Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 243 The War Begins (First Update!)

The Airbus command center was reactivated as a temporary command center for this operation. Since the S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicopters were activated before the Battle of New York, the Airbus had been temporarily decommissioned, awaiting its next owner. The Helicopters could not be used in this operation; activating them without a large-scale disaster was not something the World Security Council wanted to see. Nick Fury didn't want to waste any more time arguing with the Council's bureaucrats, so he brought out this vertical takeoff and landing transport aircraft that had been parked in the warehouse once again.

Once Nick Fury returned to Airbus, he began his work. Faced with a mountain of paperwork, he suddenly remembered how valuable Agent Maria Hill was, and now deeply regretted not bringing his capable assistant along, instead leaving her at Triskwing headquarters to deal with the World Security Council's inquiries. "How's it going?" he asked the medical personnel on board, "Did they find anything unusual?"

"No, sir." The doctor shook his head, removing his rubber gloves. "The Devil's Son doesn't have horns, a tail, or even an extra appendix. Johnny Blaze's flesh and blood recovered after the fire was extinguished, but he's still unconscious. For safety reasons, I've given him a large dose of sedatives. As for the boy's mother, Nadya, she has no wounds other than a few abrasions, but she's very emotionally unstable and keeps wanting to stay with the boy."

"If you think you can get a high salary just by saying that, then go ahead."

"The blood test is the science department's job. The sample has already been sent. I'm just an emergency room doctor." The doctor rolled his eyes at his superior. "I'm only responsible for my own area of ​​expertise, sir. Doctors aren't omnipotent. However, I still have some professional ethics. I would never prescribe any medication for you." With that, the very individualistic doctor walked away, leaving Nick Fury alone in the office.

"Damn it." Nick Fury rubbed his eyes, thinking of Salomon Damonette. He figured the sorcerer definitely knew something, and that little bastard was hoping he'd ask him, preferably in a humble, pleading way. Only then would Salomon Damonette reveal even the tiniest bit of useless information. What a twisted bastard! Nick Fury shook his head, trying to stay awake. He hadn't slept a wink on the Quinjet last night, just to be on alert when Ghost Rider awoke—if he'd known Johnny Blaze would be sleeping so soundly, he would have gotten a good rest too.

Damn doctor, he won't prescribe any medication for him!

That damned drunkard priest can do nothing but give you an address!

Fortunately, the little rascal had reached a secret agreement with him: the Inquisition behind Father Morru wasn't as mysterious as it seemed. S.H.I.E.L.D. knew, and Kamar-Taj knew too, but nobody really paid much attention to the Church's power—compared to the former, the Inquisition's influence in secular society wasn't significant, and compared to the latter, the Church's magic (or divine magic) was still relatively insignificant. Therefore, Salomon indicated that Nick Fury should make some preparations there to deal with the purification of Tifflin. After the boy boarded the Quinjet, Nick Fury sent a message to a nearby base. A large force had already arrived at the location Father Morru had mentioned, taken control of the ascetics there, and begun setting up positions.

That location was also the battlefield chosen by the sorcerer, the place of their final showdown with the devil. Nick Fury now only hoped that the sorcerer was as prepared as he was.

He didn't know what the purification ritual was. Although Nick Fury believed that professional matters should be handled by professionals, all supernatural activities had to be conducted under the supervision of S.H.I.E.L.D. S.H.I.E.L.D. would monitor the entire purification ritual to ensure the boy wouldn't be harmed. This was at Agent Melinda May's request; she would act as the supervisor of the purification ritual.

In fact, Nick Fury had suggested taking the boy back to the United States and protecting him within S.H.I.E.L.D. or a US military base, as this would better counter the demons' influence on Earth. However, Salomon only gave him a look. Nick Fury admitted that the boy would certainly not fare well if he went to the United States. Although the sorcerer didn't care about the boy's fate, what Salomon wanted was to purify the power in his bloodline so that he could not summon demons in the future. The US military would only continue to stimulate the boy's power, which contradicted his ideas.

"Is Salomon Damonet awake?" Nick Fury asked Agent Melinda May as she entered the office to report. "He's been on the Quinjet for too long. If he's not awake yet, go and arrest him and bring him to me."

"He's been awake for a while, sir. He's in the kitchen cooking breakfast now," Agent Melinda May said. "It looks like it'll take him a long time."

"What?" Nick Fury asked, confused.

"Breakfast is Eggs Benedict and French toast, and if you're still hungry, there's also meatball spaghetti." Agent Melinda thought for a moment and concluded, "It tastes good."

