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

"Welcome to my territory, three mice."

Stephen Chow dusted himself off, looked up at the dark end of the passage, and said earnestly:

"To correct you, it's two prospective employees, one potential senior technician in a high-risk position, and one temporary outsourced supervisor."

"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 sprayed out 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.

Stephen Chow chuckled.

He opened the leather briefcase, first taking out two stacks of US dollars tied with rubber bands, then three bone spurs wrapped in old newspapers, and finally pulling out a gas mask from a hidden compartment.

The King of Cards' eyelids twitched as he watched.

Why is this in your suitcase?

Stephen Chow put the mask on his face and said in a deep voice, "When traveling on business, safety comes first. I value my life very much."

He pulled out a second one and casually tossed it to the King of Cards.

Gambit caught the mask, and just as he breathed a sigh of relief, his gaze fell on Wolverine's empty hands.

Wolverine stared at Stephen Chow.

Stephen Chow was also looking at him.

"You can heal yourself."

Wolverine: "..."

Stephen Chow turned to the megaphone and yelled, "The work environment has excessive levels of formaldehyde and harmful gases, no compliant ventilation equipment, and no safety warning signs. Deduct 200 points!"

"Da da da da!"

Six Gatling guns opened fire simultaneously.

The King of Cards put on his mask, flicked his trench coat, and three playing cards in his hand glowed with a purplish-red light.

"The taste of this lousy place is worse than the French 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 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 quickly.

He let out a low growl and charged into the first blast-proof iron gate, braving the remaining bullets.

Six adamantium claws crossed and made a single cut.

The heavy door, like a sliced ​​steak, fell to the ground, crooked and askew.

The King of Cards stared at the retreating figure and muttered through his mask, "Are you sure you don't want to send him one too?"

Stephen Chow, carrying a butcher's 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 workers are; they rely on their solid foundation and think that protective gear will affect their performance."

As soon as they passed through the iron gate, white lights suddenly illuminated the two-story steel platform above their heads.

A squad of mercenaries in black tactical uniforms appeared above, their gun barrels pointing down in unison.

The leader, a man with a buzz cut, raised his hand and ordered, "Fire!"

Crossfire rained down from above.

After Gambit rolled over and hid inside the minecart, bullets dented the metal and sparks flew everywhere.

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 the woman 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 Stephen Chow emerge from the smoke.

The bullets bounced off course when they hit him within half a meter, falling to the ground with a clattering sound.

"What is it?"

"Bulletproof field?"

"He's not wearing armor!"

"Not wearing a helmet to work and handling prohibited and dangerous items."

With a stomp of his foot, he slid up the steel frame, hugging the wall.

"Expel them all!"

Stephen Chow 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, and with the force of a bone-scraping motion, it struck the Chengqi acupoint under the second person's goggles. Before the glass shattered, the person's eyes rolled back and they fell to the ground.

Just as the third person pulled out a grenade, Stephen Chow pinched the pin with two fingers and kicked him in the side of the knee.

"Click."

The mercenaries knelt very properly.

Stephen Chow tucked the grenade back into the pouch hanging on his chest and patted it carefully.

"Hazardous materials must be returned to their proper places. Do you even understand warehouse management?"

More than a dozen mercenaries fell one after another, like scaffolding being torn apart.

The gun was disassembled into parts, the armor straps were snapped, and the knees, shoulders, elbows, and chins all took a blow, neither light nor heavy.

Not fatal.

It's so embarrassing.

The King of Cards peered out from behind the minecart, watching the people rolling around on the ground, and whistled through his mask.

Wolverine retracted his claws and stared at Stephen Chow'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 King of Cards 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, and let out a painful roar.

The fallen mercenaries got up and crawled backward, their faces regaining their fierceness.

The man with the buzz cut grinned.

"Mutants are ultimately just equipment. Find the frequency, and you can shut them down. Hahaha..."

"You laugh so awfully, don't you usually take throat lozenges?"

Stephen Chow 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..."

Stephen Chow opened his eyes and gave a very high evaluation: "Extremely insightful!"

"However, the high frequencies are a bit distorted; let me adjust them for you."

Stephen Chow 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 into the wall."

"I quit."

The King of Cards slowly lowered his hand, his ears still ringing.

He looked at Stephen Chow for a long time before finally managing to squeeze out, "Are you sure you're just 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 an operating room light, used to remind him of many nauseating nights.

Stephen Chow 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.

"On which floor are my dozen or so critically needed infrastructure technical personnel locked up?"

The man with the buzz cut had blood in his mouth and was about to spit at Stephen Chow when he was easily dodged.

"Key technical personnel?"

He raised his blood-stained chin and tilted it further into the ground.

"Go ask if the incinerator is burning brightly, hahaha!"