America: The Cremator

Chapter 175 The Infiltration Plan Begins!

With the help of Chinese food delivery, the atmosphere in the training ground became noticeably more harmonious.

Since everyone felt obligated to help him, and given the terrifying strength Su Long had previously displayed, the team members' attitude towards him shifted from suspicion to awe.

Over the next few hours, the team conducted intensive drills including coordinated shooting, emergency response to pollutants, emergency response to unpredictable disasters, and first aid.

During this time, Su Long once again showed off his skills, leaving everyone amazed and completely impressing the group of proud and capable soldiers from the FBI.

After the practice session ended, Elena clapped her hands to draw everyone's attention.

"Alright, warm-up complete. Before we head out, let's review the intelligence on tonight's target."

Elena walked to the door and dimmed the lights in the training room. The incandescent bulbs on the ceiling went out instantly, leaving only a few dim emergency wall lamps. Then she pulled down the projection screen on the ceiling, connected the tablet to the device, and a high-definition satellite map of Seattle was projected onto the center of the screen.

Elena pulled up an enlarged area map, pointed to an area circled in red on the map, and introduced: "According to intelligence, the self-marked location is in the Wallingford district, specifically at the intersection of North 34th Street and the walkway, which is the undeveloped abandoned industrial site west of the Gasworks Park on the north shore of Union Lake."

Marcus leaned closer for a look, then scratched his head. "Gasworks Park? Isn't that usually a popular tourist spot? Aren't these cultists afraid of being discovered if they build their hideout there?"

Elena pulled up another document: "That's where their brilliance lies. This land was ancillary to the Seattle Lighting Company's gasworks, built in 1906, and has been abandoned ever since it was shut down in 1956. It's separated from the main park by rusted barbed wire and bushes, and inside is a heavily polluted area."

Nancy adjusted her glasses and added, "I checked the EPA's data; this place is on the Superfund's list of potential contaminated sites. The levels of toxic substances such as coal tar, lead, and arsenic in the soil and groundwater are up to 470 times higher than the permitted levels."

"What do you mean?" Martin asked.

Lucia scoffed and continued, "That's an absolute no-go zone designated by the federal government. Anyone who goes in or digs without joint approval from the EPA and the state Department of Ecology is committing a federal environmental felony. The maximum penalty is fifteen years in prison, plus a fine of $75,000 per day. Even if the FBI wanted to search, they would have to submit a report three days in advance and wait for those bureaucrats to approve it."

Martin whistled: "That's a really hefty fine."

Su Long leaned back in his chair, his fingers lightly tapping the table: "So, this pollution ban has become the perfect natural shield for these cultists? Officials can't get in, and ordinary people don't dare to."

"Absolutely correct." Elena nodded, pulling up a business registration record: "They registered a shell company called 'Northwest Brownfield Remediation Limited Liability Company,' and signed a ten-year land remediation agreement with the municipal government. Under the guise of a 'groundwater restoration pilot project,' they built fully enclosed prefabricated houses and warehouses on the west side."

Martin's eyes widened, and he exclaimed incredulously, "Wait, you mean these guys are building their hideout right under our noses, with the guise of a legitimate construction project?"

"Not only is it legal, but they also receive millions of dollars in special environmental protection subsidies from the Washington State Department of Ecology every year."

"All their underground renovation projects were carried out openly and legitimately under the guise of 'pollution isolation and seepage prevention construction,' and the authorities never questioned them," Elena scoffed.

Upon hearing this, Su Long couldn't help but applaud: "Taking government money to build illegal bases on government territory, it's a shame this business acumen isn't on Wall Street."

A burst of laughter erupted, easing the tense atmosphere somewhat. After all, this operation was truly surreal, a typical example of capitalist exploitation.

Elena operated the device again, and a complex three-dimensional perspective view of the underground structure appeared on the screen.

"According to our investigation, the entire underground space is buried at a depth of 10 to 32 meters and is divided into two levels."

"The upper level, 10 to 18 meters underground, was formerly the industrial equipment control room, raw material pretreatment workshop, and office area."

