"Today, we declare war on those arrogant surface-dwellers! Let them witness the might of Atlantis!" Namor's voice boomed across the deep, stirring the ranks before him.
Arrayed in precise formation, Namor's army of armored sea creatures stood proud as their king inspected them. Behind him, immense water-powered steel warships gleamed under the bioluminescent glow of deep-sea flora. Over the past few months, Namor had rallied the federated clans of the ocean under a single cause: retaliation.
Surface humans had gone too far.
Their pollution choked the seas. Their greed for expansion knew no bounds. They wanted more—more territory, more resources, more control. So when Namor suggested that it was time to make a statement, the undersea nations agreed without hesitation.
As Namor paced through the ranks, his top aide Haibo swam up beside him. "Your Majesty, we've detected a surface-dweller submarine not far from here. Shall we engage?"
Namor's lip curled into a smile. "How fortunate. Let them be our opening act. Show them what happens when they stray into our kingdom."
With a wave of his hand, one of the nearby warships peeled away, slicing through the currents toward the detected target.
Not far from the undersea army's location, a submarine hovered in eerie silence, shaped like a metallic sphere. Inside, two figures monitored sonar and energy readings: Doom and Spider-Man.
The mission was simple—recon. Assess the scale of Atlantis's military buildup and report back. But nothing ever stayed simple for long.
Spider-Man sat fidgeting in a sleek, deep-diving suit, his face obscured by a clear spider-emblazoned breathing mask. His muffled voice came through the comms: "So, Doom... this iron death-trap you built isn't going to blow up on us, right?"
Doom shot him a side-eye, his tone thick with sarcasm. "Mr. Frankenstein-Spider, I built this vessel myself. But you, in that ridiculous bubble helmet, look like you're expecting it to fail."
"Hey!" Spider-Man gestured to his mask. "You've got magic portals. If this thing implodes, you can just poof away. Me? I'm a spider in a washing machine. You ever seen a spider swim?"
Doom smirked. "Not my problem anymore. In fact, I've just decided that if this sub goes down, you're on your own."
"Uncool!" Spider-Man waved a finger at him. "If the commander hears you bailed on me, you'll be doing latrine duty on the Helicarrier for a month!"
Despite the bickering, there was an ease between the two now. Since joining the Sharp Blade Squad, Doom had gradually adapted. No longer the aloof monarch of Latveria, he had been drawn—grudgingly—into the unit's chaotic camaraderie.
How could anyone stay brooding in a squad that included motormouths like Pietro and Spider-Man? And then there were Rogers and his old war buddies, tossing out corny jokes like grenades. Doom had adapted—or more accurately, developed his own brand of sarcastic venom to survive.
As their teasing subsided, Spider-Man peeled off his breathing mask and leaned back. "You know, I think Commander Gene really doesn't take these Atlanteans seriously. Otherwise, he'd be down here mopping the ocean floor with them himself."
It wasn't just Spider-Man who felt that way. The entire Sharp Blade Squad had sensed Gene's indifference toward the aquatic threat.
Doom tapped a few keys, pulling up live readings. "Maybe Gene has more pressing matters. And honestly, the Atlanteans aren't a real threat. Their strength is underwater. Once they come ashore, they have to lug around oxygen suits. And even then…" He shook his head. "What's their plan? Invade New York?"
Suddenly, the submarine's interior blared with red sirens. Detection alarms screamed across the control panel.
"They're here," Doom said, fingers flying over controls. On the screen, a sleek, hostile undersea warship was bearing down fast.
"Time for a little surprise," Doom muttered, his gloved hand slamming a button.
"Target locked. Launch attack?" came the ship's cold A.I. voice.
"Do it," Doom replied.
Spider-Man felt the vessel hum with power. A missile, glowing blue, shot from its forward launcher, streaking through the dark waters like a lightning bolt.
He leaned toward the display, mid-sentence. "Doom, are you sure that'll—?"
His words died in his throat.
Outside, the missile slammed into the Atlantean ship—and obliterated it.
Not dented. Not damaged.
Gone.
The ocean lit up with a brief flash of white-hot plasma, and then… silence.
Spider-Man's jaw dropped behind his mask. "Doom… what the hell did you just fire?"
Doom leaned back with a smirk.
"Let's just say… I brought a bigger spider."
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