Chapter 886
Snail
Chapter 886 Snail
"It's not exactly urgent, but it just feels a bit strange."
Ezra Hughes, still damp from the outdoor air, said grimly, "Last night we detected unusually frequent magical fluctuations. The intensity wasn't strong, and they appeared and disappeared intermittently, making it difficult to pinpoint their exact location, but the frequency was far beyond normal levels..."
Leila Picqueli, holding the documents, stood to the side and said with a smile, "Could it be that you're overthinking it, Mr. Hughes?"
She said casually, "Given the weather these past two days, anyone going out would have to use seven or eight spells—waterproofing spell, dehumidifying spell, warmth spell, cleaning spell, rain protection spell… The frequency is far greater than before, which is to be expected."
Ezra Hughes looked at her and said seriously, "What I mean by 'unusually frequent' is, of course, a judgment made after taking into account the impact of the weather!"
Hawthorne leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the city, which seemed to have been reborn from the ashes, through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows.
“Lyra is right, but bad weather is also the best time to fish in troubled waters. There will definitely be a lot of dark wizards... or those lingering Purifiers... who will take the opportunity to stir up trouble.”
He said in a deep voice, "Ezra, go ahead and investigate! You can tell me which personnel are needed..."
Before he could finish speaking, the heavy wooden door to the office was suddenly pushed open, and a young clerk rushed in, panting, clutching a roll of parchment that had been accidentally crumpled.
"Chairman Hawthorne!" the clerk cried out in a shrill voice, "Something...something terrible has happened!"
Looking at him, Ezra felt as if his temple had been punched hard, and a sense of foreboding made his veins throb.
Hawthorne jumped to his feet, while Lyra immediately took the parchment from the clerk and asked anxiously, "What happened?"
As she spoke, she unfolded the parchment.
That was a list of deaths.
The clerk exclaimed in panic, "They're dead...so many people are dead...and they're all big shots in the Muggle government!"
……
New York City Mayor Rudolph Willand strode into the City Hall emergency command center, his secretary jogging alongside him, rapidly reporting the situation:
"A violent conflict broke out among key members of the Harrington family within the mansion, resulting in extreme chaos. Richard Harrington and his daughter Victoria were both murdered, possibly by Victoria's husband Jonathan, who also died unexpectedly..."
"Senator Elijah Stockton was found dead in his bedroom from a heart attack; his family heard nothing."
"Samuel Blackster, the president of the military company, apparently fell into the bathtub and drowned while taking a bath at night."
“Dexter Rhodes of the Department of Homeland Security… died unexpectedly in his bed after a very absurd night, suspected to be a drug overdose.”
"In addition, several other prominent figures in politics and business died in accidents, with the estimated time of death differing by only a few hours at most. For example, Evelyn Shaw, LeBron Johnson..."
The command center was brightly lit, and a huge electronic screen displayed a map of New York City. Some red dots marked areas such as the Upper East Side and Georgetown stood out starkly.
The mayor stared at the red dots, his face ashen, his hands trembling slightly.
“Tell me, what is this? A massacre of New York’s elite? At this time? In my city?”
He laughed in anger, looking at the people around him and said, "Tell me—has World War III already broken out?"
The police chief, sweating profusely and pale-faced, said, "Our initial investigation of the scene suggests... it could be an accident, or an internal conflict... There are no signs of forced entry, and we haven't found any... any biological information of outsiders..."
The mayor said in an icy voice, "So you're saying that the fact that such a high number of deaths occurred within two or three days is all a coincidence?"
"This is certainly no coincidence," the security advisor said gravely. "But... as of now, no organization has claimed responsibility, and the methods are all different. This doesn't look like a typical terrorist attack..."
“So perhaps we must consider another possibility,” the chief of staff said in a low voice. “This could be the work of some highly disciplined organization with technology or… or capabilities that we cannot comprehend.”
He met the mayor's gaze, their eyes conveying a silent message.
The mayor, recalling certain legends, was startled, and a layer of sweat broke out on his back.
He suddenly realized that if someone had targeted him last night, then he... might already be dead. The press secretary didn't understand; she hesitated before asking, "You mean... this series of deaths was the work of Russia? Or the East...?"
The mayor waved his hand, interrupting her, and took a deep breath: "The death... since it wasn't reported in time due to the communication disruption, we shouldn't release it immediately now! We can release it in stages and batches to reduce the impact on the public."
"As for these people..."
He stared at the photos of the dead on the screen, at their radiant smiles in their most triumphant moments, and said in a deep voice:
"check!"
"FBI, NYPD, Department of Homeland Security... get moving!"
“Investigate all the information about the deceased over the past ten or twenty years, even from birth! Find out what connections they had with each other! Investigate their business rivals, their secret collaborations, and anyone they offended!”
"They could not have been unrelated; this was a targeted assassination attempt!"
"I need to know the truth," the mayor said almost to himself. "I need to know... what... is hidden in my city?"
Upon hearing this, the secretary suddenly felt a chill and involuntarily shivered.
……
While the entire New York City government was swamped with a series of deaths, the lives of ordinary people remained largely unchanged.
Traffic had barely begun to recover, and the hot dog carts were already eagerly occupying prime spots, offering a fragrant breakfast to passersby.
A young man with messy hair and a wrinkled plaid shirt leaned against the food cart and said wearily, "Heat up the bread, add hot sauce and cheese, and I'll have jalapeños."
In the window of a nearby electronics store, a television set was playing the morning news. On the screen, a meticulously made-up female announcer was connecting with an ecologist.
"...Then, Professor," the blonde asked worriedly, "we've all noticed a large number of snails appearing on the streets after the heavy rain. What do you think is the cause of this phenomenon?"
The ecologist confidently stated, "This is mainly the result of the combined effects of abnormal rainfall and humidity changes. Snail populations will rapidly reproduce and become active under suitable conditions; this is a normal natural phenomenon..."
The young man turned his head, looked at the screen for a moment, and then looked around.
Suddenly, he strode to the street corner, bent down, and picked up a slowly wriggling snail from the wall.
Startled, the snail quickly retracted its soft body into its shell, leaving only a small, damp trace.
The young man casually picked up another stone and, without the slightest hesitation, smashed it down with all his might.
"Crack!"
With a soft cracking sound, the delicate spiral shell shattered, exposing the gel-like life form inside to the air, where it trembled slightly.
He looked down and observed for a while, then, like a pervert, he crushed it bit by bit with a stone, pulling the viscous liquid into thin threads, filling the air with a faint, sweet-smelling smell.
"So it really is a snail." He tossed the stone aside, casually pulled out a tissue to wipe his hands, and smiled with relief. "I thought... these were some kind of scary things!"
"Sir... your hot dog is ready," the stall owner called out cautiously, looking at the young man as if he were a future serial killer.
The young man took the hot dog, opened his mouth wide and took a bite, while mumbling, "Don't be afraid, you have no value to me, so I'm harmless to you too."
The stall owner didn't hear clearly, smiled politely, and looked towards the street, hoping the next customer would come soon.
The young man wolfed down his breakfast, let out a satisfied sigh, and turned his gaze to the snails crawling in the corners of the walls and under the windowsills. Suddenly, he said:
"Can you imagine? What if these seemingly ordinary creatures are actually controlled by someone? They are his eyes and ears, and can transform into assassins at any time, taking anyone's life..."
(End of this chapter)