Ch: 309-316
309. The Battle of Heaven and Salem
Just as there is the title of chief engineer within the ranks of engineers, or the title of historian among those who study history...
Witches, too, have their own ranks.
All supernaturals do!
For example, among the Blood Clan, Locke's rank is the highest; he is an Emperor!
And for witches... it's the Supreme Witch.
Because the chief medical examiner at the Police Department's forensic office, Medical Examiner Edward, still had three bodies to dissect and autopsy, he refused to accept any line-cutting or back-door favors.
So, Locke and Carrie went back to the hotel first.
After returning to the Room, Carrie spoke to Locke about this matter regarding the Supreme Witch.
"I heard Teacher Harkness mention it to me."
"The Supreme Witch is also known as the Super Witch."
"But..."
"After the Salem Witch Trials, the source of power for the witches was destroyed along with them."
Carrie shook her head, looking a bit curious. "How could there still be a Supreme Witch here? Besides, Teacher Harkness said that even for a Supreme Witch, at most only one can be born every three hundred years."
But the one here?
Elected once every hundred years?
Goodfellas.
A Supreme Witch's lifespan is calculated in centuries at the very least. If calculated this way, there should be three Supreme Witches in New Orleans.
But if there were a Supreme Witch, would the witches of New Orleans be bullied to this extent?
I just don't believe it.
And... it's the same old saying: even for supernaturals, their power doesn't come out of thin air, unless you're a cheater like Locke.
But in reality, Locke's supernatural power didn't come from nothing either.
Locke's power is provided to him by Infinite Energy; it's just that Locke himself is the Master of his own power source.
Witch Locke's supernatural power is derived from Infinite Power, instilling the power of a Witch into Locke.
And Cain of the Blood Clan's supernatural power is derived from Infinite Power, instilling the purest darkness into Locke.
Simply put.
The source of power is the starting point for stepping into the supernatural. If you can't find your power supplier, even if you become a supernatural, you'll still be a weakling.
So, from a certain perspective, when Locke opened his first box and got Infinite Energy, it couldn't just be called dumb luck; it should be called his ancestors' graves blowing smoke.
Wait.
I don't seem to have an ancestral grave?
Wait a minute.
Lorraine Broughton's grave should probably count as an ancestral grave.
Yeah.
And the power suppliers are those infinite dimensions spread all around Earth.
Outside of Earth, it's surrounded by almost infinite dimensions. Some dimensions are like grains of sand, some are like kingdoms, and some are like Worlds... the development and growth of a dimension are inseparable from its believers. Dimensions give their power to their believers, and believers give back what the dimension itself needs—a mutually beneficial, win-win cooperation.
Of course.
Some dimensions are quite unconventional or very evil.
Sorcerer Supreme Ancient One's power supplier is the Vishanti. To be precise, the long-term cooperative supplier is the Vishanti, while other dimensions are just retail suppliers.
In the past, the witches' power supplier was called Salem, a dimension belonging to witches.
Carrie recounted to Locke the knowledge she had heard from her teacher, Agatha Harkness.
Salem was the Lord of the Witch Dimension. Like Dormammu, she possessed her own consciousness and wisdom, and at the same time, she possessed unparalleled kindness.
But again, same old saying.
In this Universe, kindness and honesty only lead to one ending.
Because of Salem's kindness, she never turned away any believer who came to follow her. But Salemdidn't know that her actions had annoyed another dimension at the time.
"The Heaven Dimension."
"Wait a minute!"
"Hmm?"
Hearing Carrie say this, Locke raised an eyebrow and looked at her. "The Heaven Dimension? Does that dimension exist?"
Are there Angels in the Marvel Universe?
Mutants don't count.
Hiss!
Then have I been lying every day while swearing by God?
Carrie shrugged. "That's what the teacher said. Otherwise, why would the Holy See have persecuted witches back then?"
Locke opened his mouth.
Was it because patriarchy was prevalent at the time?
Forget it.
Maybe it really did exist at that time.
Wait... when did the Sorcerer Supreme take charge?
Locke was slightly taken aback.
Actually, Locke thought of a possibility.
Maybe there really was a Heaven Dimension back then, but Earth has been the Vishanti's territory since ancient times. So, after the Sorcerer Supreme passed the Vishanti's trial and became the Sorcerer Supreme, the process of expelling the barbarians began.
So... the Sorcerer Supreme, holding the Time Stone, found God, who was entrenched on Earth trying to transform it into a Kingdom of God on Earth, and the following dialogue occurred.
"God, will you leave on your own, or should I send you away!"
"Ami..."
"Pah!"
"Ancient One, I will be back."
After that, God turned into light and was driven away by the Ancient One in a sorry state.
This would serve as a good explanation for why the Holy See quickly fell from its peak after persecuting the witches.
But... this is all speculation.
As for what the truth is, who knows.
Locke snapped out of it, shook his head, and signaled Carrie to continue.
Carrie then shrugged.
She continued the narration.
Actually, there wasn't much left to tell.
Although the number of deaths of believers would not affect the dimension itself, because the whole of Europe was carrying out inhumane persecutions of witches at the time, the kind Salem transformed her dimension into land, becoming what is now the Salem area in the Federation.
And then... the Inquisition was brought here by the Holy See as well.
Salem fell.
And what was the banner the Holy See raised?
That the witches made deals with Hell?
Nonsense.
The witches were believers of Salem, not Hell. Moreover, at that time, those who made deals with Hell might have been called witches, but they were all Black Witches!
"The reason the teacher knows all this is because..."
Carrie recalled Agatha's expression when she was imparting this knowledge, feeling a bit dazed. "Teacher is one of the few lucky survivors who managed to escape from the Salem Witch Trials."
After that, Agatha found a new power supplier.
As for which dimension it was.
That's a secret.
Just as in some settings, a deity's true name cannot be known, here, it's best not to tell others who your power supplier is, lest they bypass you and find your supplier to strike a small deal.
Locke nodded. "Maybe it is three hundred years."
Carrie frowned. "But..."
"Those are rumors among ordinary people, not among witches."
"...True."
Locke rubbed his chin, thinking of that Cordelia Fox.
She seemed to be a Witch too.
And... Locke walked onto the balcony and closed his eyes.
After a while.
Locke turned around and looked at Carrie. "It seems our timing is just right. Tell me about that Supreme Witch?"
This afternoon, the Witch aura in New Orleans was a couple of notches stronger than it was in the morning.
Carrie frowned. "This is also just a legend."
Legend has it that Salem, who provided power and protection to the witches, didn't truly die, but merely fell into a slumber of Seven Cycles.
"Seven Cycles?"
"Yes."
Carrie nodded. "The Cycle of Location, the Cycle of Mind, the Cycle of Space, the Cycle of Time, the Cycle of Life, the Cycle of Death, and the Cycle of Magic!"
Locke smacked his lips. "Sounds quite high-end."
Carrie shook her head. "Actually, it just requires you to Master Telekinesis, Mind Control, Apparition, Divination, Resurgence, Astral Projection, and Magic Manipulation. Back then, the first Witch to find Salem was the Supreme Witch. Legend has it that if a Witch can complete these seven arrays of witchcraft, they can awaken Salem."
"Wow."
Locke's eyes lit up. "That's impressive. It reminds me of the Ozaki Eight!"
Carrie frowned. "What Ozaki Eight?"
Locke smiled. "A lie fabricated by a Japanese person. Supposedly, if you can complete these eight trials, you can achieve Nirvana!"
To put it plainly, they were eight extreme challenges.
When Locke watched 'Point Break', he was very interested in these eight trials, but in his previous life, he was short on cash and they were easy to die in. In this life, when he occasionally remembered them, he still planned to try them sometime.
Carrie shook her head. "But this isn't a lie. Witches all firmly believe in this."
Locke smiled. "Then why doesn't Agatha go?"
Carrie said, "Because Agatha no longer believes in Salem."
Locke raised an eyebrow.
Carrie seemed to know what Locke was thinking and said, "I'm not a believer of Salem either."
I am your person now.
Locke was silent for a while.
The next second.
Locke sighed, looked down at the wine in his glass.
He drank it in one gulp.
Alright.
He was overthinking it.
[Mission Name: "Release That Witch!"]
[Base Mission Rewards: "Achievement Points * 5000", "Potential Points * 500"]
[Mission Bonus Mode: "Reputation Value!"]
[Current Bonus Value: 10%, Limit 100%]
[Mission Description: "It's here, the big one is here. In this World, you, who stepped into the supernatural because of a Witch, vow to protect these poor and kind witches. But now, bloody and cruel Witch Hunters still live in this World. Tell them: Witches have someone protecting them!"]
