There were semi-automated mining machines inside the shafts of the Wakandan Vibranium mine.
However, the enslaved Wakandans currently forced to mine did not know how to operate them. After all, most of them were the elderly, the weak, women, and children specifically chosen by Ulysses Klaue to serve primarily as hostages.
Of course, even if they knew how to drive them, Ulysses Klaue wouldn't let them anywhere near the mining machines anyway.
Marcus Slater was a captain among the international mercenaries. While his team members were out patrolling, he was catching a quick nap inside the cab of one of the mining machines.
The fully enclosed cab not only blocked out the chilly wind from the mine shaft but also allowed Marcus to keep an eye on his mercenaries' movements at any time, which left him highly satisfied.
However, as he curled up in the driver's seat with his eyes closed, he suddenly felt an unexpected chill.
No, it wasn't just a slight chill; it was freezing cold, as if the mine's icy wind was desperately pouring into the cab.
"Damn it," Marcus cursed, opening his eyes.
This mining machine was located in a relatively remote and dark area; unlike the rest of the mine, the searchlights around it weren't fully turned on.
Marcus reached out to grope around in the direction the cold wind was blowing. He clearly remembered closing all the windows tightly.
But his hand met empty air. The door of the semi-automated mining machine was still there, but the glass window on it had vanished at some unknown point.
"What the hell," Marcus cursed again. He reached out into the darkness, intending to open the door, step down, and find another mining machine to continue his rest.
Instead, his hand brushed against a freezing cold human hand. The instant he touched it, the hand clamped back down on him. A split second later, a tremendous force surged forward, "plucking" Marcus right out of the cab.
Marcus's heart skipped a beat. He wanted to scream for help, but as the colossal force spun him through the air, his mouth filled with wind, preventing him from making a sound.
What was worse, an incredibly hard object was shoved into his mouth during the chaos. Marcus's tongue instinctively recoiled, but the combined taste of metal and dirt rapidly flooded his mouth.
He felt as though he were being lifted, yet not entirely suspended. The metal object in his mouth had hooked onto his upper palate. Under the weight of his own body, his jaws were pried open to their absolute limit. The agonizing ache and sheer terror left Marcus's mind completely blank.
The terror and the sudden surge of adrenaline made Marcus quickly realize his predicament:
One of the metal teeth on the semi-automated mining machine's excavator bucket was pressing against his upper palate. He was virtually hanging in mid-air.
In a life-or-death situation, adrenaline... Marcus's mind became eerily calm. Just as he was about to take action to save himself, a syringe was abruptly jabbed into his body.
Under the effects of the unknown drug in the syringe, the adrenaline that Marcus had just been frantically secreting plummeted instantly.
"If I let go, you'll hang here until you become a mummified corpse." An eerie, ghost-like voice echoed in Marcus's ear.
Goosebumps and cold sweat broke out in succession. A metallic sweetness welled up in Marcus's throat as he tasted the blood trickling from where the bucket's tooth had punctured his upper palate.
"I'll give you exactly one sentence to answer: how many Wakandans are here?" the ghostly voice demanded again.
Marcus was frantic enough to jump, but with his jaws pried wide open, he couldn't form words at all. He could only manage a few muffled groans and grunts from the back of his throat.
"It seems you don't know." The voice sounded once more. Then, Marcus's world spun again, and in the next split second, his back slammed into the unlit mine wall over a dozen meters away.
Before his body could even slide down the rock wall, a succession of dark-brown webbing shot forward, wrapping Marcus tightly from head to toe. A thick wad of webbing was even stuffed directly into his mouth.
Black webbing for the night, white webbing for the day. By now, Batman had made his way all the way from the mountainside into the mine shaft. He even adjusted the coloring ratio of his webbing based on the specific surroundings, ensuring that the international mercenaries he subdued would not be discovered.
This was already the twenty-ninth international mercenary.
To avoid a panic and prevent the mercenaries from using the Wakandan hostages as leverage, Batman had hacked into their communication system the very moment he infiltrated the area.
Right now, only a Bat-voice synthesizer was continuously speaking through the comm channel, maintaining a perfect illusion of order.
"There are one hundred and thirty international mercenaries in total. Ninety-seven are inside the mine, and the rest are at the weapons factory. Even combined, their numbers aren't overwhelming. Ulysses Klaue's ability to assassinate the former king of Wakanda alongside Man-Ape M'Baku relied primarily on trust and a sneak attack."
Batman leaped lightly, clinging upside down to the shadows on the ceiling of the shaft, waiting for a pair of patrolling mercenaries scheduled to pass by in two minutes.
"But Ulysses Klaue wouldn't fail to realize that once M'Baku takes the throne, the first person he will turn on won't be the Wakandans—it will be him."
"The weapons factory outside the mine is clearly preparation for the impending clash between the two factions. When I passed by earlier, analyzing the freshness of the soil and the tracks on the ground confirmed that the factory was only recently constructed... or rather, repurposed from a pre-existing Wakandan facility."
Five international mercenaries approached from a distance with disorganized footsteps. Batman instantly cut off his train of thought, waiting until the group arrived directly beneath him.
Soundlessly, Batman dropped from the ceiling into the middle of the mercenary group, striking left and right to knock them unconscious.
Batman could distinguish which mercenaries were squad leaders and which were low-level grunts.
His interrogations were strictly reserved for captains like Marcus.
Continuing his stealthy advance, thirty-four mercenaries had now been neutralized.
Delving deeper into the mine, Batman had formed a comprehensive picture of the layout.
Built upon what used to be the Wakandan mines, the international mercenaries had driven the Wakandans into the deepest part of the shafts. That location also served as the departure station for the maglev trains that transported mined Vibranium directly to the Wakandan Golden City.
However, the maglev trains were currently out of service, and even the specialized sonic waves used to stabilize Vibranium within the cavern had long since gone silent. Only the mechanical, despondent sounds of moving rocks echoed from time to time.
Thirty-nine, forty-three... seventy-one, ninety-seven.
Once every last international mercenary inside the mine had been dealt with, Batman cast a silent glance at the oblivious Wakandans, who were still with their heads down, digging out ore with their bare hands, before turning to vanish into the dark.
He didn't intend to lead the Wakandans out himself; instead, he needed them to discover on their own that the mercenaries had been taken care of and leave of their own accord.
Batman needed to head to the weapons factory outside the mine to handle the remaining mercenaries. Perhaps Ulysses Klaue would be among them.
Too smooth, Batman thought, a sense of vigilance creeping in. Unbelievably smooth.
Mid-caution, the very second Batman stepped out of the mine shaft, a man who resembled Abraham Lincoln—with one hand already modified into a sonic weapon—pressed his hand firmly against Batman's chest.
Out in deep space, a solar storm far more violent than Reed Richards had originally calculated was tearing through the Van Allen radiation belt. High-energy charged particles slammed furiously against the spacecraft carrying Reed and his three companions.
"Turn back! Ben! Turn back now!" Reed's body contorted and stretched in waves. He fought with everything he had to move toward the cockpit, but the violent turbulence repeatedly slammed him against the cabin walls.
Susan's body flickered back and forth between transparent and normal, but she paid absolutely no attention to her own condition. Instead, she shrieked and shouted frantically at Johnny:
"Johnny! You're on fire! Put it out, fast!"
Ben Grimm said nothing, gritting his teeth as he gripped the control stick. He felt the seat beneath him wobbling violently, as if a massive chunk of it were collapsing inward.
--
Support me & read more advance & fast update chapter on my pa-treon:
pat reon .c-om/windkaze