Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 782 Athena's Foresight (Second Update)

Salomon decided to put aside everything else and take his cat to meet the witches who were shopping for Christmas presents. Bayonetta told the wizard that Joan of Arc, impatient with the hassle of shopping, was currently riding Salomon's motorcycle around the city.

Strolling around.

The sorcerer pondered the word, subconsciously feeling that he should keep an eye on the news to see if any police chases or car chases were happening in Manhattan. Crime rates were already higher during this time of year, and the NYPD was so busy that they had detectives patrolling the streets. It wasn't something to brag about for the police to be spending their time chasing after street racers so close to Christmas.

"Damn it, we lost them!" Officer Carter slammed his fist on the steering wheel in anger.

"Anyway, this is just a patrol officer's job; we're just helping out," the chubby Detective Fusco quickly reassured his old partner, lest Officer Carter take it too seriously and waste the whole day chasing speeding criminals. To be honest, he could tell at a glance how expensive the white-haired woman's Ducati motorcycle was; there was no way an NYPD officer could possibly compete with that kind of racing motorcycle in the heavy traffic with an old patrol car.

"It's Christmas! Look how many children are on the streets!" Officer Carter raised his voice to almost a scream. "You saw how fast she was going! What if she hits a child? We have to arrest her as soon as possible! Give me the radio, I'll call for backup."

A mischievous, gleeful expression began to appear on the motorcyclist's face, which was hidden by his helmet.

She couldn't stand the mundane task of slowly selecting gifts and jewelry; she needed some excitement. She turned off Tenth Avenue into the High Line at West 23rd Street, then sped north on 11th Avenue to the Silver Tower apartments. Next, she turned right onto West 42nd Street, passing the Bond Times Hotel, and drove towards Madame Tussauds, all the way to Grand Central Terminal on East 42nd Street. She planned to continue along Lexington Avenue to East 33rd Street and then straight to the Empire State Building, where a large police presence would gather behind her motorcycle.

Along the way, drivers didn't hold back their spittle, expressing their anger at the reckless female rider. Joan, in her busy schedule, kindly responded with a middle finger, prompting some drivers to accelerate and follow. However, they lacked the perseverance and cooperation of the NYPD, unable to chase her around Manhattan—she stopped briefly on East 33rd Street, waiting to be spotted. Joan intended to carry out her plan, demonstrating to the New Yorkers how to ride a motorcycle onto a skyscraper. Until a man in a suit, holding a short, gray, fat cat, stood in the middle of Fifth Avenue, smiling broadly at the white-haired witch. The passing cars and crowds seemed oblivious to him. Joan immediately sensed something was amiss, because this man attracted attention wherever he went, even in the simplest of clothes.

Joan of Arc twisted the throttle and, without hesitation, rammed the Ducati into it. She crashed into a shard of glass, the paving stones beneath her wheels rolling backward like a treadmill, no matter how hard the witch tried to accelerate, she remained stationary. Salomon, holding his cat, leisurely approached the stationary motorcycle. "That's my motorcycle, Joan of Arc," he said with a smile. "I'll have to change the license plate now."

"Anyway, you're so busy, and you don't even drive." The witch stopped the car, took off her racing helmet, and angrily flicked a stray strand of white hair from her head. "I don't think you'll have a problem with that, will you?"

"You're right." Salomon tucked the cat into Joan's arms and took the helmet. "What do you plan to do?"

"Let's drive it up to the Empire State Building!" the white-haired witch grinned. "That would be absolutely hilarious!"

"Carter, that rider's back." Detective Frosco, the portly man, sighed. He had to put his donuts back in the box, or he'd be in trouble once his partner started the patrol car. "The patrol team's on board, but they say there's a man in a suit on the motorcycle now, and he's the rider. The woman in the leather jacket is on the back."

"Great, now the back seats of the patrol car can be full!" Officer Carter said confidently. "Harold Finch and John said they need our help later, I think we can take care of this little problem first."

Detective Fusco clicked his tongue. "Do whatever you want."

What happened next was something Detective Frosco would never forget. Although he had seen Iron Man soaring over Manhattan on television before, and had even experienced the alien invasion during the Battle of New York, this was the first time he had ever seen someone drive a motorcycle straight up a skyscraper.

"So cool! Cough cough, I mean, so arrogant!"

"Issue an arrest warrant," Officer Carter said. "New York's in big trouble again."

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"I know exactly what you two have done!" Bayonetta said, hands on her hips, her fingers repeatedly poking the sorcerer's chest. Salomon and Joan of Arc tacitly averted their gazes, pretending nothing had happened. "I knew it the moment I saw the news. No one else but you two could have done something like this." The black-haired witch wore a black off-the-shoulder dress, the cold weather unable to diminish her beauty. Although Salomon was now much taller than Bayonetta, she displayed a rare display of mature womanly authority in front of the man she had raised (disciplined) since childhood. "Just you wait and see! Miranda definitely won't let you get away with this!"

Salomon never expected that Bayonetta and Athena would be so close that they would call each other by their first names.

Miranda Minerva is Athena's pseudonym. If they weren't in public, Bayonetta might have blurted out Athena's real name. The black-haired witch sniffed Joan of Arc's leather jacket, then the sorcerer's neck, and her expression changed instantly. "You guys actually have time to play around like this!" Bayonetta twisted Salomon's tie with her slender fingers, like a hunter returning from a hunt. She leaned against the sorcerer's chest, her long, shapely legs revealed by the slit in her skirt. She asked her friend, "I'm taking this boy with me. Do you have any objections?"

"Of course not," Joan shrugged. "I need to explain to Minerva how long it will take."

"I'll be there before dinner." The witch proudly raised her chin. "Remember to bring the gift; the children in the orphanage are our children too."

"My mother entrusted the orphanage to you?" Salomon asked incredulously. "Why?"

"Do you think no one notices your predicament, you silly girl? The children in the orphanage have all received a good education, and their personalities have been shaped by your foster mother. When they grow up, they will be exactly the kind of people you need most: officers, clerks, artists, and so on." Bayonetta raised her head, her delicately shaped eyes brushing across the sorcerer's face like a veil. She gripped her tie as if pulling on the reins of a steed, with an air of fearlessness.

"Your work needs manpower, and those children who have grown up and left the orphanage will be called back. Your foster mother has already prepared everything for you, my little boy."

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(End of this chapter)