[Mission Note: "Settlement will occur once it is determined that the witches have a good living environment."]
[Mission Note 2: Dear, please pay attention to reading the prompt carefully.]
Locke looked once more at the mission in the mission log that only he could see.
He thought the opportunity to complete the mission had arrived.
If he could just manipulate things to make Carrie the Supreme Witch and reactivate Salem, then if the Salem Dimension, which is willing to provide self-defense power for witches, were to be revived, wouldn't that be equivalent to telling the World that witches have someone protecting them?
Then wouldn't the mission be completed?
He read the prompt carefully.
Could it be... his reading posture was wrong?
310. The Flat-Lying Dolan Church
If it weren't for Carrie.
What was that?
I can't exactly go find a wild Salem Witch, help her, and have her become the Supreme Witch, can I?
Do I look like freaking Santa Claus?
If this World were full of ordinary people and he had the ability to turn them into supernaturals, Locke would still say no. Isn't being the only supernatural person great?
However... "Current bonus value: 10%, maximum 100%."
Locke looked at how the bonus had jumped to 10x even though he hadn't seemingly done anything, and he raised an eyebrow.
"Forget it."
Locke shook his head and downed the rest of the bourbon in his glass. "Time for bed."
On the sofa, Carrie watched Locke stand up and blinked in surprise. "Wait."
Locke, already at the bedroom door, turned back to look at her.
Carrie said, "About that matter with Kaup..."
Although Kaup hadn't said anything, Carrie was a Witch after all. Moreover, Locke had shared his deduction: a bad person was blackmailing Kaup to stop the case, and in the end, Kaup had chosen not to comply.
Carrie said, "When we were coming back, that phone call must have been from Kaup's creditor. Aren't we going to do something?"
Locke thought for a moment. "Of course we are."
You help me, I help you.
That was the model for a win-win cooperation.
To expect others to give unreservedly—frankly, what was the difference between that and being a freeloader?
Locke was never that kind of person.
But... "How?"
"Not right now."
"Hmm?"
Locke looked at Carrie and smiled. "Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime!"
Carrie blinked; she hadn't taken any elective courses on Chinese culture.
Locke said, "Kaup's problem is a gambling addiction, not a debt problem. The debt is a minor issue; no matter how much he owes, it's manageable. But if the addiction isn't solved, even if I fix it for him this time, there will be a second time sooner or later."
If that happened, things would likely only get worse.
So, the best way was to do it right the first time and completely uproot Kaup's gambling problem.
Would a gambling addict suddenly see the light?
No.
A gambler would probably still be regretting on their deathbed, wishing they had bet on'small' in that one round.
Fortunately, Kaup wasn't a full-blown gambling addict yet; he was just a gambler hurtling down that path.
He could still be saved.
The next day.
When Locke saw Kaup again, he looked at the bruises on Kaup's face with some surprise and asked with concern, "Kaup, are you okay? Your face..."
Kaup smiled and pointed to his cheek, acting quite nonchalant. "Had too much to drink at the bar last night and got into a fight."
Locke breathed a sigh of relief. "How did it go?"
Kaup made a boxing motion, looked at Locke, and gave a slight smile. "Does that even need to be said?"
Locke smiled.
Quite optimistic. However, how do you plan to raise two hundred thousand U.S. dollars in a month? Are you planning to steal five hundred thousand directly from the evidence room?
Locke thought to himself.
Yes.
He had gone out once last night in his identity as Cain of the Blood Clan. Only in that form were his six senses enhanced enough to let him track Kaup's scent.
However, his timing had been quite coincidental.
Kaup was getting beaten up in a casino. The casino boss seemed furious because Kaup hadn't gotten the job done and had given him an ultimatum: return the five hundred thousand dollars, principal and interest, within a month, or else.
Clearly.
When a gambler met his creditor, the status of a Detective was not only unhelpful but could even be a liability.
After all, within the Police Department, Kaup was a good Detective.
Reputation was one of the few things Kaup had left.
Soon.
Detective Cain arrived as well.
Facing Detective Cain's concern, Kaup, who had been single for a long time, wasn't as composed as he had been with Locke. However, he still hid the origin of the bruises. The group of four then walked straight to the medical examiner's office.
The medical examiner named Edward had just started his shift exactly on time.
Upon seeing Kaup and Detective Cain come down, he seemed a bit resentful. "I told you, I'll call you once I've finished the examination."
Detective Cain smiled. "Please, Edward, we just want to know if this body is Anila Katz!"
If it wasn't, then it would be a cold case.
But if it was, then it would be a proper murder case. Furthermore, the suspect was obvious; it would even be a case of a mother killing her daughter, which was beyond inhumane.
Listening to Detective Cain's analysis, Carrie's expression turned a bit ugly.
After all... her own mother had once tried to kill her. This scene was similar; the only difference was that Anila hadn't met Locke, while she had.
Medical Examiner Edward shook his head at Detective Cain's analysis. "Solving cases is your job. I'm just a medical examiner; I only believe what the dead have to say."
He paused.
Medical Examiner Edward found a file on the desk and handed it to Detective Cain.
Detective Cain was slightly stunned.
Didn't he say he was too busy?
Just then.
An assistant walked over and, seeing Detective Cain's expression, spoke up. "Detective Cain, Medical Examiner Edward performed the tests after work last night. I accompanied him. He said you were in a hurry, so he just worked some overtime."
Hearing this, Detective Cain looked at Medical Examiner Edward gratefully. "Thank you, Medical Examiner Edward."
Medical Examiner Edward glared at the talkative assistant and said to Detective Cain, "I'm just doing what I can. The cause of death and other information are all written inside. See for yourselves."
Detective Cain took the file, returned to Kaup's side, and then opened the documents in her hand.
She flipped through.
The deceased's fingerprints matched one of the prints found on the hairpin.
"This..."
"Anila Katz!"
"Oh my god."
Although Carrie had already accepted Anila Katz's death from Locke's side, it was still hard to swallow the fact now that it was confirmed.
Locke also raised an eyebrow slightly.
Yesterday, when he heard this Medical Examiner Edward say he had no time and that they had to wait in line according to procedure, he thought some trouble would arise from this examiner.
But now?
It seemed this Medical Examiner Edward was truly the type who was cold on the outside but warm on the inside.
So to speak.
Did the Dolan Church here just choose to lie flat because he had the reputation of a legal team behind him?
They weren't even going to struggle?
Guys, you're the local big shots. Can't you show some backbone? I'm still waiting for you to flip the table. After all, if you don't flip the table, how can I make a big scene?
If he didn't make a big scene, how would he complete the 'Release That Witch' mission?
The Dolan Church here, especially that Jim Rhodes, couldn't really be the first lucky person to find that one sliver of survival from his hands and successfully reverse their fate, could they?
Locke felt somewhat speechless.
Over there, Kaup looked at the report and, with a look of joy, took out his phone.
Quickly!
George, who had taken the day off to stay home with his young daughter, looked at the phone in his hand and answered, "Hello, good morning, Kaup. It should only be seven o'clock over where you are."
It was eight in the morning in New York, and New York time was an hour ahead of New Orleans.
While he spoke.
Thump, thump, thump.
George looked up, hearing footsteps from upstairs. Then, he watched as the sound changed once it reached the stairs. He coughed, and Gwen, with her hair in a large ponytail, walked down the stairs looking perfectly normal.
"Hmm?"
George looked at Gwen as she greeted him, inwardly calling her a "leaky black-hearted cotton jacket" once more. He then frowned as he listened to Kaup's voice on the other end. "Really?"
Gwen, who was walking toward the kitchen pretending to pour water, seemed to have her ears twitching like antennas.
George had already stood up from the sofa, his expression serious. "Alright, I understand. I'll arrange for personnel to go over right away."
After speaking.
George hung up the phone, then dialed Beckett's number. After giving a few instructions, he hung up again.
He looked up.
George was startled to see Gwen, who had been five steps away just a moment ago, now standing silently in front of him. He simply ignored her and called out, "Helen!"
Helen, who was calculating expenses in the dining room, looked up. "What's wrong?"
George looked at Gwen, whose eyes were once again filling with tears as she blinked her large eyes. His heart softened again, and he sighed. "Carrie's friend has been confirmed dead."
"Ah!"
"Kaup just said they confirmed the fingerprints on the body."
"That's not right."
Helen put down her pen. "Didn't you say yesterday that you sent officers to ask that mother named Katz? Didn't she say her daughter went camping with relatives?"
