Speaking of which, Fisher found that it seemed like Old Europe never had much of a presence in any world, and if it did, it wasn't a good picture. For example, after the arrival of Asgard's third princess, Germany knelt down a whole street, and after Malekith arrived, he stuck his ship into British soil and brazenly destroyed the British F-35s.
As for France, the only thing it was famous for during World War II was that half of the experimental subjects in Hydra were French.
Fisher's impression of France was still stuck on the black guy who knocked over the Pantheon's urns, but now it's 2010, almost 2011, and the black guys in France don't seem to be causing too much trouble yet.
Moreover, with a big player like the McCallen Group in this world, it can surely recruit more idle labor. As Fisher knows, McCallen has not shied away from setting up sweatshops in Africa and Eastern Europe, where workers sleep in dorms with dozens of people, and their meals consist of endless corn cakes and vegetable soup, with meat only occasionally. They also work 16 hours a day, and the key is that the civilians in Eastern Europe are quite appreciative because they can take their leftover corn cakes home to their families.
This kind of treatment made Fisher extremely envious, no, rather, disgusted. He knew that in his factory in Boston, he provided his employees with fried chicken and soda for every meal, large watermelons after meals, and triple overtime pay. The good treatment of his workers also attracted many people from other states to try their luck, and the consequence of this was that the Boston police department had to recruit more officers to ensure that those with various intentions behaved themselves... "What, you're going to France for an auction?" Fisher's cheap dad and mom were excited when they heard that Fisher was going on a long trip.
"France, ah, Paris is the city of romance! I remember when your dad and I were by the Seine, enjoying the breeze and delicious food, it was so refreshing!" Fisher's mom pulled out her treasured postcard, pointing to the lavender on it and saying, "This is Provence, where your dad proposed to me!"
"I'm going to an auction, not on vacation!" Fisher took a bowl of washed cherries from the dining table and sprawled out on the sofa in the sunroom. Through the cool glass, he could even see the distant beach. If it weren't for the fact that October in New York wasn't suitable for sunbathing, Fisher would have already taken his air mattress to the beach.
"So when are you planning to go? Your mom and I will go with you, we can relive our youth!" Fisher's dad was currently in the indoor swimming pool next to the sunroom, playing underwater with two bodyguards. This was his habit; he would try to swim for half an hour every day, even if his swimming style was a bit awkward.
"He's going for business, we'll just take a few bodyguards and fly first class!"
"Uh!" Fisher wasn't moved at all by his mom's stance of wanting to save money for her son. In fact, his parents had used his private plane before, a C17. It's a military transport plane, definitely not as comfortable as a business jet, so ever since then, if they had to fly, the two people whose combined age was 100 would rather choose first class.
"Are you taking Kate with you this time?"
"No, if I talk too much and offend some powerful Europeans, the fewer people there are, the easier it is to run away!" Fisher had made up his mind that this time he would only take a team of elites carefully selected from various Gigant Corps units, and no one else.
"Then take Prescott with you, with him around, we'll feel a bit more at ease!" Fisher's mom said, pointing to a German Shepherd running around in the yard.
"Haha, will my dad agree? That's his pride and joy!" Fisher remembered that this German Shepherd was given to his dad by someone before, a super purebred, worth hundreds of thousands of greenbacks.
"Just don't lose my dog!"
...Iraq
Gigant Corps Base
"Report, the action team is in position!" A Gigant Corps security officer pushed open Cormac's office door and reported loudly.
"Let's go, let's take a look!" Cormac nodded. Although he had seen their resumes in the documents, he still needed to confirm again, as it concerned the boss's safety.
On a training ground not far from the headquarters building, a team of proud and fierce soldiers was already waiting. They were:
Sniper Kimora, codenamed Scout, specializes in long-range sniping and reconnaissance, from Japan.
Heavy gunner Eileen Baker, codenamed Gunner, specializes in demolitions and heavy weaponry operation, from the United States.
Breacher Tony Walsh, codenamed Ruin, specializes in mobile shooting and firepower breakthroughs, from the United States.
