Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1391 The Dock and the Hut (Two Chapters Combined)

A red-painted iron hook was forced between two wooden planks, using a lever principle to pry out several rusty nails from the hole with a "bang, bang." On the silent dock at night, the pungent surface of the water, stained with black oil, shimmered and reflected the lights of distant skyscrapers. There was no starlight or moonlight; everything was shrouded in darkness, like a desert abandoned in the city. Only the flickering beams of flashlights from dilapidated shipping containers, the rats darting across the road, the wet ground, and the constant, gunshot-like noise of the nails being pulled out indicated that this was not truly a desolate wilderness.

Although the recipient's contact information was spray-painted on the wooden coffin, the item remained in a container at the dock due to logistical disruptions. Perhaps in a few days, the dock owners will auction off the contents of the container, giving those hoping to get rich quick by buying high and selling low a chance to gamble.

This is territory controlled by the Japanese-American mafia in New York, which is why he had to come here instead of ordering a pickup. The trigger for the gang war in New York was Fisker Wilson's troubles with the Department of Homeland Security. Some factions believed they could break free from Kingpin's control, causing certain orders from different gangs to cease to circulate. Now, the true recipient of this wooden coffin has arrived. He doesn't intend to collect the goods through legal means, but rather to sneak in under the cover of night, while the dockworker's wife is giving birth, and take his cargo without anyone knowing.

The advantage of the information age is that logistics information can be tracked at any time.

"I thought you'd be torn to shreds and turned into a pile of scrap metal."

Nick Fury whistled softly and shone his flashlight over the humanoid contents piled on dry straw in the wooden coffin—the Life-Model Decoy project built in his likeness—now the bionic skin of this body, made of precision machinery and plastic, had been cut open, exposing the polyethylene bionic muscle fibers under the chest, abdomen, and neck, as well as the complex electronic equipment, data interfaces, and silver-gray material completely exposed to the air.

He Rui skillfully took out a device about the size of a mobile phone, plugged the extended data cable into the data interface on the Life-Model Decoy's chest, and began reading the data. He couldn't find GPS satellite positioning data, but he discovered a document he had never seen before. The title of the document indicated that this was exactly what he wanted. The existence of this document confirmed his suspicions and also represented the Emperor's bottom line when he used the Life-Model Decoy to test his worldly identity.

Erasing GPS satellite data to render it inadmissible as evidence, and even cooperating by providing intelligence on the Dark Order's fleet, indicates the Emperor's unwillingness to hold his investigation into the secular identity of "Salomon" against him. However, the Life-Model Decoy, stripped of his bionic skin, states that the Emperor will not tolerate him engaging in similar behavior again, like the scene in "The Godfather" where a severed horse's head is stuffed into the director's blanket—a warning.

Nick Fury is not an unreasonable person; he is happy to accept warnings.

This time it was Life-Model Decoy who was skinned, so next time it will be his own skin. He had witnessed the Emperor skinning people alive as a form of intimidation during interrogations of drug dealers, which had even instilled fear in some desperate criminals. Nick didn't know how someone who had never joined the Mafia could possess such old-school Sicilian Mafia methods, but that didn't matter. He didn't even know that this skinning process was entirely handled by Dinah—as an android maid who received a prototype chainsaw sword from a witch, Dinah loved using chainsaw weapons made of high-strength vibranium alloy, such as the chainsaw dagger used to cut through hard cow bones.

Using this tool to peel skin requires an extremely dexterous wrist to ensure the skin is completely separated from the muscle. Diana's effortless skill in cutting and separating flesh with the chainsaw dagger makes it appear as a beautiful art form. She participated in many of the emperors' killings and interrogations under the secular identity of "Salomon," and the red soles of her high heels were stained with the blood of her enemies. For her, completely peeling away the polyethylene bionic muscle fibers and plastic outer skin was not particularly difficult, and she was also filled with rage towards Nick Fury for probing the emperor's secular identity.