George said, "So, Kaup called me to ask if I could arrange for officers to bring Katz's mother to him, to save him the time of traveling back and forth."
Gwen's eyes lit up. "Dad, why don't you escort her over?"
Perfect.
That way, she could follow along legitimately.
For people in love, even being together twenty-four hours a day wasn't enough.
George's expression twisted slightly; he felt like slapping himself for his soft-heartedness just now.
He knew his eldest daughter had completely become someone else's property, so why was he still being so soft-hearted?
Damn daughter-slave instinct.
Hearing Gwen's suggestion, Helen took George's side and looked at Gwen. "If you want to go yourself, just tell Locke and then go. I'm more at ease with you being with Locke than I am with you being with your father."
Gwen shook her head. "I was just saying."
While they were talking.
George's phone rang once more.
"Beckett?"
"George."
Beckett, who was at the police station, held her phone and looked at the photo sent by the officers who had just gone to the Katz mother's house. She looked at the photo and the note, and her mouth hung open.
"George, the person you wanted is dead."
"...What?"
"Buthsen Kazz committed suicide at home. The patrol officers just discovered it."
"..."
Three Hundred and Eleven. Is the case closed?
"What?"
"She committed suicide?"
"You're not joking with me, George, are you?"
Kopp was a bit dazed after receiving the news.
George looked speechlessly at the photos Beckett had sent to his phone. "Why would I lie to you? See for yourself. I sent them to you."
Kopp put down his phone and opened the newly received images.
In view.
Inside a house, at the stairwell leading to the second floor, a noose hung vertically, and a woman in pajamas was peacefully suspended from it.
According to George, relaying Beckett, who was relaying the two patrol officers' account:
After the two patrol officers knocked on the door, there was no sound. Just as they were about to leave, they suddenly heard a sound inside, as if something had dropped. Then they discovered that the door was not locked.
When they opened the door and saw Buson Katz, looking down at them with her tongue out and eyes rolled back, they almost lost their souls.
Buson Katz.
Anila Katz's mother.
But… Kopp frowned, "What happened?"
George said, "There's a suicide note at the scene."
Could a suicide without a suicide note be called a suicide?
In the suicide note, Buson Katz stated that she hadn't expected Carrie Chester to be so persistent, refusing to give up asking about her daughter's whereabouts, even paying her own way to New Orleans. After the New Orleans police called her, she knew the truth couldn't be hidden any longer.
So, she committed suicide.
As for the details of the incident, she had also explained them clearly.
Because Anila Katz's behavior had been very strange recently, and Buson Katz's church was the Dolan Church, which was dedicated to eradicating witches, Buson Katz took Anila Katz to New Orleans. After confirming that her daughter was an evil witch, she cruelly ended her life.
It seemed… Buson Katz had taken the blame for Anila Katz's death upon herself.
But.
After hanging up the phone, Kopp re-entered the office and looked at Keno. "Any news from the fingerprint comparison center?"
On Anila Katz's autopsy report, in addition to confirming the time of death, forensic pathologist Edward also found a not-very-clear fingerprint on the body's throat.
It wasn't Anila Katz's.
At this moment, New Orleans' fingerprint database was running at full speed. As long as the owner of this fingerprint had a criminal record, even for drunk driving, their fingerprint could be found.
However, this was the New Orleans Police Department, not the FBI.
Local police departments have so many cases and limited resources. Just as autopsies require a queue, the fingerprint comparison center also requires a queue.
However.
"I've already spoken to the fingerprint comparison center, and they'll do it for us as soon as possible. It should be ready before Buson Katz is brought here," Detective Keno replied to Kopp, then asked, "How's New York? When will the person arrive?"
Kopp forced a smile.
"??"
"The person is dead."
"…"
Locke and Carrie, who had just come into the office with Detective Keno, turned their heads upon hearing this and looked at Kopp. "What do you mean, 'the person is dead'?"
Kopp relayed the news that Mrs. Katz, Buson Katz, had been discovered by New York patrol officers, leaving a suicide note, and had committed suicide at home.
After hearing this, Locke couldn't help but chuckle internally.
So, the Dolan Church didn't choose to lie flat, but instead chose to kill Buson Katz, faking her suicide and taking all the blame?
Brilliant!
Locke raised an eyebrow. This method was certainly better than direct confrontation. And, he had to admit, the logic behind this solution had a "sacrifice a rook to save the king" feel to it.
There was a body, a case, but also a murderer who had left a suicide note confessing to the crime.
If it weren't for the other fingerprint found on Anila Katz's body, according to the usual plot, this case would probably have ended here.
But… this was simply trying to cover up the truth.
Kopp looked at Detective Keno and shook his head. "Whether it's suicide or not, the New York Police Department has more resources than us, so they should be able to reach a conclusion quickly."
Even if it was suicide, there were many suspicious points in this case.
Just then.
Kopp's phone rang.
He answered the call.
Kopp listened to Jim Rhodes' voice on the phone, frowning. After a while, Kopp's expression turned to surprise.
Locke, standing nearby, listened to Jim Rhodes' words on the phone and also unconsciously frowned.
Nothing else.
Jim Rhodes said on the phone that after Locke and the others left, he had spent the night questioning the bespectacled nerd responsible for surveillance, and finally, by following the clues, had found the culprit.
An hour later.
Still in the small town next to Lake Lary.
Getting out of the car.
Jim Rhodes, his face full of smiles and looking as if he had been waiting for a long time, walked up to Kopp after seeing him get out of the car. "Detective Thornton."
Kopp shook hands with Jim Rhodes expressionlessly, then immediately said, "Where is he?"
"In the confessional!"
Jim Rhodes said as he led the way, his expression truly heartbreaking. "Detective Thornton, I really didn't expect something like this to happen."
According to Jim Rhodes, although they were the Dolan Church's witch-hunting group, this was actually like an honorary group; tradition outweighed action.
After all, there were no witches in this world, and the Salem witch trials had already been recognized by the world as a persecution of heretics by the Church.
Jim Rhodes stated that at most, they now just performed so-called witch burnings to attract tourists, and they never expected that one of them would lose their mind and actually do something like this.
Soon.
In the church with the Dolan emblem in town, as Jim Rhodes arrived, the inner church door opened, and then a tied-up man with a very pale face was pushed out.
Two arriving police officers stepped forward and restrained the man.
"Ian Mullen."
Jim Rhodes looked at the restrained Mullen with deep sorrow and said to Kopp beside him, "Last night, he confessed to us, Detective Thornton. We are not a church like the California Eye organization. We are just a church formed by descendants of crusaders."
Crusaders… Is that a good name?
Locke glanced at Jim Rhodes. Others might not have seen it, but he certainly could, and even Carrie beside him could.
The Ian Mullen currently restrained by the two officers was not in good shape.
In fact.
It was a miracle that Ian Mullen was still standing.
Death qi gathered above Ian Mullen's head, and it seemed he would not live much longer.
Good heavens.
There was such a way to break the deadlock?
Locke took a few more glances at Jim Rhodes. He wasn't omniscient and omnipotent; no one was. Anyone who claimed to be omniscient and omnipotent was either a madman or a great deceiver.
Anila Katz died in Lake Lary, and it was definitely done by this group of witch hunters.
But… Locke didn't know who exactly did it.
If this Ian Mullen insisted that he did it, frankly speaking, this matter would truly have to end here, and Jim Rhodes would become the survivor he had paid attention to, who had then completely seized that sliver of hope and escaped with his life.
Locke felt a bit regretful.
But he had set this sliver of hope because he was kind, believing that everyone who deserved to die had one chance to be saved. If he regretted it now, what would be the difference between him and an executioner?
"Ring, ring, ring!"
"Hello."
Detective Keno, at the fingerprint comparison center, looked at the comparison results with some excitement. "Found it, Kopp! Ian Mullen. He was arrested five years ago for attempted kidnapping and arson. He was just released on bail last month."
Kopp listened to Detective Keno's words, looked at Ian Mullen, who was being held by the two officers, and hummed in acknowledgment, saying, "I understand."
He hung up the phone.
Kopp nodded to the two officers.
The two officers then immediately took Ian Mullen and walked out of the church.
Kopp glanced at Jim Rhodes, who was forcing a smile and full of cooperation, smiled, turned, and left without saying a word.
"Mr. Broughton."
Jim Rhodes stopped Locke once again, shook his hand very gratefully, and preemptively said, "Anila Katz was fortunate to have a friend like Mr. Broughton, and fortunately Mr. Broughton saw through the conspiracy. Otherwise, with such a deranged murderer in my church, if it had gone on for a long time, I'm afraid… I would have been unable to defend myself."
