Sweet highs, accurate mids, your sonic weapon sounds crystal clear
"Welcome to my territory, three mice."
Sing Sing patted the dust off his shoulders, looked up at the dark end of the passage, and said in a serious tone:
"To correct you, it's two prospective employees, one potential experienced worker in a high-risk position, and one temporary outsourced guide."
"Don't give people random nicknames; it's considered workplace bullying."
Gambit glanced down at the slightly vibrating railway tracks beneath his feet, his expression grim.
Wolverine twitched his nostrils, and his steel claws snapped out with a "whoosh".
"Poison gas."
The next second, yellow-green mist simultaneously sprayed from the pipes on both sides of the passage.
The steel plate at the end of the passage slowly rose, and six heavy Gatling guns emerged from the hidden compartment, their dark muzzles beginning to rotate.
Sing Sing Chow chuckled.
He opened the leather briefcase, first pulling out two stacks of US dollars bundled with rubber bands, then three bone spurs wrapped in old newspapers, and finally taking out a gas mask from a hidden compartment.
The Gambit' eyelids twitched as he watched.
Why is this in your suitcase?
Sing Sing put the mask on and said in a deep voice, "Safety first when traveling on business. I value my life very much."
He pulled out a second one and casually tossed it to the Gambit.
Gambit caught the mask and breathed a sigh of relief, but his gaze fell on Wolverine's empty hands.
Wolverine stared at Sing Sing.
Sing Sing was also looking at him.
You can heal yourself.
Wolverine: "..."
Sing Sing turned to the megaphone and yelled, "The work environment has excessive levels of formaldehyde and harmful gases, lacks compliant ventilation equipment, and has not posted safety warning signs. Deduct 200 points!"
"Da da!"
Six Gatling guns opened fire simultaneously.
The Gambit donned a mask, tossed his trench coat aside, and three playing cards in his hand glowed with a purplish-red light.
"The taste of this lousy place is worse than the France sewers."
He flicked his wrist.
The three cards flew off the wall, bypassing the frontal fire, and disappeared into the gaps between the bases of the three machine guns.
Before the explosion had even subsided, the second round of playing cards had already been played, landing precisely in the ammunition boxes of the remaining three machine guns.
Flames surged and sputtered, and metal parts rained down on the rock face.
Wolverine then charged out as well.
The poison gas entered his nasal cavity and lungs, causing burn marks on his skin, which then healed rapidly.
He let out a low growl and, braving the remaining bullets, rammed into the first blast-proof iron gate.
Six Adamantium Claws crossed and made a single slash.
The heavy door, like a sliced steak, fell to the ground, crooked and askew.
Gambit stared at the retreating figure and muttered through the mask, "Are you sure you don't want to send him one too?"
Sing Sing, carrying Pig Butchering Knife, stepped over the smoking wreckage of a machine gun.
"Even if he were given protective gear, he wouldn't wear it. That's how all the experienced amateur craftsmen are; they rely on their solid foundation and think work safety equipment will hinder their performance."
As soon as they passed through the iron gate, white lights suddenly illuminated the two-story steel platform above them.
A squad of mercenaries in black tactical uniforms appeared overhead, their guns pointing downwards.
The leader, a man with a buzz cut, raised his hand and shouted, "Fire!"
Crossfire rained down from above.
After Gambit flipped over and hid inside the minecart, bullets dented the metal and sent sparks flying.
Just as he was about to raise his hand to retaliate, a burst of bullets grazed his hair, forcing him to curse in French.
The man with the buzz cut looked down at her and laughed.
"You think you're so tough? In this world, connections and influence matter! Three mere people dare to..."
Before he could finish speaking, he saw Sing Sing emerge from the smoke.
The bullets bounced off course when they hit him within half a meter, clattering and falling to the ground.
What is that?
"Bulletproof field?"
He wasn't wearing armor!
"Not wearing a helmet to work and handling prohibited and dangerous items."
He stepped forward and slid up the steel frame, hugging the wall.
"Expel them all!"
Sing Sing used the Seven Star Step, his figure sliding into the crowd like an eel.
The back of the blade struck the first mercenary precisely on the ulnar nerve, with the force of breaking a pig's leg bone. With a "crack," the submachine gun flew out of his hand.
Immediately afterwards, the knife handle was reversed, striking the Chengqi acupoint under the second person's goggles with the force of a bone-scraping motion. The glass did not shatter, but the person's eyes rolled back and they fell to the ground.
Just as the third person pulled out a grenade, Sing Sing pinched the pin with two fingers and kicked him in the side of the knee.
"Click."
The mercenaries knelt very properly.
Sing Sing tucked the grenade back into the pouch hanging on his chest and patted it carefully.
"Hazardous materials must be returned to their proper places. Don't you understand warehouse management?"
A dozen mercenaries fell one after another, like scaffolding being torn down.
The gun was disassembled into parts, the armor straps were snapped, and the knee, shoulder, elbow, and chin all took a blow, neither light nor heavy.
Not fatal.
It's so embarrassing.
The Gambit peered out from behind the minecart, watching the people rolling on the ground, and whistled through his mask.
Wolverine retracted his claws and stared at Sing Sing's retreating figure.
The man with the buzz cut took out a silver disc from his waist and pressed a switch.
A sharp, piercing sound filled the air.
The Gambit had just pulled out his playing cards when his hand trembled, and he crashed into the minecart, clutching his ears tightly with both hands.
Wolverine also suffered a terrible fate.
He clutched his head, his steel claws carving six deep grooves into the wall, letting out a painful roar.
The fallen mercenaries got up and crawled backward, their faces regaining their fierce expression.
The man with the buzz cut grinned.
"Mutants are ultimately just equipment. Find the frequency, and you can shut them down. Hahaha..."
"Your laugh is so awful, don't you usually take throat lozenges?"
Sing Sing stood in the middle of the sound waves, concentrated his energy to block his ears, and perfectly isolated himself from the high-frequency vibrations.
He even closed his eyes, his head bobbing slightly to the rhythm of the sound waves.
"Your speaker is great. Sweet highs, accurate mids, deep bass, in short..."
Sing Sing opened his eyes and gave a very high evaluation, "He's incredibly insightful!"
"However, the high frequencies are a bit distorted; let me adjust them for you."
Sing Sing took a step forward, and in an instant, he had already kicked the disc.
"Bang!"
The silver acoustic device exploded into a burst of sparks.
Before the man with the buzz cut could react, he was slapped across the face.
He was sent flying, his back slamming into the rock wall, and rubble rained down on him.
It fell silent.
On the platform, all the remaining mercenaries stopped moving.
Someone swallowed hard.
"The officer got slapped so hard he's stuck in the wall."
"I quit."
The Gambit slowly lowered his hand, his ears still ringing.
He looked at Sing Sing for a long time before finally managing to squeeze out, "Are you sure you're an ordinary government employee?"
Wolverine leaned against the wall and stood up straight, the veins on his forehead still bulging.
He stared intently at the sonic instrument for two seconds.
That thing, like a surgical light, used to remind him of many disgusting nights.
Sing Sing walked up to the man with the buzz cut, grabbed him by the collar, and forcibly pulled him out of the crevice in the rock.
"Where are my dozen or so critical infrastructure technical personnel locked up?"
The man with the buzz cut, his mouth full of blood and foam, was about to spit at Sing Sing Chow when he was easily dodged.
"Technical backbone?"
He raised his blood-stained chin and tilted it further into the ground.
"Go ask if the incinerator's fire is burning brightly, haha!"