The Hellfire Club? A Crystal Man Appears!
The iron ladder in the air-raid shelter shaft was so rusted that it made Old Zhou click his tongue in amazement.
"No safety rope, no anti-slip mat, they'll have to get a rectification notice from the safety supervision department..."
As Director Zhou muttered to himself, he finally reached the ground.
Two rows of old explosion-proof lights hung from the ceiling of the air-raid shelter corridor, and the air smelled similar to that of an underground morgue that hadn't been ventilated for thirty years.
"Stop nagging! All you do is nag! Those soldiers even took the coffee machine away! I stayed up all night adjusting settings and didn't even get a sip to perk myself up!"
"Stop complaining! The higher-ups were in a rush to evacuate; they said some jinx wiped out several of our branches. Quickly load these two boxes of original paper logs onto the truck, and dump the rest directly into the incinerator. If they don't burn them completely, that's their bad luck."
Two men in white coats pushed a rickety tricycle over. The tricycle wheel was chipped, and it would lurch and bounce every half turn.
Sing Sing found it amusing.
Silver Peak doesn't seem to be having an easy time either!
No wonder the people who were arrested earlier started spilling the beans as soon as they got to the Hague.
Pressing against the corner of the wall, Old Zhou slowed his breathing.
As the handcart slid past them, revealing the backs of their heads, Director Zhou both of his large hands to wedge them against the carotid sinuses and pressed them down.
"Well..."
Two muffled groans, like hiccups stuck in his throat, followed by a limp slide down the stroller's handle.
Sing Sing Chow scooped the person up with both hands, like carrying two bundles of scallions, and tucked them under his armpits. He then used his toes to pry open the half-closed wooden door of the abandoned storage room next to him, kicked the person inside, and casually pulled over two dust cloths to cover them up.
"We're all just working people, lying down is better than working overtime, so you two can get some sleep."
After closing the storage room door, Sing Sing squatted down next to the cart and rummaged through the boxes.
The topmost pages were filled with incomprehensible biochemical waveforms. It wasn't until you flipped to the bottom that a kraft paper bag with a black diamond-shaped sealing wax pattern printed with Silver Peaks was revealed.
A string of English codes was stamped on the cover with red ink:
[Subject-J. Gavin / Courier]
Sing Sing tore open the sealing strip and pulled out the hard plastic card inside.
The photo shows an Inhuman immersed in a deep blue energy field sphere.
Its body has no skin tissue, appearing as a translucent liquid gel. The facial contours are blurred, resembling a melting, colorful candle, with a vaguely discernible outline of a suffering human figure.
"Jacob Gavin Jr.? That old flame and Messenger that kid Remy was talking about?"
What a coincidence!
Sing Sing pulled his sunglasses down a little; he suddenly had a bad feeling.
Jacob Gavin Jr. is androgynous, and his cousin is controlled by the bra-wearing woman because of him...
Does this guy like men or women?
Do you still prefer women who can transform into men?
A man who can turn into a woman?
Thinking of this, Old Zhou shuddered, and shakily took out a cigarette, lit it, and took a puff.
"This looks like undercooked jelly... My cousin's tastes are really something else..."
As Old Zhou tucked the files away and prepared to leave, he heard a metallic clanging sound coming from the corridor.
Old Zhou's ears twitched, and he slipped along the wall, making a quick, deliberate move.
After two turns, a thickened explosion-proof lead door blocks the middle of the road, with a small observation window with iron bars welded to the center of the door.
He peered through the window.
The cell, which was only a few dozen square meters, held about twenty people, most of whom were ordinary homeless people dressed in rags, huddled in a damp haystack and shivering.
In the three corners closest to the wall, sat a young man with an alloy collar around his neck.
The red light flashing on the collar was most likely some kind of superpower suppression device.
Sing Sing pulled a magnetic card from the pocket of the white coat he had just taken off and swiped it in the sensor area.
"Drop--"
A puff of white steam escaped from the pneumatic door hinge, and the heavy iron door slowly slid open.
The people inside were so frightened that they huddled together, and several homeless men even began to beg for mercy with their heads in their hands.
Shh! Don't cry!
Sing Sing slipped into the house, pulled out Pig Butchering Knife, and approached the other person under their terrified gaze.
"I'm from the Overseas Workers Care Team of the 749 Bureau of China. Don't be afraid."
