Chapter 218

"Search for his information."

Cervantes narrowed his eyes, and a Pioneer Corp employee immediately uploaded the "Sea King"'s facial photo into the national population database and mutant archive, initiating a rapid search.

Found: real name Arthur Raymond, thirty-three, from Tulsa, Oklahoma; identified as a Level-3 psychic a decade ago, captured by Pioneer Corp, and ever since held in a mutant prison outside Denver.

His ability: to alter his own body, urgently evolving organs adapted to the environment.

For example, evolving gills underwater, developing water-storage humps in arid conditions, growing thick fur in extreme cold.

Wait—so that player went to the prison, not only took the specialized helmet, but also recruited a group of prisoners, inciting them to seek revenge against Pioneer Corp?

Cervantes raised an eyebrow; ten years of imprisonment and abuse had forged hatred so deep there was no need for words—no point asking the enemy to surrender.

He pressed the button directly, using the intercom system to tell "Thor": "Take him. If possible, capture him alive."

The AT-802 agricultural aircraft has an empty weight of three tons and a maximum takeoff weight of seven tons; if you stuff people into the pesticide storage tanks, you can fit quite a few.

A mere Level-3 psychic is likely just a front-line scout.

"Understood."

The fake Thor nodded, swung his ram's hammer forward, and unleashed lightning that struck the water ahead.

The Sea King reacted instantly, transforming his body into rubbery consistency to reduce conductivity and ride out the first electric blast.

Then he reshaped his body—gills, fins, webbed feet—dove into the water like a torpedo, speeding toward Thor, and with a sharp slap, seized his legs, dragging him underwater.

Thor thrashed wildly underwater, swinging his lightning hammer, but the murky currents, deep-sea pressure, and suffocating agony prevented precise aim—he could only watch helplessly as he sank.

"Waste."

Cervantes slammed his fist on the table, turning to a goateed man behind him: "Doctor Strange, go help him."

"Wait, let me finish my meditation."

The goateed man sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed in meditation.

To be honest, even though Cervantes himself was an abstract member of the Laughing Troupe, seeing this "Doctor Strange" nearly broke his composure.

He wore a suit, draped in a red cloak embroidered with the symbol of the Solar Temple, pinned to his chest were two metal triangles forming a Scientology emblem, and on his hands were the Twin Flame Rings.

Every decorative element on him came from infamous cults across America.

Why? On one hand, this "Doctor Strange" had always been mentally unstable; the Old Sigil transformation likely worsened his condition.

On the other, the original comic's origin story of Doctor Strange, viewed today, reeks of oddness—seeking magic in the Himalayas, seen by hippies as primal and pure, just to cure his illness, acting like Jobs.

(Jobs, after being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, refused surgery and opted for diet therapy—eating only carrots and roots, later swallowing cow dung capsules, consulting mediums for healing.)

After five seconds, the "Strange Doctor," now layered with buffs, stood up, leapt from the airship, gestured theatrically with the rings (in reality, a Level-4 spatial mutant ability), opened a spatial portal, and pulled Thor and the Sea King up from the water, tossing them onto the beach.

"Let's see how you adapt to this."

Strange Doctor continued releasing spatial abilities, teleporting the concrete seawall barriers along the beach one by one, hurling them at the Sea King.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

The Sea King was pinned beneath dozens of tons of concrete blocks; even as he strained to release his ability, softening his body into liquid form to reduce the burden,

the crushing weight still flushed his face red and choked his breath.

"Speak! Where is the person who sent you?"

Alexander, Pioneer Corp's capture specialist, stepped through the portal opened by Strange Doctor and arrived on the beach. He looked down at the Sea King, speaking rapidly: "He sent you to draw attention while he tries to sneak into Angel City, right?

Where is he? Inglewood? Downey? Torrance? Long Beach? Is it Long Beach?

Alexander, a psychology expert, noticed the subtle shift in the Sea King's gaze—his heart leaped with joy, and he pressed on: "What vehicle did he choose? A passenger jet, airplane, yacht, car, ship? Is it a car?"

Cervantes heard their conversation and immediately ordered: "Seal all bridges! No one crosses the ocean bridge!"

