The battle ended. The Celtic Wanderer sailed off, leaving behind a sea full of wreckage, flas, and corpses.
The pirates were at a loss. At this point, everyone ca to their senses—a gold transport ship?
They had most likely been played!
Even if they hadn't been tricked, no one dared try to rob the fleeing ship now.
Missiles, robots, warships...
Pirates of the 21st century were nothing like their 18th-century counterparts. Back then, pirates had the guts to target warships—and sotis even succeeded.
But 21st-century pirates, with vast technological and societal differences, could no longer take on such massive military assets. The most they could do was wield AKs, ride fishing boats—or, at most, small cargo vessels—and try to intimidate rchants.
Just knowing it was a warship was enough to kill any thoughts of attacking.
Still, among them were a few bold and ambitious "aspiring pirates" who, going against the tide, quietly snuck aboard the missile-battered warship and sailed it away.
Onboard the Celtic Wanderer, a group of Atlas soldiers faced the warship's captains.
During the capture, they had discovered several soldiers tied up on the ship and brought them along during the retreat.
There weren't many—only four in total.
The captains of both warships stared wide-eyed. One of them was the first to speak:
"Uh... I recognize you! You're Frank Castle—I saw your trial video."
Frank smiled from his chair. "Thought that got banned by the U.S. military."
"Well, you know the internet. If you want to find it, you'll find it. Near the garrison bases, those videos spread like wildfire. Guys sell bootleg discs, or just head to a darknet café—pop open a laptop and there it is."
This captain now had a roguish grin, completely lacking the stiff military bearing he'd had while commanding the ship.
But the situation overpowered him—that was only natural.
Besides, Frank's military achievents were very real. Respect was still due.
The other captain added, "We even refueled your ship! Although... when we saw the disc, your trial was already over.
We shouldn't have any bad blood, right?"
"No grudge," Frank replied. "But what are you planning? Go back to serve?"
"Serve my ass." The captain on the left spat on the floor, eyes fierce. "On this whole damn ship, it was just and this new guy on the sa side!
By the way, where's everyone else? I want to know why they ignored my orders!"
"They're dead."
"...Oh."
Frank continued, "What do you an, just you two were on the sa side?"
The two captains exchanged glances. Their shared plight and everything they had seen and felt sent a chill down their spines.
Not because their crewmates were executed, but because the whole situation was just too bizarre.
They slowly explained everything—technically, it was a breach of military secrecy.
But after what happened to Frank, they didn't think betraying the Navy was such a big deal anymore—after all, the Navy betrayed them first.
The mission had co from above. Orders were vague, but the gist was: assist Erik Steven in completing his task.
The mission itself ca from the UN. The UN Security Council had requested the U.S. Navy's help to retrieve so cargo.
Even from the start, it was odd that military ships were pursuing a civilian one—but they had to follow orders.
As the mission progressed, however, their subordinates started disobeying commands!
Such a thing was utterly bizarre and unacceptable—especially for the Navy.
They were in a confined environnt at sea. If those n went nuts and shot them one day, the U.S. military might even accept their testimony, claiming the victims had a sudden ntal breakdown at sea!
What was even more disturbing was that these forr comrades—n who had served together for years, even decades—had never shown any signs of abnormality.
They had even considered each other family!
Thinking of that, the captains' hearts were in turmoil. Decades of life-and-death camaraderie—was it all fake?
Clint listened with a heavy expression, then suddenly said to Frank, "I guess this is why my superiors chose to hire you."
"Looks like things are getting ssier... But that's the boss's problem.
As for you four, since you're not going back to active duty, how about joining Atlas?"
The forr U.S. sailors exchanged looks. Frank continued, "Like you said, there's no way you're returning to the Navy—neither practically nor psychologically.
But seriously, now that you know there are traitors in the military—and that it's organized—do you think you can just go back to being a regular citizen?"
The fact that there were moles in the military—and organized ones at that—ant this kind of information was best kept to as few people as possible.
"You've already done enough for Arica. But if you walk away now, you know exactly what'll happen to you. Atlas can offer you a new chance."
A chance to serve Atlas.
The stakes were crystal clear, and Frank's example was right in front of them.
If not for his boss stepping in, Frank would have lost everything by now.
So...
The four forr U.S. Navy n had no reason to refuse. They only had one question: "But we're Navy. Sure, your exosuits are flashy—but we're sailors."
"Well..." Frank cracked his neck and stood up. "That can be arranged. Once we're ashore, we'll sign the contracts.