While verbally calming the other person down, he raised his hand and swung his knife, snapping the collar around the young man's neck into several pieces with a crack.
"Are you an awakened... uh, Mutants?"
The young man nodded fearfully and raised his hands, spreading his palms out for Sing Sing to see.
A layer of highly corrosive yellow liquid oozing from his palms was visible, and even the ground beneath his feet was burned with several craters billowing white smoke.
"Acid-rich hands? That's an absolute must-have for unclogging drains!"
Director Zhou's eyes lit up, and he casually chopped off the collars of the remaining two men.
Their abilities are all quite good. One is that their metabolism is accelerated, allowing them to quickly recover their strength and repair minor wounds when they are at rest.
The last one is being able to replicate someone's voice and intonation after hearing them.
Sing Sing pointed upwards. "I've marked the way. There's a vertical iron ladder to the right at the end of the corridor. Go up there and you'll reach the salt flat wasteland. Look out for each other, and I'll come up and take you away."
More than twenty people burst into tears of joy and scrambled out.
As you continue down the main passage of the air-raid shelter, the temperature gets lower and lower.
At the end was a double-leaf chemical-proof airtight door, with the words "Biological Research Area Three" painted in black on the door.
Sing Sing slashed open the door, and a pungent smell of burnt plastic hit him.
The room was a mess. Seven or eight cylindrical glass culture chambers, each as tall as a person, were broken on the floor, and nutrient solution was spilled all over the floor, soaking the scattered paper lab logs.
A middle-aged man with graying hair was bent over under the desk, frantically stuffing a portable hard drive into his briefcase.
Hearing the sound of leather shoes shattering glass, the man turned around, looked at Sing Sing, raised both hands high above his head, and screamed at the top of his lungs:
"Don't shoot! I'm a temporary worker! I'm just a contracted Level 2 researcher doing data cleaning! I don't know anything! My safe's combination is my birthday!"
Sing Sing approached the other person, grabbed them by the collar, slammed them against the metal cabinet, and pressed the Pig Butchering Knife against their Adam's apple.
"You live by the sea? Why are you being so nosy? Who asked you for the password?"
"Jacob Gavin, tell me, where's that jelly stand now?"
The man stared down at the Pig Butchering Knife that was inches away, the intense murderous aura emanating from it making the hairs on his body stand on end and his crotch feel slightly tight.
"It's... on the second shelf of the filing cabinet! No, it's not in the cabinet!"
He stammered, waving his hands frantically, "He... he's already been dealt with!"
Speak like a human.
Sing Sing pressed down with his wrist, and the tip of the knife sank half a millimeter into the flesh.
I'll talk! I'll talk!
"Lady! It was Lady who took a liking to his mutant genes! Using a high concentration of mutation-degrading agent, she forcibly shattered his original consciousness and integrated it into Mr.'s own cloning culture dish..."
Sing Sing frowned. "Where is that person? Dead?"
"Not... not completely dead..."
"Where has the person been taken now?" Sing Sing pushed the knife forward a little, and a drop of blood slid down the spine of the blade.
"Hellfire Club!"
The doctor completely broke down, screaming like beans spilling from a bamboo tube, "It was Miss Sinister who personally led the escort team! They left on a private jet three days ago!"
Just as Sing Sing was about to press further, a blinding blood-red siren light flashed overhead.
Twelve private soldiers wearing heavy bulletproof exoskeletons grabbed their weapons and pointed them at Sing Sing. Before they could even shout "Fire!", everything went blurry.
Sing Sing transformed into a wisp of green smoke, drawing three dotted lines directly in the enclosed corridor.
Ta-da!
"You're just shooting all day, are bullets free?"
Sing Sing's smiling face was magnified in front of the squad leader. With a flick and a shake, the Pig Butchering Knife pierced through the gap in the joint, and the high-strength alloy hinge shattered on the spot.
Sing Sing delivered a backhand elbow strike to his opponent's throat, using the momentum to launch himself into the air and unleash a series of kicks.
Three seconds.
A full twelve fully armed elite private soldiers lay sprawled in the passageway, groaning and unable to get up.
Just as he was about to turn back and press for more information, the blast door on the side of the corridor made a loud bang and was torn in two.
A completely crystalline person, radiating a cold, sharp light, appeared before Sing Sing.