The lower level, ranging from eighteen to thirty-two meters, contains six giant cylindrical gas storage chambers, underground wastewater treatment corridors, and a lakebed water intake pipeline system.

Nancy typed rapidly on the keyboard, pulling up the material data: "Captain, this is a huge problem. The total length of the underground corridor is over 3.2 kilometers, and all the structures are made of one-meter-thick explosion-proof reinforced concrete. The original design can withstand an explosion impact of 0.3 MPa, and it is completely soundproof and vibration-damped."

"Then how do we get in?" Jack frowned. As a sniper, he hated these enclosed and fortified underground bunkers the most, as his sniper rifle was completely useless there.

Elena moved the laser pointer's spot to the entrance of the underground corridor: "This is our infiltration route tonight. We'll break in through the underground corridor, follow this passage, and advance straight into the eerie core chamber where the butterflies are kept."

"Just going to go all in like this?" Marcus asked, somewhat excited, but then added, "Aren't we going to use some infiltration or tactical maneuvering?"

Martin swallowed hard and said with difficulty, "Captain, are you serious? That corridor is 3.2 kilometers long, and the other side must have deployed heavy troops to guard it. Once we go in, we'll become sitting ducks, and there will probably be a lot of obstacles along the way."

Everyone nodded in agreement; such a direct attack was indeed too risky.

Elena helplessly spread her hands: "There's no way around it. This kind of blast-proof building, which is over a hundred years old, doesn't even have a decent ventilation system. All the water pipes are blocked by heavily polluted wastewater, and those lunatics have filled them with toxic gas detection probes and infrared alarms. Diving in is tantamount to suicide."

"If we forcibly break through the outer security system, it would take Nancy at least four or five hours, during which time alarms could be triggered at any time. Rather than sneaking around and being discovered and put in a passive position, it's better to take the initiative from the start."

She looked at Nancy and instructed, "Nancy, once the operation begins, you need to immediately cut off all external communication signals to the entire factory area and disable their surveillance network. Can you do that?"

"No problem. Give me three minutes, and I can turn that area into an information black hole, preventing them from sending out even a single byte of distress signal," Nancy replied quickly.

"Very good." Elena then looked at Marcus. "Marcus, bring plenty of C4 and directional explosive charges. If you encounter a door that can't be opened, just blow it open. If you encounter a firing point, just flatten it. I want you to clear the way for us as quickly as possible, before they can react."

Marcus grinned widely, revealing an extremely excited smile, and patted his tactical vest vigorously: "Leave it to me, Captain. I love this kind of simple and direct work; I guarantee I'll pry open all those thick steel plates!"

Lucia checked the pistol's magazine and added, "I'll follow closely behind Marcus and clear out the remaining targets on both flanks. Jack, Martin, you two are responsible for suppressing any stragglers at medium to long range."

The tactics were very well planned, and everyone understood their responsibilities.

Looking at the 3D structural diagram, Su Long quickly simulated the scene of the sudden intrusion in his mind, and suddenly said, "I have a question."

Everyone turned to look at him. After establishing his authority, Su Long now wielded considerable influence, and no one dared to ignore his opinions.

"Speak," Elena said, looking at him.

Su Long stood up, walked to the projection screen, and pointed to the core chamber thirty-two meters underground: "According to the plan, we'll blast our way in, making a huge commotion. That strange mutated butterfly might be awakened."

He looked at everyone, his expression grave, and said, "Have you considered what would happen to your team if you were directly facing a fully awakened, even berserk, B-rank monster in that narrow, enclosed underground space?"

Upon hearing this, everyone's expression changed.

Their attention was entirely focused on how to break through the criminal organization's defenses, but they overlooked the danger posed by their ultimate target.

That was a B-grade monster, and a mutated one at that.

"This butterfly is strangely adept at releasing hallucinogenic scales and psychological attacks. In poorly ventilated underground passages, the concentration of these scales can reach an extremely terrifying level. Gas masks can block physical dust, but they can't block psychological pollution."