His expression was perfect.
His tone was also the same.
But… it was too hypocritical and exaggerated.
Locke smiled and said, "Mr. Rhodes' control is still very strong. Yesterday, we just left, and today, you've handed over the person. What a clever move."
Jim Rhodes' expression remained unchanged, still full of smiles. "In the church, we are all family, with no secrets. If there are, then he is not our family."
Locke said, "So, Buson Katz is no longer your family?"
Jim Rhodes was slightly stunned. "What do you mean?"
Locke smiled. Although Jim Rhodes thought his performance was perfect, there were still flaws. "Nothing. Goodbye, Mr. Rhodes."
Jim Rhodes expressed some regret. "I heard Mr. Broughton bought a ticket for tomorrow. It's a pity. I originally planned to invite Mr. Rhodes to participate in the year-end Witch Trial Grand Assembly."
Locke smiled slightly. "Alright, I can change my flight."
Jim Rhodes: "…"
312. The Murderer Who Surrendered
Jim Rhode was stunned when he heard this.
Locke's expression was bright.
"What's wrong, Mr. Rhode? You weren't just joking, were you?"
"...What? No!"
Jim Rhode quickly snapped out of his daze and, seeing the expression on Locke's face, let out a laugh. "I just thought Mr. Broughton's itinerary was a bit rushed..."
Locke said, "It was before this morning. Now, it's not."
Jim Rhode: "..."
Normally, the story would have gone like this:
Locke finds the body, and then the villain, Jim Rhode, gets frustrated and arranges for his men to find a way to destroy Anila Katz's body, or to make it disappear again.
If that were the case, things would be easy.
If the other side flipped the table, then they'd just flip it back. Locke wouldn't even need to act; Carriecould handle it alone in an hour.
The rest of the time would be spent tying up loose ends, and then heading back to New York tomorrow morning. The timing would be perfect.
That was the script.
But now?
Someone wasn't following the damn script, which threw Locke off. From a certain perspective, Jim Rhode could be considered a high-IQ opponent.
The reason was simple.
Buthsen Kazz's suicide note wouldn't hold up. Although it provided a motive, Lake Lyre was closed to the public in December. If Buthsen Kazz really did it, he would have needed help from someone inside the Doran Church.
Buthsen Kazz couldn't have tampered with the surveillance footage on his own.
This led to the so-called Marren.
Marren was from the church, and Jim Rhode even mentioned that Marren was the fifth-in-command. If Marren was the killer and Buthsen Kazz just sacrificed himself to keep Marren from being exposed, it would make perfect sense.
A perfect logical chain.
But... why did you have to provoke me?
Locke looked at Jim Rhode with a smile. He had been hesitating, but since he had set the rule of "a slim chance of survival," he intended to stick to his own rules.
But Jim Rhode just had to go and provoke him.
I just called you high-IQ, and yet you made another mistake.
Locke said with a smile, "So, Mr. Rhode, you're welcoming me to your Grand Gathering of the Witch Trials in three days?"
Jim Rhode's expression faltered slightly. "Of course. It would be a pleasure to have you there, Mr. Broughton."
"Then it's a deal."
Locke laughed. "I can change my flight anytime. It's rare to encounter an event said to happen once every hundred years while in New Orleans. It would be a pity to miss it."
With that said,
Locke left with the promise that he would definitely be there, and then he departed with Carrie.
Jim Rhode's face dropped the instant Locke turned around.
Why the Hell did I have to open my big mouth?
But... after his face dropped, it was instantly covered in smiles again as he walked up to see off Kaup, who was taking Marren away, along with Locke and Carrie.
"Boss..."
"Shut up!"
When his subordinate approached to speak again, he undoubtedly stepped right into the volcano, bearing the brunt of Jim Rhode's pent-up frustration.
After a while,
Jim Rhode's eyes flickered. "How are things on Fox's end?"
"That Witch is an outsider, and she's hiding well."
"...Tell him not to act once he finds her. Just give me the information."
"Understood."
Jim Rhode watched the disappearing taillights and took a deep breath to calm his frustration, then let out a heavy sigh.
Inside an interrogation room at the New Orleans Police Department.
Ian Marren sat in the interrogation room after being brought back.
However... his state seemed very strange.
In the observation room.
Detective Cain flipped through the files on Ian Marren printed by the Police Officers, then looked through the observation glass at Ian Marren in the interrogation room. "He hasn't said a word since we got back."
Locke and Carrie were also in the observation room, wearing temporary visitor badges.
Just then,
The door to the interrogation room opened, and Detective Kaup Thornton walked in clutching a stack of documents. Ian Marren, who was sitting in a chair, finally shifted his gaze from straight ahead to Detective Kaup Thornton.
"Good afternoon."
Kaup acted like an old friend, pulling out a chair to sit down and saying caringly, "Would you like some coffee? Ours is pretty good."
With that,
Without waiting for Ian Marren to respond, Kaup called out toward the door.
In the observation room, Detective Cain watched Kaup in the interrogation room. He was talking to the suspect with high spirits, looking like an old general who had everything under control. She smiled and introduced him to Locke and Carrie: "No matter the suspect, once Kaup gets a chance, they'll show their true colors."
Carrie spoke up, "Is that why you like Kaup?"
Detective Cain, whose face was full of fangirl admiration, was slightly startled. She gave a dry laugh and looked at Carrie.
Carrie looked at Detective Cain. "Detective Thornton seems to be ten years older than Detective Cain."
Detective Cain coughed and brushed it off. "I just admire Detective Thornton."
Mhm.
Admire.
Carrie glanced at Locke and then said, "But why does Detective Thornton look so... unkempt?"
Detective Cain paused for a moment, then gave a dry laugh. "Maybe Detective Thornton doesn't have any other hobbies."
Carrie murmured an "oh" and glanced at Locke out of the corner of her eye.
She seemed to be saying,
Detective Cain knows about Kaup's gambling addiction too.
This was a topic Locke and Carrie had discussed while driving back from Lake Lyre. Locke had been inclined to think Detective Cain didn't know.
After all, according to Locke's analysis, if Detective Cain knew about Kaup's gambling addiction, she would definitely intervene.
Gwen would certainly do that.
Locke had experienced this. Before he even did anything, Gwen was convinced he had a slight psychological issue. Even after he refused to see a therapist, she studied psychology herself. Sometimes, a date would turn into a therapy session.
But... Locke seemed to have been wrong.
In the interrogation room.
The coffee had been served.
Kaup also took a cup of coffee and took a sip, looking at Ian Marren, who sat opposite him with the coffee but made no move. "You can speak whenever you're ready."
Ian Marren held the coffee and looked at Kaup.
He spoke.
His voice was raspy, and it seemed to carry a hint of a scream.
"This..."
Carrie couldn't help but look at Locke.
Locke raised an eyebrow.
The scent of magic.
"You probably won't believe what I have to say."
"You can try me."
Kaup shrugged as if they were just chatting. "We have plenty of time."
Marren looked up, his expression bleak.
Kaup frowned.
"Cough, cough!"
Marren covered his lips. When he pulled his hand away, a pool of blood was clearly visible.
Kaup quickly stood up, preparing to call a Doctor.
Detective Cain in the observation room was also stunned by the sight.
"Wait."
Marren called out to the rising Kaup, "If you don't listen to me now, you'll never have the chance to know the truth."
Kaup turned back to look at Marren.
"On December 22nd, I didn't have any illnesses."
"I was in great health, eating and sleeping well."
"But on the morning of the 23rd, I was sick."
"And it's late-stage lung cancer."
"I might steal and rob, but I don't smoke."
"Do you know why I got this disease?"
"It's not a disease; it's a curse!"
"A Witch's curse."
"..."
In a raspy voice, Ian Marren told Kaup a story about a wicked Witch and a righteous Witch Hunter.
To put it simply, he received a plea for help from the believer Buthsen Kazz. His daughter was a Witch, so he gave Buthsen Kazz plane tickets to bring Anila Katz to New Orleans.
Then... while Ian Marren was performing an Exorcism on Anila Katz, she cast a vicious curse on him, causing his lungs to become diseased.
At that moment, Buthsen Kazz saw his daughter's malevolence and, with tears in his eyes, had no choice but to burn her to death.
It was a compelling story.
The logic was clear and perfectly matched Buthsen Kazz's suicide note in New York.
As for why Marren's fingerprints were on the body.
It was actually quite simple.
Initially, Marren and Buthsen worked together, hoping to keep it a secret. But they didn't expect Anila Katz to have such a close and caring friend. Upon learning about the tracker, Marren quickly fished Anila Katz out of the lake, stripped her, and moved her to the woods.
