Chapter 386: The Arctic Ocean, the Dark Trident
"Boss, we've got news."
The comedy trio teleported back to the Arkham Fortress.
Unita, having taken over Skynet, had undergone multiple upgrades and could now track any member of the Comedy Troupe in real time via electronic devices.
Moreover, the fortress's teleportation system could retrieve or deploy targets at will—as long as a destination was specified.
At that moment, Allen was updating the pattern on his round shield, replacing the center with the Hydra insignia.
Morgan was playing with Mimi.
Meanwhile, T'Challa and Namor lay slumped in their chairs, looking utterly dead inside.
As the effects of the serum wore off, T'Challa stared blankly at the ceiling, feeling like he had hit rock bottom.
The moment he entered combat, his body would react involuntarily—just thinking about it was deeply humiliating.
Namor, on the other hand, had already taken the antidote and vowed never to trust Allen's potions again.
He had nearly exploded.
Allen held up the shield, showing it off proudly. "Looks good, doesn't it?"
"Totally," the comedy trio responded unconvincingly.
Anyone else daring to modify Captain America's shield with the Hydra emblem would likely be hunted down by every superhero on the street.
"Boss, there's really a huge shipment of vibranium moving on the black market. Agents from various nations are scrambling to buy it up. Some of the organizations involved… are out of our league."
Edward spoke frankly: "Groups like the League of Assassins, for example—not people we can afford to mess with."
Indeed, the Comedy Troupe's sphere of influence was limited to Gotham. Across the United States, numerous villain organizations operated, fiercely territorial. If they detected outside interference, they'd respond with immediate and brutal conflict.
Any group capable of surviving in the superhero-packed America was no joke.
As for Gotham, if not for Batman holding the fort, it would've been overrun by outside factions long ago.
Back when the Court of Owls was active, others had the good sense to stay away. But now, the Comedy Troupe had no such prestige and were not recognized as a force to be reckoned with.
And long-standing villain groups often had an uncanny instinct for survival.
They knew better than to provoke Batman—because the Justice League wouldn't sit idly by.
"You all did a great job."
Allen didn't expect them to uncover the source. Just confirming that vibranium was indeed hitting the black market was enough to validate their investigative direction.
"Unita Sun Sun, track the flow of funds through the network."
"Yes, Commander."
Vibranium ore was incredibly expensive and wouldn't be traded with cash.
That's where Unita came in—her digital omnipresence could trace any electronic trail.
In fact, she was virtually a goddess of the internet.
Humans might lose track of financial trails, but an AI with godlike processing power could trace it instantly.
Soon, a holographic projection displayed a series of names.
Unita explained, "Commander, all these individuals control shell companies. A total of over a hundred billion dollars flowed into their accounts just yesterday. And after cross-referencing government databases, we found they all use aliases and are merely puppets—regularly disbursing funds and procuring high-value goods on behalf of the people listed in the next group."
A second list was displayed.
All were wanted criminals, officially recognized by the U.S. government.
Without exception, they were pirates.
Eventually, the data trail pointed to one man.
"Shit, another Black guy," Allen cursed as he saw the photo of the final target.
T'Challa, previously zoning out, shot him a sharp glare—an innocent casualty of the remark.
"Pirate King, what did you do to piss off Black Manta?"
Before Namor could answer, Allen cut in, "Let me guess—aha, I've got it."
Allen's eyes lit up as he speculated, "You're both pirates. Makes you natural rivals. Nuking your home? Totally makes sense."
"…"
Namor had never once called himself the Pirate King. In human society, he always went by Aquaman.
Of course, he ignored Allen's crazy talk and asked, "Can we locate Black Manta?"
He needed conclusive proof—he didn't want to kill the wrong man out of vengeance.
Besides, human criminals weren't his jurisdiction.
"Based on the supplies they've purchased—particularly the massive quantities of de-icing fluid—it's highly likely they're headed to an extremely cold region. Our best estimate is the Arctic Ocean, though Antarctica is also a possibility," Unita analyzed.
"At worst, we'll just make two trips."
Allen slung the shield onto his back and immediately prepared to depart for the Arctic.
However, one major issue loomed: the Arctic Ocean was vast, and their small team wouldn't be able to search the entire area alone.
…
Five submarines raced through the ocean at full speed.
"Captain, we've entered the Arctic zone."
With that report, David unrolled a treasured, personally kept map.
"Head for the coordinates. If we hit any glaciers, blow them up with torpedoes," David ordered.
Killian leaned in, curious. "What exactly are you looking for?"
"The Dark Trident."
David answered bluntly, "Among the sea tribes, there was once a faction blessed by an evil god. They gained dark powers and nearly wiped out Atlantis. I need to find the Dark Trident and use its power to defeat Aquaman."
At this point, there was no reason to hide it.
He wasn't worried about the Extremis faction turning on him—each of the five submarines carried a nuclear warhead. If things went south, he was prepared to take everyone down with him.
He'd accepted the possibility of death the day he became a pirate.
"What do you want us to do?" Killian asked.
"Just help me get the trident, no matter what."
David vowed, "Once I control the Dark Trident, Atlantis won't stand a chance."
The ancient map not only contained coordinates, but also described a historical account:
Namor's ancestor had sacrificed himself to seal the Dark Empire in ice, preventing catastrophe.
That act led to his descendants being rightfully chosen as royalty and founding the kingdom of Atlantis.
Then came the Atlantean royal family's betrayal and usurpation.
"So there really was a hidden truth all along," Killian said thoughtfully. "The Justice League's Aquaman doesn't have such a clean past, huh?"
"He's more than just dirty—he's a cold-blooded freak," David sneered. "Everything that happened to me is his fault."
"…"
Killian said nothing, but inwardly, he held little respect for Black Manta's pirate lifestyle.
David's hatred of Aquaman stemmed entirely from being abandoned—left to suffer while Aquaman turned a blind eye.
He had often fantasized that, if Aquaman had just extended a hand, maybe he could've left piracy behind and lived a peaceful life with his father.
The submarines continued in tight formation beneath the sea, encountering little resistance.
The Arctic Ocean offered no landmass, only floating ice mountains that stretched deep into the water.
At the same time, the crew put on thermal gear, clearly feeling the temperature plummet.
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