Azazel grimaced as he looked at the enormous chunks of raw Vibranium ore his old man had assigned him. He finally understood the true purpose of this trip.
"Come on, Dad. Can't Remus bring people in to move it?" Red Devil tried to bargain one last time.
James thought it over, then shook his head. "There are still plenty of native inhabitants here. What would Remus and the others do if they came in? Kill them all? And there's no road in for a transport vehicle. Most importantly, too many people means too many loose lips. The Wolf Pack are our own people, but we can't control a large crew of workers and the Kenyan natives. I'm not ready for the outside world to learn about this place."
His expression grew sterner as he urged, "You should take the opportunity to get some exercise, too. You're making a fuss over a little work!"
Azazel sighed heavily and pressed both hands against a huge chunk of raw Vibranium nearly as tall as he was. He screwed up his face with effort, and—poof!—he vanished.
Crash!
"Fuck! Damn it!"
Remus jumped in place, staring at the enormous rock that had suddenly appeared out of thin air and nearly crushed him. He cursed nonstop.
Azazel panted hard and glared at him. "Get a move on. Cover it with a tarp and get to work."
Remus laughed and swore at him. They'd grown up together, and they were close.
Azazel kept teleporting back and forth, hauling Vibranium ore and some of the raw Vibranium that had already been smelted and refined, its surface gleaming with a faint blue light. Each time, he carried four or five tons and teleported more than ten kilometers.
James knew exactly where Azazel's limit was. A capitalist's knack for exploitation