Batman encountered a problem aboard the Helicarrier that he had never faced before:
The systems onboard this carrier were not divided into individual sections working in tandem, but operated as a singular, unified whole.
Which meant that from something as grand as adjusting the aircraft carrier's flight propulsion, down to something as small as the temperature of the toilet seat in the bathroom, every last bit was governed by the exact same system.
Aside from Alfred, Batman had never seen such a setup in any other creation.
Even on Brainiac's planetary mothership, Batman knew that it was likewise operated by sub-systems large and small, which were ultimately funneled to Brainiac himself for manual control.
Combined with the previous situation where neither Batman nor Tony could hack into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s network, Batman deeply suspected that a ghost within the electronic network was currently active aboard the Helicarrier.
"Electro isn't here; otherwise, we could have had him investigate what on earth went wrong." Batman knit his brows tight.
Alfred was similarly capable of transforming into electronic signals to execute intrusion work, but the bizarre situation manifested right here:
Wherever Batman walked, the electrical current in that area cut out directly, using physical isolation to render the network intrusion Batman excelled at completely impossible to perform.
The region where the current cut off formed a broad zone centered around Batman, much like a dark cloud suddenly appearing under the sun, casting everything in shadow wherever it drifted.
The reason Batman had made no move for so long after arriving at the Helicarrier was precisely because of this, though he had already thought of a countermeasure:
Head directly for the engine room of this carrier. Either the unknown entity would shut down the propulsion of the entire carrier—which Batman could take advantage of to sabotage it, keeping it from taking to the skies and fulfilling the goal of stopping Project Insight—or it would surrender to Batman, allowing him to hack into the system here.
However, because Batman was unfamiliar with the specific structural layout of the Helicarrier, and the S.H.I.E.L.D. system he had previously hacked contained no information regarding this aspect, its precise layout clearly constituted top-secret intelligence—not something that could be obtained through casual hacking.
Batman surmised it was eighty percent likely to be just like his initial investigation into Nathan Garrett: requiring access to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s internal physical network to look it up.
Now that everywhere he walked suffered a blackout, that idea was unrealistic as well.
Though unfamiliar, Batman was hardly blundering around like a headless fly.
Every path he walked was automatically recorded in his mind, preventing him from circling back over duplicate routes.
This expanded his range of movement further and further, his eyes continuously searching the walls he passed for floor schematics.
No matter how classified the structural data of the Helicarrier was, the S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel working here still needed floor diagrams to identify positions and maintain efficiency.
This stuff wasn't electronic—at the very least, Batman hadn't seen any darkened electronic screens on the walls along the way.
Finally, just a few minutes after Batman concluded his call with T'Challa, a floor diagram painted on a sheet of iron and screwed into the wall appeared before his eyes.
Spending a single second to memorize all the information regarding the stairs, elevators, emergency exits, and corridors on the entire floor, Batman turned and departed.
Having the schematic for one floor, Batman immediately extrapolated by analogy, grasping the general architectural layout of the entire Helicarrier.
No longer hesitating this time, he arrived at the elevator's location at a rapid pace of over ten meters per step.
Just like before, the moment Batman arrived here, the surroundings plunged into darkness as the power cut out directly.
Unsurprisingly, the elevator doors remained tightly shut, to say nothing of riding the elevator down.
Yet Batman's objective wasn't to ride the elevator; it was something far simpler and more brute-force.
Creak!
The rigid metal door panels emitted an ear-grating screech under the tearing force of Batman's hands, ripped off by Batman through sheer strength.
Tossing the two deformed elevator doors aside, Batman peered down into the pitch-black elevator shaft.
Under the night vision display of the Gargoyle Suit, Batman could clearly see that the elevator was parked at least ten floors below.
"Master Wayne, how do you plan to proceed?" Alfred asked. "Following your usual style, or..."
Before Alfred's voice could finish, the impatient Venom Robin stepped forward first.
The rustling sound of flowing symbiote matter echoed from Venom Robin's body as one of his hands rapidly swelled and expanded, turning into a cluster of entwined tentacles resembling steel cables.
"Batman?" Venom Robin cast a glance at Batman.
Batman offered a firm nod.
Seeing that Batman had no objections, Venom Robin extended his thick, massive arm, abruptly snagging the elevator cables and yanking them outward with immense force.
The steel cables inside the elevator shaft snapped one after another under Robin's violent yanks, and the elevator parked below emitted a creaking noise before plummeting straight down.
A few seconds later, a heavy thud echoed from below.
Alfred did not display a holographic projection, but watching this scene through the Gargoyle Suit, he still couldn't help shaking his head repeatedly:
"Master Wayne, I never knew you shared such striking similarities with Master Kent."
The "Kent" he spoke of referred to Clark Kent—that is, Superman.
"Sometimes, super strength is more useful than super intellect," Batman quipped, before leaping down into the elevator shaft.
Venom Robin followed closely behind.
"Old Bat, I just noticed something: why can't I see any people on this carrier?" Venom Robin spoke up abruptly mid-fall.
Alfred facepalmed inside. He had thought this young Master Robin already understood why no one had come to stop them until now, even feeling secretly relieved in his heart not long ago.
He hadn't expected Robin to only just realize this question now.
"There are two possibilities," Batman, on the other hand, didn't feel the least bit surprised; he was long accustomed to Venom Robin's delayed realization. "This carrier is very likely unmanned, controlled entirely by that unknown system that keeps cutting the power."
Bang!
With a heavy crash, Batman landed squarely at the lowest level of the elevator shaft, stomping the elevator that had just fallen down into a crumpled mess.
Without sparing a single glance at the flattened metal disc beneath his feet—which could no longer be called an elevator—Batman reached up with one hand to catch Venom Robin, who had jumped down right behind him.
"What about the other possibility?" Venom Robin pressed.
"They were evacuated in advance—what else, Young Master Robin?" Alfred answered on Batman's behalf. "If I may speak candidly, you cannot rely entirely on brute force; a minimal amount of brainwork is still required."
"Got it," Venom Robin said, letting it go in one ear and out the other, completely brushing off the advice.
"Sigh," Alfred let out a sigh. "Acting like this will prevent you from becoming the best Robin."
"Huh?!" Venom Robin, who just a second ago hadn't cared in the slightest about giving up on using his brain, instantly perked up in high alert.
As they spoke, they had already traversed a corridor and arrived at the lowest level—aside from the waste disposal area—which was the engine room of this Helicarrier.
In the Russian Federation, Iron Man Tony Stark had arrived at the fourth Soviet base.
Though this place had been abandoned for many years, as Tony pulled down the circuit breaker, lights, instruments, and large mainframe tape drives steeped in the style of the last century slowly hummed to life.
"Anthony Edward... Tony Stark, born May 29, 1970..."
A shrill, slightly distorted voice emitted from a speaker dating back to the previous century. Simultaneously, on the screen of a central mainframe—a bulky CRT monitor—standing before Iron Man, a face composed of falling green code rain materialized.
"JARVIS, tell me this is some kind of recording," Iron Man reached out and tapped the chassis of the central mainframe.
"Sir, this is not a recording," JARVIS said. "This is..."
"Correct, I am not a recording. Though I am no longer the man sent to prison by Captain America in 1945, I am nevertheless still myself."
The figure inside the computer spoke up.
--
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