American comic: From Beijing with Love, starting with a mutant.

"Hey, you new green-haired colleague over there. You're just going to live together, and you haven't even given your name?"

She snorted coldly.

Why should I tell you?

"How can we create a file for you and open a bank account to pay your salary if you don't give your name?"

"Am I supposed to shout 'Come and collect your paycheck' to thin air when I get paid?"

Stephen Chow spoke confidently, not at all treating this as a mass escape from an underground base.

Is this person out of their mind?

They're running for their lives!

If Stryker knew that someone was conducting on-site recruitment in his heavily guarded underground military base, with his mind filled with attendance and salary payments, he would probably bite his dentures to pieces on the spot.

She spent a year in prison.

For 365 days, no one spoke to her in a normal tone.

The lab technician called her number X-07, the guard called her Green Hair, and Stryker called her Sample.

"Lorna, my name is Lorna Dane." She finally gave her real name, almost as if possessed.

Stephen Chow searched through the intelligence list in his mind.

No such person found.

However, he didn't care too much. After all, employers have countless new hires, and their lists might not even be updated yet.

As long as they can do the work, that's fine.

"So what are your skills? Explain them in detail. A resume needs to show a relevant skill level, right?"

"Magnetic control, metal manipulation. I don't know the exact extent myself; no one taught me that growing up."

"Oh, a wild giant panda. With such amazing skills, how come it's being kept in this dark and gloomy place as 'expendable resources'?"

I grew up in foster care.

"The third family's adoptive father got drunk and beat me. I had an emotional breakdown, and everything in the house with metal on it flew up."

"Knives and forks, iron pot, doorknob, and the adoptive father's belt buckle slapped directly in his face."

"Well done! And then?" Stephen Chow listened with great interest.

"That was it. I called the police, was transferred, registered, and then locked up."

"That old man drew my blood, attached instruments to my body, and measured my extreme threshold."

Jiliu sighed, thinking that mutant lives were worthless everywhere.

"A whole year! How much time will that delay the project and how much overtime pay will we lose?" Zhou Xingxing said, his heart aching.

Lorna was so taken aback by his sudden remark that she almost couldn't catch her breath.

How did this man's focus become so warped?

I'm telling you my tragic and tearful story, and you're feeling sorry for my lost wages?!

Zhou Xingxing didn't see any problem. He turned to look at Lorna and said, "Don't worry, come back to China with me, and I'll arrange a good job for you."

How are the high-speed rail track precision calibration technicians?

"I don't have to be exposed to the wind and sun at work; I can sit in an air-conditioned room and drink milk tea."

"Just move your fingers and adjust the rail error to within 0.01 millimeters."

Stephen Chow started making grand promises.

"Your skills would be wasted as a guinea pig in America, but in our country you would be a master craftsman."

"Work hard, do your best, and at the end of the year you'll be awarded the March 8th Red Banner Pacesetter title, plus a year-end bonus of a blind box for a chance to win a big prize!"

Stephen Chow got more and more excited as he talked.

"And also, the cafeterias at our workplaces always start with four dishes and a soup!"

"Unlike this shabby lab, which is full of tasteless nutrient solution and expired bread slices that are hard enough to kill a dog."

"When you get to our area, even if it's just a routine blood test, they'll give you two free-range eggs and a carton of pure milk to calm your nerves! That's top-notch humanistic care!"

They give you eggs for drawing blood. I've had my blood drawn here for a year and all I've gotten are needle marks.

Lorna listened in a daze, her guard down considerably as the conversation unfolded.

Jiliu couldn't listen to it anymore.

"Stephen, you're even going after young girls. How many people do you guys need?"

"You don't know anything!" Stephen Chow turned around and glared at him. "This is called making the best use of everyone's talents."

"What right do you, a wanted criminal who's constantly being chased and attacked and doesn't even have health insurance, have to question my personnel philosophy when it comes to matters of national strategic importance?"

After crawling for several dozen meters, a scraping sound came from the pipe ahead.

A strange smell suddenly appeared in the air.

"Holy crap, tear gas mixed with nerve agent gas! These bastards can't handle this!"

Stephen Chow twitched his nose twice to determine the composition of the smoke.

This flavor is incredibly addictive.

The rapid flow began to cause him to cough violently.

Anton, who was in a coma, frowned deeply, and it seemed that another rejection reaction was about to occur.

Lorna covered her mouth and nose, breathing rapidly.

Having finally escaped, are they going to be caught and taken back?

I'd rather die in that tube than go back to that cell where even taking a dump is monitored.

"Get out of the way, let the professionals handle this." Stephen Chow reached behind his waist with his right hand. "The wind rises, the clouds fly, where are the brave warriors to guard the four directions? Open the way!"

Stephen Chow shouted, swung his long knife, and cleaved a hole in the metal pipe with several blows before leaping down.

He flipped in mid-air, landed in a half-squat position, and grabbed Anton's belt in his hand.

Rapids and Lorna landed one after the other.

This is a large hall with glaring lights.

Two rows of tactical squads stood around them, their guns pointed at them.

A man in a white coat stood under the monitor screen directly in front of him, holding a coffee in his hand.

"I knew you'd go through the exhaust pipe; rats always like to burrow."

The man in the white coat took a sip of coffee and looked at the group of people.

Stryker!

The torrent stared at him, gathering a vortex of air in its palm.

Lorna trembled, a primal fear born of years of torment.

But she stubbornly stood up straight, her hands clenched into fists.

Stephen Chow glanced at their expressions and slapped his forehead.

"Oh, you're Stryker, the one who likes to do human experiments."

"I've heard so much about you."

"However, you look different in person than in your file photo; your forehead is noticeably larger than in the photo."

"Is your hairline receding due to recent stress?"

"I know an old traditional Chinese medicine doctor who specializes in treating hair loss. Would you like me to bring you a couple of bottles of hair growth serum?"

Stryker's face darkened; he hated it most when people joked about his appearance.

"And your white coat."

Stephen Chow continued speaking, his expression serious.

"The collar was stained with coffee, the third button was buttoned wrong, and there was a used cotton swab in the left pocket."

"Is this a lab or your kitchen?"

"Mind your professional image. Even the heads of township health centers in China are more presentable than you."

"A Chinese man, interesting." Stryker's gaze lingered on Anton.

"They broke into my base, injured fourteen of my men, and stole two of my test subjects. All just to comment on my clothes?"

"Three."

Stephen Chow held up three fingers.

"Rapid currents count as one."

"I chased him for two months without catching him, but I took care of him with a pack of Band-Aids."

"That means your HR is far inferior to mine."

Stryker's smile vanished.

"Fire!"

More than twenty assault rifles simultaneously pulled their bolts, the sound of chambering echoing through the hall.