Mississippi Blackwater Horror Tales

"Phew... I almost peed my pants from fright."

Sing Sing leaned against the wall, trembling as he pulled out a cigarette, and it took him three tries to light it.

Cyclops feels great, but the aftereffects are also significant.

What if that guy's glasses suddenly become crooked?

Two red lasers can perform a painless craniotomy on yourself?

When Director Wang writes his death report, should the cause of death be listed as "work-related injury" or "died from poverty"?

"Chao, these days, doing political and ideological work is riskier than defusing a bomb."

Sing Sing took out his phone and skillfully opened the North America special edition of the Unethical Map.

Current location: Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, Westchester County New York State. Destination: Black Swamp, Louisiana. Distance between the two locations: 1986 km. Estimated walking time: 368 hours. We recommend you choose air or high-speed rail...

"High-speed rail my foot!"

Sing Sing was spitting out a string of insults at the phone screen.

"Where did this 'eight vertical and eight horizontal' formation come from in the heart of capitalism?! If I had the money to buy a plane ticket, would I be here playing survival games with you?"

Well, it only took me a little over thirty hours to get here, and now it'll take another thirty-plus hours...

He, Zhou, is truly the worst of the worst.

After much deliberation, Sing Sing gritted his teeth and decided to take a gamble.

I slipped out of the side gate of the academy and entered the grove of trees.

He glanced around to make sure there were no blue-haired Beasts or dejected old men spying from behind the trees before pulling the Hover Motorcycle out of the Mini Dimensional Box.

The engine hummed, and the vehicle hovered about ten centimeters off the ground before speeding away.

Two days later.

New Orleans Louisiana.

If the cold in New York is like being "frozen to the bone" in a physical sense, then the heat and humidity in New Orleans are like being in a "sauna" on a biological weapon level.

The damp air brought by the Mississippi River carried the pungent smell of various cheap spices.

In order to avoid being recognized by Silver Peak's henchmen, Director Zhou activated his trump card: deep role-playing!

At that moment, an extraordinary gentleman walked down Royal Street in the France District.

The double-breasted, snow-white chef's uniform was pressed crisply, with a bright red silk scarf tied around his chest.

He wore a white French hat that was half a meter high on his head, brown sunglasses on his face, and a toothpick in his mouth.

"Bonjour (idiot), folks!"

Sing Sing, with his protruding belly, waved to passersby in broken Cantonese.

He casually shoved the fake passport into his chest pocket. "The Michelin five-star master chef from the far east, the head chef of Zhou Dafu, has officially joined us!"

A procession with gongs and drums was marching through both sides of the street.

The black guy in front of me was playing the trumpet and shaking his hips to a cheerful jazz syncopation rhythm.

Behind them, however, was a large, pitch-black coffin being carried, swaying precariously.

New Orleans Special: Jazz Funeral, Disco on Gravesites

Locals bid farewell to the deceased in this almost carnival-like manner.

The street was lined with stalls selling all sorts of voodoo charms, dried-up lizards, and bone meal.

"This place is really eerie..."

Sing Sing, with a cigarette dangling from his lips, strolled around leisurely.

On the surface, he looked around like a country bumpkin tourist, but his eyes behind his sunglasses were secretly observing.

At the edge of the chaotic parade, three men disguised as homeless people were whispering reports while holding headphones.

On the surface, he was dressed in rags and was unkempt.

But their disguises couldn't escape Sing Sing's sharp eyes.

Silver Peak's nose is really sharp; how did it manage to plant so many spies in this swamp?

Sing Sing scoffed and ignored him.

In any case, these people did not discover their whereabouts.

Without stopping, he turned into the Royal Street food market next door.

No matter which city you're in, food stalls are always the best place to gather intelligence from the lower levels of society.

Sing Sing stopped in front of a stall with a sign that read "Freshly Grilled Crocodile Meat".

The stall owner was a burly white man with a face full of scars, who was wielding a heavy meat cleaver, hacking and slashing at half a skinned alligator.

The meat on the cutting board was chopped into tiny pieces.

The meat juices splattered everywhere, causing several waiting tourists nearby to frown involuntarily.

"Hey boss, the way you're doing this is a complete waste of resources!"

Sing Sing approached with a strange accent.

