Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1487 Miss Peanut Butter

"Good afternoon, Peanut Butter. Good afternoon, Cheshire Cat. I'm so glad you brought her here." Laura Crawford picked up the round, pale yellow furball next to Cheshire Cat and affectionately rubbed it against her face. As an experimental product of the Skysword Space Station, Salomon had warned her that this animal's intelligence far exceeded that of most canines; it could not only understand human language but also act accordingly. But in Laura Crawford's eyes, it was just a golden retriever puppy, barely born and now just a few days after being weaned, and it didn't even weigh as much as Cheshire Cat.

Regardless of the golden retriever puppy's uniqueness, she named it Peanut Butter. Salomon explicitly stated that the name came from a character in *Jackbo Horseman*, but he was chased away by Jeanne for "low emotional intelligence" before he could finish speaking. However, Laura Crawford later received a piece of software containing information from the puppy's brain chip. As a dog with a brain-computer interface, Peanut Butter, though unable to speak, could translate emotions into language understandable to humans through a hidden brain-computer interface. "Good boy, do you want to swim? No, that's the ocean. You can only swim in an inflatable pool now, otherwise any octopus could eat you." She lowered her voice, afraid that her childish words would be overheard. Fortunately, the owner of the island castle, the mistress, and the woman named Athena were busy applying sunscreen and chatting, and didn't have time to look at her. "Do you want a swimming ring, good dog?"

She was incredibly grateful that the estate had everything, including an inflatable bathtub for babies. The golden retriever puppy named Peanut Butter was clearly thrilled about swimming, wagging its tail rapidly as if it understood Laura Crawford. In fact, it did understand; as a test subject for psychological indoctrination, Peanut Butter could understand and recognize nine human languages ​​and perform nine-digit arithmetic. However, psychological indoctrination required further training; otherwise, it would easily forget the knowledge directly etched into its neural circuits.

"Would you like to swim, Cheshire Cat?"

The Cheshire Cat glanced at her sideways, then raised its paw to shake off the wet sand and walked away without looking back.

Bringing this annoying kitten from the Oxfordshire manor here was its job for the day, a task far beyond what a cat could handle. It was getting really annoyed by this perpetually excited animal, because Peanut Butter kept trying to lick it, messing up its carefully groomed fur and leaving it smelling like dog drool.

Even though it was unwilling, the Cheshire Cat was determined to book a bath with Dinah, using its owner's favorite shampoo. It really didn't want to walk around smelling like dog drool; not only would the bear cubs in the forest laugh at it, but even the goats and Pegasus in the stables would. This was something the Cheshire Cat's proud pride absolutely could not tolerate. It couldn't stand that the canine cub had a higher status in the family than itself—among the permanent members of this family, it considered itself to be second only to its owner and the two witches. Even the human cub Milia had to obey its commands; otherwise, Milia wouldn't know how to open the refrigerator, how to choose food, or how to store food to prevent others from finding it.

A long, harsh winter is coming, and without it, Milia might starve to death!

This is the greatness of the Cheshire Cat, something that ordinary people simply cannot comprehend!

Laura Crawford had no idea what was going through the mind of the cat with its head held high.

"Okay, I know cats hate water now." Laura Crawford shrugged, glancing at Milia beside her who was building a sandcastle with wet sand. Unsurprisingly, the owners and mistress of the house had some private matters to attend to, and she was temporarily acting as a caretaker to prevent the child from witnessing those blush-inducing scenes. However, her swimsuit wasn't much better. At the witches' urging, she had actually worn this swimsuit, which offered very little coverage, leaving her now shyly wrapped in a towel. Equally daring was the evening gown the witches had chosen for her. Although there were only a few people, they still wanted to throw a party, but Laura Crawford still didn't think a black evening gown with a slit up to her hips was appropriate for a party.

She was certain that if she and Milia hadn't been there, the witches might not have even needed to wear clothes.

