Richter's Curiosities

Richter's Curiosities

Mutants always had some special abilities—powerful, subtle, strange, or sometimes purely ridiculous. The weak ones were barely different from ordinary people, while the strong could fairly be called tactical nuclear weapons.

As for this target, the Deadlock Gang had sent five groups after him, ranging from two to twenty people each time. Every one of them had been wiped out. Gang thugs might be laughably weak in an agent's eyes, but they were still more than a dozen grown men armed with machetes, pipe wrenches, and pistols—not a dozen broiler chickens. So his ability could not be weak. And judging from the footage, he could instantly burn a huge Black man to ash, confirming that he possessed Pyrokinesis as well—and that his flames burned at an extremely high temperature.

Turning someone to ash was not as simple as dousing them in gasoline and setting them alight. Even military flamethrowers could not accomplish that; it required a professional cremation furnace and a long time. To do it instantly would probably require thermite accelerant. That stuff could burn a Terminator.

On Barin Island, a little girl whose ability had gone out of control had turned dozens of people into living corpses, leaving their lives and deaths at her mercy. This time, however, they were dealing with an adult. Based on the current intelligence, he seemed highly proficient at controlling his ability, and it was a very direct power: high-temperature flames.

Worst of all, he was located in a residential area, surrounded by innocent civilians. If they could not immediately restrain him before taking action, activating his ability might trigger a massive fire. Innocent bystanders being caught up in it and civilian casualties were entirely foreseeable.

Taking all that into account, the moment Agent Melinda learned of the target's information, she wanted to mobilize an action team. Ideally, a sniper would take him down with one shot from eight hundred meters away, or three men with light machine guns would rush in and turn him into a beehive before he could react. Two fire crews would also need to be on standby in case of an accident.

"No need to be so tense. There's a reason they only sent the two of us," Coulson said. He did not think the situation was that serious, and headquarters had made arrangements.

"Director Fury? So that's how he sees it." Melinda came to the same realization. A Level Six incident was not something decided on a whim; it had certainly been considered carefully. Besides, other than saying Nick Fury's head looked like an egg when she was ten, she had never offended him. There was no reason for him to set her up to die.

"Here's the situation. Based on the intelligence, our target should be able to control his power very well, and he hasn't abused it. If not for this coincidence, perhaps no one would have known he had superpowers. Other than those Deadlock Gang members who deliberately provoked him, he hasn't killed anyone else, and there have been no strange fires in the area." Coulson spoke at length, but Agent Melinda clearly did not have that much patience.

"Just give me the conclusion."

Unbothered by the interruption, Coulson said directly, "He can control his power, exercises restraint, and shows no antisocial tendencies. Therefore, the assessment is that there's a strong possibility he's harmless."

"Possibility?" Melinda felt that was not definitive enough—not something a Senior Agent should say.

"Of course. This is only a preliminary assessment. The final conclusion will come after we've met him." This was essentially a field investigation. Even with a preliminary assessment, it was better to have an experienced agent speak with him face-to-face.

"What happens if the conclusion is that he's harmless?" As a member of the Cavalry, whose work focused on combat, Melinda dealt exclusively with harmful targets. She was not very familiar with the procedures for harmless ones.

"If he's harmless, we register him, learn about his ability, and warn him to maintain his current behavior and not do anything reckless. We conduct regular inspections, and then everyone lives in peace."

That ended their conversation. As for what they would do if he was classified as a harmful target, Coulson did not say, and Melinda did not ask such a stupid question. The answer was obvious—so simple it could be summed up in three words radiating humanitarian brilliance: kill him.

Richter's Curiosities was a shop with seven years of history. It was an unusual store, selling all manner of charms and items connected to the occult. There were common crosses and hexagrams, as well as Buddhist statues and bagua from the East. There were also more unconventional things, such as brightly colored voodoo masks, enormous totem poles, and grass-skirt dolls. Though the selection was vast and the owner could recount countless legends about them, they all shared one thing in common: they were fakes. Most idols and amulets in the world were fake anyway, imagined into existence by mortals. But the fakes here had clearly not risen to such philosophical heights. Their deception was far more basic—the materials themselves were fake. For example, the gold crosses were gold-plated lead, while the jade Buddha statues were glass.

Naturally, their prices were far lower than those of genuine items. That was why the store had never been sued for deceiving customers. After all, if you bought something for a quarter of the genuine article's price, then it was either fake or stolen goods. If you still chose to buy it, it could not exactly count as deception. Of course, some people wanted to extort a payout. People like that existed everywhere; they were not the specialty of any particular country. As for why no one had heard about it, the answer was simple. No media outlet had been stupid enough to put something like that on international news.

Still, such people tended to have some sense, especially in a place like the Sixth District. After asking around a little, they learned that even the Deadlock Gang did not dare provoke this small shop lightly, and that some of their people had apparently been lost inside. Once they weighed their own worth, they buried those thoughts deep in their stomachs.

As for the owner of Richter's Curiosities, he was none other than the protagonist, Elson Richter. At fourteen, only a month after awakening, he had left the Orphanage and opened this shop. He had not left so quickly because he was ungrateful, but because he believed that sooner or later, he would have to say goodbye to an ordinary life. If his ties to the Orphanage grew too deep, he might drag them into dangerous matters someday. Better a short pain than a long one; it was best to leave early.

Then he fell for the real estate agent's nonsense and bought this storefront. Completely ignorant of how society outside worked, he had been sweet-talked by a salesman who made extravagant promises into buying a shop in a neighborhood overrun by gangs. Then people started coming to cause trouble.

In truth, Coulson's intelligence was inaccurate. The Deadlock Gang had indeed sent five groups, but that did not mean they were the only ones who came looking for trouble. Thieves, robbers, and the like would also climb through the windows late at night. Still, he had to thank those unlucky bastards. Their selfless contributions had greatly improved Elson's Warlock magic. At the very least, his three years of simulations and five years of spellcasting had given him plenty of opportunities for real experiments instead of empty theorizing, as well as currency for making deals with void demons. And thanks once again for their souls, he now had the essential item every Sorcerer needed at home or on the road: a Demon Baby.

"But seriously, when I first summoned you, I was truly excited and comforted. But only today did I realize that I must have committed some terrible sin in a past life to receive this retribution in this one." Evenson looked at the people standing before him in a line from tallest to shortest.