Marvel's King of the Undead

"It looks like there are a lot of new toys. I really envy them."

Wayne murmured as he looked at the wide variety of props.

He spoke of envy, but Wayne's eyes continued to accumulate anger.

Wayne could see puddles of blood on some props that had not been completely cleaned.

Without thinking, he knew what had happened in these rooms.

Not everyone can have such perverted self-healing abilities, and more people will die during torture.

And the people who caused all this didn't care about the loss of these lives.

Instead, he said to the assistant next to him with a smile on his face: "Next one."

It seems that these human lives are just dolls for fun or tools for experiments in their eyes.

While walking, Wayne suddenly discovered that there seemed to be staff in a room in front of him.

Subconsciously holding his breath, Wayne quietly touched the door of the room.

He remembered that when he was caught, all the torture should have been carried out during the day, and the poor guinea pigs would be left to recuperate on their own at night.

“Are the working hours different here?”

Wayne moved lightly, fearing to attract the attention of the people inside.

However, he soon discovered that these actions were in vain.

There were a lot of medical equipment in the room that Wayne couldn't understand, and it looked much more professional than the hospital where Tony was staying at that time.

There are two people in this professional medical room, both men.

One was wearing a white coat, with metal-framed eyes on his face, and white gloves on his hands. He looked like a doctor.

The other's hands and feet were tightly tied to an iron bed, and he was only wearing a pair of shorts. His pale face looked like a terminally ill patient.

At this time, the doctor picked up a machete dozens of centimeters long from the side and slashed at the patient on the bed.

The bright red blood rolled out like free tap water, instantly staining the entire iron bed red.

However, when the blood came into contact with the doctor's gloves and coat, it did not get infected. Instead, it dripped to the floor along with gravity.

The patient's mouth opened suddenly and he seemed to be screaming in pain, but Wayne, who was separated by the wall, did not hear any sound.

The soundproofing equipment here is surprisingly good. There is only a wall between Wayne and the two people in the room, but it seems like a whole world is separated.

The patient's struggle didn't seem to arouse the doctor's sympathy. Wayne could clearly see the corner of the doctor's mouth slowly outline an arc.

At the same time, he picked up the machete stuck in his flesh and blood,

Hold it high,

Fall again.

When the knife fell, the doctor's face suddenly became ferocious, like a devil crawling out of hell.

He wasn't experimenting, he was just having fun.

After a hard day's work, he was exhausted physically and mentally and needed to relieve his nervousness.

Recently, the organization has become more and more urgent, and it seems that there is less and less time left for them.

The last notification seemed to have been issued just the day before yesterday, and they only had one week left.

If they are still unable to complete the tasks assigned by the organization, then the fate waiting for them will be very miserable.

They will be used as guinea pigs for the next batch of experiments by the organization.

Organizations never raise idle people.

He was not surprised by the organization's cruel treatment of its subordinates. He knew this from the beginning, when he was still the director of a hospital specializing in life engineering, but he still joined without hesitation.

Not for dreams, not for science.

Simply for profit, for those fascinating dollars.

They, doctors, do not need to be locked up like these patients. The organization gives them very generous treatment as knowledge workers.

They have their own room in this base, with all daily necessities and entertainment facilities.

Even as long as they need it, the organization can help you find any woman you want at any time, provided that you can complete the goals set by the organization.

He had completed the previous tasks very well, so he was transferred here to be responsible for the research here.

However, this time things don't seem to be as smooth as before, and the organization's patience is almost exhausted.

And the rest of his good days seemed to be about to leave him.

Therefore, during this period of time, he became very anxious.

Alcohol, women, and money can no longer even satisfy him to relieve his mental pressure.

He has not participated in gatherings and chats among colleagues for a long time.

Because those are of no use to him.

The pressure was like a mountain, weighing him down.

And an unexpected discovery allowed him to find a good medicine to heal himself.

That's torture,

endless torture,

Listening to the pathetic mutant bastards or experimental subjects wailing and screaming in his hands.

It seems like all the stress has gone away,

He can control everything about them,

When he holds the knife in his hand, he is the master of everything, and he can decide whether others live or die.

he,

The god of these miserable creatures.

So almost every other week, he would choose a test subject that was about to be unable to survive and torture it until the test subject died.

Anyway, he is the person in charge here, and no one cares about his actions.

As long as the organization deadline is not met, no one will organize it even if he turns the base upside down.

Four days ago, a mutant with self-healing ability sneaked into the base and was caught.

He thought that the mutant's appearance might bring him some inspiration or help.

However, after a day of research, he found nothing.

So he immediately dismissed the assistants around him, picked up his machete and began to vent his anger on the mutant.

However, this time is completely different from before. This mutant does not keep screaming and begging when faced with the threat of death like those before.

This mutant seems to be a born masochist. The harder he cuts, the happier he screams.

All kinds of unpleasant words kept coming out of his mouth, without any repetition.

So he became angry, he raised the machete crazily, and kept slashing at the mutant's waist, cutting him in half.

However, just when he thought he had won, the mutant's voice suddenly appeared in his ears again.

In desperation, he could only withdraw from the research room and ordered his subordinates to lock the mutant in a closed room.

He wanted to see how long this mutant could survive without eating or drinking.

Although he punished the mutant in disguise, this could not alleviate the aggrievedness he just felt.

So in the past two days, he changed his venting activities from once a week to once a day.

Today is the third day of his venting. The experimental subject in front of him has already half-stepped into the gate of hell. He is just using it for his own entertainment and to exert the last value of his life.

Just when the machete was about to cut into the meat, he suddenly heard a "drip" sound coming from his ears.

The door seemed to be opened.