"Want to meet some new friends, Milia? This is Miss Peanut Butter, you can pet her. What brings you back again, Cheshire Cat... Oh, you're quite jealous."

"Hiss—"

"Aha, I won't say anything more."

"I must say, your strategy regarding Greece is very clever."

Athena feigned seriousness, so much so that the witches stared at her strangely, as if the piece of fabric covering her, no bigger than a corn chip, had no effect on her resolve. Indeed, from the moment she took over Salomon's education, she had repeatedly demanded that the latter appreciate the beauty of the human body, like a marble sculpture, with herself as the best model. Even the witches were unaware that her apartment contained numerous works of art created by Salomon using her body as a model. Aside from a few tens of minutes earlier when she borrowed a razor and Salomon, she had unusually shown shyness.

"The Greek government will absolutely not, and cannot, hand over the Greek Catholic militia. Antioch is under the control of other countries, but the Greek government cannot deny its ties to this organization, which is a perfect pretext for war."

"But I don't think I can find a market for Greek pine wine. Not many people besides Greeks like that stuff." Salomon continued his work, head down. "This will be another blitzkrieg. The Greek government's fourth-generation fighters are completely outmatched by my void fighters. Provided NATO isn't determined to enter the war, this is very likely to happen unless I'm in the White House. Right now, my image in the Western media isn't very good. Constantine is even planning to execute several media outlets that fabricate fake news… Some people say I'm already seriously ill and could die at any moment."

He spoke of this with a broad smile.

The diplomatic corps didn't even bother refuting such pointless remarks; only the Guardians, out of excessive concern for him, would arbitrarily arrange an assassination. Constantine would consider the diplomatic implications, so he didn't need to pay too much attention to the Guardians' plans. Considering the vast amount of information in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s database, Constantine didn't need to personally handle the problem; plenty of people would be willing to risk their lives for that intelligence.

"This isn't business, Athena." Even while sprawled on the blanket receiving Salomon's sunscreen application, Bayonetta still had the energy to warn, "It's vacation time. He doesn't have much time to stay here. Joan of Arc… can you stop playing games?"

Joan of Arc pushed her sunglasses up to her forehead, her expression serious. "If I'm not playing games, what am I doing on the beach?"

She pointed to a nearby bread cart and the cables connecting it to the bar. Everything she needed was there: a monitor, a game console, a controller, and even an ice bucket filled with ice and water, with two bottles of fine champagne in it. Before the beach bar was built, all alcoholic beverages had to be obtained from the cellar of the island castle, but that was more than enough to satisfy Joan of Arc's appetite.

"When are you leaving, my dear?" Athena asked. "I'll come and help you put on your armor."

"You saw it?" he asked. "My time really is running out."

"Ouch!" Daisy Jensen couldn't help but cry out, "It hurts!"

"I didn't know that famous street-smart superheroes could feel pain," Daisy Jensen chuckled, looking at the masked woman. Even without seeing her face clearly, she could tell what the dark circles under the medical staff's eyes meant. "You're the last S.H.I.E.L.D. agent to return to Earth. You must undergo a full check-up to make sure the cosmic rays haven't harmed you."

“How do I know you won’t use my genetic sample for something bad?” Daisy Jensen muttered. No matter how much she complained, the facts remained unchanged; even Agent Coulson had to delay her and another Inhuman, Elena Rodriguez, nicknamed “Yoyo,” from returning to Beacon Base. “You’ve killed so many agents, and now you’re trying to be friendly with me? Don’t you think it’s a bit too late?”

"If you wanted to die, we would have thrown you into outer space long ago." Pietro Maximov, legs crossed, ate potato chips in the near-sterile environment, staring at the stern gazes of the medical staff. "That was the cruelest execution I've ever seen. A week ago, some American disguised as a German drilled a hole in the space station, trying to sabotage it. The space station court held a trial, and the final verdict was to launch that idiot back to Earth from here... I mean, launch him straight back, without a return capsule."

