal at a roadside food truck. All the way there, his childhood friend boasted about his connections with the local Mafia boss while showing him his car, suit, and watch. "Johnny the Kid" nodded blankly, then kept stuffing hot dogs into his mouth, leaving crumbs all over the seat.

"You'll make it big, my friend." On the day he came to pick him up, "Johnny" didn't understand why his childhood friend was deliberately imitating an Italian accent, but that didn't stop him from listening. "This job isn't as easy as you think. The union leader is one of us. If he tells you to strike, you strike; if he tells you to march, you march, understand? Don't be greedy for that little bit of hard-earned money. John Gottlieb won't treat you unfairly. No matter what you think, as long as you listen to John Gottlieb, you'll make money, understand?"

Johnny nodded.

He didn't understand the meaning of those words that day, until one day while at work he received a message instructing him and his coworkers to take their tools to a newspaper office in New York. A strike against printing automation was taking place there, and the newspaper was actually owned by a Mafia godfather. Many years later, "Johnny the Kid" had become somewhat famous, while his childhood friend who had recruited him died in a retaliatory shooting. To this day, the killer has not been found, and many speculate that it was an assassination carried out by a rival gang.

Before "Johnny Boy" could even begin his revenge, the Godfather summoned him to the mansion and personally gave him a task.

Recently, the family received a highly profitable construction contract, which sparked a fierce battle among the construction companies established by various gangs. Just as they were about to unravel old grievances and engage in a full-blown clash, the godfathers suddenly decided to jointly contract the project and send trusted overseers to manage it. "Johnny Kid" was one of those trusted individuals; the godfathers planned to send him to upstate New York to supervise the project and prevent other families from profiting from it. It was said that the project was awarded to the government, and government officials known to the godfathers made a special effort to ensure that, unlike past municipal projects, this project wouldn't allow for shoddy workmanship. If they were too blatant, the wolves at the Pentagon would turn their attention to them.

Upon arriving at the construction site, "Johnny" realized that the difficulty of this project far exceeded his expectations, given his only years of experience in municipal engineering. A sandbag and concrete dam bisected the vast lake, one side scorching hot, the other a muddy mess. An old, red lighthouse stood atop jagged rocks, its dim, weak glow emanating from its oil lamp.

At this moment, some people have already started working, digging the first shovelful into the muddy ground.

Nearly fifty years later, the first hole dug with a shovel was now covered by thick concrete and alloy. With a deafening roar, the lake water cascaded down the seamless steel, forming hundreds of tiny waterfalls. Johnny could never have imagined that the muddy shallows he once knew would become a colossal crater, because the heroin slowly seeping into his body and veins had been buried deep within the concrete piles, sinking to the bottom of the lake.

Five jet-black, geometrically shaped aircraft burst out of the crater at an astonishing speed, trailing long plumes of flame as they soared into the sky.

"The pigeons have been released! Repeat, the pigeons have been released!"

Melinda May clenched her fists excitedly, allowing herself a moment to indulge her emotions.

"Begin taking back the medical bay!" she commanded succinctly. "We need to take all the medication!"

This was not a far-fetched decision. Melinda May knew perfectly well that the enemy could hear this command as well. However, with the issuance of this command, the undamaged concrete alloy gates of passages D-4, D-5, and D-7 would open, and a squad of mechanized soldiers previously confined to these areas would be attacked by an armed squad from D-6. Within seconds of the initial engagement, this squad would begin to retreat towards the elevator, followed by an armed squad from passage D-3 who would join the battle, sealing off all passages leading to the medical bay.

Food, water, and medicine are essential supplies for S.H.I.E.L.D. to continue the fight.

Even with the noose around her neck and her life slowly being extinguished, Melinda May would not give up the fight.

“You’ve never received any training on how to be a battlefield commander, May,” Maria Hill asked. “I’m curious where you learned this knowledge from, and there’s no record of any related educational experience in your file.”

"When Agent Coulson led us all to survival, things were already quite different. Agent Hill, don't look at S.H.I.E.L.D. with the eyes of the past. We are moving in the direction Agent Coulson hoped for."

Maria Hill observed Melinda May's face. When Agent Coulson was mentioned, her body language and micro-expressions revealed her trust in him. Most of the agents at this base were personally recruited by Phil Coulson. Some were former S.H.I.E.L.D. agents who were still being hunted by the US government and NATO countries, and some were even survivors of the S.H.I.E.L.D. massacre. Everyone here trusted Phil Coulson, something that Nick Fury's S.H.I.E.L.D. could never achieve. It wasn't about personal charisma, but about the rules and regulations. The current S.H.I.E.L.D. was like an open and honest family, with no secrets between the agents.

This alone was enough to make Maria Hill frown. She understood that rebuilding the organization required trust in the post-S.H.I.E.L.D. era, but this trust seemed to have transformed into a familial atmosphere, a brotherhood devoid of discipline. Even if they firmly believed they were doing the right thing, if any leader led them in the wrong direction, this group of people who possessed S.H.I.E.L.D.'s secrets and technology would completely go astray. She was now thankful that the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. was still Phil Coulson, rather than the more fanatical Melinda May, the indecisive Alfonso MacKenzie, or even the fledgling Daisy Jensen.

Even former top agent Gonzalez was far better than these people.

Please vote for me!

(End of this chapter)