Who Is It? Spit It Out!

One day later, in the special care ward of the Medical Zone.

Sing Sing, with a new bandage wrapped around his waist, stretched as he stood at the door.

He didn't change his clothes; he just wandered around in the hospital gown from the 749 Bureau.

He wore the "749" on his left breast pocket with a relaxed, street-smart vibe.

Lying in bed all day isn't a good idea; I need to go out for a walk. I can come back when it's time for my injection.

"Discharged! If I stay any longer, I'll lose my kidneys sooner or later..."

First stop: the director's office.

Director Wang sat behind his desk, listening to him recount his entire trip to Seattle, without uttering a sound for a long time.

"Mondo's funeral will be conducted with the highest honors; he will be buried in the bureau's cemetery."

The Little Chubby came from an orphanage; there isn't even a photograph of him.

In this world, the only people connected to the Little Chubby are Colossus and his friends.

There's no better way right now, so this is the only option we can have, to give him a dignified ending.

Old Zhou then recounted the details of Miss Sinister, the Vanisher, and the Mojoverse Livestream Orb, one by one. After listening, Director Wang only said two words: "Thank you for your hard work."

Upon hearing this, Sing Sing seized the opportunity. "Chief, look at me, I risked my life on this trip, almost losing my dignity as a man in United States. The expenses and compensation for emotional distress..."

"Get out of here and go to the finance department." Director Wang pointed to the door expressionlessly.

"Yes, sir! Understood!"

Sing Sing quickly left.

Second stop, the finance office.

When Anton saw him enter, he instinctively stared at him without moving.

Sing Sing slammed a stack of receipts onto the table, arranging them neatly, even the dates were in order.

Surprisingly, Anton didn't scrutinize Old Zhou with a magnifying glass as usual this time. After a quick glance, he simply wrote it down and let him off the hook.

This greatly surprised Sing Sing, who wondered to himself, "Has this kid taken the wrong medicine today? Or was he intimidated by the aura of my battle-worn state?"

But he didn't say anything outwardly. After all, the more you say, the more mistakes you make. Everyone else has already approved the expenses readily, so why ask so many questions?

Something's fishy going on; the best course of action is to grab the money and get out of there.

The third stop: the evidence room.

Items such as the wreckage of the alien communicator were registered and put into storage one by one. Finally, Sing Sing took out the Livestream Orb.

But as soon as the ball left his hand, it swished right back onto his shoulder, like a stubborn plaster that he couldn't shake off.

"Why?"

The officer in charge of the evidence room reached out to catch it, but the ball flew around Sing Sing's head and wouldn't fall into anyone else's hands.

"It's... latched onto you?" The clerk scratched his head.

Sing Sing was also puzzled, reaching out to grab him but failing. "Wait a minute, I didn't hold back at all when I was attacking their streamer, so why is he sticking to me now? Has Stockholm syndrome spread across galaxies?"

The two struggled for half an hour, but the ball just wouldn't go into the parking space.

The officer was at a loss and could only write a line in the registration column, "The evidence will be temporarily carried and kept by Director Zhou."

"Well, so I've become an evidence custodian. Does this count as a part-time job? Does it come with extra pay?"

The clerk was engrossed in writing and ignored him.

After much thought, Old Zhou decided to go find Wenxi and pushed open the laboratory door.

The moment the door opened, Wenxi, sporting a bald patch, rushed up to him, "Ah Qi! I heard you brought back something good!"

The Livestream Orb flew back and forth on Sing Sing's shoulder, Da Vinci's eyes lit up. With a roar, he pounced on it.

The ball shot up onto the roof beam, and the old man grabbed a net from somewhere and chased after it.

"Don't run! Let uncle see what's in your belly! Intergalactic live stream! This is an intergalactic live stream! Master it, and I'll be the most dazzling top sales influencer in the entire universe!"

Chaos erupted in the lab; beakers shattered on the floor. Da Vinci, perched on a stool, swung his fishing net, muttering to himself.

Seeing that Wenxi was also at a loss with this ball, Old Zhou was also helpless and simply gave up the idea of giving him the Livestream Orb to study.

As he reached the door, Old Zhou suddenly remembered something and turned back.

"By the way, could you remake my suit? The last one got slashed into mop-like strips with someone's claws; I look like the leader of the Beggar's Sect' Sect now."

"It's already prepared!"

Da Vinci pulled a black box from under the cabinet, beaming with pride. "Latest model! Bulletproof, fireproof, and scratch-resistant! I even added a self-heating system. Wearing it in winter is like having a portable heater—a godsend for those who are always cold!"

What about the side effects?

"One charge lasts for three days, but the person shakes while it's charging."

"Is that clothing or a massage gun?"

"Art! This is wearable art! You don't understand the romance of science! Oh, and leave the Dimension Box behind; I still need to make some modifications."

The 72-hour briefing was held in a small conference room in the ground resettlement area.

Sing Sing didn't go in; he peered through the door frame as staff read the list of rights to Silver Fox, item by item.

Organizational nature, reasons for confidentiality, restricted areas, conditions for leaving the base, complaint methods, application for lawyers and translators...

One by one, without omissions.

Article Six: You have the right to refuse any form of research, sampling, and capacity assessment.

Silver Fox held the pen, ticked the "Refuse Research" box, and hesitated as he moved the pen to the "Request Psychological Support" box.

It was much livelier around her.

Li Qianhuan's translator was a spirited young man with a pure Northeast China accent.

Li Qianhuan fluent Mandarin with a California accent, while the young man speaks with a strong Northeastern accent; the two chat across different platforms.

"Hey girl, you filled this in wrong. This is where you write your current address."

"What do you mean?" Li Qianhuan, looking confused.

"Gada, it's right here, this spot, you know what I mean?" the young man gestured anxiously.

The two talked at cross purposes for about ten minutes before Li Qianhuan surrendered.

"English, please."

"Oh my god, why didn't you say so earlier!" The young man spoke fluent English, his pronunciation perfect. "Here, even the janitors speak three foreign languages; they're all very capable."

Sing Sing listened in the corridor for a long time, laughing his head off, but didn't go in to disturb the joyful atmosphere.

He took out his phone and found a number saved as "Old Goldhead".

The Silver Fox incident is a ticking time bomb; it needs to be resolved quickly, and the one who tied the knot must untie it.

He pressed the dial button.

The phone rang twice before being answered. Wolverine's furious voice came from the other end, accompanied by the sounds of things being smashed in the background.

"Who is it? I'm with my child, spit it out!"