"I never thought..."
Ian Marren gave a bleak smile and coughed again, spitting out blood. "I am guilty, but I have no regrets. Witches are all evil. The Lord has never been wrong."
Standing at the door, Kaup roared, "Doctor!"
Ian Marren stared at Kaup and shook his head. "This is still the curse. The moment I spoke, the curse took effect. I can feel the Lord calling me."
With that,
Ian Marren's pupils began to dilate, and his whole body coughed involuntarily. Then, amidst the continuous coughing of blood, a seemingly hypnotized Ian Marren spat blood while staring at the ceiling.
"Lord..."
"But..."
"Why is it Hell?"
"No!!"
"Splurt!!!"
313. Gwen's Pet
With a shrill, disbelieving scream, Ian Marren's mouth gaped wide. He seemed to spit something out, then toppled backward.
Thud.
The object splattered against the one-way glass just as his body crashed to the floor.
And the object?
Judging by the shape… it looked like a pitch-black lung.
Goodfellas.
He literally coughed up his own lung?
Terrifying beyond belief.
Detective Cain's face twitched; he couldn't help turning away.
Carrie felt pretty awful too.
Locke's expression stayed calm, a faint trace of mockery in his eyes.
Heaven?
You're dreaming.
Over the years Locke had sent quite a few clergy to the afterlife, and without exception they'd lined up to report to Mephisto—none had ever mentioned Heaven.
For a moment, listening to Marren, he'd thought the man might actually prove Heaven's existence.
Result?
Another let-down.
Exactly. Even if there once was a God-realm, in front of Earth's first Guardian, the Sorcerer Supreme, God would probably grab his silver city and run sobbing into the distance.
Soon.
A Doctor arrived on scene, bracing for another excessive-force complaint—until he saw that lone, blackened lung and understood.
This wasn't excessive force.
This was terror-level policing.
Luckily.
The interrogation-room camera was intact, and three witnesses sat in the observation room.
After an incident like this, Locke and Carrie couldn't stay at the Police Department; when Internal Affairs showed up, even a nothing case would turn into something.
So the two took their leave.
Back at the hotel.
Carrie sipped juice to settle her lingering nausea, watching Locke pour bourbon behind the bar. "Still going out tonight?"
That had been the plan.
Locke swirled his glass, looking at her. "Does any of this feel right to you?"
Carrie walked over, perched on a stool, and shook her head. "No way. Anila had only just awakened when she left; she didn't have the magic to curse someone sick—starting with cancer.
I wasn't that fierce at first.
She remembered her own awakening: enough magic to bend a spoon or give someone a nosebleed, nothing more.
"A curse like this…"
She pondered a few seconds. "She must've found her power source—or become a full-fledged Salem Witch."
And she'd need a teacher.
Having power is one thing.
Knowing how to use it is another.
"Besides," Carrie said, "curses are the hardest witchcraft. Ms. Harkness says they're tougher than resurrection spells."
Resurrection just means a trip to the Hell Dimension for a brawl. If the soul isn't on Mephisto's radar—or hasn't crossed the final gate—you can yank it back. Even if a demon's claimed it, you fight the demon and be done.
But a curse?
Especially one that gives lung cancer, is far more complex.
After all, it alters a person's life pattern, and everyone knows creation is vastly harder than destruction.
"Plus," Carrie shrugged, "that curse's magic signature wasn't Anila's. I know what her newly awakened power feels like."
Locke nodded. "So Marren was just a scapegoat."
Carrie added, "A perfect one, at that."
Buthsen Kazz was dead.
Ian Marren was dead.
Best of all, their testimonies matched; from a law-enforcement standpoint the case was closed.
Locke shook his head. "That's why I respect the law but don't trust it blindly."
Anyone who says he obeys the law is, by definition, scum.
Exactly like this.
Was Ian Marren the killer?
Clearly not.
Maybe it wasn't Jim Rhode either, but it definitely wasn't Marren—someone else did it. Yet legally we have a body, a suspect, and a deathbed confession.
In a way, Jim Rhode isn't even scum; he's worse.
Scum at least knows the rules. He treats the law like putty, twisting it however he likes.
Carrie's hair began to change,
shifting from gold to snowy white.
"I'm going right now!"
"No rush."
"Huh?"
Locke looked at her and smiled. "I'm still playing."
Normally, when Locke hit a wall he'd flip the table—but this wasn't normal.
Current bonus: 20% (max 100%)
Apparently the mission counted his chess match with Jim Rhode toward the bonus.
Locke found the body—ten percent bonus.
Jim Rhode handed over the killer just like that—another ten percent.
So what now?
Flip the table outright and, at best, the bonus caps at forty percent.
I could've walked away with 500k points, but I'm only bringing back 200k?
Does that even make sense?
When have I ever settled for anything less than a 100% bonus multiplier?
Carrie blinked, frowning. "Aren't you flying back to New York to ski in Canada with Gwen, Cindy, and Kang?"
Locke looked at her. "Don't worry, it won't take long."
Same rule as always.
Heaven may be vast and Earth boundless, but the mission comes first.
As for Gwen…
Locke smiled. "Gwen will understand."
Carrie hesitated, recalling what Betty had told her in private, and shook her head. "I don't think Gwen's going to understand."
"…What?"
Perched on her bedroom chair, Gwen stared at Locke through the video call and blinked. "Didn't they already catch the suspect?"
And George fast-tracked Buthsen Kazz's autopsy; he got it done in one morning.
Put it this way: the coroner never flat-out called it suicide—just said the first pass ruled out non-suicide. It was a rush job; getting any report at all was lucky.
If they cry suicide and turn out wrong, the coroner's reputation tanks. Worse, every convict who relied on that examiner could appeal, claiming their verdict was tainted too.
Same reason every case handled by a disgraced Detective gets reopened from scratch.
Still, the wording was careful; in practice it means Buthsen Kazz almost certainly killed himself.
Locke listened. "Kaup and George confirmed this?"
Gwen nodded. "Dad said the prints on the body matched the suspect. He didn't give me details."
Locke nodded back. "The suspect dropped dead the moment he finished confessing."
"…Dead?"
"Yeah."
Gwen frowned. "You think he was a scapegoat?"
Locke shrugged. "It's possible. I may need to stay a couple more days."
Gwen considered it. "Should we tell Cindy and Kang to push back the Canada trip?"
"No need."
"Hmm?"
"I'll be home by the thirty-first at the latest—just three extra days. I won't miss New Year's with you."
Next year she'd turn eighteen.
Technically, once that happened, she and Locke could walk into New York City Hall for a license without George and Helen's signatures.
"All right."
Gwen smiled through the screen. "Stay safe."
"I will."
Locke grinned, chatted a little longer, then ended the call.
New York.
Gwen tossed her long ponytail and studied the photo of them on her phone. She'd already cleared leave with Dr. Connors, counting down until Locke returned so they could spend time together.
"Forget it."
She flicked her ponytail again and glanced at the small glass terrarium beside her laptop. Inside, a spider was spinning silk.
Up close, the creature wasn't creepy—almost cute.
There's an old saying: a fair complexion hides a hundred flaws.
Same for spiders. This one, mutated and snow-white, looked more adorable than awful.
Gwen tapped the glass.
The White Spider lunged and nipped at the wall.
"Bad girl, you're not biting me again."
She stood.
Gwen headed for the door.
She'd discovered the albino spider a month ago, the day before she and Locke were due in Long Island. While tidying the lab, she'd felt a tickle—turned out to be the spider on her hand.
It bit her.
She'd nearly cried.
Only the spider's color saved it; if it had been black, fuzzy or not, she'd have squashed it straight to hell.
But cute things get away with murder.
After cleaning the bite, she nabbed a spare terrarium from the lab and kept the spider as a pet.
Now that vacation had started, she'd brought it home; lab staff could feed it, but they might also decide to run nasty experiments.
She didn't want to come back and find her little White Spider dead…
314. Putting out fires afterward is better than taking the blame.
Downstairs.
Helen and George were already in the dining Room.
Next to George was a Bassinet, and inside lay the new family member, Andy. As for the three boys, Little George, they had been picked up by their maternal grandparents yesterday.
"Wash your hands and let's eat."
"Oh."
Helen paused slightly, watched Gwen walk into the kitchen, wash her hands, then exchanged a glance with George. She sat down and looked at Gwen, "What's wrong?"
Gwen glanced at Helen, "Locke isn't coming back tomorrow."
"Huh?"
George raised an eyebrow, looking at Gwen, "What?"
Goodfellas.
Sure enough, money corrupts.
