The massive *Triton* was like a steel island floating on the surface of the sea.
Deep in its belly, a compact, sleek submersible was being slowly lowered into the dark blue water by a massive mechanical arm.
It was called the *Explorer*.
A state-of-the-art vehicle custom-built by Stark Industries for deep-sea scientific research, it was theoretically capable of withstanding the terrifying pressure of any trench on Earth.
The interior of the submersible was not spacious, dominated by a cold metallic aesthetic and holographic screens flashing with a faint blue glow.
Aside from Tony and Leon Hall, there were two engineers and a pilot, their faces reflecting the confidence and composure of seasoned professionals.
“Sir, the *Explorer* has detached from the mothership.
All systems passed self-checkout.”
“Current depth: three hundred meters.
Life support systems are functioning well.”
Tony Stark leaned back casually in his seat, holding a cup of coffee.
Through the specialized glass porthole, he watched with great interest the schools of fish startled by the submersible’s lights.
“How does it feel, Mr.
Consultant?
This must be your first time experiencing twenty thousand leagues under the sea, right?
Far more exciting than flying.”
Leon Hall simply stared into the deepening darkness outside the porthole, offering no response.
His gaze seemingly drifted across the profile of the sonar engineer, a man named Bob.
The night before they departed, Leon had performed one final divination for this voyage.
The revelation from the gray fog had been clear:
“When the depth reaches two thousand meters, a fatal gunshot will ring out in the silence of steel.”
He had not told Tony.
Because the divination also showed that the risk of speaking out beforehand was far greater than letting it unfold on schedule.
All he needed to do was act as a proper announcer when the “script” played out.
“Current depth: fifteen hundred meters.”
“Sir,” Jarvis’s voice echoed inside the cabin.
“We are about to enter a region of strong geomagnetic anomalies.
The navigation systems are expected to experience severe interference.”
“No big deal,” Tony waved his hand dismissively.
“We have backup—”
*Bzzz—!*
Before he could finish, a harsh screech of static suddenly erupted!
Every holographic screen inside the cabin flickered wildly in an instant.
Countless garbled lines of code and snow static covered the once-clear sea charts.
A piercing alarm blared throughout the entire submersible!
[Warning!
Warning!
Connection to main navigation system lost!]
[Sonar detector signal corrupted!]
[All electronic equipment failed!]
Jarvis’s voice was completely swallowed by a wall of noisy static.
The *Explorer* had turned into a completely isolated steel coffin.
“Damn it!
Keep us hovering!” the pilot shouted in panic, scrambling to operate the most primitive manual controls.
Amidst the chaos, no one noticed a cold, resolute look flash in the eyes of the sonar engineer, Bob.
His hand reached quietly beneath the console, toward a secret compartment he had modified himself.
His fingertips had already brushed against the cold grip of the gun.
Just then.
A voice, calm to the point of being cold, rang out.
It wasn’t loud, but it struck everyone’s eardrums like an ice pick.
“Mr.
Stark.”
It was Leon Hall.
He hadn’t moved from the start, his gaze locked entirely on Bob.
Everyone froze.
“I would like to offer a word of warning.”
Leon looked at Tony, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips, as if he were mentioning a trivial matter.
“Mr.
Bob on your left is currently preparing to draw a German-made SIG Sauer P226 pistol from beneath the console, complete with a silencer.”
“There are twelve rounds in the magazine.
I believe the first one is aimed at the back of your head.”
Time seemed to freeze at that exact moment.
A dead silence fell over the cabin; even the alarms seemed to have been muted.
The shock on Tony Stark’s face lasted for only a fraction of a second before being replaced by a chilling, steel-like severity.
He didn’t even turn around.
Instead, he stared intently at Bob through the reflection on the blacked-out holographic screen in front of him.
And Bob’s face instantly drained of color, turning paler than a corpse.
His hand, which had been about to draw the gun, was frozen in midair.
He didn’t dare make a single move.
*How is this possible?!*
*How does he know?*
Leon kept his eyes on him.
“Don’t worry, it’s not mind-reading.”
*Thud!*
Driven by a sheer instinct for survival, Bob’s psychological defenses shattered.
He yanked the gun out, trying to make one last, desperate stand!
But he was facing Happy, who had already quietly closed the distance!
Before Bob could even raise his wrist, Happy’s massive fist came crashing down like a meteor, striking his face with a rush of wind!
*Crack!*
The sharp sound of fracturing bone rang out.
Bob collapsed like a sack of wet cement.
The agonizing pain of his shattered nose kept him from blacking out; instead, he writhed on the floor like a fish out of water.
The P226 pistol fell to the metal floor with a sharp *clank*.
Only heavy, ragged breathing remained in the submersible.
Lying flat on the freezing floor, Bob’s mind was completely blank, consumed by endless despair and pain.
He didn’t beg Tony for mercy.
Instead, caught in the throes of agony, he began to mutter unconsciously, as if in a self-induced trance or a prayer.
“Mr.
He said as long as I did it, Lily would be cured.
Whether I succeeded or failed, I was always going to die here anyway…”
Tony Stark slowly stood up and looked down at him.
There was no wild rage on his face, nor any other exaggerated expression.
There was only a profound, chilling impatience—the look of a man who had seen through every trick in the book.
As if brushing a speck of dust off his suit, he casually threw out a line.
“Here’s a piece of advice, Bob.”
“Next time you strike a deal with someone, you’d better clarify the terms of ‘breach of contract’ and ‘failure’ first.”
The corner of Tony’s mouth curled into a cold arc, his tone like a businessman reviewing a failed proposal.
“What do you think the reward is for a loser?”
In an instant.
Bob’s muttering ground to a halt.
He froze, his despairing eyes dilating to their absolute limits.
Indeed.
He had failed.
Which meant the deal was off.
He thought of his daughter Lily’s pale, smiling face on the hospital bed.
The “consequence of failure” would be his daughter’s life!
Not only had he failed to save her, but his failure had personally severed her last lifeline!
This realization stabbed into his heart like a red-hot dagger, utterly shredding whatever hope and sanity he had left!
“No…
No!!!”
The sound that tore from Bob’s throat was not a cry, but the dying wail of a wounded beast!
Driven mad, he lunged forward, grabbing Tony’s trouser leg with a death grip, howling through a mess of tears and snot.
“Mr.
Stark!
Please!
Save Lily!
My daughter…
she’ll die!!”
“I have dirt on him!
I’ll tell you everything!
As long as you promise to save my daughter, I’ll tell you everything!”
Driven by sheer desperation, he screamed out everything:
“He wanted you dead back in Afghanistan!
He was the one in contact with the Ten Rings all along!”
Tony Stark listened quietly.
His expression remained unchanged, but the frost in his eyes had hardened into solid ice.
He lightly kicked away Bob’s hand, as if brushing off a piece of repulsive trash.
Then he turned and spoke his first words since the crisis began to the silent Diviner.
His gaze was incredibly complex, but the suspicion was entirely gone, replaced by a newfound recognition of an equal.
“Leon, I owe you one.”
“First, let’s catch the octopus you want and get your business done.”
He paused, his eyes locked onto Leon, a rage and murderous intent burning within them hot enough to melt steel.
“And then—”
“Tell me how to kill that old bastard.”