"Huh? Which zipper wasn't zipped up properly and exposed you?"

"Where did this yellow-skinned little dwarf come from! Don't you know what authentic, rugged Cajun flavor is?! If you're not buying, get lost and don't delay my business!"

"We're all in the same business, why resort to violence?"

Sing Sing casually pulled out a fruit knife, the Blade twirling between his fingers like a silver butterfly.

"I'll borrow your flesh to show you what art really is!"

After saying that, Lao Zhou flicked his wrist without waiting for the other party's consent.

Swish! Swish! Swish!

Each cut follows the grain of the crocodile meat.

In just a few breaths, half a crocodile rib was neatly peeled off.

In addition, Sing Sing Chow used his knife to carve the tough, sinewy flesh into a lifelike white lotus flower.

Even the smallest stamens are clearly visible!

The entire room fell silent.

The stall owner slammed the cleaver in his hand onto the cutting board with a clang, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets.

Several elderly France women who were watching immediately made the sign of the cross on their chests.

"Mon God! Is this Michelangelo reincarnated to cut meat?!"

"So elegant! This is a miracle only a Michelin three-star chef in Paris could pull off!"

The crowd erupted in cheers, and a few of the more sensible tourists had already started taking out their wallets.

Coins and bright green US dollar bills were slammed onto the cutting board with a clanging sound.

Sing Sing skillfully reached out and stuffed a few scattered banknotes and coins into the hidden pocket of his apron, a smile plastered on his face.

"Thank you for your sponsorship! Art is priceless, donations are welcome! Give me ten dollars, give me eight dollars back, but I don't accept ghost money!"

Hey, another bit of extra cash!

The stall owner's attitude did a complete 180-degree turn. "This... master? How did you manage to do that performance just now?"

"Want to learn? I'll teach you."

"However, before I start teaching the classes, I need to ask you something."

"Master! Please speak! I will tell you everything I know!"

Sing Sing picked up a piece of roasted jerky, stuffed it into his mouth, and leaned over the counter to ask in a low voice.

"I've heard things have been a bit unsettled in your Black Swamp Preserve lately?"

"I originally planned to go over there and catch a few wild, naturally raised crocodiles to make sashimi, but on the way I heard people say it's really scary."

The burly man's expression changed slightly. He looked around, then lowered his head, picked up a rag, and began wiping the table.

"Don't even mention it, Master. I advise you not to go towards the Black Swamp."

The burly man's expression revealed a hint of fear:

"Starting last month, seven or eight fishermen in the lower Mississippi River have gone missing, and not even their bones have surfaced."

"The official explanation is that there's an overabundance of swamp crocodiles, but we've been hunting crocodiles here for decades. How could crocodiles, which eat people, also gnaw clothes and fishing boats to pieces?"

Sing Sing paused slightly as he chewed his meat. "Oh? Fragments?"

"You do not say!"

The burly man gestured with lingering fear:

"Someone saw a monster in the swamp at night; it had red eyes all over its body, was incredibly strong, and looked like a bio-engineered water monster!"

"And... some people even saw glowing iron boxes floating in the black water, being transported in the direction of the Sugar Refinery."

Sugar Refinery!

It seems that the abnormal industrial power consumption incidents that Hank discovered were not unfounded.

Not only does Miss Sinister have a base beneath the Black Swamp, but she is also frantically capturing humans and Mutants in the surrounding area for live biochemical experiments.

"Oh dear, thank you for your guidance, brother. This world is truly dangerous."

Sing Sing casually grabbed two napkins to wipe his hands before giving the stall owner some serious instructions.

Fifteen minutes later, after saying goodbye to the profusely thankful stall owner, Sing Sing walked to a fried oyster stall in a corner of the market.

The swampy area is humid, so eating some hot, fried food to tide you over is just right.

"Boss, one order of fried oysters, extra chili sauce, please."

Sing Sing leaned against the simple wooden rain shelter and reached into his pocket for change.

Just as he took out the banknotes...

A very faint sound mingled with the music.

A hard object lightly tapped the toe of his leather shoe, rolled twice, and came to a stop.

Sing Sing Chow looked down and saw a black chip.

In the center of the chip, a Red Diamond mark is engraved.

Red Diamond.

The mark of the Miss Sinister!