My knife... no, that's not right.
Where's the Barrett Sniper Rifle I just added to my arsenal?
If it weren't impossible for private citizens to buy mortars, George would have considered executing Locke with one.
Gwen looked at George's expression, paused slightly, then shook her head and said, "No, it's Locke. He feels this case is a bit strange and wants to stay a few more days. He'll be back by the 31st at the latest."
Helen glanced at Gwen, "That's fine, it's only three days. What, do you have plans for the 31st?"
Gwen was speechless, "Mom."
George, however, frowned, "Is there a problem?"
Gwen leaned forward, covered Little Andy's ears in the Bassinet, and looked at George, saying, "Locke said the suspect died on the spot after speaking. Didn't Detective Thornton tell you?"
"Died?"
"Yes."
After speaking, Gwen sat up straight and nodded, "Right, and judging by Locke's tone, it seems the suspect was already on their last legs."
George shook his head, checked his phone, thought for a moment, then looked at Gwen and said, "Kaupcalled me after catching the suspect, but he hasn't called today, it seems."
Gwen shrugged.
George then frowned, "That's not right. Even if there's a problem, Kaup would handle it. What's he staying there for?"
Gwen said, "It might be because of Carrie."
According to Locke, the fact that Carrie was Clinchester's illegitimate daughter was only known to Locke when they were in Texas, and Clinchester was Locke's godfather.
So, Gwen thought that if it was because of Carrie, it was very likely Locke would stay there. After all, Locke often said at school that Carrie was his sister.
George put down the phone, "No answer."
Helen thought for a moment, "If that suspect is as Locke described, Kaup definitely wouldn't have time to answer the phone right now."
George nodded, "That's true."
A dead person isn't the problem.
But... the suspect died in the interrogation Room, and even with surveillance, that's a huge mess, especially a bizarre death like today's.
What Witch.
What curse.
After the suspect finished speaking, he even coughed up his own lungs, followed by a very bloody death. Then the mess isn't just big, it's enormous.
Fortunately, this Ian Marren's skin color was white. If he were black, the trouble would be super huge.
However, even so, the New Orleans Internal Affairs Department must be very busy today, and it's normal for Kaup, who conducted the interrogation, not to have time to answer the phone at this moment.
After all, he'd be busy dealing with the Internal Affairs Department, who are specifically there to find fault with their own people.
However, this time George and Helen were clearly mistaken.
Kaup himself was also mistaken.
After following instructions, putting away his service weapon and phone, and entering the Room, Kauplooked at the two men wearing sunglasses on the other side of the Room, narrowed his eyes, glanced around the Room, confirmed this was still his New Orleans Police Department, then looked at the two men still wearing sunglasses in the Room: "Who are you? Where's Roy?"
Roy, from the New Orleans Police Department Internal Affairs. Although he was from Internal Affairs, he was the most popular, so Internal Affairs investigations involving Detectives and above were usually handled by Roy first.
But these two people in the Room were clearly not.
"Detective Thornton."
One of the men in black suits and sunglasses looked at the wary Kaup, spoke softly, and presented his 'Department of Homeland Security ID': "We are from the Department of Homeland Security."
Kaup sat down, took the man's ID, glanced at it, and looked up, "Klint Barton?"
"Yes."
Kaup handed the verified ID to Klint Barton, who was sitting opposite him: "Does the Department of Homeland Security have informants in our Bureau?"
The S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent named Klint Barton, who was actually Hawkeye, put away his ID: "I know what you're thinking, Detective Thornton, but we're here to offer assistance."
S.H.I.E.L.D. was originally a secret organization, so credit was useless to them.
"Assistance?"
"Yes, but before that, Detective Thornton, could you first tell us about this case?"
"The case file has it!"
"I know, but..."
"The interrogation Room's surveillance is also intact, not damaged."
"That's not the point."
Hawkeye Barton said, "This case is very clear, Detective Thornton, you have no issues, I can assure you of that. But we need to know what Ian Marren said to you before he died, that's all. We are here to help, Detective Thornton."
Kaup folded his arms, watching Hawkeye Barton, who was speaking these words and had removed his sunglasses, seemingly to show his sincerity.
After a while.
Kaup spread his hands, "Alright, it's what you asked for."
Saying that.
Kaup then recounted, verbatim, everything Ian Marren said in the interrogation Room from start to finish, including 'Witch' and 'curse,' not missing a single word.
Finally.
Kaup looked at the other silent Agent diligently taking notes and couldn't help but shake his head, "You guys don't really believe this guy's nonsense, do you?"
What era is this?
Still Witch curses? These days, aren't there plenty of people who don't smoke but get lung cancer?
And plenty of people who don't drink but get cirrhosis, too.
And plenty of people who don't drink but get cirrhosis, too.
Hawkeye Barton looked at the Agent next to him, who nodded. Barton then said to Kaup, "Detective Thornton, we know this, there's no problem. You can go."
Kaup frowned, "That's it?"
Hawkeye Barton stood up, put on his sunglasses, and looked at Kaup, "Detective Thornton, we said from the beginning that you have no issues."
But they had problems.
And big ones.
"Witch?"
"Yes."
In the S.H.I.E.L.D. New Orleans office, Hawkeye Barton looked at Maria Hill, who was connected via video call on the office screen, not at the Triskelion, but seemingly at home, and nodded: "We retrieved Marren's physical examination report from last year, and S.H.I.E.L.D. forensics performed an autopsy. It was confirmed that such lungs could not have formed within a year; at minimum, they should have been like that for thirty years."
And how old was Ian Marren this year?
Thirty-five years old.
In other words, for his lungs to be in that condition, Ian Marren's lungs would have had to start deteriorating when he was five years old.
"Oh, right."
"What's wrong?"
Hawkeye Barton frowned, looked at Maria Hill on the screen, and said, "This case involves someone we know."
Hill, dressed in casual clothes with several dogs around her, frowned, "Someone you know, who?"
"Locke Broughton!"
"...Him?"
"Yes."
Maria Hill paused slightly, then said, "Isn't he in New York? Why did he suddenly go to New Orleans?"
Hawkeye Barton relayed the intelligence he received to Maria Hill.
He was on vacation, and his ranch was in New Orleans, specifically next to Lake Lyre, near Grand Lake.
After receiving a call from The Bureau saying that an informant at the New Orleans Police Departmentreported a suspect who coughed up his own lungs, Hawkeye Barton temporarily came to investigate.
After all, it was Christmas, and usually, without any operations, S.H.I.E.L.D. field Agents were on vacation. So, to prevent Natasha or Barbara and others from rushing back from abroad, he had to step in.
"The deceased was a friend of Locke Broughton?"
"Carrie Clinchester's friend. Locke Broughton and Carrie Clinchester are friends."
"Carrie?"
Maria Hill's eyes lit up, "Carrie, that name, why does it sound a bit familiar?"
The next second.
Maria Hill remembered.
The Witch whose story took place in Augusta also seemed to be named Carrie.
However... as Locke said, Carrie is a very common name. In the U.S., there are many girls named Carrie, from five-year-old little girls to eighty-year-old grandmothers.
What's more.
Carrie's identity was carefully prepared by Locke, ambiguously written.
Maria Hill merely muttered about it for a while and didn't take it to heart, nodding: "I understand."
Hawkeye Barton said, "Then I..."
"No need."
Maria Hill shook her head: "Since it involves a Witch, it's not something we can handle. Contact the Doran Church. Have the New Orleans office keep a close eye on things during this period. Thank you for your hard work, Agent Barton."
Hawkeye Barton said, "Understood, Director."
Maria Hill said goodnight to Barton and then hung up the phone.
The biggest difference between her and Nick Fury was that she clearly knew S.H.I.E.L.D. could be powerful but also very weak. For example, for terrorist activities, S.H.I.E.L.D. was fine, but when it came to supernatural matters?
Heh heh.
Maria Hill discovered after taking office that, for some reason, her predecessor, the esteemed DirectorNick Fury, had managed to offend all the superhuman members of the Howling Commandos, a team created by Captain America and then brought back by Ms. Peggy Carter.
Before the return of the Howling Commandos' superhuman members, Maria Hill's task was simple.
Putting out fires afterward is always better than taking the blame when things go wrong!
But... Locke Broughton?
Maria Hill recalled Locke's movements and couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.
It seems... wherever Locke goes, a story happens?
A misconception?
315. The Fake Ghost Rider
Locke came to New York, and the Peerless Assassin followed.
Locke went to Augusta, and as a result, a Witch appeared.
Locke went to the poseidon, and the poseidon sank.