Daisy Jensen wrinkled her nose. "You're making up stories again."

Although their time together was short, Pietro Maximov, as the head instructor of the spacewalking course, clearly got along well with the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. Perhaps Wanda Maximov sensed his blood relative's overly soft heart, which is why she assigned him to this unassuming position, but Pietro found it meaningless and even enjoyed it.

"You'll see when you get back to Earth," Pietro Maximov laughed heartily. "I remember the Lighthouse base can receive outside television signals, doesn't it?"

"It seems you know quite a bit about us," Daisy Jensen said, narrowing her eyes. "What else do you know?"

"I also know... oh, I almost let it slip." Pietro Maximov shook his head smugly. "Ha, you incompetent agent, did you really think I'd blurt everything out?"

Daisy Jensen turned her head away indignantly. "All done." The medical staff put a bandage on the injection site. "Your medical report will be sent to your phone before you board the shuttle. By the way, don't put sexy selfies on your iPhone, not even in the cloud, we can easily hack them. I'm only reminding you out of consideration for us women, but be more careful next time."

Her face flushed instantly. "You...you saw it?"

"It may be impolite to say this, but I have indeed seen quite a few photos taken by your hacker ex-boyfriend." Pietro Maximov nodded. "Hey... don't get agitated. You don't want to be forcibly injected with a tranquilizer, do you? I won't let you damage the space station, understand?"

"you……"

"That's not my responsibility. I just saw it on Wanda's dashboard." Pietro shrugged. "Don't even think about getting the intelligence department to delete those photos. Victoria Hand from the legal department... she's not someone to mess with. She insists that all the photos contain undiscovered details and information. Isn't that your usual SHIELD tactic? Why are you so shy when it comes to yourselves?"

"Stop kidding her, Pietro." The medical staff rolled their eyes. "Stand up, Ms. Jensen. The drone will perform one last full scan and a quick diagnosis. I won't prescribe any prescription drugs or opioids, forget about it. These things are prohibited from being abused unless you get cancer from cosmic rays."

"That's reassuring," Daisy Jensen muttered as she stood up and underwent a quick scan by the drone.

"I think she's very healthy, Ms. Hansen."

"Shut up, Pietro." Maya Hansen rolled her eyes again. Pietro Maximov immediately shut up. He knew how important this biologist was. It was said that the Emperor had personally taught her a great deal about genetic engineering, and even the creation of those genetically modified soldiers was thanks to her efforts. Although she didn't hold a position of political influence, Maya Hansen's abilities and importance were enough to make many high-ranking officials fawn over her. Pietro was here not only to monitor Dinah Jensen and prevent her from damaging the space station, but more importantly, to protect Maya Hansen, a task also carried out by a guard outside the door. "Take her to the landing pad. I believe she misses Earth. If we don't leave soon, she'll launch herself back to Earth. The kind of launch without a return capsule."

"Haha, that's hilarious," Daisy Jason said dryly. "I'm leaving now. I'm going with Yoyo; that was Coulson's order to me before he left."

"Ms. Hansen." The guard bowed his head.

"Project 3.2, the report will be handed over to the Guardian Order." Maya Hansen removed her mask, blinking hard at her tired, dry eyes. She watched Daisy Jensen and Pietro Maximov's noisy figures disappear into the distance, and said in a slightly hoarse voice, "When is my vacation?"

"Your vacation was less than a month ago. But if you wish to take another leave, no one will stop you," the guard said. "Have you been taking your medication on time? The red potion is helping your body and mind recover, and our lord still needs your wisdom."

"Of course, of course. I look forward to more samples." Maya Hansen nodded listlessly. The Emperor refused to share with her the entire manufacturing process and knowledge of these genetically modified warriors, the Imperial Guard. Of the millions of steps involved, she only understood the manufacturing and working principle of one organ. Without an overall blueprint, this knowledge couldn't be systematized and was naturally useless. "It'll begin soon, won't it?"

(End of this chapter)