Chapter 317 – Dr. Birkin's Fate
"The stairway up is completely blocked."
Barbara had checked the stairwell leading upward, only to find it clogged with debris and rubble.
There was no way they could clear an escape route within five minutes.
They were on the fourth basement level. Digging up even one floor would take half a day, and they didn't have any excavation tools.
If they waited for reinforcements, they'd probably just come to collect the bodies.
"Don't panic."
Allen raised a hand, stopping the rising fear. He casually pulled out several shovels and proudly said, "Tactical tunnel-digging shovels — the perfect travel companion for murder and looting, packed with multifunctionality."
Are you out of your mind?
You seriously think we can dig our way out with shovels right now?
Did you forget your brain at home?!
"Great question."
Nobody responded, but Allen didn't seem the least bit embarrassed. He went on, "These shovels aren't just for digging. You can prop one over a fire and use it as a skillet. Works just as well for stir-frying. Isn't that considerate design?"
Considerate, my ass!
We're about to die, and you're talking about stir-frying food?!
Noticing the increasingly hostile looks from the others, Allen finally came clean: "The shovel's got a high-frequency resonance feature. Cutting through rock is like slicing tofu—if tofu doesn't make sense to you, think of it like Jell-O. Just grip it with both hands to activate."
Several S.H.I.E.L.D. agents picked up the shovels and began digging into the stairwell rubble.
Sure enough, just as he said, the shovels cut through the concrete debris effortlessly.
At this point, desperate measures were all they had. Waiting to die was not an option. No matter how slim the chances, no one wanted to go down without a fight.
"Four minutes remaining," the Red Queen suddenly announced, adding another layer of psychological pressure.
The moment they heard the warning, the agents dug like their lives depended on it—smoke rising from their efforts, practically wishing they had extra arms.
"Red, is this some conspiracy cooked up by Umbrella?"
Allen poked the Red Queen's childlike holographic form. His finger passed through the illusion, and he couldn't help but grumble, "Not as good as my Unita Sun Sun."
"All company secrets are strictly confidential," the Red Queen replied coldly, haughtily. "No comment."
"I'm guessing this is a major play by the Fourth Reich. They want the Suicide Squad and S.H.I.E.L.D. to be leaderless, forcing a conflict so they won't be able to stop the Reich's next move."
Allen speculated solemnly. The Red Queen stared silently, her gaze intense, as if he'd hit the nail on the head.
"If that's true, there would have to be signs of the Reich's plot…"
Stop spoiling things already.
Give the Fourth Reich a little dignity.
Honestly, Allen's deduction was getting alarmingly close to the truth.
"Speaking of signs, I did notice some anti-superhero sentiment on the news lately. Heh heh heh…"
Just as the others looked to him expectantly, Allen cut off his own speculation. It made people genuinely want to punch him.
Seriously, do you have to stop mid-sentence like that?
"What did you figure out?" the Red Queen asked, unable to hold back her curiosity.
"Nothing. Can't I just laugh?"
Allen wore that punchable smirk of his, looking as cheeky as ever. A few people clenched their fists so hard they were cracking.
Eventually, they let go with a sigh.
Even if they knew the Fourth Reich's true intentions, what good would it do? They were still going to die down here.
"Oh, forgot to mention. Two minutes remaining."
With that update, the Red Queen's hologram shut off.
A sense of despair settled over everyone like a heavy fog.
They weren't going to make it. They would be buried here with the base.
"I don't want to die… I haven't punched the Joker to death yet…"
Harley broke down crying, two streams of tears ruining her makeup.
Pamela stepped over and comforted her gently. "Don't be afraid. I'm here with you."
Barbara, Helena, and Dinah clung to each other, no longer wasting breath on meaningless words.
Elsewhere, Amanda and Fury embraced, letting go of old grudges, fulfilling a youthful vow to always be together.
The agents who'd been digging finally gave up their futile struggle, slumping to the ground to await the end.
"I'm done. I'm out."
Snap!
Allen snapped his fingers.
Instantly, a portal opened before them, showing a faint glimpse of the world outside the base.
Allen hadn't panicked once — he had a backup plan the whole time.
To put it bluntly, this wasn't one of those chaotic timelines where he could mess around. In the main timeline, stability came first.
Of course, the portal had its limitations: it couldn't open to any location he hadn't seen before, which meant it couldn't reach deep into the base directly.
Still, in moments, everyone rushed through and escaped.
BOOM!
The cryo-storage area collapsed behind them in a thunderous crash, sending clouds of dust billowing skyward.
Any later, and they'd have been buried alive.
"We made it!"
"Thank God!"
"I suddenly want to quit."
"…"
Joy surged through the survivors. They hugged and wept, many of them suddenly considering a career change away from danger.
In the center of the crowd, the two organizational leaders held each other in a deep embrace, oblivious to the stares gathering around them.
Eyes wide with shock — as if they'd witnessed something unbelievable.
Allen and the Birds of Prey weren't surprised in the least. They even had the video saved on their phones.
Amanda abruptly pushed Fury away, quickly straightened her clothes, and with her usual authoritative air, said coolly, "Regroup."
The Suicide Squad instantly rallied to her side.
"Fall in."
Though slightly disappointed, Fury called the agents together to wait for extraction.
"Damn, how do those two manage to love each other on such a precise schedule?"
Allen looked at the pair with admiration, then casually opened another portal. "Ladies, let's go home."
Less than a minute later, they were back in Barbara's apartment.
Acting like he owned the place, Allen flopped onto the couch to rest.
After a night and day without sleep — and nearly losing their lives — the women were utterly exhausted.
Allen laid his head on Pamela's lap and stretched his legs across Harley's, casually saying, "I'm sleeping now. Good night."
The five women exchanged looks.
This guy really doesn't see himself as a guest, huh?
A venomous green tint gathered on Poison Ivy's lips — clearly, she was thinking of kissing him to death.
…Or maybe not.
Pamela quickly gave up on the ridiculous idea and turned her head in disgust.
All because Allen, eyes tightly shut, had stuck out his tongue like he was expecting a French kiss.
…
Woooooo...
In a remote villa on the outskirts of town—
Click!
A dark basement suddenly lit up with a seductive crimson glow.
The sound came from none other than the missing Dr. Birkin.
He was blindfolded, mouth stuffed with a filthy rag, arms and legs tightly bound — completely unable to escape.
His captor? A security guard, now standing before him with a wicked grin, licking his cracked, peeling lips.
"Baby… you're mine now."
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