Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 944 Hydroponic Farm (Second Update)

"A sweet morning, huh? You bring breakfast to the witch's bedside, gently wake her, and move very softly—"

"Stop talking, Stephanie."

"—You guys might have sex after breakfast, while I'm cleaning up your apprentice's mess on the private jet. Bribery isn't the hard part; that senator is not only stupid enough but also easily bribed, but people like that are very prone to scandals. I started cleaning up the transaction records immediately after the deal, and I even did another deal with Citibank after I got to the hotel. Do you know what happens to your skin if you don't sleep all night?"

Stephanie began changing in front of Salomon. The two sorority androids, already dressed in pencil skirts or women's suits, were preparing to follow Stephanie into the White House. "What are you doing in Washington? If you want to fight, just go to any bar. There are plenty of bastards there to vent your energy without feeling guilty about hitting the weak. Go do some drugs and fuck them, don't worry about me."

"I brought you a potion, First Honeyflower. I guarantee it will give you plenty of energy, a thousand times better than those awful energy drinks, and might even let you live to be two hundred. Darling, could you pour us two glasses of brandy? I think the potion will be easier to swallow with a glass of wine." Salomon thanked the android after taking the glass and poured the potion into Stephanie's glass.

The Hydra's daughter, dressed and expressionless, walked over and took the glass of wine from the waiting sorcerer. She did it on purpose; Salomon was certain she'd made him wait so long as punishment. But Salomon found it rather amusing. "I came to Washington only because I have a meeting today," he said. "I didn't even know you were coming to Washington before you came to the apartment last night."

She gave him a deep look, somewhat surprised that she didn't know Salomon's schedule for the day. However, she was used to Salomon's tendency to keep secrets, so she had no intention of probing further. As he often said, the right person knows the right thing; if Salomon thought she needed to know, he would tell her.

"So, are we going back to the Immortal City together?" Stephanie took a sip of the brandy laced with the potion, then raised an eyebrow in surprise. She found that the potion and brandy tasted surprisingly good. This was probably no coincidence; there weren't many people in the world who appreciated the taste of alchemical potions, and even fewer who used them to mix drinks. Salomon was one of them. During her research in Kamar-Taj, she had heard many complaints about Salomon; many arcane mages were used by Salomon to test the flavors of their potions.

"Wow, it doesn't smell like booger! I remember once you gave Mordo a recovery potion that smelled like booger, and he almost exploded when he mentioned it. Anyway, I should be able to finish the meeting by 3 PM this afternoon, and then we'll see if that Saudi Arabian prince is really a Skrull. After that, leave it to the assassins and interrogators; our job is done."

"No problem, my meeting will end before 1 p.m.

"Wait a minute," Stephanie called to the sorcerer who had just opened the guest room door. "Your robes are completely unsuitable for a meeting. Here are your custom-made suits. Put them on, dress smartly, and don't embarrass me."

"No need for all that. My meeting is in a bar, not the White House. It's full of drug addicts, alcoholics, pedophiles, racists, and other bastards... Shit, that makes it sound like it's no different from the White House. You're right, I'll just put on my suit."

Victor von Doom repeatedly let out sarcastic laughs, expressing his disdain for Salomon's attire. "You actually came to this bar in a custom-made suit? Do you think this is a political gathering?"

"Aren't you wearing the mask I provided too?" The sorcerer felt his olfactory receptors being bombarded by endless cigarette smoke. Even so, he could still smell the stench of urine under the bar. "Besides, we're going to a high-class place to steal something; in this outfit, you'll only be considered a cleaner. Don't worry, I'll take care of anything that costs money; I have an invitation."

"What kind of joke is this that I don't understand?" Viktor von Doom put down his glass, his face grim. "We're going to the CIA deputy director's family gathering. We only have one chance to find that document. I need to find out what the Americans have done to my country, you understand? I've investigated and found out. That bastard took a cut, stole my people's hard-earned money. I'll make him pay, hang everyone in that chain of corruption, not even a dog—while my people are starving, those pet dogs are feasting on marbled beef. Wait, you're not going to be like those idiots and demand he be handed over to American law, are you?"

"The law protects the weak, but he wasn't protected, and neither were those dogs."

"Very well, I knew you weren't an idiot. Let's finish this last drink and then get to work. Nice to meet you."

"Hmph, no magic allowed. You're a defector, remember?"

“I don’t need it,” Viktor von Doom said coldly. Although Salomon had persuaded him and shown him the Immortal City, Viktor still needed to confirm that Salomon truly wanted to pursue this cause. He needed to see that Salomon’s Immortal City would genuinely help his homeland develop, wresting resources back from Western politicians and exchanging them for the people, just as the Immortal City had done in several African cities—however, unlike in Africa, such an event would immediately attract attention in Eastern Europe. Even though Western propaganda outlets vehemently denied it and educated their citizens that racism was ugly, in their minds, Africans, Middle Easterners, Latinos, and Asians were still considered “subhuman,” and only blond-haired, blue-eyed people were human.

Any wars that occur in Africa, the Middle East, and Asia are merely news photos and texts, devoid of real meaning. There are even numerous opinions like, "They're not Christians; this is punishment for not believing in God." This is their true thought; they just dare not say it aloud. If they make a mistake, they might be able to take a bath at a Baptist church and then be as innocent as a newborn baby.

Victor von Doom was one of the few who could join Salomon in cursing the idiots produced by Western indoctrination. After this job, their friendship extended far beyond that. In fact, Victor von Doom had discussed Latvinia's future development path with Salomon more than once. "Food, military industry, energy, metallurgy, and banks must be nationalized. Confiscating the assets of Western companies will inevitably lead to sanctions, and Latvinia's productivity simply cannot handle it. Even the Immortal City cannot feed so many people. Salomon, although your ideals are grand, the Immortal City is still too small."

"What if... what if I had a grain base and a hydroponic farm?" Salomon swallowed the last of his ice-cold beer and said to Viktor von Doom with a hint of smugness, "Do you think I'm not prepared? My scientists have already screened out the most suitable genetically modified crops, high-yielding, pest-resistant, and perfect for your people."

"I didn't see your food production facilities in the Immortal City." Victor von Doom's face mask faithfully reflected his expression. This was a small gift Salomon had sent him via silver carrier pigeon after the visit—technology from S.H.I.E.L.D. "Even if you start building the farm now, it's too late; we're starting in an hour!"

Salomon enjoyed watching Victor von Doom rack his brains, but before the future monarch of Latveria lost all patience, he gave the answer. "I never said my farm was on Earth," Salomon said. "My farm is on Mars."

Please vote for me!

(End of this chapter)