Elena frowned: "You mean—"

Suron explained, "What I mean is, we can't waste all our energy on the road. Marcus, your explosives to clear the way are fine, but it has to be fast, fast enough to get to that weirdo before it can react."

"Secondly, once you break into the core compartment, conventional weapons will have limited effectiveness against the monster. You must immediately retreat and establish a defensive line, and leave that giant worm to me to deal with."

He looked at Marcus and Jack: "Your task is to clear out those human minions and ensure our retreat is unobstructed."

Do you understand?

Marcus nodded immediately: "Understood! You're a professional at dealing with the supernatural."

Just as the tactical arrangements were finalized, two muffled knocks came from outside the heavy, airtight door.

The access control was lifted, and two staff members dressed in the logistics uniforms of the Support Bureau pushed in three double-decker, temperature-controlled food carts.

"Mr. Surong, your lunch has arrived." The staff pushed the food cart to the rest area at the edge of the venue and began placing the lunch boxes on the long table.

As the insulated covers were lifted one by one, the rich aroma of food instantly filled the enclosed training ground.

Martin was the first to go over, and after seeing what was on the table, he gasped in shock.

"My God, a seafood platter from Pike Place Market?" Martin pointed at the boxes with the distinctive logo, his voice rising several octaves involuntarily.

The table was piled high with food. There was a thick-cut salmon bowl, a lobster roll stuffed with large chunks of shrimp, a crab cake sandwich with a golden-brown, crispy surface, and a steaming bowl of Pike Place Market's signature clam chowder, along with a whole piece of Beecher's handmade cheese.

The drinks were all premium lattes and high-end sparkling water, while the desserts were individually packaged lava brownies and butter cookies.

Marcus swallowed hard, his thick fingers carefully picking up a lobster roll and weighing it in his hand. "I saw this on the menu at that restaurant before; one costs forty-five dollars!"

Nancy pushed up her slipping glasses and quickly tapped a few times on her tablet: "No need to calculate. These restaurants aren't on the department's partner list, so we can't use the operator discount. Plus, with such punctual and fast delivery, the bill for this meal will definitely exceed three thousand US dollars."

Upon hearing this number, the training ground fell silent for two seconds.

Jack put down the sniper rifle attachments in his hand, turned to look at Su Long, and said with amazement, "Advisor, this is quite a generous offer."

Three thousand US dollars is equivalent to more than half a month's basic salary for them.

Su Long walked over, picked up a bottle of sparkling water, unscrewed it, took a sip, and then said, "You need to be well-fed to have the energy to work."

Eat as much as you like, and I'll have more delivered if you're still hungry.

Marcus cheered, grabbed two crab cake sandwiches and stuffed them into his mouth, thanking Suron indistinctly, but the others couldn't make out what he was saying.

Martin picked up a bowl of clam chowder, took a big, satisfying sip, and let out a contented sigh: "This is what a human being should eat. Compared to this, the stuff those restaurants we work with make is practically industrial waste. I swear, this is the most decent meal I've had since I joined the bureau."

Everyone sat down around the long table, and the atmosphere was more relaxed than ever before.

This expensive lunch, coupled with the shocking slap earlier, completely shattered the team members' barriers against Surong.

Everyone, carrying their lunchboxes, intentionally or unintentionally moved their seats closer to Su Long.

Jack, holding a lobster roll, sat opposite Su Long. After a moment's hesitation, he asked, "Su Long, during the coordinated shooting drill earlier, I noticed your accuracy was astounding—every shot hit the center. Even our team's top instructors can't do that. How do you train?"

Surong swallowed his food, put down his fork, and gave a generic answer: "More real combat. When you're facing a monster faster than a bullet, you'll naturally try everything to control your gun. The instincts you develop in life-or-death situations are more useful than any shooting range training."

Nancy, biting into a cookie, leaned closer, looking Surong up and down in his casual jacket, her face full of curiosity: "Mr. Surong, you don't seem to have much muscle, but this strength—it's completely against human biology."