She didn't put herself in a coffin, and instead jumped out at this moment to stab Nick Fury, which already showed she was following orders. But that doesn't mean she wouldn't do something unnecessary. For example, while Nick Fury was receiving data, it seemed the Life-Model Decoy activated some program; the dry straw piled beneath the bionic body began to emit visible wisps of smoke. Suddenly, the smoke turned into flames, black scorch marks spread across the yellow straw in the blink of an eye, and almost invisible blue flames instantly engulfed the entire Life-Model Decoy.

Nick Fury instinctively took two steps back, ripped the data cable, and immediately sprinted away, thick smoke billowing from the open container behind him. The dock gradually lit up with faint lights, which then began to spread, and thick smoke, clearly visible even in the darkness, rose higher and higher.

"MotherFucker!"

He cursed as he strode to the dock, untied the mooring ropes binding the small boat, jumped onto a speedboat moored at the private pier, started the engine, and sped away. The Life-Model Decoy's chassis lacked heat resistance; at least this particular one wasn't. All electronic components and data would be consumed by the fire, and even the New York Fire Department wouldn't be able to find any trace of the Life-Model Decoy in the wreckage. Although he couldn't download the complete information, the documents Nick Fury possessed were enough to pinpoint the location of the Dark Order's fleet and attract the attention of the defense ministers of the permanent members of the UN Security Council, rather than being dismissed as the ravings of a Balkan tyrant.

While the fire at the dock attracted the attention of the dockside staff, Nick Fury's speedboat had already sailed upstream along the East River into Newtown Creek, south of Long Island City. He then disappeared once more into the unmonitored slums, evading all surveillance with his device containing vital information. Passing the last security camera, he unhesitatingly gave it the middle finger—he believed someone was watching him, witnessing his trip to the dock to collect data that evening—a routine he was used to; few in the world could do such a thing. But that didn't mean he wanted those watching him to know his next move. He was the King of Spies, the true King of Spies, and that was no joke.

He believed that the emperor valued him highly.

This was true, but it wasn't taken as seriously as one might imagine. The Emperor didn't track him at all, nor did he monitor or eavesdrop on him through any cameras. Neither the Sorority nor the Guardians received any relevant orders, and all intelligence agencies maintained only minimal tracking of Nick Fury before investing data resources and computing power in more important matters.

"I summoned you here for the Winter of Fimbulwinter!" the aged, one-eyed man shouted from before the cabin. The cabin, built on the flat grassland at the foot of the mountain, was now covered in winter snow; the tender grass that could have sustained the sheep had all died, entering the next cycle of life. Winter had come early and was bitterly cold in Scandinavia this year, so cold that the residents had to pay hefty heating bills, while volcanic activity on the peninsula was becoming increasingly frequent, seemingly on the verge of eruption. "This winter will never end!" he cried. "Baldr has been dead for many years; this day should have come long ago! Baldr was my best hound; he was brutal and very useful."

"I'm not here to hear your prophecy!" The Emperor coldly stared at the old man with snow-white hair and beard. Even though he wore a greyish-black cloak, the blizzard continued to pour in. The Emperor's arrival melted the snow, and light and fire shimmered on his armor, burning away the supernatural snowflakes. "Where is Frigga?"

"I told her the truth about Badr's death." The old man blinked his only remaining eye. "I told her who told Hodr the secret of the mistletoe. I had kept this secret for many years, and Frigga had always wanted to know the answer, so I told her."

"You promised the Sorcerer Supreme to behave yourself while you're in Midgard." The Emperor reached out and caught a snowflake. "I smell death here. This is not something you should be doing."

"As much as possible, but not absolutely necessary, and besides, this wasn't my doing. Fimbulwinter affected all nine realms, and your battle with Quetzalcoatl was just one of the threads that triggered it. Don't blame yourself too much," Odin said with a smile. "Now do you think you're in a position to negotiate with me?"

"You wanted to force me to fight you, so you sent Frigga away?"

