Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1508, Chapter 1504: The Lunar War (Part 20)

"Is this it?"

Gronov Rutov made a tactical hand signal, requesting confirmation of the target.

Although the true final battle had not yet begun, and they knew very little about the Inhumans' reconnaissance techniques, abilities, and types, Gronov Rutuff, following orders, used maps drawn by miniature drones and intelligence provided by spies to conduct more precise reconnaissance with his squad deep into Attilan's main city. He discovered that while the mutants seemed to be converging on the city center, not all of them were qualified to enter the shelter. Under the watchful eyes of these shadowy figures, everything faced by Attilan's lower classes was recorded, awaiting upload as research material after the reconnaissance mission concluded and communications were restored. While Attilan outwardly presented as a relatively egalitarian society for Inhumans, with the vast majority free to do what they liked and were good at, it was certain that some form of social division existed within the Inhuman community.

The existence of clans implies that society needs to classify status based on ability, which largely stems from genetic mutation. Even in commoner clans where genetic mutation is highly random, the nepotism within the royal family and genetic research institutes can still create stable classes based on ability. Furthermore, the widespread practice of eugenics in Attiland means that those Inhumans who cannot mutate, whose mutated abilities are too weak, or whose mutations result in some form of disability will undoubtedly become the bottom of the social hierarchy. "Invalid genes" in the eyes of the Genetic Council can only combine with another "invalid gene," creating even more "outcasts."

Gronov Rutov's mission came from the highest level.

The Emperor withdrew him from the front lines for a top-secret mission with his squad. The squad only knew they faced some kind of alien witchcraft threat, and they needed to obtain information about it—videos, pictures, even audio recordings would suffice. Gronov Rutov knew that another guard was also on the same mission, and the somewhat malnourished man huddled in the alley below seemed to be the clue that guard had left for the squad.

"Yes, that's him." The squad's lieutenant also gestured, pointing to his shoulder.

In the dim light, without night vision, it was difficult to see the fresh branded wounds on the man's bony shoulder; only a faint stench of blood and flesh could be detected, which was extremely difficult to discern in this suffocating environment. Gronov Rutov couldn't even tell what the man was stuffing into his mouth—the residential buildings of Attilan were layered upon each other, and the team walking on the steel rooftops had almost been attacked by kitchen waste. Everything produced in the gleaming upper class became nourishment for the lower-class people, and anything produced there would pass through pipes to the even lower levels, becoming nourishment for those with strong physiques and base minds—the "Alpha Primitives"—if he could, Gronov Rutov would rather never guess what kind of lunch that man was having.

Gronov Rutov deliberately stepped on the swaying steel plate.

The sudden noise made the malnourished creature instantly curl up, clutching the foul-smelling mass tightly. Even as Gronov Rutov lightly leaped in front of him, the so-called "contact" remained extremely tense. Only then, under the cover of his other brothers, did Gronov Rutov get a closer look at the mutant—the creature had a deathly pale face, seemingly possessing the average intelligence of a normal adult male, but its rotten teeth were truly unsettling, and its eyes, blinded by external injuries, had become hardened, blackened scar tissue due to poor care and repeated infections.

Gronov Rutov uttered the code, and the man instantly relaxed.

"Half upfront," he said in a language only genetically modified warriors could understand with a translator. "While the sample that esteemed sir gave me was impressive, this isn't how business is done. Look at my shoulder, this is the treatment I received yesterday when I asked for full payment upfront… How do I know it was yesterday? Because I poop!" Gronov Rutov's silence made the mutant uneasy. He grinned, revealing a mouthful of rotten teeth, and sniffed around with his mole-like nose. "You're still here, right? I can lower the price, five percent off…" …That shipment was really good; it looked like something from a gene lab, otherwise I wouldn't have conceded so much. Hey, I won't bother finding out where that esteemed person came from; anyway, some things up there are only for us lowly rats to handle. You're going to those big shots' territory, aren't you? How about an eight percent discount? That place you're going to isn't any good; I don't even know if you'll ever come back. Only I know how to sneak around there, but as you can see, I have mobility issues, so advance payment doesn't seem like such an unacceptable condition, does it?”

He sniffed around again, afraid that the pleasant smell might be from incense.

"Your Excellency?"

"Half," Gronov Rutov said in a mechanical, synthesized voice from a translator. The mutant didn't mind at all; too many powerful figures wanted to go into hiding, and this was the most chaotic time in the city since the evacuation order was issued. It was perfectly normal for some powerful figures to take the opportunity to settle some scores. However, the mutant nicknamed "No Nose" didn't care about such things. He instinctively grabbed the incoming bio-chemical gas bag, skillfully opened a small crack, and sniffed it. "This is much better than I expected, Your Excellency," he said excitedly to Gronov Rutov. "I'll arrange a guide for you right away."

"As soon as possible."

"Understood, understood!" The man without a nose dragged his broken leg through the construction and kitchen waste for over ten minutes. During this time, Gronov Rutov's teammates maintained their superior position, like crows perched on treetops, yet remained utterly silent. The man without a nose tapped rhythmically on a sealed pipe. About a minute later, a massive head and thick neck emerged from the darkness; judging by its size, the head was likely much heavier than the man without a nose. "Idiot, hurry up. We have business!"

"Business. There's food, but we don't eat cockroaches."

"You can have any woman's flesh you want this time, you can't do anything else anyway." The noseless man grinned, his back to Gronov Rutov. He couldn't find Gronov Rutov's location, especially when the latter wasn't speaking; he could only rely on his senses, not his voice or smell. Now it seemed his senses were unreliable. "This is my blood brother. Although he doesn't look much like him, I assure you, his current appearance is entirely due to being born too big and suffering brain damage from oxygen deprivation. It's said he was thrown onto the ground right after birth, and then my poor aunt was bounced onto the roof of old Goethe's house by a spring mattress!"

"That's an Alpha caveman!" the team communicator said. "I'm sure Alpha cavemen can't reproduce naturally."

"I assure you, this idiot will get you to your destination. We've done this kind of business many times. After all, those long-faced people have a lot of weird stuff, like aphrodisiacs. There are definitely a lot of people taking advantage of this to run into the homes of those big shots. Before I went blind protecting the royal family, I saw those Chimerian clans, so I'm a little curious how Black Bolt will conquer that horse-headed guy in bed... Anyway, you just need to hand over the remaining reward to this idiot at the end." Gronov Rutov looked at the Alpha primitive, who was completely unconcerned about his power armor and size. His dim-witted eyes stared blankly ahead, as if the stains on the giant pipe contained the deepest secrets of the universe.

"Deal," Gronov Rutov said in a low voice. He gestured for his team to follow closely behind him. At the same time, he took out a spherical miniature drone, intending to map the pipeline. "Just me, go and come back quickly."

My fingertip got pinched, it's swollen and bruised, and it hurts terribly.

I never imagined that typing on a keyboard would be so difficult.

(End of this chapter)