The Immortal City would never allow potentially infected individuals to meet Solomon without first undergoing quarantine, and Solomon himself had no desire to break the rules he had established. So, upon returning to the sky carrier later, he would dedicate his time to reviewing reports and waiting for the engineering team to install additional containment measures. Accompanying him was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent—Barbara's ex-husband, Hunter. Agent Coulson had asked Solomon to give him a lift.
Hunter sat restlessly inside the assault transport craft, burdened with a classified mission he couldn't talk about.
Everyone around him carried large-caliber weapons, and from their brutal demeanor, it seemed entirely possible they might subject him to torture. He was convinced he wouldn't last two minutes under interrogation—ever since joining S.H.I.E.L.D., he had never undergone anti-interrogation training. However, Coulson had already informed Solomon about Hunter's mission, as it required intelligence support from the Immortal City. S.H.I.E.L.D. could no longer collect intel like it used to. Solomon had agreed, because the Immortal City had long been distancing itself from Hydra. As long as the most aggressive, younger generation of Hydra was wiped out, the Malick family could gradually clean up the remnants of Hydra's families entrenched in wealth and power.
Solomon fixed his gaze on Hunter, who grew increasingly nervous, his thick London accent spilling out incoherently.
"Don't worry. I know about your mission." If not for the safety harness, Hunter would have jumped out of his seat in fright when Solomon spoke. The magus smiled. "Agent Coulson is an old friend of mine. I'm happy to help him. I just didn't expect Grant Ward to escape again. You lot really are a mess."
"Tell me about it, mate." Hunter immediately launched into a rant, completely forgetting his earlier fears about torture and spilling all the intel. "Skye said Ward got shot in the kidney. He should've been dead. Then he shows up again, and Barbara ends up losing half a lung. Took everything to save her." Hunter shrugged. "Mate, how much does that artificial organ you're giving Coulson cost? I want to get one for Barbara. I can pay in installments. Or do you have any loan options? I swear I'll start saving right now…"
Solomon laughed. He really appreciated Hunter's personality and sense of humor. A man like this wasn't suited for espionage but would make an excellent drinking companion. "As long as Ms. Morse agrees, we'll install a bio-enhanced lung for her," he nodded. "These semi-mechanical organs last over five hundred years, and we provide warranty service."
Stephanie assigned Hunter a room and restricted his range of activity. He had no objections—not just because of the unlimited beer supply, but also because his fake identity and bank accounts would be provided by the Immortal City. Solomon, however, didn't have the luxury of lounging on a couch with beer and football. As soon as he boarded the sky carrier, he returned to work.
The latest report came from the assassin under Stephanie's command. It included footage recorded through the assassin's helmet using its electronic eye detection system and sniper scope. While there were many types of assassins, all were capable of independently conducting reconnaissance. While Melinda May and Daisy Johnson anxiously broke into Joseph Haddad's residence and opened the safe to retrieve the artifact they were after, the assassin lurking overhead had captured exactly the intelligence Solomon needed.
It was a piece of parchment bearing a common Hebrew word.
Stephanie recognized the word because the monolith had originally belonged to the Malick family. Dating back to the time when Germanic peoples were still tribal, the Malicks had begun offering sacrifices to the monolith. They later moved to France, and finally during the Napoleonic era relocated to Gloucestershire in southwest England, where they ran numerous mills and continued investigating the secrets of the monolith—those mills eventually turned into a milling company for basic income, while the family's space exploration endeavors evolved into a business manufacturing thrusters and landing gear (the Gloster Aeronautics Company, now known simply as Gloster).
"Who would even remember such a thing?" she said to Solomon. "It's just a word."
"True. But it's recorded in the historical texts of Kamar-Taj. Stephanie, there are powers in this world more deeply hidden than Hydra. Some of the secret cults out there don't worship for no reason. While many Christian legends are lifted from other civilizations, do you think old John would've seen all that without someone pulling the strings—especially after eating all those magic mushrooms?"
Stephanie thought for a few seconds, mentally reviewing every person named John she knew. Finally, it clicked. "Old John—you mean the Apostle John on Patmos Island?"
"That's right. Don't you find it odd that the only thing growing in that cave was hallucinogenic mushrooms?" Solomon's expression as he recalled the tale was as if he'd tasted something bizarre. "Back then, Kamar-Taj hadn't even been formally founded, so the magical world had no regulations. Many sorcerers established their own religions—or sought to exploit existing ones for personal gain."
"Are you saying Christianity was just some wizard's scheme named Jesus?" Stephanie asked with a grin.
"No, I don't know what happened there. I can only tell you about Patmos," the magus replied, his expression akin to having an itchy back he couldn't scratch. "One particularly nosy sorcerer documented the whole thing. His lab notes helped us see what really happened in the past. It all started as a coincidence. That poor fool never expected John, starving and wandering for so long, to eat all the mushrooms he had prepared for his experiment in a single day. The Book of Revelation, at its core, exists because magic and mushrooms amplified old John's repressed rage and vengeance."
"Well, that's certainly a fun historical tidbit. The Church would love to hear it," Stephanie arched an eyebrow. "I've already instructed the assassin to follow the S.H.I.E.L.D. Quinjet back to base. Once our transport retrieves him, a second assassin will be deployed. But I'll ask you one more time—are you really going to go through with this?"
"An outbreak that comes early is easier to contain. I absolutely don't want to deal with someone releasing Terrigen gas into the air vents," Solomon replied. "The Inhumans' abilities come from Kree genetics, and Kree genetics come from the Celestials and their creations. Both humans and Kree were shaped by Celestial genetic engineering. The reason humanity is considered the perfect creation is because we're more resistant to astral contamination. What you perceive as superpowers are actually astral pollutants hidden in the genes, not divine gifts from the Celestials. These pollutants were originally dormant, until Terrigen, acting as a catalyst, brought them out."
"That sounds… terrible."
"Oh, there's worse! You'd be shocked that humanity has even survived to this point," the magus said, though he didn't dare tell Stephanie about the so-called "First Celestial Host." The corrupted Celestials had indeed given all life in the biosphere incredible evolutionary potential (including humanity), but they had also embedded horrifying genetic flaws deep within. Humanity would eventually step onto the path of evolution—and when that time came, those flaws would inevitably rise to the surface.
Just thinking about that terrifying possibility sent chills down Solomon's spine.
(End of Chapter)
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