This woman's true identity was that of a CIA operative who defected while on a long-term assignment in the UK.
She had assumed the identity of Mary Morstan to start a new life—the real Mary Morstan had long been buried six feet under. Thanks to the British population registry system, her disguise raised no suspicion. The adoption papers Solomon had once filed without a listed adoptive parent had gone unnoticed all this time, let alone the forged identity of a trained agent. Of course, if someone with extremely high-level access—namely Mycroft Holmes—were to conduct a thorough investigation, it would still be possible to uncover inconsistencies in the current Mary Morstan's past. That's why Solomon's help was crucial: he deleted any records that could potentially be traced.
To be clear, there was no way the sorcerer had specifically gone looking for this woman's records. The only reason Solomon learned her true identity was because, during an infiltration of CIA headquarters in Langley by his assassins, a significant cache of documents was retrieved. While combing through the classified files to expose CIA human trafficking networks (ostensibly to dismantle them, but in truth to recruit new soldiers loyal to the Immortal City), her name appeared on a list of minimal importance.
That's right—minimal importance.
Because the missions she had carried out had nothing to do with national security. They were about gathering leverage on businessmen and politicians so the oligarchs in the Council on Foreign Relations could gain the upper hand in commercial negotiations, devour British companies' capital and technology, and ease their own financial crises. Missions like that were a dime a dozen for the CIA. A low-ranking defector wasn't worth much; if needed, they could just dispatch another one. Ever since Margaret Thatcher had cast the final handful of dirt onto the grave of the British Empire, such occurrences had become routine—and not just in the UK, but across continental Europe even earlier.
So to the Immortal City, this intel wasn't particularly valuable. It was just another file in a stack. Even S.H.I.E.L.D. had its fair share of incoherent, dead-end missions—otherwise Congress wouldn't approve such generous annual funding, and Nick Fury wouldn't have dared shelter Bruce Banner despite the military's warnings. Natasha Romanoff had even included this intel with other shady cases of corporate espionage as part of the Immortal City's intelligence training material. It was only during Solomon's probe into Sherlock Holmes's network of acquaintances that an analyst unearthed this file from the archives.
Solomon decided to resolve the matter personally, just to avoid any misunderstandings.
Of course, his explanation didn't exactly satisfy her. Mary Morstan (for lack of a better name) immediately began investigating him after memorizing his features. But that's a story for another time. Even a defector couldn't uncover Solomon's identity, not with the level of secrecy the Immortal City maintained. The CIA itself was regularly misled by disinformation planted by the Immortal City's intelligence division. To most intelligence agencies, Solomon's file looked like that of a completely average civilian.
That was largely due to the fact that Solomon rarely used social media and lived a deliberately low-profile life. The cover Victoria Hand had constructed for him was practically flawless.
As far as the world knew, he was just an ordinary Oxford graduate student in astrophysics, aiming to pursue a future in academia. He dabbled in classical literature, theology, philosophy, particle physics, and theoretical physics. He worked in the lab of a Nobel laureate. He was pursuing multiple degrees. And, on occasion, he happened to visit war zones in the Middle East and Africa, oligarch estates, the White House, and 10 Downing Street.
Perfectly normal. Nothing to see here.
Besides his work for the Immortal City and Kamar-Taj, he also taught classes at Athena Hill Orphanage. That job had been assigned to him by the goddess of wisdom herself—under the alias "Miranda Minerva." His role was to tutor both the top-performing students and those struggling, which didn't take much of his time. He was also responsible for tutoring Alice, daughter of Hong Kong Sanctum's guardian Wu Guiyue. He'd been teaching at the orphanage since high school and had continued into graduate school. The job allowed him to directly influence the children, subtly instilling his ideals and beliefs—exactly what Athena intended. It was part of her long-term plan to cultivate a loyal inner circle for Solomon, starting from the ground up.
Who knew when that plan began? But she'd explained it this way: "Pick a few capable ones and place them in your organization." She had said this while wearing a loose-fitting white nightgown, drinking wine, and hurling throwing axes at a target. That was the first time Solomon had seen an axe break through a concrete wall at supersonic speed, yet the muscles on her arm remained as elegantly sculpted as a marble statue. "You need people you can truly trust, don't you?"
Naturally, teaching at the orphanage required a change from his usual mourning attire. Solomon quickly swapped ties and headed out. Just as he arrived, he witnessed little Lorna's dramatic reunion with her so-called girlfriends. He swore he'd never heard wild birds in a mating ritual make such a racket. Fortunately, the girls quieted down and entered the orphanage within a minute. Judging by their behavior, it wasn't their first visit.
The sorcerer raised an eyebrow in silent inquiry.
"It was just for show, okay?" Lorna rolled her eyes. "They're not real friends. They always ask me where I get my hair dyed. A real friend would already know my hair color! Those spoiled brats never pay attention. They just come here to pretend they're doing charity work! I should've said no when they offered me that spot at the private school."
"Okay, I thought girls squealed when they saw their friends. Ow! Why did you pinch me?"
"Because they're only here to see you!" Lorna huffed. "Ever since you picked me up from school that day, they've been like this. They wouldn't take a cab to this place otherwise! So, what do you say? Want a fresh batch of juicy, underage high school girls? I bet you could handle all five. Don't look so shocked—what do you think your two girlfriends talk about when they chat with their moms?"
"I don't want to end up in jail, okay? Let's go—the lesson's starting."
"Wait!" Lorna spread her arms to block his path. "They're going to try to talk to you."
"So?" Solomon looked confused.
"Talk about interesting stuff," Lorna said, arms akimbo. "No astrophysics. No war, philosophy, swords, or guns. I know that's hard, but try something more youth-friendly—like that Spider-Man guy on YouTube. The tight-suit freak who flips around. He's got tons of fans now. Wait a sec... don't tell me you don't even watch YouTube?"
"Hey, girl, I'm really busy!" Solomon shrugged. "A month ago, I started a war and killed who knows how many extra-dimensional entities. Ammo, gear, funerals, rebuilding! Forgive me if I don't keep tabs on some guy in tights swinging around New York City!"
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