Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 544 Anchor Point in the Human World (First Update)

Agent Hand is like a cold, sharp sword, resilient and incisive, capable of solving any problem that ordinary people cannot. She is so unbreakable that even facing Nick Fury or Salomon, she will stick to her convictions; death cannot change her. Salomon has reforged this sword, equipping her with technology and unprecedented access that even S.H.I.E.L.D. lacks. She will only become sharper and more deadly. That small brass badge represents the unwavering trust Salomon bestows upon her.

In her view, Coulson's team was too weak, letting the still-active Hydra agents escape. This was intolerable to her, just like the mutiny at the base she oversaw—a disgrace that needed to be washed away. She didn't know why her new superior valued Coulson's team so much, but she knew Salomon must have his reasons. Agent Hand was quite certain, because that's how she was resurrected. Just like Nick Fury. Agent Victoria Hand felt that Salomon's style was almost indistinguishable from Nick Fury's; both were thoroughly mystical practitioners, making Agent Hand feel, for a moment, that she was still in S.H.I.E.L.D.

She brought the segmented management of permissions and the fieldwork system to the Immortal City in their entirety. To Salomon, she was more than just an eighth-level agent or a commander.

She planned to use the authority she had to carry out the mission first.

She knew that by the time her new superior saw the report, the mission would be over. Even he wouldn't be able to find fault with her then, because Hand was confident she could perfectly capture John Garrett and extract more valuable information from him. As for Grant Ward, Agent Hand thought it was better for him to be dead. She was certain it wasn't a personal vendetta. Now belonging to another organization, Agent Hand had no intention of helping Agent Coulson reclaim the Airbus; she only wanted to bring in the high-tech fighters from Immortal City to directly strike Hydra, and if a saturation attack with macro cannons could be achieved, even better.

However, neither Leopold Fitz nor Agent Coulson believed this wasn't a personal vendetta. They wanted Grant Ward alive, at least temporarily. Much about the Centipede Warriors remained unclear—a mission Coulson's team had carried out before S.H.I.E.L.D. disbanded, and one they were still performing. Without orders, without authorization, and constantly at risk of arrest, they had become vigilantes, much like street heroes.

This is definitely not a good thing.

There's a reason S.H.I.E.L.D. has established such stringent regulations for field agents; these seemingly inhumane rules minimize the possibility of unnecessary sacrifices and leaks. The Coulson team that Agent Hand observed has now completely deviated from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s rules. Even professional field agent Melinda May has been corrupted by Agent Coulson. Agent Hand doesn't believe they'll still prioritize the mission.

"They're no longer special agents; they're just vigilantes, completely undisciplined," Agent Hand thought to himself.

However, she also knew that it was precisely this kind of team that could cultivate unwavering loyalty, leaving Agent Hand unsure whether to envy or despise them. "I will provide assistance, but not much," she said, adjusting her glasses and agreeing to Agent Coulson's conditions. "There won't be many casualties, but you must hand over CyberTech to me. I need to hand this organization over to Congress, after I've cleaned it up, of course. I have a cover identity, so I need to use it to its fullest extent."

"Thank you for your help, Agent Hand." Coulson shook her hand gratefully. "Thank you so much. Also, please give my regards to Salomon."

"I will," she said calmly, "because my new boss likes you a lot."

“I really like Agent Coulson,” Salomon said. “Not just because of the prophecy that he could save the world, but because I see vibrant humanity and unparalleled loyalty in him. My dear, you and I both know how important humanity is to us long-lived humans. Time can erode everything, including emotions. If I hadn’t met you, I have no idea what I would have become… probably a cold-blooded bastard.”

"I never imagined you could say such cheesy things so easily." Bayonetta's eyes gleamed. This was the result of years of training; Salomon had become the person she liked best—a considerate yet powerful man. Although the ideas the Sorcerer Supreme had instilled in Salomon since childhood couldn't be erased, this little rascal had transformed from the tense, confrontational boy he was at their first meeting into a gentle fool who wouldn't hide anything from her. She knew how many cell phones Salomon had, that he had established a Kamar-Taj peripheral organization, and that he possessed countless aircraft carriers and fighter jets. But she didn't care much about any of that; as she herself said, she was a complete homebody.

The witch's life was exciting enough, and now that the witch race was destroyed, neither she nor Joan of Arc wanted to go anywhere. Besides killing some angels, it was also to feed the contracted demons and devils, and incidentally collect a reward from Kamar-Taj.

“I know I’m not a product of nature, and I accept that. It’s because of you all that I haven’t lost my humanity. You, Joan of Arc, Venerable One, Athena—all of you are my anchors in this world. Especially you, we understand each other, and that’s the best thing about marriage… um.” Salomon couldn’t continue because Bayonetta had already sealed his lips with hers. “You didn’t even call me when you were eating fruit! I could already taste it,” he complained dramatically. “That’s not something a husband and wife should do. We should be honest with each other.”

"You brat, all you care about is eating fruit, not this kiss!" Bayonetta laughed and patted her lover's shoulder. "I'll be waiting for you in bed. Come early, and remember to brush your teeth."

"I promise I'll be there in ten minutes." Salomon put down the report, removed the parchment from under the scorching lamp, and placed it in a folder alongside the tire shop guy and the New York State lottery. He didn't intend to read any further; he trusted Agent Hand to handle his own affairs. He kissed Bayonetta's soft belly, covered by a thin veil, feeling like he was about to pass out there.

"Or do you want to do it here? That's not in line with our traditions, but it's not like it hasn't happened before." Bayonetta stroked Salomon's hair. "Impatient handsome young man, go brush your teeth!"

"I promise I'll go," Salomon mumbled, his voice sounding as if he were lost in a dream.

Bayonetta gently stroked the sorcerer, feeling Salomon's hot breath. "Well, darling," she said, "it seems you need a good rest." Salomon spoke in a muffled, incomprehensible voice, like a small animal falling into slumber. The witch felt a surge of pride, knowing she had him completely under her control; with the most blatant love and the tenderest affection, he would never leave her embrace.

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(End of this chapter)