Get ready. The road to base isn't safe—there might be so terrorists."
Seamlessly transitioning from Navy to private military contractors, the four ex-sailors sat in the room in silence, mixed emotions written on their faces.
Frank and Clint left the room and headed to the temporary lab set up on the deck.
By now, the ship had docked at the nearest city port. Most vessels nearby were fishing boats. If this ship were any bigger, it wouldn't have been able to dock.
T'Challa's people had delivered a lot of equipnt. The temporary facility was for one purpose—to thaw out Captain Carter, who was still encased in ice.
Frank stood outside the lab, looking at the WWII veteran with a complex expression.
Seeing Frank and Clint walking over quickly, he looked up and said to them:
"She's waking up."
"Recently, a major mariti conflict in the Somali waters has drawn widespread international attention."
"According to official sources, two frigates belonging to the U.S. Navy were attacked by unknown ard forces while carrying out a special UN peacekeeping mission."
"One warship has gone missing, while the other was unfortunately sunk."
"Further details about the incident are still under investigation. Both the U.S. military and the African Union have remained silent."
Leo sat in his office, watching today's top headline on the screen:
Two U.S. warships were sunk in Somali waters.
All evidence pointed to pirates.
But no one truly believed pirates were responsible—
If they had the capability to sink warships, why waste ti playing pirate?
Why not go big with a na like "XX Liberation Front"?
Naturally, the U.S. military didn't buy the pirate theory either, because they knew these ships were on a UN peacekeeping mission.
So fragnted speculations had reached them—
Which is why, now on Leo's communication screen, was the current U.S. Secretary of State.
"Mr. Secretary, all I can tell you is that the vessel the UN was pursuing was indeed under Atlas Group's protection."
"Do you understand what it ans to sink a military unit as a private entity?"
"I do." Leo wasn't intimidated by the elderly white-haired man on the screen. "But there's no evidence it was Atlas who did it.
Secondly—do you even know what cargo was aboard that ship?"
"It doesn't matter what it was—"
"It was a person."
Leo stood up. The feed on the screen switched to Frank.
Various sensors surrounded a block of ice in the center. Though the equipnt was makeshift, it was enough to safely thaw the person inside.
Seeing the face within the ice, decades-old mories ca rushing back.
Secretary Barnes' eyes widened.
"It's her." Barnes' expression darkened. "What are you trying to do?"
"You should be asking what those two ships were trying to do. What the UN Security Council was trying to do. Answer this: did the request for assistance from the UN include this information?"
Of course not—otherwise Barnes wouldn't just be finding out now.
This universe's Barnes wasn't the brainwashed soldier.
He was a seasoned politician who rose through the ranks on rit and military distinction.
His experience in warfare and sharp political instincts brought a chilling realization.
A troubling suspicion took root.
Leo continued:
"We only captured four survivors. The rest? Like fanatics—if we're talking belief alone, they were the most committed warriors I've ever seen."
"I can compile a report vastly different from the one you're working with—
But only if you ensure our communications remain secure."
"This is for your own good. Truly."
Two vastly different versions of reality appeared before Barnes.
One: built on intelligence from the NSA, CIA, and FBI, and the confused reports from the U.S. military.
In this version, the U.S. had been attacked by terrorists. War was necessary—to let the savages taste the iron fist of civilization.
Atlas Group, a dostic U.S. company, was now subverting the nation, even attacking Navy ships and stealing Captain Carter.
The other version: Leo's.
In this one, the CIA, NSA, and other intelligence agencies had long been confird to carry out illegal operations abroad.
They lied to their own people, to the world, and could secretly mobilize military personnel for their activities.
These agencies were also tied to dostic pro-war interest groups—
They were the face of war: profiting from it, thriving in it.
If soone can profit from sothing, they'll make sure that sothing escalates.
During the subpri mortgage crisis, as a soldier, Barnes had mocked the financial system.
From private firms to national insurers, from banks to regulators, the whole nation had been dragged into a pit by unchecked greed.
If war could make soone rich, they'd do the exact sa thing. No doubt.
Barnes didn't know whether the President was aware of any of this.
But he did know that President Ellis was very close to the major oil companies.
In Leo's version of the world, they were all being manipulated into war by unseen hands.
A war that would make a few people unimaginably rich—
And drag countless others into hell.
Now, they even planned to secretly transport Carter…
Who knows what they intended?
A web of conspiracies was giving the 90-sothing-year-old man a massive headache.
So—
"I want to personally witness the thawing process."
"Of course," Leo replied.
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