Old Zhou's Fantastic Voyage

"Do you think I look like a steelworker?"

You can't judge a book by its cover.

Sing Sing adjusted his hat, his gaze falling on the burgundy cloak, and carefully assessed it for a few seconds.

He smacked his lips. "To be fair, Magneto, you're at the age where you're on the verge of delayed retirement. But our bureau's motto is 'all-encompassing,' and we can rehire top talent."

"What our steel mill lacks right now is a zero-carbon emission master like you, who possesses built-in magnetic levitation technology, doesn't require cranes, and can save the factory a significant amount of industrial electricity. You're practically a chosen one!"

"Master craftsman?"

A steel bar was twisted into a pretzel near Sing Sing's ear.

"Technical title! This is a respectful title, don't you understand?"

Comrade Old Zhou quickly added:

"If you think it makes you look too old, we can call you Engineer Wan or Chief Engineer Ai! Once we reach full production capacity by the end of the year, the factory will nominate you for a May 1 Labor Medal, and you'll be praised over the factory's public address system with a big red flower on your head—that'll be incredibly prestigious! Your retirement pension will be at least two levels higher, saving you forty years of wasted effort!"

Magneto raised five fingers.

The steel beams groaned shrilly, the sheet metal walls bulged inwards, and the nuts on the ground bounced incessantly.

"Your steel mill... can it accommodate the Brotherhood of Mutants?"

"That depends on whether you have a professional qualification certificate."

"..."

Do you have a special equipment operator's certificate? Have you obtained an advanced welder's certificate? Have you participated in Level 3 safety training?

"You bunch of people wander around all day dressed in your juvenile Cloak, not even wearing safety helmets when you enter the workshop. What if you get injured on the job and break your leg? Who's going to pay for the medical expenses? You'll just have to squeeze money out of our bureau's medical insurance!"

"How about this, you all start with outsourced internships. You, on the other hand, can go to the steel mill and diligently work in temperature control. As for this red-skinned comrade over there..."

Sing Sing turned his head and waved familiarly to Azazel.

"This Spatial Teleportation skill is amazing! It's a waste not to use it for same-city express delivery in a logistics park! Dude, how many orders can you deliver in an hour with that teleportation?"

Unable to stand this guy any longer Magneto raised his hand and waved it.

All the scrap metal from the entire factory rushed towards them.

The steel plates closed from all sides, the wheel hubs blocked the gaps, and the iron chain wrapped around the outside more than a dozen times.

The rusty gears piled up layer upon layer, eventually forming a large iron ball with a diameter of three meters.

Sing Sing was sealed away before he could even utter a "Holy crap" sound.

With the last manhole cover attached, the inside of the iron ball plunged into darkness.

"Hello? Hello!"

A dull echo reverberated from deep within the layers of iron walls, tinged with exasperation, "Even if the deal falls through, we can still be friendly! The contract details haven't been finalized yet! If you think the probationary period base salary is too low, we can sit down and discuss it properly!"

Magneto clenched his fists, and the iron ball contracted inward.

"Oh my god! Don't push! Don't push!"

"A base salary of 8,000 isn't quite befitting someone of your status as an industry leader! I've personally decided to promote you to 9,500! I'll also apply for a summer heat allowance for you! That's the most I can offer. Our Director Wang only makes 12,000 a month; you can't possibly earn more than your boss, that's a major taboo in the workplace!"

The scraping sound of the sheet metal grew louder and louder.

"Magneto? Engineer Wan? Master Ai? Grandpa Ai!"

Is anyone still breathing outside?

"Call the police! 110? There are criminal gangs illegally restricting the personal freedom of grassroots government employees here! This is a serious crime that damages the business environment!"

Sing Sing patted the inner wall.

It's sturdy and has a pretty good seal.

"Help! If someone doesn't open the door soon, I'm going to suffocate! I have an over-eighty-year-old stingy bureau chief to serve, and a Legion hungry, government-employed Mutants employees to feed. My life is my lifeline, I can't let it die here!"

The Azazel swished its tail irritably at the large iron ball on the ground that was still shaking and occasionally letting out screams.

Why not just grind him into mincemeat?

Magneto's hand hovered in mid-air, and the image of Charles leaning on his cane flashed through his mind.

Hope.

"He... he's still useful. Let him fend for himself."

I still have that job posting in my hand.

Magneto expressionlessly folded the paper twice and stuffed it into the inside of his pocket.

"Throw this ball anywhere, anywhere," he coldly ordered without turning his head, "As far away from New York as possible."

"Magneto! I'm not deaf yet! I heard everything!"

"This is unilateral and malicious dismissal! Throwing the hiring manager out without a signed resignation letter is blatant workplace bullying! You just wait, I'm definitely going to sue you in labor arbitration, and I'll even confiscate your underwear!"

Azazel impatiently reached out and placed his hand on the surface of the iron ball.

"Bang!"

The three-meter-tall iron ball vanished into thin air, and the world finally returned to its long-lost tranquility.

Black.

It was dark and crowded.

Sing Sing is curled up in the center of the iron ball, his right leg stuck in half of a car exhaust pipe, and an old-fashioned wok on his forehead.

Is anyone outside?

Hey! The package arrived but no one's here to sign for it!

Nobody paid any attention to them.

All I could hear was the whooshing sound of the wind. The noise was so loud that even several layers of steel plates couldn't muffle it; it sounded like someone was blowing a blower at an iron ball.

Sing Sing took out his phone.

No signal.

Old Zhou shoved the phone back into his hand and pulled out Pig Butchering Knife.

The blade was drawn, its cold gleam skimming along the iron wall.

"Magneto, I was just trying to introduce you to a legitimate job with Five Insurances and One Housing Fund, but you refused it and insisted on doing this shady kidnapping. Isn't that a bit petty?"

A white stream of energy flowed up the arm and onto the blade.

A low growl came from inside the iron ball.

"Open it!"

A blade flashed.

The thick steel plate looked like a tin can that had been cut open, with a smooth, thin crack running down its center.

The second strike followed with a diagonal slash, and the third strike knocked away the iron chains that were wrapped around the outside.

"Boom!"

Half of the metal shell crashed into the snow.

A strong wind swept in snowflakes, covering Sing Sing's face.

The surroundings were blindingly white.

There were no highways, no factories, and certainly no New York lights.

In the distance, snow-capped mountains stretched out, a few crooked pine trees were covered with ice crystals, and a patch of green aurora borealis floated on the Aurora.

The snow at my feet was up to my leather shoes.

Sing Sing looked down at his spotless black leather shoes, then at the wooden sign ten meters away that was creaking and swaying in the wind.

The wooden sign features a smiling brown bear.

Welcome to Alaska

Sing Sing's eyelids twitched a few times.

"Wait, where did this red-skinned delivery guy come from? Is this still in China...? Ugh, is this still United States? Did he step on the gas and end up in the Arctic Circle? You can't cross provinces like this!"

A creaking sound came from behind the snow slope.

A brown bear, at least three times larger than the one on the billboard, emerged from the woods, its nose twitching as it stared at the steaming hot takeout food in the middle of the snow.

Sing Sing was also staring at it.

The man and the bear were several meters apart, and neither of them made the first move.

The brown bear opened its blood-red maw.

"Roar!"

"What are you looking at? Can you even be a mount?"