Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 662 Popular Support (First Update)

Cumberland County is the most populous county in Maine, and Yarmouth's population is neither large nor small, totaling just over eight thousand. The town's most famous attractions are the four falls on the Royal River and nearly 60 mills built between 1674 and 1931. The middle-aged priest patiently recounted to Salomon and Wanda the upcoming Yarmouth Clam Festival and the success of the last one. Based on the previous festival's success, it was estimated that this year's festival would attract over 120,000 attendees, roughly fourteen times the local population. While searching through the former priest's diary, the middle-aged priest also recommended that Salomon stay and try the delicious fried clams, and strongly urged the two to donate to the Lions Clubs International, a local international non-political service organization, to contribute to initiatives in vision protection, hearing and speech protection, diabetes awareness, youth outreach, international relations, environmental issues, and many others.

The Protestant ministry extends beyond preaching; matters concerning community development also fall within the priest's administrative purview. "Clam Festival is in two days, and the congregation is very worried about the weather. The weather station's phones are ringing off the hook because they're predicting a summer storm is forming along the coast. You know, the weather experts said it was impossible, but it's happened anyway," the priest said, his face full of worry. "Many of the chairs that congregation placed weeks ago to mark their Friday night parade locations have been blown away by the storm. But only God can decide Friday's weather. If you don't mind, I can give you two steamed clam car charms; you can consider it a bribe to the government."

"The storm will surely pass," Wanda said. "I would say that even if it weren't for the car charm."

The words had barely left her lips when she was met with the sorcerer's stern gaze, and she immediately realized she had misspoke. If the priest pressed her for an explanation, Wanda had no idea how to lie. Fortunately, the priest simply took it as a consolation.

"Thank you, kind lady." The priest took out Father John's notebook. It was a brown, hardcover notebook, old-fashioned, perhaps older than its user. Although the priest still harbored some reservations about the impulse he felt upon seeing this man in his oddly styled suit (English suits; American suits rarely have a fitted waist or drape), Wanda's gentle demeanor, his sudden impulse, and her meticulous identification all dispelled his doubts like dew under the blazing sun. He smiled and said, "The parish doesn't take these personal belongings back, and I don't usually read other people's diaries, because the parishioners' affairs are recorded in another notebook, which I can use to help them well. I don't know why you need these things, but I hope they will be helpful."

"We don't know yet if it will work." Salomon took the diary without ceremony and quickly flipped to the last few entries Father John had written before his accident. Wanda sat there, holding a cup of coffee, chatting idly with the priest. Soon, the only sounds in the room were the rustling of pages and the conversation between the middle-aged man and the young woman. The priest silently poured Salomon a cup of coffee, not caring whether he drank it or not. Before the sorcerer could even look up from his diary to say thank you, the priest sat back down and continued his conversation with Wanda.

The witch inquired indirectly about the local security situation, but Yarmouth's violent crime rate was far lower than that of 77% of cities in the United States, with the most egregious case being the Condon family case in 1981.

"When that incident happened, this youngest Anglican church in Yarmouth hadn't even been built yet!" the priest said, very proud of the parish's safety. Seemingly to assure Wanda she wouldn't believe him, the priest immediately offered to call the police station or the local Royal Baptist Church and the Central Diocese Church to check the parish's criminal records. He proudly stated, "Most people here are respectable, well-mannered, polite, and very devout."

“The priest is right. Grandma Yara’s son is the most useless one here, and the old priest’s diary proves it. Everyone living here is a decent person. Father John’s situation was indeed an accident.” The sorcerer handed the diary back to the priest. “If you don’t mind, could you please make a few phone calls for us? We have some questions for your congregation. I can’t tell you my purpose; it’s confidential. Don’t worry, they’re not involved in anything unsavory. I just want to know more.”

"I need more intelligence!" Victoria Hande's tone was resolute, every word carrying the chill of death. "I don't care what methods you use, as long as Jia Ying's life isn't over, she must reveal the information. The Monarch only allowed her to live temporarily, not to live a full life... Never mind, physical pain probably won't work on her. I approve the use of neurotoxins, the dosage is up to you... Stephanie, I need you to send more Hydra interrogators. I think one S.H.I.E.L.D. interrogator might not be enough for Jia Ying. I know you're busy, but please organize the logistics department to check the ammunition depot. I've already sent you the ammunition shortage information, please send transport planes to deliver it. The Sky Carrier hasn't been reloaded with ammunition since the last Sokovia War, and we have another battle to fight later, I believe the Monarch has told you about this. Yes, we are collecting communication records from the residents of Yarmouth. Yes, I've used artificial intelligence..."

Stephanie hung up the phone.

Before her, a mechatronic body was releasing electricity in a nutrient solution. The artificial intelligence of the Immortal City was firmly confined within this body, while constantly sifting through Yarmouth Town's call logs, photos posted on social media, GPS tracking data, and other information. Compared to the information that needed to be processed in the Ultron incident, screening this information was not difficult, and Stephanie quickly sent Salomon a list.

"Hello, Grandma Yara, I'd like to know what the stranger you saw in Larabbi Park looked like when you came to church on July 3rd... Hello, I'd like to know where the stranger you saw at the ship when you passed Yarmouth Harbour before the storm went... Hello, I'd like to know if you went to Muddy Rudder Restaurant a week ago..."

The priest patiently called the congregation to inquire about the situation, while Salomon and Wanda compiled a list of those who still needed to be questioned. This is the biggest flaw in American public safety: remote areas have absolutely no surveillance cameras, and the few that exist haven't captured any useful information. If there were surveillance cameras everywhere, Salomon was confident he could catch the vampire immediately.

No deduction, no detective work, no prophecy needed. Now, he could only resort to the method of interviewing the masses to find the monster that should be on Cowsington Island. The town was small, and strangers would stand out. The priest quickly provided results—three days ago, someone saw a group of people in black robes in the former Larabbi Park; a week ago, a stranger appeared on Highway 1 leading to Brickyard Valley, possibly a drug addict; someone at the Owl and Elm Grove pubs talked about a group of people renting a boat and sailing to Casco Bay.

Suddenly, a slight tremor caused everyone present to shake.

The priest, already accustomed to the recent spate of earthquakes of this magnitude, was surprised by the duration and increasing intensity of this one. When the tremors subsided, parishioners who hadn't yet called frantically began dialing the church. As one of the community leaders, the priest calmly instructed them on what to do, referring to Salomon's safety manual—the largest earthquake on the East Coast was the 7.3 magnitude Charleston, South Carolina earthquake of 1886, meaning many East Coast residents were completely unaware of how to protect themselves during an earthquake. This was especially true in rural areas like Yarmouth, where the parishioners generally had lower levels of education, mostly blue-collar workers, and were unlikely to be familiar with knowledge outside their own lives.

Salomon frowned, deeply worried about the impending intraplate earthquake. The Charleston earthquake was caused by an ancient geological fault deep within the North American Plate, and now the vampires were stirring up that fault, triggering another earthquake.

"Tell me the location of the epicenter." He took out his phone and made a call. "I'm sure it couldn't have gone far!"

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(End of this chapter)