Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 995 Commissar Sofia (First Update)

Two guards, clad in dark green bulletproof armor and armed with laser rifles, stood expressionless at the entrance of a massive military waterproof tent. The air conditioning unit, connected to the ventilation ducts, hummed loudly. Each time someone lifted the heavy curtain and stepped out, a cloud of cold air, carrying cigarette smoke, rolled onto the wooden planks laid in front of the tent. Bundles of electrical wire wrapped in black rubber stretched into the tent like an endless South American rainforest anaconda, providing a continuous power source for the command headquarters and nearby intelligence reconnaissance units. The air conditioning system, in turn, cooled the complex equipment. Meanwhile, countless smaller lights snaked through the camp, hanging from the dense camouflage netting, illuminating the forest night like stars in summer. The command tent wasn't the most concentrated source of light; the scattered lights, extinguished by blackout regulations, resembled shimmering dewdrops in the forest.

Fifty meters to either side of the tent stood four quadruple anti-aircraft guns, their operators tirelessly monitoring radar feeds, vigilant for any military units in the air not belonging to Latvinia. Further out, the cold-lights became increasingly sparse. The makeshift helipad was surrounded by rings of lights, and the hangar housed assault transport craft capable of vertical takeoff and landing, as well as several armed landing craft used to transport supplies and personnel from planetary orbit to the planet's surface. Each trip could carry a company of troops or thirty tons of supplies—if the airport runway hadn't been under construction, preventing Immortal City's transport planes from landing, the food options at this camp would be far more abundant.

In addition, near the tarmac are garages housing armored units, including black-painted armored personnel carriers, self-propelled artillery, and super-heavy tanks, all bearing a golden eagle insignia. These war machines are meticulously maintained. Compared to the soldiers' rest area near the garages, these garages not only have prefabricated concrete structures but also anti-aircraft artillery and camouflage coverings. There is very little light here; all illumination is strictly controlled.

This isn't the only airport and armored vehicle depot; other camps have many similar facilities. The Immortal City's war potential has just been realized, meeting Latvinia's needs. New missile operators, pilots, and armored vehicle operators are still in training. The reason this camp doesn't have an airport is simply because they've only been here for a week.

Beyond that lay the residential area, where the streets were made up of passageways between tents. Rows of dark green tents, each capable of accommodating a family of five, and white prefabricated medical shacks lined both sides of these passageways. Cold light streamed through the curtains, illuminating the makeshift streets. Large numbers of Latvian families, having undergone disease screening, were assigned tents. Although there was no running water and insufficient generators, Viktor von Dum still ordered the darkness and fear to be banished from the camp.

Before curfew, every street here was filled with Latvians who earned their living by working for the Immortal City and then exchanged their money for goods. In addition, many of the residents had a family member serving in the military. The financial system that the Immortal City had rebuilt created a flawed but prosperous market. Food, clothing, entertainment and other items became the means for Latvians to survive in this difficult situation. Almost all civilian goods on transport planes became property that Latvians could exchange for through their labor.

Further out, the white lights become scarce, sporadically illuminating the numerous unfinished concrete bunkers built in the early morning. Beyond the searchlight-equipped outposts, weapon platforms, two-person-high dark green precast concrete fortification walls, and steel barricades wrapped with barbed wire, you'll find a simple path paved with timber processed from the local forest.

A light armored tracked personnel carrier sped across the muddy road outside the camp at its maximum speed when unloaded, only slowing down as it passed a checkpoint and stopping before the barricades. A dark figure emerged from the turret on top of the vehicle, showing his badge and identification to the soldiers who came to inspect him—the soldiers were startled when they shone their flashlights on the man's face, quickly checked the identification, and let him pass. Immediately afterwards, the light armored personnel carrier raised the twin-mounted laser cannon barrel on its turret and arrogantly crossed the cured concrete ground after the checkpoint.

Passing through numerous heavily armed checkpoints and scouts clad in black, lightly armored bulletproof shells, the light armored personnel carrier drove straight to the parking lot in the military-controlled area. The owner of the tracked vehicle opened the door and walked towards the center of the camp, led by several soldiers, striding towards the command post.

Under the cold flashlight, the two guards could clearly see the man approaching in the distance. A wisp of dark red hair peeked out from the sideburns beneath the black peaked cap adorned with a golden eagle. The man wore a crisp, heavy black military overcoat, and his black boots were splattered with mud. Even though the summer night in the forest was cool, it was no excuse for wearing such a heavy overcoat, yet no one objected—no one wanted to greet him, except for soldiers patrolling between residential and military zones. When they encountered him, they had to stand at attention and salute, addressing him with honorifics of rank. The golden medallions on the peaked cap and black overcoat symbolized a terrifying power of life and death; if they violated military discipline, the chainsaw sword and explosive pistol at his waist could very well befall them.

Although this power is rarely used, no one wants to try it.

Under the tutelage of the military discipline officers, the guerrillas, who had previously been enthusiastic but lacked discipline, began to abide by the strict military discipline of the Immortal City. This approach proved highly effective, and the Latvian regular army became far more popular among the civilian population compared to the private armies of local tycoons.

An officer in a grey overcoat bearing the insignia of the Latvian Regular Army and a golden eagle on the chest emerged from the tent to greet her. The guards and officer saluted this man who exuded a chilling aura. Before the officer could speak, she commanded, "Captain Andras, take men to replace all the soldiers at post A-12. They are untrained and should not be in such important positions." Sofia said expressionlessly, "Seeing the political commissar's uniform and not even bothering to check identification, even an idiot would know the enemy will infiltrate by disguising themselves as our personnel."

"They're not afraid of you, Commissar Sofia. They've heard about your heroic deeds on the battlefield, charging into enemy lines with your chainsaw sword." The captain removed his beret, his tone full of teasing. However, Sofia didn't understand the captain's humor, and the captain could only wave his hand, not intending to make a fool of himself any further.

The difference between the duties of a propagandist and a political commissar lies in the fact that a propagandist does not go to the battlefield, supervise military discipline, or charge into battle, while a political commissar, in addition to being responsible for ideological education of soldiers, must also lead from the front and, when necessary, command the army. Propagandists address civilians and newly recruited soldiers, while political commissars address soldiers undergoing closed training and those already in combat. Both belong to the same department, and the political commissar has direct authority over the propagandists to ensure ideological unity.

Sofia was very dissatisfied because the performance of these outposts indicated that the soldiers in the training camp were not doing well enough and needed more rigorous training. However, she also knew that building a disciplined army would take time, and time was what Latvinia lacked most.

The captain knew very little about Sophia and the other disciplinary officers. Even though he was an officer from the Hydra family, he only knew that this disciplinary leader, who had been parachuted in from the Immortal City, was known for her strictness. The political commissars assigned to the various guerrilla units under her command all had the same temperament, and no one except the monarch knew where these icy, Latin-speaking people came from. However, he did know the background of the current preacher in charge. This former SEAL Team Six soldier had fought in Afghanistan, where all his teammates were killed by the monarch, and he was slapped in the face. From then on, he devoted himself to this cause. Captain Andras had never seen the monarch in person, but he guessed that his performance after meeting him would probably not be much better than that of Preacher George.

"We're short-handed. Apart from the scouts, most of the soldiers in this camp are new recruits, waiting to be transferred to the battlefield. But you're right, I'll replace Ivanovich and Popescu; they must be punished." Captain Andras sighed. "Commissar Sofia, the Commander-in-Chief is waiting for you. Leave this small matter to me."

Sofia glanced at him indifferently, then nodded, lifted the curtain, and went inside.

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(End of this chapter)