I'm working on Marvel's Spider-Man in American comics.

Chapter 79 Winter Home
The neon lights of Madrid shimmered in the damp night fog, like a spilled pool of chemical dye, immersing the entire city in a morbid brilliance. This sinful city floating in the Strait of Malacca is smaller than Singapore, yet more crowded than hell—addictive drugs circulate like currency in the alleys, arms dealers' private submarines puff out shadows at abandoned docks, and the tax-free policy throughout the territory makes the air thick with the stench of money and blood.

S.H.I.E.L.D. has its own bases in both the Upper City and the Lower City. Based on the situation of this mission, Peter and his team arrived at the Upper City base—an entire building purchased by S.H.I.E.L.D., like a metal toothpick stuck in a pile of rotting fruit.

Several plainclothes S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, seeing Cyclops wearing combat goggles and Beast in civilian clothes, amicably invited them to their hideout. Madridpo is a typical cyberpunk city, or rather, somewhat reminiscent of Mumbai, India—the high-rises of the upper town are surrounded by the low-rise bungalows of the lower town, and the wealthy and powerful residents can simply look down and admire the homes of the impoverished masses, a world apart from their own.

“I regret the price I asked Nick Fury for. I should have had him renovate all the lawns on campus again.” Cyclops said as he stepped into the elevator, then asked a staff member, “Do you know where Logan is? You mean Wolverine?”

"Mr. Patch should be at his casino right now..."

"What a stupid name."

While Cyclops was complaining, he arranged for Peter and Cindy to go with him to find Logan: "If we find Logan quickly, we can finish this quickly and you can go back to school."

"If you missed any crucial classes," the beast chuckled, "I can help you catch up."
-
To Peter, the weather in Madrid was a bit like that of Gotham City next door, with dark clouds hanging over the place all day and little daylight.

Winter House is a luxurious casino located in the upper part of the city, its decor exceptionally opulent. Huge neon lights proclaim its existence to everyone in Madrid. At the casino entrance, scantily clad women approach customers, ignoring the fact that two of the four men are dressed in bizarre costumes, and one looks completely inhuman, swaying his hips as he tries to say something. But Laser Eye shoves the women aside and pushes open the casino doors.

“Stay close to me, kids, this is not a place for minors like you.”

The receptionist immediately stood up and looked at Laser Eyes: "Hello sir, may I ask if you would like to..."

"I'm here to see your boss; we're old friends."

"But if you didn't make an appointment..."

Laser Eyes ignored the receptionist and walked straight into the casino.

In Winter House, the crystal chandelier hangs from the twenty-meter-high dome, its millions of perfectly cut prisms refracting the light into a mesmerizing golden ocean, spilling onto the scarlet velvet carpet. The air is filled with the sweetness of fine champagne, the spiciness of cigars, and the complex scent of gamblers' excited sweat mixed with expensive perfumes.

At the roulette table, wealthy men in bespoke suits pushed their chips into the red and black squares. Each bounce of the dice elicited a suppressed gasp from those around them. Some clenched their fists in ecstasy, while others slumped back into their chairs, their expensive bow ties askew on their sweat-dampened necks. The electronic sounds of the slot machines rose and fell, neon lights shimmering on their surfaces, reflecting the gamblers' vacant, obsessive gazes—they mechanically pulled the levers, as if controlled by some unseen force.

This was a place Peter had never been before. Looking at the faces that seemed devoured of will, he involuntarily shook his head. He didn't like it here, in fact, he absolutely hated it. Cindy followed behind him, head down, carrying a face mask. Even Beast seemed somewhat embarrassed. Only Cyclops charged in first, even pushing aside two security guards. More security personnel were on their way, but just then, a deep voice rang out: "Everyone, step back. That's indeed an old friend, just a bit impolite. Come with me, we'll talk in the office."

He was a man of average height, not particularly tall or short either. He wore an eye patch over his left eye, and was dressed in a sharp, expensive white suit and white trousers, his shoes gleaming. He had a cigar in his mouth and was holding a wine glass containing a tiny bit of red wine between the index and middle fingers of his left hand.

Scott Summers smiled and led his men into Logan's office.

“I never thought I’d hear the word ‘rude’ from you.” Cyclops said, looking around the office. “Gorgeous, lion fur, mahogany bookshelves, Cuban cigars… Looks like you’re doing well since you went solo, Logan.”

"Go to hell, Scott! You have no idea what you've done!"

Logan, the Wolverine, slammed his wine glass onto the table to prove he hadn't changed at all, while Cyclops scoffed at his anger: "What did I do? Did I interrupt your money-making? Did I give you a few bad friends?"

"You brought a New York superhero, dressed in his uniform, to my casino!" Wolverine's reaction surprised Cyclops: "I'm here to find Weapon X and the rest of Stryker's henchmen! Now, you've brought a superhero, and everyone knows something's wrong here!"

Cyclops involuntarily let out an "Oh," and as for Peter, he finally had a chance to chime in after Wolverine finished yelling.

“I didn’t really want to interrupt you, but… are you sure your disguise is working, Mr. Logan? You’re not wearing makeup, and you haven’t changed your hairstyle. You’ve just… changed into a suit and put on an eye patch.”

Peter really couldn't understand why Wolverine would go to such lengths to disguise himself. Anyone who knew Wolverine even a little would recognize him. What was the point of this disguise? Wasn't it just telling the enemy that you were there?
Logan, with a cigar in his mouth, took off his eyepatch, glanced at Peter, and then looked at Cyclops: "Why did you bring him here? Hmm?"

“We need the ominous gene-editing device to treat him, and we know the last one is in Madrid, so we’ve come to you for help.” Cyclops shook his head helplessly, and then, probably for the first time, apologized to his old nemesis: “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were still… doing the right thing.”

"Fine, I can't be bothered arguing with you." Logan snorted, thinking about the gene editing device: "The gene editing device is..."

A sudden explosion interrupted his words, followed by a shockwave that swept through the entire casino, flames erupting from within. Logan cursed and brandished his steel claws, while Cyclops sighed; it seemed he was destined to fail in handling this situation.

(End of this chapter)