Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 970 The Guardian Order Intelligence Officer (Second Update)

Constantine's jet-powered motorcycle was parked on a helipad a kilometer away from the target. Through his helmet-mounted head-up display, he watched as S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Quinjet landed in front of Dr. Radcliffe's house. Perhaps due to the noise of the Quinjet, the drone's close-range reconnaissance went undetected. Constantine looked through the lens at the freshly mowed lawn and blooming roses; the scent of freshly cut grass and flowers seemed to travel across the distance to reach his nostrils. This residence was located in an affluent suburban area, a place where, back when S.H.I.E.L.D. still existed, at least two agents monitored Dr. Horton Radcliffe's movements daily.

The cabin ramp door opened, and Melinda May, tightly bound to the hospital bed, was wheeled out. This woman was a victim of possession; her face was contorted, and she screamed, struggled, and cursed in agony, but Phil Coulson and Gemma Simmons watched her with concern. Dr. Horton Radcliffe quickly took over the patient, instructing them to move Melinda May into his workspace—which was also the living room—and administer a sedative. Through the drone's view, Constantine saw Gemma Simmons holding a needleless, high-pressure injector filled with a full bottle of sedative to Melinda May's arm, injecting several times the standard dose before finally calming her down.

"What's wrong with Coulson? Isn't he afraid Melinda May will die?" A distinctive accent rang out in the Guardian's helmet headset. "And where did that Dr. Radcliffe come from? I remember him still in jail!" the voice said. "You should be storming in and taking Melinda May back to the Immortal City, not letting some mad scientist and AI take over! I left him all those connections not so he could lead SHIELD to lick the toes of congressmen! Now he's doing it like it's a cheese stick! Damn it, damn it! SHIELD used to be a neutral intelligence agency—at least it used to be—and now it's no different from the CIA, FBI, and Homeland Security! Damn it! I'm going to be laughed at for the rest of my life! After I die, Salomon will definitely be laughing at me at my grave and spitting on my coffin!"

"Mr. Nick Fury, your task is to provide me with mission intelligence and analysis, not to instruct me on missions. By the way, you won't have a tombstone or coffin, because the Immortal City doesn't have cemeteries, only ossuaries." Constantine's tone was calm, showing no anger at the noise coming from the other end of the headset. Although he didn't understand why the monarch would appoint the head of a former enemy intelligence agency as his intelligence analyst, he still followed the monarch's stated approach of "the Royal Guard needs a bit of individual heroism." "Only the monarch has the authority to command me. Unless you want to go back to your cell and continue eating protein-enriched mashed potatoes, don't deviate from the mission. Also, what are cheese sticks?"

"Motherfucker! Do you know that my abilities are a complete waste of my talents as an intelligence analyst!" Nick Fury was so angry that he wanted to throw down his headphones and stomp on them, but perhaps because his share of whiskey was right in front of him, he gave up on that impulsive act.

His room was located in the middle level of a tower within the Immortal City, a building reserved for the Imperial Guard's operations. It was the only place he was authorized to access. The room contained numerous devices, allowing access to almost all intelligence documents. Nick Fury could use these devices to command many intelligence analysts belonging to the Imperial Guard. A large window at the front of the room offered a view of the densely packed intelligence personnel sitting at their computers below. These analysts all had clean backgrounds; many were graduates of S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy and had all worn the ribbon-adorned hand-shaped shield insignia—not the CIA agents, FBI agents, or Skrulls who had been manipulated. Victoria Hand had complained more than once about the Imperial Guard's arrogance. Constantine never informed her before recruiting from the intelligence department, and many agents who joined the Imperial Guard's intelligence system never returned, seemingly disappearing completely into the shadow cast by the Immortal City.

This level of authority is considerable, but Nick Fury can only observe and cannot make decisions.

As for an even more mysterious department within the Imperial Guard's intelligence system, Nick Fury couldn't uncover its secrets no matter how hard he tried, yet he consistently received leads from another department. For instance, Melinda May's name appeared on a small piece of paper bearing red electronic sealing wax and the smell of burning protein. After scanning and confirming the sealing wax originated from that mysterious department, Nick Fury's intelligence personnel began their operation without orders.

Initially, both Victoria Hand and Nick Fury assumed Salomon would incorporate him into the intelligence service, making him a subordinate of Victoria Hand—Salomon's magnanimity was well-known; even Hydra was a part that could be utilized and integrated, and Nick Fury, a like-minded individual, could be the same. Unless there were irreconcilable differences between the two sides, the Immortal City would actively accommodate any usable talent. Even Nick Fury himself believed this; no matter how much he disagreed with Salomon's methods, he couldn't deny the Immortal City's efficiency and the accuracy of its intelligence. For this reason, he even gave up drinking. This was no easy feat, as the whiskey sold in the Immortal City's bars was of extremely high quality—however, in the end, Constantine took him away with the monarch's orders. The reason for this was simple: the Royal Guard needed the ability to think independently, and Nick Fury, as a dissenting voice, could provide the Royal Guard with perspectives drastically different from Salomon's orders.

"That AI isn't a threat yet," Constantine said. "I need to get into Dr. Radcliffe's house to install surveillance equipment. Help me infiltrate the First Class Regiment's Third Assault Team and Fourth Reconnaissance Team during the Fimbulwinter invasion. I need someone to monitor Dr. Radcliffe's house."

"That's right! The Third and Fourth Squads of the First Classified Regiment of the Fimbulb Winter have received orders and are ready to depart with standard assault weapons! The First and Second Squads will soon arrive at the Pasadena Energy Laboratory with the researchers. The recovery operation will begin in an hour. The Los Angeles Police Department will be reassigned from the area at that time, so it will not affect the mission's progress." Nick Fury finally regained some of his sense of the past. "Where's Melinda May? When are you taking her back to the Immortal City?"

“I won’t do that,” Constantine said. “I don’t care about her. All I need to know are the symptoms she had after being possessed by those spirits, and then compare them with the records across the entire American medical system.”

"You certainly embody Salomon's rationality," Nick Fury muttered, "but at least he has a gentle side. What about you?"

Constantine didn't bother answering the question. He shut down communications with Nick Fury and continued to stand there, waiting for the Fimbulwinter combat team and agents to arrive in Los Angeles. Before the snipers arrived, he would infiltrate the residence to set up the necessary equipment—though he was currently the only member of the Royal Guard, in the monarch's vision, every member was a well-rounded individual. Constantine could strike down enemy commanders like a spearhead on the battlefield, or silently slip into the shadows and snap someone's neck. He had done it to an alien nobleman before. It wasn't difficult; the bones of the Shi'ar were fragile, and so were those of humans.

Please vote for me!

(End of this chapter)