Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 542 Agent Hand's Report (First Update)

He felt his throat was like sandpaper, a piercing scream coming from afar and then filling his ears. His memories were a jumbled mess. He closed his eyes, and the chaotic red and blue light in the darkness before him intertwined, just like his consciousness. The least noticeable part of his consciousness began to work; the subconscious thread in the flickering, distorted chaos slowly unfurled, helping his awakening brain to sort out his situation and recall the parts of his lost memories—nightclubs, women, old men, and alcohol. He kept drinking, kept drinking, completely unaware of why he had been so easily persuaded to drink so much strong liquor.

His body told him he was lying on something hard, with only a soft object under his head and neck. Subconscious experience provided the answer: a pillow, and disinfectant. He struggled to tear his lips apart; he didn't need a mirror to know they were covered in dry, dead skin. He tasted blood; the salty, metallic taste brought him slightly to his senses, but a sudden, sharp pain jolted him awake, pulling him completely from his hazy consciousness and pulling him to the surface of his dark mind.

The fragmented memories caused by his hangover began to return, and Dave struggled to extract his weak recollections. Soon, terror crept in from the darkness. He tried to open his eyes, which were stuck together with secretions, fearing he would see a dimly lit environment and colorful lights, but he was even more terrified of seeing a bill. He just wanted to know that he was there.

His brain had already given him the answer through his sense of smell and touch: he was in a hospital.

This made Dave even more scared; he didn't know if he had arrived in an ambulance.

He was just an ordinary, poor college student; if it weren't for Balthazar helping him pay his exorbitant tuition, he would have even needed to take out loans. The ambulance wasn't burning gasoline, but his living expenses. "You're quite a peculiar case," said Dr. Dave, the attending physician, with great interest. "Do you know how many injections of brominaprocaine we gave you when you arrived? Your blood alcohol concentration was a staggering 0.9%, and you didn't even have alcohol poisoning!"

The air rushed through his dry throat, and Dave mumbled in a hoarse voice, no one could understand what he was saying.

"You'd better lie down for a while," the doctor said. Dave obediently accepted the suggestion. His head was throbbing so badly he could barely think, and his numb fingertips were too weak to hold anything. It was only after a nurse gave him some water that he was able to speak, albeit with difficulty. "You were brought in directly. If you didn't have identification, we almost threw you out. The ER doesn't have beds available for drunks and drug addicts." The doctor waved his finger in front of Dave's eyes. "Can you remember who you are? Can you see what number this is? I'm not a neuroscientist, but I know your performance fully demonstrates the wonders of the brain. Would you be interested in doing a survey?"

Dave's head was throbbing. He closed his eyes, searching his jumbled memories for the strange old man he'd met yesterday. The relentless headache interrupted his thoughts; he didn't want to think about anything now, he just wanted to close his eyes and get a good night's sleep.

"You've slept for two whole days." The doctor shrugged when Dave didn't want to talk. He had no idea how anxious Dave was. But his body wouldn't allow him to do anything. "I think you need more rest. Get some sleep, don't worry, someone's paying your medical bills," the doctor said. "Remember to press the call button if you need anything, Ms. Heidi will be happy to take care of you, handsome young man."

When he opened his eyes again, he found a familiar person sitting beside him. Even though his vision was blurry and he couldn't make out the face, Dave could recognize him by his black leather trench coat that hadn't been washed in years and his disheveled hair. "Looks like you've also fallen victim to Merlin's schemes. Now he's in Kamar-Taj, he won't cause any trouble." Balthazar casually stuffed an adult magazine into the sofa cushions. "Salomon called me and said you were in this hospital. He also called your girlfriend and said you went to Oxford for an academic exchange." He pointed to a stack of papers on the bedside table. "I've prepared the papers for that academic exchange for you. The exchange was real, he guarantees no one will find out. Trust me, it'll work. If women think you're cheating, they're the best detectives in the world."

"I haven't even said anything yet!" Dave roared in a hoarse voice.

Balthazar coughed twice. "I'm teaching you how to handle this situation, kid. Women aren't easy to deal with."

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Salomon took the report from Tita, which detailed the process of taking Dave to the hospital and settling the medical bills. This meticulous android had even pinned the bill to the report and included a photograph and brief information about the attending physician. The master of the Immortal City frowned as he glanced through it, signed it, and then set it aside.

He didn't have time to deal with Dave personally, so he could only delegate the task to the homunculus. He hadn't expected Dita to do this seemingly small thing herself. She was like a tireless machine, diligently carrying out all of Salomon's orders. Salomon was pleased with her attitude, but she was taking things too seriously; he didn't want Dita to focus on the minutiae.

He couldn't think of anything to reward Tita with. Beforehand, he had personally selected some cosmetics as gifts, including Tita's favorite YSL Opium perfume and Givenchy Le Rouge Interdit 16. Combined with the homunculus's pure white hair, her blend of heroic spirit and allure made her incredibly charming. Indeed, Salomon remembered the homunculi's preferences; all of Diana's clothes and cosmetics were chosen by him—he had specifically learned this skill from Athena to accompany the witch on her shopping sprees and clothing selections.

Judging from the results, this is a very useful subject.

This was followed by a report from Agent Victoria Hand.

This was a document that had been lying dormant for a long time, and Salomon was only now beginning to browse it because it wasn't marked as urgent: Agent Hill had secretly contacted Agent Victoria Hand, wanting her to provide support to Coulson's team. Maria Hill had already included Victoria Hand in the list of the dead in her report to the US government, precisely to keep her hidden from the US government's investigation and use her as a covert weapon. This was an unspoken agreement between Nick Fury and Salomon, which was why Agent Hand could recruit her former colleague after officially joining Immortal City to attack the Treehouse base in East Africa controlled by Hydra.

Agent Victoria Hand was happy to help.

"You actually let Grant Ward and John Gatler get away?" Agent Hand's expression was a mix of mockery, anger, and perhaps both. "Just because one of our team members was taken hostage!" she said. "We don't negotiate with terrorists!"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. no longer exists, so we must cherish every agent," Agent Hill quickly interjected, trying to smooth things over. This was a vacation home with an outdoor swimming pool. Just moments before, Agent Hill had led the US government to the secret base where Coulson's team was hiding, but she was too late; she hadn't been able to capture Grant Ward with the help of the US government.

"We won't abandon any agent," Coulson said firmly, a stark contrast to his usual mild-mannered demeanor. Agent Hand scoffed at Coulson's sentimental approach; in her view, with S.H.I.E.L.D. in such a fragmented state, Coulson needed to be decisive. If a rookie agent could be traded for a Hydra agent like John Gartler, it was a worthwhile deal.

"I'll help you catch Grant Ward, as long as you don't fall from the sky in a flying car and go online," Agent Hand said. "Because of your weakness, Agent Kenig was killed, and my new boss lost a Call of Duty teammate. He's furious, really."

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(End of this chapter)