She pointed to Marcus, who was still munching away beside her: "Marcus is the strongest one here. How did you manage to slap him so hard? Was it some kind of special technique?"

Upon hearing his name called, Marcus quickly swallowed the food in his mouth and leaned closer: "Yes, yes, yes! Surong, I wanted to ask that too! Have you ever practiced that kind of mysterious ancient martial art from the East? Like the kind in the movies, qigong?"

Seeing the eager expressions on their faces, Su Long leaned back in his chair, smiled, and casually made up a reason: "If you do push-ups every day, you'll become stronger. Of course, you'll also become stronger when you go bald."

The crowd burst into laughter again, and the atmosphere became even more harmonious.

In a relaxed atmosphere, Lucia, who had been sitting quietly in the corner eating her salad, stood up and walked over with a cup of coffee.

"Advisor Surong, while reviewing the mission briefing just now, I noticed that you have a very good understanding of the strange habits of that mutated butterfly."

Have you ever fought against it or its followers before?

Su Long nodded in acknowledgment, "I encountered it during a previous mission."

Upon receiving Sulong's affirmative answer, Lucia's breathing became noticeably heavier. She put down her coffee cup, took a photograph from the inside pocket of her tactical vest, and pushed it in front of Sulong.

"Have you seen this agent before?"

Su Long looked down and realized that the photo was quite old, with the background being the front of the FBI Seattle field office building.

The photo showed two FBI agents in uniform. The younger one was Lucia, with neat short hair and a radiant expression. And the man standing next to her, with one hand on her shoulder, was someone Sulong knew all too well.

It was Adam, the one who got shot in the head by a sniper in the candy factory warehouse.

Surong pushed the photo back to Lucia: "What's your relationship with Agent Adam?"

Lucia replied in a hoarse voice, "He's my mentor. When I first joined the FBI, I didn't know anything. He taught me step by step how to investigate crime scenes and how to deal with those lunatics."

"This operation to eradicate the Butterfly Mystery was something I requested to be transferred here from my superiors. My goal is simple: to send all these damned creatures to hell and avenge Adam."

Surong looked at the stubborn female agent in front of him and chuckled softly: "I was at the scene when Adam had the accident, and I was the closest person to him."

"These damn lunatics, they even dare to kill FBI agents."

"Yes, I will definitely wipe them all out!" Lucia nodded solemnly, picked up her coffee cup, and walked back to her seat.

This little incident did not dampen everyone's enthusiasm for the meal.

Half an hour later, the food on the long table was all gone, and everyone continued to discuss some more detailed issues.

Twenty minutes later, all the tactical details were finalized, and the leadership structure of the joint investigation team was also determined.

During the operation, including in case of unexpected situations, all orders must first be obeyed by Suron, and secondly by Elena.

After all, the fighting prowess Su Long displayed, coupled with that expensive lunch, had completely won them over. In this world rife with strange occurrences, following a powerful figure who could slap a two-meter-tall man flying with a single blow greatly increased the chances of survival compared to following anyone else.

Elena straightened up and gave the final instructions: "Very good. Now dismissed. Everyone go to the armory to collect your personal supplies and check your weapons. Meet in the underground parking garage at 11 PM. Move out promptly at midnight."

Night falls.

The Seattle night was accompanied by a continuous drizzle. Fine raindrops fell on the asphalt, splashing up a thin layer of mist.

12:15 a.m.

A completely black van without any license plates or markings silently drove into the edge of the Wallingford area.

The environment on the west side of the gas plant park is extremely harsh.

The towering, rusty iron tower cast a huge shadow in the night, and the surface of the crisscrossing abandoned pipes was covered with dark green moss and unidentified fungi.

The air was filled with a pungent chemical smell, mixed with the stench of rotting earth.

The area is surrounded by a three-meter-high wire fence with a yellow warning sign that reads "Heavily polluted, entry strictly prohibited".

However, there seemed to be signs of someone frequently entering and exiting through the holes under the barbed wire.

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