After being rescued, he took a trip on the argo, and everyone on the argo was eaten by a giant octopus.
Locke went to Lake Kali, and as a result, a Vampire appeared.
And now?
He came to New Orleans, and then, a Witch appeared again?
Tsk!
Maria Hill couldn't help but shake her head. In the past, she might have been like some others, suspecting that Locke might have a connection to the Peerless Assassin.
But now?
Maria Hill no longer suspected that. She now suspected instead whether Locke had some kind of special constitution.
For example, a Disaster Constitution?
Wherever he goes, disaster follows?
Considering that Locke was an orphan and that his mother, Lorraine Broughton, had died shortly after his birth, Maria Hill vaguely felt that this might indeed be the case.
How did that director from China put it?
Right.
The Lone Star of Heavenly Bane?
Maria Hill thought back to the joke that Chinese director made when the five directors were jointly discussing Locke Broughton, and the term couldn't help but resurface in her mind.
"A person with such a fate will always bring a series of misfortunes to those around them..."
"Wait..."
Maria Hill stood up and searched online for the translated explanation of the 'Lone Star of Heavenly Bane'. Seeing the description, she couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "Doesn't that mean the longer he stays in New Orleans, the easier it is for a major disaster to occur?"
"Achoo!"
Locke sneezed and rubbed his nose.
Sitting in the passenger seat, Carrie, who had already changed into her Dark Sovereign Syndra persona, looked at Locke with some wonder. "I thought we wouldn't catch colds."
Locke waved his hand. "This isn't a cold; it's an early warning."
"An early warning?"
"Yes."
Locke said with a flat expression, "Someone is whispering about me behind my back."
Unlike the sixth-sense warning—which, regardless of the degree, always indicated some level of hostility toward him—the sneezing warning tended to mean someone had become curious about him.
Regarding the former, Locke always struck back hard. If you harbor hostility toward me, do you really expect me to let you go?
But regarding the latter?
Locke didn't care.
After all, back in New York, there were plenty of girls who were interested in him and curious about him. If Locke hadn't quickly applied a 'patch' to fix this bug, Gwen would have planned to drag him to the infirmary for a thorough check-up to see if he had allergic rhinitis.
Just then.
Locke's gaze shifted to the bar across the street, focusing on a bespectacled geek walking out with his hands in his pockets. "He's out."
Hearing this, Carrie looked at the geeky guy and watched as he put his arm around a scantily clad woman and hailed a taxi. "I thought he was an honest man."
Locke started the black Audi A6 he had just borrowed. "You also thought I only liked audis."
Just like how he had changed cars this time.
Everyone thought he was only devoted to audi, but in reality, Locke was a very flexible person. After all, it was Locke and the Peerless Assassin who liked audis. Right now, he was Cain, so he changed his taste to an Audi A6—presumably, something no one would expect.
Vroom!
The car started and instantly followed the taxi heading toward a motel.
Since Jim Rhode had made his move, it was Locke's turn to act.
Admittedly.
Jim Rhode's move could be described as aimed straight for the vitals. The suspect confessed and then died; for a case with so few clues, it was basically an open-and-shut matter.
But... there were still logical loopholes in this.
This matter wasn't something Ian Marren and Buthsen Kazz could have pulled off together. At the very least, the surveillance was not something the two of them could have handled.
This bespectacled geek was the loophole.
Frankly speaking, Locke had originally thought Jim Rhode was so formidable that he would have dealt with this sole loophole, the geeky guy. Because only if the geeky guy disappeared would there be absolutely no hope of overturning this case.
But this geeky guy was actually still alive.
Locke didn't know whether to call this Jim Rhode's mercy or his sheer stupidity.
Even he knew to properly dispose of the guy he recruited to play the Peerless Assassin.
"What a pity."
"What?"
"I originally thought I had met a well-matched opponent."
"..."
Locke smiled. He had thought he'd encountered an opponent he could trade blows with, but it turned out that while the opponent looked the same as him on the surface, their substance was a bit lacking.
War is a matter of vital importance to the state, a matter of life and death; it is a subject of inquiry which can on no account be neglected!
In a live confrontation, the greatest taboo is being soft-hearted.
Soon.
After the taxi left the city, Locke was prepared to intercept it, but it didn't continue toward the location of Lake Lyre. Instead, it turned left and stopped at a motel outside.
Immediately following.
The geeky guy and the streetwalker stepped out of the taxi. The latter pulled her mini-skirt back down and then, laughing and chatting, stuffed a small bundle of something into the geeky guy's mouth.
Good grief.
So wild?
Locke raised an eyebrow. Seeing the geeky guy's expression of blissful indulgence as he was led by the hand by the streetwalker into a Room, a thought suddenly popped into his mind.
Seeing this, Carrie in the passenger seat unbuckled her seatbelt.
"Don't kill him."
"I know."
Carrie nodded, pushed open the passenger door, and then, in her black boots and black clothing, walked toward the motel three hundred meters away.
Just then.
His sixth sense stirred slightly.
The corners of Locke's mouth curled up. Still wearing the appearance of Cain, he stepped out of the car and looked toward the source of the sixth-sense warning. "I knew it. If you were that stupid, how could you have grasped the glimmer of hope I gave you? I just wonder if you can grasp the glimmer of hope in this second round of the game. I'm looking forward to it!"
Locke had originally intended to follow his own rules and spare Jim Rhode's life.
But... it was Locke's first time seeing a tough guy who, after seizing the glimmer of hope he offered, turned around to mock and attack him. Since that was the case, then sorry.
Even the Hunger Games has a survivor's return game.
Locke felt he should also hold one as a warm-up. In the future, if the number of survivors grew and he got bored, he could host his own survivor game.
Not far away.
Hank Fox was driving his off-road motorcycle, putt-putt-putting like a wandering knight, heading rapidly toward the motel over there.
He was a Witch Hunter.
A new generation of Witch Hunter. Ever since he was young and had spared a Witch out of kindness only to be nearly killed by her, Hank Fox had accepted the views of his father, Old Fox.
Witches are all evil and must be completely exterminated.
By now, Hank Fox had successfully achieved a record of nineteen Witch kills. As long as he dealt with this one Witch, he could increase his record to twenty.
"Dad will definitely be proud of me."
Hank Fox, a total daddy's boy, thought to himself, then looked at a Voodoo tattoo on his right hand.
The tattoo, which looked like a black snake, was currently flashing with an eerie light. If one looked closely, they would even see the snake's tongue flickering with a hissing sound, as if it had found its prey.
Yes.
In order to kill all the Witches, Hank Fox had reached an agreement with the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans, because that Voodoo Witch also wanted to kill all the Witches.
The two of them were a perfect match!
"Almost there."
Hank looked up at the motel less than a kilometer away, revved the engine, and accelerated. "Witches all deserve to die!"
Boom!
Carrie's arms were spread wide as she walked out of the Room as if strolling through the air. Behind her, the geeky guy was bound by countless ropes made of dark magic.
"Someone's coming."
"Mm."
Locke turned his head to glance at the geeky guy, whose eyes were full of terror and who was struggling violently, shouting and screaming, though no sound could be heard. He nodded. "You get in the car first and leave. Take him back to the hotel and wait for me."
Carrie looked in the direction Hank Fox was coming from. "You're going to take action?"
Locke nodded. "I've discovered something a little bit fun. You go back first."
In any case, he was currently in his Cain form, and the hotel wasn't very far—at most twenty kilometers. He could be back in a few steps.
"Okay."
Seeing this, Carrie nodded, gave a word of acknowledgement, and with a wave of her right hand, the rear door of the Audi A6 opened. With a thud, the geeky guy gave a silent cry and was tossed directly inside.
A moment later.
Carrie started the Audi A6 and prepared to leave.
Just then.
"Witch..."
Not far away, Hank Fox, who was driving his motorcycle, saw the Audi A6 about to speed away. He let out a roar, stood up on the motorcycle, and then, with a clang, a machete soaked in Voodoo juice was drawn.
The next second.
Hank Fox let out a loud shout, bent his knees, exerted force, and lunged straight toward Locke, who was blocking the path of the Audi A6, swinging the machete down toward his head.
Locke was slightly taken aback.
Good grief.
With this posture, damn, anyone who didn't know better would probably think the Ghost Rider from Hell had arrived.
Locke thought to himself as he watched Hank Fox, who held the machete with both hands under the moonlight, his face full of determined murderous intent, swinging the blade directly down at him.
But... you're not the Ghost Rider!
Chapter 316: Witch Academy
The most important point.
This knife of yours... it isn't even sharp.