Without Cervantes' command, Professor N unleashed his psychic ability, taking control of a school bus driver on the bridge, forcing him to swerve violently and park the yellow bus diagonally across the road, blocking the entire lane.

Next came the systematic search.

Professor N's psychic energy swept across the entire bridge and the long line of vehicles at its entrance, meticulously scanning every passenger for suspicious targets.

Thump! Thump!

Two muffled thuds interrupted Professor N's thoughts.

He spun around—two Pioneer Corp agents lay sprawled on the floor. The killer: a muscular man in a bat-shaped metal helmet, wearing a black cape, having smashed through the door.

Professor N hastily raised his hand toward his temple, about to unleash his psychic control—but the man moved faster, hurling a bat-shaped metal shuriken that pierced his palm and pinned it firmly to the wall.

No introduction needed—this was none other than the infamous imposter of Bruce Wayne, DC's iconic protagonist Batman.

Since Professor N and the two agents wore body cameras, the footage captured the man's chin exposed outside the bat helmet.

Given that the Sea King was a prisoner from the psychic prison, the computer instantly cross-referenced this chin photo with the prison database and identified him.

Also a prisoner—a Level-3 physical enhancement psychic.

By now, calling Strange Doctor to open a portal was too late; Cervantes acted decisively, snatching one of the phones from a nearby plastic basket and teleporting it into Professor N's apartment.

Cervantes possessed the long-range teleportation skill called 【Trace Phone Line】, designed to appear instantly anywhere in the Los Angeles metro area.

He had pre-positioned dozens of phones, each kept on an active call, their other ends scattered across city districts.

Shhh—

Cervantes materialized beside the phone, blocking Professor N, his hand snapping out to precisely catch the bat-shaped shuriken mid-air, then lunging forward—his right fist slammed into the attacker's, his left hand darting up to seize the metal helmet atop the Batman's head and yanking it off.

This metal helmet was one of the trophies Li Cheng had taken from the psychic prison—it blocked psychic sensing. The "Batman" had used it to deceive Professor N and infiltrate this room undetected.

With the helmet removed, the Batman's mind was instantly controlled by Professor N; his body froze rigid.

"Scour his mind. Find Angelica and the location of that transcendent."

Cervantes spoke low and steady. Professor N, ignoring his bleeding palm, eyes rolled back, repeated Cervantes' question.

The Batman trembled slightly, blood trickling from his nose; he resisted Professor N's psychic assault with sheer willpower, gasping through clenched teeth: "I am Batman!"

"You are not Batman,"

Cervantes interrupted, shattering his resolve: "Your name is David. You are a Level-3 physical enhancement psychic."

But the Batman refused to yield—even with glazed eyes, he still spat back: "I am Batmaaaan!"

Cervantes's eye twitched. No, brother, even if you change your accent, you still can't change the fact that you're a fake.

Could it be that the other Awakened One brainwashed this guy?

He took a deep breath and continued, "Buddy, you're really not Batman. Your name is David. You have family and kids waiting for you. There's no need to die for that Awakened One."

"... Right, I'm not Batman."

Batman was silent for a moment, then suddenly said, "I am Cervantes. Name: Du*Zhi. Sex: Male. Born December 8, 1999. Address: No. **, Cuntan Subdistrict, JB District, Yu City. ID number: 500105."

????!!!

Damn it, you're doxxing me again?!

Cervantes finally couldn't hold it together, recalling some not-so-pleasant memories.

This knockoff Batman's words revealed two pieces of information.

One: the player on the other side has some kind of brainwashing ability, principle currently unknown, and has taken control of these Ability Users brought out from the prison.

Two: the player on the other side is in close contact with the Special Affairs Bureau, but is not a member of it.

Because only the Special Affairs Bureau knows his real-world identity. And if the other party were a core member of the Special Affairs Bureau, they could have revealed their identity at the start of the mission and threatened him to voluntarily give up the mission, or else the Special Affairs Bureau would severely punish him once he returned to the real world.

Batman's voice grew weaker and weaker, until at last it became a mumbling whisper.

Cervantes leaned in closer, trying to make out the words that followed. But the next second, Batman suddenly sprang up, drew the Thunder Horn from the void, and detonated it with a roar.

(End of Chapter)