"Wake up! Wake up! I'm not your servant! ”

"Can you still walk? Wait, that's a stupid question, I shouldn't have asked, but you have to wake up now, we don't have time to delay here! ”

One call after another, as if through a thick layer of water, brought T'Challa to his coma, but he was still somewhat attached to the unconscious feeling, which seemed to allow him to escape something.

No, escape?

He stood up in a daze, in a dimly lit basement. His consciousness was still a little blurry, but with superhero instinct, he quickly came to his senses.

A worthy king, a qualified avenger, and a qualified superhero should never run away from their fears.

T'Challa subconsciously leaned over the shoulder of the man beside him and woke up, barely sitting up half of his body, and then a wave of vagueness came to his mind, making his memory seem to be in a fog, and he couldn't see it all.

His body seemed to be a little weak, and a chill spread throughout his body from the basement and from the ground beneath him. However, he didn't care about that, and instead looked around.

The basement was filled with chemical instruments and all sorts of oddly shaped lab equipment, and in the distance there was a dining table where a corpse in a red leotard was lying with what appeared to be a hole in the head, from which sticky blood was flowing.

Judging from the back, that person seems to be a little familiar, but it seems to bring a lingering haze in his memory.

"Shh

As his blurred vision became clearer, he immediately shouted, "Magneto!?" Why are you here? Why am I here? ”

Hearing this, Magneto couldn't help but pat himself on the head and said, "It must be that guy Hank Pym who gave you too much anesthetic, so that your brain is not clear, wake up, he locked you here as a reserve food." ”

"And I just killed him and saved you! Does that make sense enough? ”

"Also." Magneto, who was still talking a little anxiously just now, suddenly paused, stretched out a finger and pointed at the lower body of the man on the test table, "You should look down and see, that guy is really a complete pervert." ”

T'Challa slowly sat up and lowered his head, he found himself wearing only a pair of shorts, and his left leg was missing from below the knee, leaving only an empty trouser tube fluttering in the wind.

T'Challa's eyes widened in horror, he couldn't believe what his eyes were seeing.

He wanted to scream, but his lips were so dry that he couldn't make any sound. His body began to tremble, and the fear in his heart came flooding over him, and so did the memories.

"Hank? Did he really do it? No. Impossible," T'Challa muttered to himself, trying to deny himself with words, but the bursts of memory he had recovered after the numbing force still forced him to admit a fact.

Hank Pym is a madman who has been thinking about food reserves since before he was converted.

What kind of pervert can do this?

"It seems that you have understood the situation, which is good and helps us to do what we have next." The man in the purple helmet nodded in satisfaction, and his silver eyebrows moved with it.

"Do what?"

The panther sighed when he heard this, and he was still immersed in the shock that his former comrades had used him as a reserve.

"I said it before, but you probably didn't hear it then. Save the world. ”

Magneto squinted, and from the corner flew a crutch made of improvised wooden sticks, iron rods, and screws, and he continued:

"But we need to get out of here before then, the smell of blood on your body is very obvious to those monsters, and we can't stay here for long."

T'Challa nodded, took his crutches and jumped off the bench, walking with Magneto out of the basement.

Recovering his memory, he had remembered the horrors of the infected, and it was clearly not the time to grieve for the betrayal of an old friend or the loss of his own leg.

Before leaving the door, he glanced back at Hank Pym's corpse and finally sighed wordlessly.

The two cautiously made their way to the street, and the sight before them made T'Challa's heart tremble.

The once bustling city has become dilapidated, the streets and alleys are full of ruins, and it is clear that there is no trace of life here.

In the distance, high-rise buildings have been destroyed for some reason, and the shops on both sides of the street have become dilapidated.

The air was filled with a strong smell of burnt pastry, making it impossible to breathe. The streets are littered with all sorts of abandoned items, cars and motorcycles crashing together, telephone poles slanting to the side of the road, broken windows and billboards mixed together in a mess.

Walking in this apocalyptic scene, T'Challa couldn't help but feel a strong sadness in his heart.

The world used to be so good, but now it has become so strange and terrifying. He looked up at Magneto, his eyes glinting with gratitude, if it weren't for this man, he would have turned into a zombie.

It's time to put aside the strife between heroes and villains, between humans and mutants, as Magneto said, to save the world.

He was about to move on, when suddenly, a roar came from ahead. Before T'Challa could react, more than a dozen zombies had already pounced on him.

These zombies have hollow eyes, sharp teeth in their mouths, and a disgusting stench.

Compared to their abominable appearance, the only thing to be thankful for is that they were all ordinary people in their lifetimes, and there is no great threat to the two of them at the moment.

"These annoying things are everywhere now, don't forget, they're not the same people they were anymore, don't keep your hands!"

As he spoke, Magneto waved his hand, and suddenly the air was filled with the sound of metal vibrations.

The various metal objects on the streets seemed to come to life, emerging from the ground and buildings, flying towards the zombies that pounced on them at an alarming speed.

An iron trash can flew up from their side, like a cannonball, and flew towards the zombies. It slammed into the head of a zombie, smashing it to pieces, and the latter's body immediately fell limply.

Almost at the same moment, an iron rod suddenly rose from the ground, writhing in mid-air like an angry snake, and slammed into the head of a zombie.

The other zombies were treated in the same way, and iron plates flew out of the building, as sharp as blades, and they sliced through the zombies' bodies, breaking them one by one.

(End of chapter)