Locke watched the machete swinging down like Mount Tai with a gust of foul wind, a mocking smile appearing on his face.
You want to cut me with this piece of junk?
Do you think my Iron Body... "Boom!"
"What?"
Hank Fox's machete struck the ground, sinking deep into it, but a look of astonishment quickly spread across his face.
"Where is he?"
"Looking for me?"
Locke appeared before Hank Fox like a ghost, whispered a word, and then thrust his pale right hand forward.
Boom!
Hank Fox's face instantly flushed red; as if hit by a train, he was sent flying backward with a bang, crashing into the motorcycle that had just arrived.
Instantly.
The front of the motorcycle was instantly crushed.
Locke withdrew his right hand, the corners of his mouth curling slightly upward.
He had originally intended to take it head-on.
After all, he had the Iron Body.
But... there was no need.
A person of status should not put themselves in harm's way.
A gentleman does not stand under a crumbling wall.
Locke didn't like playing the pig to eat the tiger, nor did he like showing off. More importantly, while the Iron Body was described that way, what if something went wrong?
It's better to be safe than sorry.
Locke's style of doing things could be summed up in two words.
Steady and sure!
"Pfft!"
Hank Fox hit the ground, clutching his chest. He turned to the side and spat out a mouthful of blood, looking at Locke in disbelief: "You're not a Witch."
Locke's brow twitched.
You're the damn Witch, your whole family is.
I'm a man.
These days, are there any men called Witches?
"My apologies."
With a whoosh, Locke appeared directly in front of Hank Fox. With a bang, he slapped away the pistol Hank Fox had pulled out, then grabbed him by the throat. A gentlemanly smile appeared on his delicate face: "A Witch? That's my companion. You're quite interesting."
Hank Fox's eyes shrunk violently as he saw the two fangs revealed by Locke: "You're a Vampi—"
Before he could finish.
Boom!
An explosion rang out, and immediately after, Locke vanished from the spot, dragging Hank Fox with him.
A few minutes after Locke left with Hank Fox, the officers from the New Orleans Police Departmentarrived at the scene with sirens wailing.
Meanwhile.
Inside Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies.
Cordelia, who was teaching several Witches in the academy about how to communicate with the sleeping Salem and use its powers, suddenly paused. She looked up at the ceiling, her heart throbbing: "Hank!"
The Witches sitting around looked at each other upon hearing the name.
Eighteen-year-old Zoe Benson, who had only recently joined the Witch Academy, looked at Nan, a fellow Witch who could read minds and control brains, and asked: "Who is Hank?"
Queenie, who was short, fat, and dark, looking like a living voodoo doll, shushed her and said: "Cordelia's husband."
"Huh?"
Blonde-haired Zoe Benson was slightly stunned: "I didn't know Cordelia was married."
Nan whispered: "They've been married for three years, but they seem to be separated."
"I heard it's over the issue of having children."
"Yeah, it's basically impossible."
"Why?"
Nan shook her head: "Hank is an ordinary human, and according to some accounts, Witches and humans can have children, but the difficulty level is extremely high."
Zoe blinked: "They separated because of that?"
"No!"
"..."
Zoe and the others looked up at Fiona Goode, who was walking down the stairs. She was known as the former Supreme Witch and was also Cordelia's mother.
Fiona, who had once passed the Seven Wonders to become the Supreme Witch but failed to awaken Salem and thus could not maintain her youth and power, walked down the stairs. Looking at Cordeliaas she slowly regained her senses, she said to the three: "Because Hank's father, that Old Fox, is a member of the Witch Hunter group."
Zoe shook her head and looked at Fiona: "Mrs. Goode, have you found Madison?"
Madison Montgomery.
A Hollywood movie star and a classmate of Zoe and the others, Madison had suddenly disappeared a few days ago.
Fiona shook her head, saying she hadn't, and then, seeing Cordelia rise from her chair, she flicked her right hand, slamming the living room door shut with a bang: "Where are you going?"
"Hank is in danger."
Cordelia looked at Fiona and said: "Hank's protection spell was just triggered."
Although she and Hank were separated.
But... three years ago, Cordelia hadn't entered the halls of marriage with Hank out of apathy. Yes, they were facing some difficulties now, but Cordelia believed they would resolve them.
After all, just because Old Fox is a Witch Hunter doesn't mean Hank is one too.
She married Hank, not Old Fox.
"You're not allowed to go!"
"What?"
Cordelia laughed upon hearing this and looked at Fiona, her mother: "Are you ordering me?"
Fiona was expressionless: "I'm reminding you that the son of a rat will dig holes!"
Cordelia snorted and walked to the door. She muttered a few words, and under the Alohomora (Unlocking Charm), the tightly locked door bolt broke instantly, and she walked straight out.
Zoe and the others stood up: "Cordelia!"
They wanted to follow as well.
But... Fiona stopped the three of them, smiling: "Now, we can continue our lesson."
Zoe and the others: "..."
Fiona was the previous Supreme Witch, but because she hadn't awakened Salem, she wasn't a Supreme Witch in the truest sense, even though she mastered the Supreme's magic.
Once a new Supreme Witch is born in this election.
Then... she would no longer be able to maintain her status as the Supreme Witch, and she wouldn't even be able to use the Supreme's magic power to preserve her youthful appearance.
Therefore.
She had returned here after having her fill of wandering outside, with the aim of finding a way to extend her status as the Supreme Witch. If any outstanding Witches appeared, she could deal with them in advance.
For example, that Madison Montgomery.
She could have dealt with her a few days ago. To prevent any uncertainties—like someone trying to resurrect her—she had even sent people to watch over Madison's body.
As for her daughter, Cordelia?
She wouldn't do.
If Cordelia also showed any intention of seizing the position of Supreme Witch, Fiona would not hesitate to strike.
Boom!
The Message whistled.
With a bang.
After coming out, Cordelia crossed her hands and cast a magic spell. With a whoosh, she vanished and reappeared inside an abandoned warehouse in the industrial zone on the west side of New Orleans.
The next second.
"Bang!"
"Boom!"
Cordelia stepped out of the blurring smoke. Seeing Hank hanging upside down in the air with his hands bound by chains, she waved her right hand, and a bolt of magic power shot out like lightning.
But... Locke pulled the chain, and instantly, the unconscious Hank slid to the other side, causing the magic to miss.
"What?"
Only then did Cordelia see Locke, dressed in a suit and looking delicate, like a gentleman of the night, slowly stepping out of the shadows: "Who are you?"
"Kindred!"
Locke stepped out of the darkness with a smile: "Cain!"
"A Vampire?"
"No."
Hearing Cordelia's words, Locke shook his head like a gentleman: "Vampires? Don't use that filthy creature to describe me. I am Kindred; I am the Kindred!"
There are several Vampire progenitors here.
But Kindred?
Locke could guarantee that there was only one Kindred progenitor: himself.
What?
What if there were others?
Impossible.
Even if there were, he would just chop them up, and then he'd be the only one.
Locke said as he approached, looking at Cordelia with a glimmer in his eyes: "Long time no see, Ms. Fox."
Cordelia frowned.
The next second.
Cordelia's eyes widened in shock.
Under the moonlight streaming through the warehouse windows, Cain, bathed in the light, slowly transformed—from delicate to masculine, from beautiful to dashing.
From Cain to Locke!
Cordelia was pale with shock.
"It's you."
"It's me."
Cordelia looked at the Locke she had seen at Lake Lyre a few days ago. Thinking of the recent news from the New Orleans Police Department, she said in a low voice: "You're here for the Witch murdered by the Witch Hunters."
In fact.
Cordelia had gone to Lake Lyre a few days ago hoping that Old Fox would let her retrieve the body of the poor Witch who had been captured and burned from the lake.
But that Old Fox had adamantly refused.
Before Cordelia could take any action, when she went there again, she heard that the New Orleans Police Department had arrived and found the body.
Locke smiled: "Carrie is my sister, and Anila Katz was Carrie's friend, so she was also a friend of mine."
Cordelia looked up at her unconscious husband, Hank Fox, hanging there, and then at Locke: "My husband doesn't know anything."
"Is that so?"
"What?"
Locke also looked up at the hanging, unconscious Hank Fox, his lips curling: "Are you sure your husband knows nothing, that he's completely unaware?"
Cordelia said solemnly: "He's just a lowly insurance salesman."
"Heh."
"..."
Locke gave a mocking chuckle, tilted his head, and looked at Cordelia: "If that's the case, then, Ms. Fox, can you tell me why your husband was just wielding a machete soaked in Voodoo, intending to hack me to pieces?"
Cordelia: "..."