Three days later.
Stark Industries Tower, top-floor strategic conference room.
The atmosphere was tense enough to snap a steel cable.
At the head of the conference table, Tony Stark sat with arms crossed, a familiar confident smirk on his face, though the slight tightening of his jaw betrayed his suppressed impatience.
Opposite him sat Stark Industries’ core technical executives—the head of ocean engineering, the chief sonar expert, the head of the deep-submersible project…
every one of them top engineers he had personally headhunted from around the globe, capable of holding their own anywhere.
Projected between them in midair was a holographic display showing an operational plan personally drafted by Tony, codenamed “Deep Sea Fishing.”
“Tony, this isn’t feasible.”
The head of ocean engineering, a rigorous German, was the first to break the silence.
Adjusting his glasses, his tone was filled with bewilderment.
“The stretch of sea you’ve circled is the famous ‘Silent Zone’ of the Bermuda Triangle.
Severe geomagnetic anomalies will turn our equipment into scrap metal.
Our multi-billion-dollar vessel, the *Triton*, will be blind and deaf there.”
“More importantly, what is our target?” the chief sonar expert added.
“A ‘Lava Octopus’?
That name doesn’t exist in any biological database.
No sonar signature, no ecological habits, no depth of activity…
Tony, we can’t just sail out there and shout its name into the ocean, can we?”
All eyes focused on Tony, filled with confusion.
They could accept any of their boss’s wildest, most outlandish ideas, so long as the plan was grounded in data and the laws of physics.
But this time, the foundation of the plan was…
“according to legend, there’s an octopus like that”?
“I know what you want to say.”
Tony finally spoke, standing up and walking over to the massive floor-to-ceiling window to overlook the sprawling expanse of New York City beneath his feet.
“You want to say that from any angle—science, engineering, statistics—the success rate of this operation approaches absolute zero.”
He turned around, his eyes sweeping across everyone present.
“But you’re mistaken about one thing.
I didn’t summon you here to argue whether it ‘exists’ or not.
I brought you here to solve the technical problem of how to *capture* it once we find it!”
“I hired you to solve problems, not to question me.”
“Remember, I’m the boss.”
The conference room fell into a deadlock.
This was pure, unreasoning “executive authority.”
“You’ll regret this, Tony.” With a loud *thud*, the elderly German man turned and strode out of the conference room.
“And the rest of you?
He just surrendered his status as a Stark employee.
What about you?”
“But what about navigation?” another lead pursed his lips, refusing to give up.
“Without navigation, we’re flying blind!”
A subtle, mysterious smile flickered at the corner of Tony’s mouth.
He returned to his seat at the head of the table, leaning forward with hands interlaced, looking as if he were about to announce an earth-shattering secret.
“As for navigation, you don’t need to worry about that.”
Looking at their stunned expressions, he paused between every word.
“For this voyage, I’ve secured a…
one-of-a-kind ‘fish finder.’ You just need to prepare for departure.
Don’t worry about the rest.
I assume you all understand me?”
When his voice fell, the entire room went dead quiet.
Of course they understood the metaphor.
But precisely because they understood, they felt their boss might have truly lost his mind.
When a scientific project’s navigation system relies on a metaphor to describe it, the project itself has already strayed beyond the bounds of science.
“Meeting adjourned.”
Tony stood up, giving no one another chance to ask questions.
“Prepare according to plan.
In three days, the *Triton* leaves port.”
With a tyrannical command, he put an end to the argument.
The engineers dispersed with doubts and anxiety, knowing only that their boss seemed to have been completely brainwashed by some “charlatan.”
…
At almost the exact same time.
In another office within Stark Industries, Obadiah Stane hung up the phone, a cruel, predatory smile spreading across his face.
“Bermuda?
Conducting a scientific expedition in a godforsaken place with zero signal?”
“Tony…
my dear nephew, you always create the absolute best opportunities for me.”
He walked over to the liquor cabinet, poured himself a glass of expensive brandy, and raised it toward the gloomy sky outside the window.
“I hope you find eternal peace in the deep ocean.”
Inside Nick Fury’s office in the Triskelion.
“Director, we just received word that Stark has launched a top-secret deep-sea expedition code-named ‘Deep Sea Fishing,’ targeting the southern waters of the Bermuda Triangle.”
Agent Phil Coulson placed a report on the desk.
“According to intelligence, Stark overruled all objections to force through this plan, which lacks any scientific backing.
The passenger list includes himself and that individual you designated as Level 8 Observation Target…
Leon Hall.”
“The Diviner…” Fury stared at the name on the report with his single eye, sinking into a prolonged silence.
That name again.
Ever since this “X-factor” appeared, Tony Stark’s behavior had become increasingly erratic and unpredictable.
“His position within Stark Industries has been confirmed…
‘Occult Consultant,'” Coulson added.
“An unprecedented title.”
“Have Agent 17, stationed in Stark’s aerospace division, keep a close eye on them.
I don’t care what they’re dragging out of the ocean floor; I want to know every single move the ‘Diviner’ makes in those waters.” Fury’s voice remained utterly flat.
“Yes, Director.”
…
Two days later.
Early morning, California coast, a secret military port belonging to Stark Industries.
A deep-submersible mothership, so massive it resembled a floating island, rested quietly at the pier.
Its hull was a deep matte black, radiating a futuristic sci-fi aesthetic, with a bold white hull number and name painted across its side—
*Triton*.
Leon Hall stood on the dock in casual clothing.
The sea breeze tossed his hair as his calm gaze settled upon the steel beast that would soon carry his hopes.
“Well, Mr.
Consultant?”
Tony Stark, dressed in a flashy bright suit and sunglasses, walked up beside him.
“Does my ‘fishing boat’ meet your standards?
She can dive to any known corner of the Earth while guaranteeing you can comfortably sip a martini inside.”
Leon withdrew his gaze, turning to look at Tony with a subtle smile.
“The ship is excellent.”
“Now, it’s time to see if this ‘fish finder’ of mine is worth the price.”
As a long, deep horn sounded, the *Triton* slowly glided away from the port, cleaving through the rolling waves as it set sail into the vast blue depths.