Ambusher Tavro Just, codenamed Ronin, specializes in setting booby traps and wilderness survival, also proficient in dog training, from Colombia.
Firepower specialist Kieran MacKay, codenamed Qiankun, specializes in containment and ambushes, is relatively warm-hearted and enjoys righting wrongs, from Scotland.
Tactical commander David Weeks, proficient in shooting, close combat, and driving, is one of the few all-round talents in the Gigant Corps, a reserve candidate for frontline commander, from the United States.
Medic Jorabaz Bazra, codenamed Thunder, specializes in battlefield first aid and is proficient in multiple languages, an excellent team support, from Australia.
Firepower specialist Kretov Hayek, codenamed Firebreak, specializes in flamethrowers and chemical protective equipment, from the Czech Republic.
Breacher Kirk Russell, codenamed Ajax, specializes in defensive counterattacks and is proficient in light weapon shooting, from South Africa.
These nine individuals can be said to be representatives of the entire Gigant Corps security force. They come from all over the world, and many were ostracized from their original units due to personal reasons. For example, Ruin and Qiankun: the former was court-martialed and dismissed for refusing an officer's attack order and choosing to rescue trapped friendly forces, while the latter, after several recruits were hospitalized due to a training camp officer's brutal discipline, chose to put a powerful laxative in his officer's coffee, causing the officer to make a spectacle of himself during a military meeting and be kicked out of the unit.
Although these unruly troublemakers are difficult to tame, it doesn't mean they are incompetent. Ruin can throw a grenade into the window of a car moving forty meters away, and Prophet, known as a human-shaped decisive weapon, can hit the heart on a playing card with a Lucas sniper rifle from three thousand meters away.
"Officer present, attention!" Seeing Cormac approach, Prophet, who was standing at the front, immediately shouted.
So, the other eight, who had been somewhat lax, immediately stood at attention, chests out, waiting for their superior's arrival.
"Sir!"
"At ease!" Cormac looked at the several people in front of him and waved his hand casually.
"Sir, are we being assembled for a mission?"
"That's right!" Cormac nodded and gestured for the soldiers behind him to hand over several backpacks.
"These are?" Baker, codenamed Gunner, a muscular female soldier with a pink mohawk, curiously opened a backpack and found a pile of documents inside.
"Your cover identities and operational funds. You will depart tonight, enter Paris, France, through different means, and gather at the safe house in the 3rd arrondissement of Paris. There, the BOSS will assign you your mission, understood?"
"BOSS? Which BOSS?" Kieran MacKay, codenamed Qiankun, was puzzled.
"The one who pays us, who else!" Ajax, next to him, said, frustrated, "You should at least respect the leader!"
"Uh, my bad!" Qiankun scratched his beard awkwardly. He was genuinely embarrassed. Since coming to Gigant Corps, although the training was harder, there were no crazy officers and no terrible food. As a result, he had forgotten the boss's name.
"When you get back, run 10,000 meters on the track and write a 20,000-word self-criticism, and read it to the BOSS! If he nods, I won't hold it against you!" Cormac said with a dark expression.
"Yes!"
After the brief interlude, Cormac resumed his serious expression.
"Gentlemen, before the BOSS gives you your mission, I will first give you one mission: no matter what happens, you must ensure the BOSS's safety! Understood?"
"Don't worry, sir!" Prophet, with his dreadlocks, nodded. Having performed exceptionally well in the military, he was personally recruited by Fisher, so he naturally wouldn't let anything happen to Fisher.
"Your equipment will also be sent to the safe house. Now, if you need any special gear, speak up quickly!"
"I need a sniper rifle!" This was Scout.
"Grenade launcher!" This was Baker... After noting down the action team's needs, Cormac sent them to the airport. These action members, disguised as different nationalities and identities, would then transfer at airports in several countries before finally arriving in France.
Meanwhile, on Fisher's side, because he was going to take a C17, Fisher only brought John and a six-person security team. Of these six, only two were responsible for accompanying him and John, while the remaining four were for the plane's security.