The Emperor took a deep breath and looked around. When he received the alert from Kasirius, he had a general idea. Although the Sorcerer Supreme wasn't on Earth, he had decided to travel alone to Scandinavia to see what the long-silent Odin was up to. "Aren't you in a bit of a hurry? You have no allies here!" he said. "Your Gungnir is in my hands. You traded Gungnir and Dropnir for a deal, and now you want to break it?"

“I have other weapons besides Gungnir.” Odin pulled a battered, dark axe from behind him. It was a weapon forged on Earth—cast in an electric furnace, machine-milled, the shop sign still intact, looking like some kind of tourist souvenir—and as he picked it up and muttered a few words, runes sculpted across the metal surface as if carved by a knife. “Something wants to kill me, and now it’s here. The seal between Nilfhheim and Midgard is weakening; I can no longer seal those things. I can’t let Frigga stay here any longer; this must be settled.” He raised the axe. “This is enough for me. You’d better summon Gungnir; I think the girl has gathered her energy. Why the sudden predicament? Did you think I’d hold you accountable for recruiting dwarves from Svartalfaheim?”

The emperor glanced at the snowdrifts to the side. In his memory, this was a plain, with the flaky rocks of the Scandinavian Mountains still firmly anchored on the mountainside, blocked by rows of birch trees on the other side. There was more than one such snowdrift; Odin's two wolves were still happily digging at it while they were talking.

“Yes, trolls.” Odin twirled his axe, a blue glow gleaming on the blade. Clearly, this wasn't the first time he'd done this. The two wolves tore a piece of frozen, rash-covered flesh from the snowdrift; even in the blizzard, the stench was still pungent. “Now is a good time for trolls; they can move about in this dark morning without turning to stone. I've already killed over a dozen, but they keep appearing. I need you to seal off a passage between Nilfhheim and Midgard, by any means necessary.”

The Emperor stared intently at Odin's single eye. He knew Odin hadn't summoned him here for something as trivial as dealing with trolls. There was only one small town, with a population of no more than 200, spanning dozens of kilometers. The road from this cabin to the town was perfectly flat, passable even with mountains in the way, except for a frozen stream. The so-called concern about trolls harming humans was utter nonsense. The Emperor didn't believe Odin cared about the safety of the human race. Although they shared the same origin, Asgardians considered themselves a superior race, and Odin's arrogance led him to proclaim himself a god.

However, the emperor did not dwell on this issue for long. He had consulted the oracle before setting off, asking the three Fates for their opinions. Combining the divination, his own reasoning, and the Eye of Agamotto's ability to glimpse the timeline, he did not believe that his mission would be too dangerous; at most, it would be another futile resistance by Odin against Ragnarok.

"Hammurabi, Ammon," the emperor called to his royal guards.

At that moment, the two Imperial Guards, who had been waiting in the clouds for some time, swooped down in their flying vehicles, as nimble as eagles hunting their prey. The Emperor raised his hand, and lightning gathered, extended, and finally erupted at his fingertips, forming a golden spear wrapped in lightning in his hand. Gungnir was no longer the same as before. The Z-pulse power facility, used to test materials under extreme temperature and pressure conditions, was used by the Emperor to awaken and recast this spear. It took a temperature of 37 billion degrees Celsius to bring the spear back to life. Rodin, the Emperor's most trusted craftsman from another dimension, participated in the entire reforging of Gungnir. From then on, this spear had a new name and a new master.

Gungnir's original owner greatly admired the lance. "You'll use it better than I can," he said. "That's where it should truly shine."

"I agree to your terms, but there will be no next time." The Emperor looked at Odin. "Don't think I don't know what you want to do, don't think Kamar-Taj hasn't recorded those unknown secrets. Ragnarok has arrived, it's an inevitable fate, no matter how you struggle, it's all in vain..." The hovercraft's engine drew closer, finally stopping on the snow behind the Emperor. "Today we will hunt together. Hammurabi, Amun, we will delve into the veil between reality and illusion to hunt trolls and drive all threats back to Nilfhheim."

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(End of this chapter)