Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1409 (Part 1405): The Aftereffects of Advanced Technology (Two-in-One)

Perhaps the jokes and humor slightly eased the feigned seriousness that Tita was trying so hard to maintain, and Natasha Romanoff breathed a slight sigh of relief when the android's lips curled into a smile. Tita would be wary of her because of her past as a spy, so Natasha wouldn't openly state the questions she wanted answered, or even bring up related topics, but would smoothly transition away to avoid Tita tensing up again.

She is content now and sees no need to let the life she dreams of slip away.

Although organ cloning technology is quite advanced in the Immortal City, the relatively stringent surgical conditions and mature transplant techniques can still cause problems during the procedure. Even autologous transplantation can lead to unexpected issues. Natasha believes she is prepared to endure endless pain and aftereffects after surgery; this is her resolve, and she has even turned down some jobs for this reason.

Her former friends (she wasn't sure if she should still call them friends) didn't make things difficult for her or force her to take the job; instead, they wished her the life she dreamed of. Natasha was glad the matter had ended there, but there were some jobs she couldn't refuse, because her sense of justice and conscience couldn't refuse them.

She needed to know whether the Emperor's cause was always righteous and just, and whether anyone was scheming and doing the same things as before in the shadow of his glorious ideals—there will always be shadows under the sun, and one of her tasks was to ensure that no mold would grow in those shadows—but she was a spy, and a woman; she couldn't only accept work from the Emperor. This job was essentially the same as the previous one, except that she didn't need to provide detailed intelligence to her superiors; she only needed to judge the Emperor's cause and determine whether it remained just.

Natasha knew the Emperor knew she had accepted the job, but because he trusted her to be discerning and wouldn't leak information that could cause real damage, and because she accepted the job out of a sense of justice, he turned a blind eye to her actions. This was an unspoken trust and tacit understanding, and Natasha Romanov enjoyed the convenience it brought; she had even planned her life after regaining her fertility.

"I suggest you go to the lounge and meet with the scientists who are about to arrive at the space station." Tita took a data panel from her adjutant. The contents of this data panel were more classified than those in Natasha Romanov's possession. "Although you already have their background information, most of it was provided by their home countries and may not be accurate. You can ask them questions now while they're still excited about going to space; they might reveal some information. I'll prepare disguise tools for you—the masks you used to wear."

Tita's demeanor was quite mild, which made Natasha Romanov very relieved that her work this week had gone smoothly. She readily accepted the advice, turned and left, taking the private elevator back to her room to wait for Tita to send someone to deliver the props. As far as Natasha Romanov knew, her main task now was to conduct background checks on foreign scientists entering the space station, a task that required close cooperation from the sorority.

"She's still transmitting messages to her superiors. From the network data we've intercepted, she's not transmitting anything particularly important." After Natasha Romanov used her genetically encoded key to open the door to her guest room, Tita took out a communicator. Without the shield activated, micrometeorites from the sky would often dent the metal surface of the space station, and the armored portholes would frequently face such threats, even being potentially breached. This was a problem all aerospace scientists had to face, but with the SkySword space station's shield activated, this problem was negligible; Tita could occasionally even see fleeting flashes of micro-lightning outside the porthole. "Is the intelligence we've gathered enough to locate her superiors?" her tone held a hint of malice. "Can we catch that troublemaking bastard?"

"The First Class Secrets team is made up of professionals." Viktor von Doom's magnetic voice came through the communications channel. "Don't make this your main task, girl. He'd rather you focus your energy on other work."

"I am merely his hound, Regent. You have only the right to advise us. Please forgive my rudeness; the Sorority will obey your orders, but I will not." Hearing Tita say this, Victor von Doom felt his headache return. "I cannot allow anyone to poison his work, and he expects me to protect his property, doesn't he?"

"Don't try to understand him, Tita, that would be your biggest mistake. He must have his reasons for allowing Natasha Romanov to live," Viktor von Doom said. "Spies are not important; what matters is the prey that slips through our fingers again. Perhaps Natasha Romanov is still alive because he wants to keep getting intelligence from her superiors."

Dita's cheeks flushed instantly. "You know what he's thinking?"

"Yes, girl, I have always understood his thoughts, because I am his regent."

Victor von Doom lowered his head and glanced at the documents that Diana Lister had just placed on the table. They were from the Ministry of Finance and concerned the Emperor's industrial upgrading plan. No matter how much funding the Emperor raised, an economic recession was inevitable as the massive bubbles of financial capitalism were gradually deflated. At that point, related industrial upgrading would have to keep pace, filling both the gaps and the number of jobs created. He didn't have much time to mend the Emperor's interpersonal relationships; being able to speak a few more words with Tita was already a favor to the Emperor.

"At least that's the general consensus, I can say that."

"But you never remind me."

"He wouldn't expect me to be so honest, and he also wants you to figure it out for yourself. Preaching alone won't correct your shortcomings; you have to experience it firsthand," Viktor von Doom said before hanging up. "The horse he gave you was genetically modified; the total cost exceeded $2 million. He has high hopes for you, but he won't ask you to be overly enthusiastic."

Dita remembered the white horse the Emperor had given her. Its excessively strong muscles and overly rigid bones made that genetically modified horse practically a land tank; similar prototypes could even withstand a full-speed impact from a van, suffering only the injury of getting stuck in metal. Accepting that gift wasn't just because of the Emperor's affection; it was because the white horse expressed his expectations for her—in folklore, the white horse symbolizes many admirable qualities, hence in many fairy tales (in modified versions), the prince rides a white horse to the princess's side—now Dita longed to see that white horse still kept in the stables of Oxfordshire Manor.