After confirming with Cormac that the action team had departed for Paris, Fisher also boarded his C17. The plane would cross the Atlantic, pass over the British Isles, and fly directly to Paris, France.
"So, regarding your mode of transport, what do you choose? If you ask me, a six-wheeled armored vehicle on the streets of Paris might be a bit too high-profile!" As Fisher's bodyguard and driver, John pointed to the wheeled armored vehicle parked in the hangar. This vehicle had been modified; its exterior no longer looked like a menacing military vehicle, but rather a futuristic-looking heavy-duty off-road vehicle. Even the weapon system only had a built-in M247 self-defense machine gun, but the armor and power still maintained their original configuration.
"Indeed, driving an armored car in the city of romance is a bit high-profile, so I'll change cars!" Fisher nodded, and then, amidst a series of roars, a blue Lamborghini LP 5R sports car slowly drove into the hangar.
"Hmm, good idea, a Lamborghini sports car is more low-key!" John nodded. "But it looks like if you're driving this car, you won't need me as your driver?"
"Actually, I'd really like you to drive, but that six-wheeled armored vehicle also needs a driver!"
"Alright, you and the dog go first, I'll follow you with them!" John nodded, indicating that he would definitely stick close to Fisher.
From New York to Paris, if it's a military plane, it usually takes four hours; if it's a civilian flight, it takes eight hours. Fisher's C17, however, only took less than three hours. Fisher hadn't even finished watching a ten-episode TV series when the plane had already landed on the runway at Charles de Gaulle Airport.
"Welcome to Paris! Mr. Fisher Adams!" The mighty C17, guided by a follow-me car, parked in a specially designed hangar at the airport. The staff who came to greet Fisher couldn't help but click their tongues at the massive transport plane. They had previously welcomed wealthy individuals arriving in private jets, but this was their first time seeing someone arrive in a modified military aircraft.
"Do you require us to provide hotel, dining, and sightseeing services for you?" Unlike the beautiful greeter Fisher had imagined, the person who came to receive him was a plump uncle in his forties. His blue work uniform was stretched taut by his body, as if it would burst open at any second.
"Of course, I want the best!" Fisher nodded. There were still about 18 hours until the auction began, so he naturally couldn't waste this time. He planned to go to the hotel to rest for two hours first, and then go to the safe house after Prophet had assembled the team.
Although his appearance was a bit lacking, this plump man who called himself Charles was very efficient. He arranged Fisher's hotel in less than ten minutes.
"The Peninsula Paris, Mr. Fisher. This hotel is near Place Charles de Gaulle and close to the Seine River, making transportation convenient. Perhaps you wanted to book on the Champs-Élysées, but I don't recommend it. That's a shopping street, very bustling, but lacking in privacy. The Peninsula Hotel is also very close to the Champs-Élysées, and most importantly, its rooftop restaurant is the best in all of Paris, even France. You definitely wouldn't want to miss it!" Charles, worried that Fisher might have concerns, laid out his thoughts candidly.
"No problem, excellent arrangements, thank you very much for your help!" Since the hotel was booked, there was no need to dawdle. Fisher pulled out his wallet and handed Charles four fifty-euro notes as a tip.
"Ah, this!" Charles looked at the two hundred euros in his hand, and his previously bright smile became even more eager. He jogged alongside Fisher towards the C17, whose rear cargo door was opening. When he saw Fisher about to get into the car, he even snatched John's job, opening the car door for Fisher.
"If there's anything you need me to do, please don't hesitate to ask!" After Fisher got into the car, Charles respectfully handed him his business card.
"Hmm, alright, then, Mr. Charles, goodbye!" Fisher took the business card and put it in the car, then stepped on the accelerator. The roar of the Lamborghini made Prescott a little excited, and he howled a few times.
"I'll go first, you guys follow behind!" After greeting John, Fisher drove the sports car out of the hangar.
Four thousand words done, time to sleep.