Battle of the Twin Cities: The Ninth Councilor

Chapter 10 Invitation from Silko!
Getting off the carriage, Marcus prepared to pay the fare in pain. It took less than 5 minutes, and the fare was as high as [-] Piltover coins!

"My lord, the fare this time is my favor."

Unexpectedly, the coachman did not accept the coin that Marcus handed over, but showed a flattering look: "You have worked hard for the security of Piltover. As a member of Piltover, I am obliged to help the law enforcement Your Excellency will share some unnecessary... small troubles."

Hearing this, Marcus was slightly taken aback, staring at the thin man in ordinary clothes in front of him, and when he saw the corner of the tattoo protruding from under the collar of the other party, his expression froze suddenly: "Who sent you here?" ?”

In well-behaved Piltover, tattooing is considered outrageous, and only a savage from a place like Zaun would tattoo himself in such a messy pattern.

"That doesn't matter, Mr. Marcus."

The coachman did not answer this question directly, but directly revealed his identity in the following sentence, indicating that this person came to him not out of nowhere, but with ulterior motives.

Marcus reviewed the plot of the Battle of the Two Cities, and had some guesses about the identity of the person behind the scenes. He sighed inwardly, and sure enough, he found him.

"Tell me, what do you want from me?" He didn't bother to make excuses, and asked straight to the point.

"It seems that Mr. Marcus is indeed a sensible person." The coachman took out a note from his pocket and handed it to Marcus: "My boss invites you to meet me at this address tomorrow."

Marcus took the note, which contained a line of address, which was the factory in Bottom City.

Sure enough it was him...

Shirko!
When watching the Battle of the Two Cities before, Marcos had doubts about why the intelligence channel of the villain Silko was more comprehensive and faster than that of Vander.

At this moment, the appearance of the coachman can be regarded as answering his doubts.

Unexpectedly, apart from having some influence in the bottom city, this ambitious man even had his eyes and ears on Piltover.

As the most common means of public transportation, the profession of carriage driver can undoubtedly provide great help to the cause of intelligence gathering.

Who could be more reassuring and less conspicuous than the coachman across the carriage?
What kind of profession can accurately find a certain target from the crowd in the upper city and pass the news on, while meeting all kinds of guests?

It seemed that it was destined to take this carriage today. Even if he chose to walk, the carriage driver would find a reason to follow and hand the note to himself.

That's okay, save yourself trouble.

Most importantly, save money.

Marcus stuffed the fare in his hand back into his pocket with peace of mind, held the note, and looked at the driver with questioning eyes.

"Don't look at me like that. My task is just to convey the boss's intentions. As for what the boss asked you to come over for, that's not something we doglegs can ask."

The coachman changed his subject, moved closer, and reminded in a low voice: "But... Mr. Marcus has been struggling with the bombing in the upper city recently? As a good citizen who abides by the law, my boss may have some relevant clues to provide. For Mr. Marcus...maybe?"

Sure enough, as he expected, when Marcos heard the words 'explosion' and 'clue', his face was moved.

"Tell your boss for me, I will go to the appointment on time!" Marcos's tone showed eagerness, as if if he was not still busy with business affairs, he could not wait to fly over to meet this "good guy" who could provide clues. citizen'.

The coachman returned to his seat and sat down: "The boss will wait for you there."

After speaking, he fiddled with the reins, drove the carriage and left here.

"Oh, good citizen?"

When the coachman completely disappeared from Marcos' sight, the expression on Marcos's face gradually calmed down, gradually turning serious, and he smiled sarcastically: "If you, Silko, are a good citizen, then I'm the Holy Mother... Bah ! Catherine is the Holy Mother!"

Notre Dame is not a compliment. Marcos is not interested in whoever loves to be.

All he wants to do now is make money.

Stuffing the note into his pocket casually, standing on the side of the street, tidied up his appearance, and put on the mask hanging around his neck. Under the watchful eyes of his fellow law enforcement officers in charge of security at the door of the apartment, Marcos held a blanket of old newspapers Wrapped notebook, walked into this high-rise building where a certain house was bombed.

Due to the explosion, the surrounding people were evacuated yesterday and resettled to other places for temporary living, so there were basically no outsiders in this building except for the law enforcement officers and the parties involved who came to the site for investigation.

The reason why I say "basic" is because there is an extra out of place figure on the scene.

Marcus came all the way to the door of the room that was destroyed by the explosion, looked around, and found that this room was actually the only one that was destroyed by the explosion.

When watching this anime, Marcos almost doubted his eyes when he heard that a whole building was blown up several times.

At that time, the explosion failed to kill even a few living people at the scene, and even the four children closest to the scene could be described as unharmed. How could it affect other residents around?
It now appears that the so-called "whole building" and "whole floor" were blown up, but it was exaggerated to prove the seriousness of the incident.

It can be regarded as a means to add luster to one's own achievements, and the same as "the actual number of victims is always more than the reported number", all in order to make one's resume more glorious.

Slowly stepping into the ruins, Grayson was making the last on-site confirmation, glanced at the information recorded in the document in his hand, and said to the young man sitting on the chair next to him with a look on his face, "Tell me what happened again. .”

Jess Tallis, already irritated by the destruction of his workshop and the fact that the law enforcement officer interrogated himself all day instead of catching the thieves, said in a repressive way, "Trust me, really. I didn't do it, how many times have I said it, I'm the victim!"

"Don't worry, kid, we know it's a break-in." Grayson comforted the other party's emotions with experience, then changed the topic and said: "But these things are hard to explain. You have so many contraband here, and I haven't seen them." Can you tell me where it came from for any approved certificates?"

Marcus pretended to be wandering around in the ruins, as if checking the extent of the damage at the scene, but in fact his eyes had been on Jess, observing this young inventor who was determined to control magic with technology.

Grayson's question touched Jess's pain point. According to the regulations, as a student of the academy, he cannot do any research without permission, not to mention that the subject he is researching has hidden unspeakable dangers.

It is precisely because of this that he did not obtain effective certificates, let alone apply for legal research equipment.

Research equipment that has not been registered is collectively classified as "contraband." Once these things are used improperly, no one can tell what terrible things will happen.

Unable to get legal equipment, Jess had to make another risky move and go to the bottom city of Zaan to find purchase channels.

Benso's grocery store was naturally one of the shops he patronized.

(End of this chapter)