Goal: Make All the Unlicensed Illegal Workers Official Employees!
The pickup truck bumped along the desert road at night.
Sand Rat Miguel curled up in the back seat, his knees against his chin.
"What kind of people do you think are placed down there?"
"Debtors, traitors, and... Mutants can be sold for money."
"As far as I know, Avalanche started doing this about six months ago."
In the passenger seat, Sing Sing Chow was studying pipeline diagrams by the moonlight streaming through the car window.
Upon hearing this, he paused in his folding of the blueprints.
Will it be disposed of tonight?
His voice lowered, losing its usual nonchalant tone.
The Sand Rat shrank its neck. "I don't know... but the Silver Peak Consortium is here. The Avalanche caused such a huge mess, they definitely have to report back."
"Silver Peak?" The Gambit gripped the steering wheel, his brows furrowing slightly.
"It's the conglomerate behind that dead official at the Four Seasons Hotel."
Are there more experts?
Sing Sing looked at the cacti flying past the window and asked, "What do you United States usually do when you get blamed?"
"It bites."
A deep, hoarse voice came from the back seat.
Wolverine, who had kept his eyes closed, finally opened them.
"A dog cornered against a wall is in the most danger."
Meanwhile, at the deepest part of the bunker.
The telephone rang, echoing in the empty room.
Avalanche sat on an iron chair, a map of the Las Vegas streets spread out in front of him.
The phone rang three times before he finally picked up the receiver, his face expressionless.
"Avalanche." The voice on the other end was calm.
"The forensic report is in. The internal organs suffered severe resonant impact damage, which matches your 'underground demolition' method by a staggering 99%."
Avalanche gritted his teeth and didn't argue. "I'll handle it."
"Before tonight."
"Snap."
The call was immediately disconnected.
Avalanche gripped the receiver tightly, the veins on the back of his hand bulging.
The next second, he stood up and kicked over the tool rack next to him.
"Damn it, Silver Peak... a bunch of bitches in suits!"
Footsteps could be heard outside the bunker door.
Two men wearing tactical vests walked in through the door, their chests adorned with the distinctive badges of the Silver Peak Consortium.
The leader had a buzz cut and a grotesque scar that ran diagonally from his brow bone to his chin.
Avalanche turned around, his eyes fierce. "Are you here to help, or to spy on me?"
"Watch your attitude."
The man with the buzz cut smiled, but his smile was cold.
"The mission is simple: capture Gambit Remy LeBron and that Asian man in the white suit."
"Dead is fine, but the report needs to be detailed; after all, we need two perfect scapegoats."
He took a step forward and lowered his voice. "If we can't handle this, we'll put you in the report too. ' Las Vegas mob boss colludes with Mutants terrorists to carry out a larger-scale attack'—that's eye-catching, isn't it?"
Avalanche stared intently at him, without saying a word.
The man with the buzz cut patted him on the shoulder. "Don't block the path I left for you."
After saying that, he turned and left.
Another team member turned back at the door and added coldly, "By the way, the vault on the second basement level also needs to be emptied tonight. We'll incinerate all the 'stock'; don't leave any DNA behind."
The iron gate closed.
The Avalanche, and he stood still, laughing in exasperation.
Damn Rhodey King!
I could easily arrange a perfectly clean woman for you!
He insisted on going to prostitutes himself, and he even hid his identity!
Now look what's happened, they're blaming it all on me!
A car repair shop on the outskirts of Las Vegas.
Sing Sing laid the blueprints on the hood and used a few old spark plugs to cover the corners.
"Second basement level."
Sing Sing's slender fingers tapped on the drawing.
"Seventeen separate cells, only one main ventilation duct, and the escape route... here, is marked as sealed off."
Gambit stared at the densely packed pipeline diagrams, somewhat taken aback. "You're going to rescue someone?"
Sing Sing didn't look up, his finger moving to the red area in the center of the drawing. "Sand Rat said the Avalanche needs to be cleared here tonight."
Our target is the Avalanche.
Wolverine leaned against the truck cab, drinking vodka.
"Kill him, and all problems will be solved. I have no interest in being a savior."
Sing Sing looked up, his face unusually serious.
"You're right, killing him directly is the easiest way."
"But there are over a dozen Mutants locked up inside! They're your fellow countrymen!"
Wolverine scoffed, "You're not a saint, don't pretend to be all compassionate."
"Nonsense! Of course not!"
"But a dozen or so highly skilled individuals are being kept like cabbages, locked up in a basement to die?! This is a tremendous waste of valuable labor!"
"Even if it were the King of Heaven himself, I'm going to make these unlicensed illegal workers permanent employees of our company today!"
The Gambit covered his face and sighed in anguish.
He actually thought this guy was a good person.
"Fine, even if you're going to go and do your illegal recruitment, how are you going to take it with you?"
The Gambit pointed to the blueprints, "Sand Rat can burrow underground, but they can't carry that many people at once. Besides, the cell door locks are all made of explosion-proof titanium alloy."
"It will be implemented in two phases."
Sing Sing is now in work mode.
"The first phase involves infiltrating, rescuing people, and incidentally gathering evidence to solidify the chain of evidence regarding illegal employment Avalanche."
"The second stage involves forcing the Avalanche and reveal itself."
Turning to the Sand Rat, Sing Sing gave him a benevolent capitalist smile, "Comrade Miguel, can you create localized high-frequency vibrations underground? Like..."
"A mouse digging a hole?"
"Yes, it's like rats digging a hole. You create vibrations to attract the attention of the Avalanche surveillance cameras, and your cousin takes the opportunity to break down the cell door."
Sing Sing nodded in satisfaction, then looked at Wolverine.
"As for Comrade Logan, you are responsible for dealing with all close-combat threats."
What kind of lousy job did you assign me this time?
"Joint Inspectorate for Unlicensed and Illegal Operations"
"Your task is simple: if you see anyone inside who isn't wearing a safety helmet or safety boots and is waving a gun around recklessly, just physically cancel their account."
"Say 'military' one more time, and I'll inspect your vocal cords."
The Sand Rat, shrinking its neck, timidly asked Gambit, "He... he's really not a lunatic, is he?"
The Gambit patted Sand Rat on the shoulder. "You'll get used to it. At least the promises he made sound pretty good."
After the first Kun hour.
Above the vault is the abandoned entrance to the old silver mine.
The place was half-collapsed in the night, with rubble and rusty rails piled up like small hills.
The Sand Rat kicked aside a loose rock slab, revealing the shaft below.
He led the way, silently sliding down the iron ladder at the edge of the shaft.
The second- Gambit, holding a dark purple playing card between his fingers, provided illumination.
Wolverine brought up the rear, his nostrils twitched slightly; he could already smell the blood emanating from the depths, a scent that had never seen the light of day.
Sing Sing was the last one to go down.
The group had just landed.
Wolverine's nostrils twitched. "Wait a minute! There's a smell of gunpowder in the dirt!"
No sooner had he finished speaking than the Sand Rat, which had been standing at the front, slithered into the ground like an eel, leaving only a mound of earth that quickly disappeared into the distance.
Immediately afterwards, a sharp "click" of a mechanism rang out, and the escape route above their heads was blocked.
A sudden electrical crackling sound came from deep within the mine tunnel.
Immediately afterwards, the sound of the Avalanche, carrying intense killing intent and a chilling echo, came from the loudspeaker hidden in the shadows:
"Welcome, you bunch of fools who don't know what's good for you."
It's a trap!