Battle-Damaged Asset Processing Center and Cutting in Line for a Position

Wolverine doesn't care about suits; he only cares about bars.

That was one of the few places on his wandering journey where he could stop and have a sip of cheap Bourbon.

Now, all that's left is a pile of burning charcoal and crooked beams.

"Bang bang!"

The dense hail of bullets only slightly slowed Wolverine's Beast charge.

Under the influence of the Healing Factor, the bullet hole rapidly extrudes the Negasonic Teenage Warhead while emitting white smoke and heals itself.

Someone shouted that they wanted to climb onto the pickup truck and run away, Wolverine jumped onto the roof.

The Adamantium claws easily pierced through the sheet metal, pinning the driver and seat through the cab like a sandwich.

The Gambit emerged from the ruins, tossing two playing cards between his fingers. The cards spun and landed in the back of another pickup truck that was trying to reverse.

An explosion rang out, and half of the train carriage was blown into the air. The wheels spun a few times in mid-air before falling and crashing into the sand.

This is a one-sided, bloody Carnage.

On the verge of violence, Sing Sing, carrying his leather briefcase, looked like a construction site supervisor inspecting safety.

"Ah!"

The half-gangster's body was thrown by Wolverine, landing with a "splat" less than half a meter from Sing Sing's feet, spraying blood everywhere.

Sing Sing jumped back a small step in disgust, muttering, "Damn it! Don't you understand what throwing things from a high-rise is? You'll have to pay for the damage to the national key scientific research specimens inside!"

He dodged the stray bullets; there weren't many left.

Most of the bullets went after Logan, while Sing Sing crouched down next to a body that looked relatively "intact".

He touched the dead man's pocket, pulled out two wads of crumpled US dollars, shook off the blood, and stuffed them into his pocket.

His movements were practiced and deliberate, carrying a sense of accomplishment as he checked materials and put them into storage.

He ignored the gangsters being dealt with by Wolverine nearby; his attention was entirely on another pickup truck that had overturned into a ditch, its hood belching black smoke.

A pickup truck overturned in a ditch, smoke still rising from its front.

The driver's cab door was halfway open, and the radio inside was crackling; someone was talking.

Sing Sing walked over, kicked the remaining car window glass to shatter it, and leaned half his body inside to listen.

After waiting for a while, there was still no response from the other side.

The gruff voice came through the loudspeaker again. "Squad Three, report. Has the target been cleared?"

Sing Sing cleared his throat and replied clearly, "Hello, this is the Nevada Desert War Damage Assets Processing Center."

"The third team you contacted has had its account physically cancelled due to suspected disorderly conduct. Is there anything else we can do to help you?"

There was a two-second pause on the other end of the communicator, then a shout rang out, "Who the hell are you?! Where's Number Three?!"

Sing Sing sighed and said into the microphone, "Can't you understand human language? They're lining up to be reincarnated!"

"If you're in a hurry, I can put you in line. Just mention my name, and I'll give you a buy-one-get-one-free offer on urns."

Listen, you scum!

The other person's voice was hoarse and filled with malice. "No matter where you run, you're all going to die today!"

Sing Sing squinted.

Hang up the communicator and get out of the carriage.

The battle in the distance has ended.

Wolverine stood amidst the wreckage, blood dripping from his steel claws.

He was surrounded by people lying in a circle; no one was left alive.

The wind whipped up dust and sand, sweeping past the corpses.

The Gambit walked over, blood still seeping from the cut on his forehead.

Who are you talking to?

"Avalanche's henchmen."

Sing Sing, carrying his suitcase, moved closer to the Gambit, lowering his voice.

"I initially thought that the rock-playing guy was just angry that we dismantled his subordinate. Now it seems he's playing a much bigger game."

The Gambit frowned, hastily wiping the blood and ash from his face with his sleeve. "What do you mean?"

"The radio just said that when the Avalanche collapsed the hotel, it accidentally killed a high-ranking government official."

"So, do you think they might try to pin the blame on us?"

"This is a huge problem."

The Gambit touched the cut on his forehead.

Sing Sing didn't respond. He silently took out a notebook from his inside pocket, ticked the name "Logan Howlett" on the cover, and muttered to himself:

"With its strong self-healing ability and incredible resilience, it's like a superb workhorse that can work through the night without needing any insurance for sudden death..."

Then turn to the next page and draw a big X over the name "Avalanche".

"As for this guy who plays with stones... he's a troublemaker, has ties to organized crime, and is now suspected of murdering a government official. He won't pass the political vetting; the recruitment plan is permanently canceled. Pah, scum!"

He closed the notebook and stuffed it back into his inner pocket.

Sing Sing turned around and pulled out a crumpled bilingual (Chinese and English) letter of intent for labor cooperation.

"Cousin, when are you going to sign? I can't wait!"

The Gambit looked at the piece of paper in front of him, then glanced at Sing Sing.

The surrounding corpses were still warm.

They had just been hit by a missile a few minutes ago, and now they were embroiled in a plot to assassinate an official.

The Nevada sun was blazing overhead, making you feel dizzy.

"Are you out of your mind?!"

The Gambit cursed, his spittle almost flying onto Sing Sing's face.

"You're still thinking about signing a contract at a time like this?!"

"The more dangerous it is, the more you should sign it!"

Sing Sing patted the Gambit on the shoulder with a meaningful expression.

"If you don't sign the contract, even if you get killed by a missile, it'll be considered an accidental death, and you won't even get compensation!"

Wolverine shook the blood off his hands, retracted his claws into his bones, and walked up to the two men.

The tattered vest he wore clung to his muscles, giving him an aura of danger.

He stared at the piece of paper in Sing Sing's hand.

"I don't care who you are, or what trouble you've gotten yourself into."

"This is my territory. You not only brought flies here, but you also caused my bar to be blown to smithereens."

He took a step closer.

"Now, take your worthless piece of paper and this France swindler, and get out of my sight."

Wolverine raised his hand, and with a "swoosh," three blood-dripping steel claws pressed directly against Sing Sing's nose, the stench of blood assaulting his senses.

"Bring that piece of paper closer to me again, and I'll cut you up first."

Gambit took a half step back, knowing that if Logan went berserk, no one could stop him.

What's more, this China agent has been stirring things up all along.

Sing Sing stretched out two fingers, pinched Wolverine's middle Adamantium claw, which was strong enough to cut through a tank, and pushed it aside with disdain.

"Dude, don't point those dangerous construction tools at the interviewer, okay? It'll easily lower your overall impression score."

"And can't you be a little more considerate of first-come, first-served? If you want to apply, you have to wait in line. My cousin hasn't even been signed yet!"

"I'll get you a new one after he finishes signing it."

Sing Sing gave him a smile, "Food and lodging included, free psychological counseling provided, guaranteed to cure your bipolar disorder."

Wolverine's cheek twitched, and the veins on his arm bulged.

Having lived for over a hundred years and fought in two world wars, he swore he had never seen such an infuriating person in his life!