"Oh, bro, I've really had enough!"

Pegasus lowered his head and skillfully bit into the apple on the plate. As a horse that could shoot lasers and bullets from its mouth (in reality, it couldn't; it was just a spell cast on it by the emperor), Pegasus considered itself far more noble than the other horses in the stable, not to mention that it had a pair of wings that allowed it to fly. On sunny days, it had to occupy the softest grass and roll around on it to its heart's content.

However, this idyllic life was growing increasingly short-lived. Some giant horses, though not as strong as Pegasus, were still far more formidable than ordinary horses and had arrived at the stables. If that were all, Pegasus wouldn't have been too bothered. What truly annoyed it was that these horses were just as annoying as the Cheshire Cat. "Could you give me an apple, brother?" A white horse with a brass-clad mechanical device around its neck shook its head, its voice coming through a megaphone, "I'm being dragged away by the golden men to be a stallion tomorrow. I admit, I've already eaten a whole bucket today, but…"

Upon seeing Hammurabi, Pegasus let out an excited neigh.

"No, you only met the minimum training requirements today, Pegasus." Hammurabi shook his finger. Wearing power armor to manage the stables wasn't unusual; the only thing that felt uncomfortable was the easily soiled crimson battle robe. "Your calorie intake is excessive. As the emperor's mount, you must always be in peak condition."

Pegasus shook his head vigorously.

"No?"

It nodded frantically, then gestured with its mouth to the opposite stable, even picking up an apple and tossing it into the stable, hitting another horse squarely on the head. In fact, Pegasus's stable wasn't locked; it could leave at any time to roam freely throughout the estate. The only reason it stayed there obediently was because one night it tried to sneak into the emperor's bedroom, rolling around and sleeping on the soft carpet, thus incurring the most severe reprimand of its life. Until the emperor calmed down, it had to stay there, sleeping on dry, soft straw like ordinary horses, bidding a final farewell to its own expensive silk bedding.

"It's been a bit grumpy lately." For some reason, the talking horse seemed to have a touch of humor. "I don't think it has much to do with me, but it's really been grumpy lately. But I also want to discuss something about horse rights. There are already flying horses in the world, but I'm the only talking horse, so why can't I eat two buckets of fruit every day? I wish I could specify the type of fruit, the temperature of the hay, the scent of the grooming water… I'm a horse with taste, okay?"

Hammurabi ignored it and instead spoke to Pegasus.

"This is the first time we've made a talking horse, so there are bound to be some unexpected problems. But that won't stop us from trying... But it's not the only talking horse in the project; there are other horses like it, so the next step is to conduct genetic stability experiments to stabilize specific gene loci."

Hammurabi ignored the talking horse's inquiry about the other mare's musical preferences. He didn't know why the Emperor would invent and use the brain-enhancing surgery on horses, but he was certain that the experiment wasn't just about increasing equine brain capacity; the ultimate goal was to apply it to humans—perhaps a preliminary technology for treating Alzheimer's, given the Wakanda-themed emblem, indicating the involvement of biological researchers from Wakanda's Hahnburg. However, Hammurabi claimed he hadn't read the relevant papers and therefore knew nothing about it. He could only confirm that the device had been approved and inspected by the Commander of the Guard and was free of bacteria, viruses, and parasites that could infect humans and animals; otherwise, it wouldn't have been able to enter the estate.

"It will spend some time in Montana. The Emperor bought a ranch there, and a few hired cowboys manage it. Those horses will participate in the genetic experiments on American wild horses..." Hammurabi said as he saddled and put reins on Pegasus. "You know, the wild horses in North America now are actually descendants of the wild horses brought by Columbus, they're all Spanish horses. So I would suggest that those horses be indoctrinated with Spanish before the experiments."

"Oh, I like Latin American girls..."

The guard's sporadic humor only elicited a response from the other horse, as he lacked the ability to directly read minds and communicate with Pegasus. However, Pegasus seemed to understand, even spitting at the opposite stable, eliciting a grumble from the talking horse. But since Pegasus was almost twice the height of an ordinary horse, the genetically modified horse dared not offer any resistance, for even genetically modified and enhanced muscles and bones could not possibly contend with the true behemoth Pegasus.

"Regardless, I always felt that Wakanda seemed to have encountered some problems beyond our control after starting to learn subconscious implantation and brain-computer interface technologies." Hammurabi sighed. He longed to ride a horse for a while rather than ride a hoverjet motorcycle recklessly, smashing everything in its path with the force of a super-heavy tank. Horses capable of withstanding the Royal Guard weren't unavailable, but the only horse successfully created in the genetic lab with bone and muscle strength comparable to Pegasus was currently only one, and that horse had been sent back to the lab for further examination and surgery to install a voice-generating device and processor connected to the brain-computer interface.

"Now it's your time to run, Pegasus." He moved Pegasus out of the stable and loosened the reins. Just like before, when the emperor didn't need Pegasus, it had a period of freedom and relaxation; when the emperor needed it, it had to appear by the emperor's side and accept the restraint of the golden reins. This was the power of the contract, and Pegasus, as the king of that race living in the outer dimension, had to abide by this endless contract. So it always wanted to find something enjoyable to do. "Same as always, only low-altitude flight, and you can't attract the attention of ordinary people."

Please vote for me!

(End of this chapter)