"They didn't even call me for breakfast? Fine, put all that nonsense aside, I need Salomon Damonette right now. I need to know who those devils' lackeys are." The Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. clenched his fists. "I know nothing! I don't know who our enemies are, I don't know what's going on where we're going, and I don't know what will happen if our operation fails... May, we're fighting a completely unprepared battle, and that little bastard thinks he's in control! F*uck! F*uck!"

Nick Fury slammed his fist on the table in anger.

"Your only enemies are ordinary people," Salomon said, walking in with a large platter. "Other supernatural beings are my enemies, the enemies of Kamar-Taj. We can handle them, because we've been doing it for over a thousand years. This isn't the first time the Demon Lord has caused trouble, but his fate is sealed. Would you like some pasta? It's the only carb on the plane, and these meatballs almost expired."

"Where are the Eggs Benedict?"

“There are no more eggs,” the sorcerer said. “I can only give you one piece of information: Mephisto’s avatar is just an ordinary person. This avatar has no power whatsoever; he only possesses some authority as the Lord of Hell, such as making pacts with others and opening the gates of Hell. According to historical records of numerous demonic descents, Mephisto’s avatar always gathers his followers. He has summoned many dark creatures to fight against Kamar-Taj before, and this time will be no exception—however, I believe that with the rapid development of human weaponry lagging behind, ordinary people will also participate in this operation.”

"Thank you for your useless information, Salomon. You've become much smarter after sleeping on a girl's lap."

Salomon glanced at Agent Melinda May, whose face remained expressionless. "Is he always this much of a jerk?" he asked. The question went unanswered; Agent Melinda simply gave him a cold look and left the office without looking back.

"I sent Agent May to find Father Moru; he might know something."

"Who is Moru?"

"That black priest! Damn it, you still don't know his name?"

"Hmm, I didn't ask, and he didn't say, but I think the fact that he was able to find Johnny Blaze shows that he's got some skills."

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"Damn it, do you really have to drink in the morning?" The sorcerer stared incredulously at the priest chugging wine, and Salomon could no longer contain himself when Father Morru picked up a cold meatball from his pasta. "Here's a fork and some hot tea," he said with disgust. "It's time to be sober. We need information on our mortal enemies that the Inquisition already knows. Kamar-Taj doesn't handle that; that's your problem."

“There are many.” Father Moru licked the ketchup off his hand. “They taste good. Okay, okay, let’s get down to business—I knew the armed group that attacked us, but they were dead yesterday, killed by your girl, magician. But the devil’s minions are certainly more than just these. Although I’m not in charge of recording that information, I still know some.”

What Father Moru said next was an eye-opener for Nick Fury and Salomon, because Mephisto's influence on Earth ranged from Irish rebels to Chechen militants, from African warlords to South American guerrillas, from street drug dealers to gangsters. Mephisto was not picky at all; he would take anyone who could cause trouble.

These are just ordinary people, falling within the scope of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s capabilities. "At least we can say that S.H.I.E.L.D. is fighting terrorism," Nick Fury shrugged. "And they even manage to get funding for it."

The sorcerer nodded solemnly, deciding not to reveal the name of the junk food supplier, since he himself quite enjoyed fried chicken.

"That's all?" Nick Fury looked at Salomon. "What do you know?"

"Vampires and werewolves are definitely Mephisto's minions. Chicago was the largest vampire stronghold in America, but we've already taken it down. There are many vampires in Romania too, but they hide deep in the mountains and rarely come out to bite people. Speaking of which, a few years ago, the deacon of Kamar-Taj encountered a fight between vampires and werewolves, apparently caused by a human girl. It's really bizarre," the sorcerer said. "And the Devil Worship Cult—we at Kamar-Taj were previously purging another cult, and the Devil Worship Cult was spared a lot, so I'll go ask them about it later."

He also needed to ask the Sorcerer Supreme about his thoughts. The Sorcerer Supreme seemed to have some kind of scheme in mind; otherwise, the Temple Deacons wouldn't have remained silent until now, yet he was still completely unaware of the Sorcerer Supreme's plans. This was normal; the scheme began when the Sorcerer Supreme signed the pact with Mephisto. He needed to be prepared for any unforeseen circumstances—or rather, the Sorcerer Supreme had already planned it all along and was simply waiting for the right moment.

"Sir!" Agent Melinda May rushed into the office. "Two unmarked drones are tracking us! We can't rule out the possibility they're carrying missiles!"

"F*uck! How's the reception preparation going?"

"There are still over a hundred kilometers to go. The Quinjet's firepower isn't enough to deal with two armed drones." Agent Melinda May glanced at the group of one-eyed men, drunkards, and minors with newly sprouted stubble in the office. Her lips twitched. "I'll handle it."

"Order fighter jets to escort them. Let me see who's courting death."

Please vote for me!

(End of this chapter)