Chapter Five: The Atlantis Restaurant

A red-haired thug brandishing a dagger charged at Arthur. With a swift motion, the thug was sent flying back, landing heavily on the sand. Arthur retracted his leg from the kick. "Very well. You’ve made me angry, and the consequences will be serious," he said to the gangsters, his face expressionless.

Like a fierce tiger, Arthur plunged into the crowd, knocking out each thug with a single punch. In the blink of an eye, over a dozen of them were sprawled on the ground, with only the bald brute still standing. The bald man swallowed hard, shocked to have run into such trouble today. Yet, he remained unfazed. He pulled a pistol from his jacket, pointing it at Arthur. "Don't move, or I’ll shoot you dead!"

Arthur curled his lip. "I wonder who gave you the courage to point a gun at me."

"Shut up! Don’t move, or I’ll kill you!"

"I bet your gun isn’t even loaded..." Arthur teased.

Enraged, the bald brute squeezed the trigger. In an instant, Arthur was upon him, seizing his gun hand in a vice-like grip. The bald man let out a scream as Arthur twisted his hand into a grotesque shape, causing the pistol to clatter to the ground.

Arthur followed with a powerful kick, sending the bald man flying into a coconut tree, where he slumped unconscious.

"All done!" Arthur dusted his palms, then turned to Jack and the guests, who all stared at him in stunned silence, mouths agape.

Jack called the police; after taking statements, the officers hauled away several thugs. Arthur didn’t show himself—lacking American identification, it would have been troublesome if the police learned of him.

Arthur was already considering whether he should hire a lawyer to get himself a U.S. green card.

…

Business at the restaurant soon returned to normal, but in the neighborhood, Arthur had become something of a legend. The local thugs all heard how the Lone Wolf had been bested by the owner of the Atlantis Restaurant, and none dared cause trouble there again.

Atlantis Restaurant launched several new dishes, having recently hired a Chinese chef to introduce some Chinese cuisine.

Arthur sat in a corner of the restaurant, blissfully enjoying a plate of Yangzhou fried rice, accompanied by two side dishes: stir-fried shredded pork with green peppers and a plate of mapo tofu.

At last, he could savor the familiar flavors of home, all thanks to his new chef, Zhao Long, from Chongqing, China.

Zhao Long had come to New York alone, opening a modest Chinese eatery, but soon ran afoul of local bullies—his earnings barely covered protection fees, and within two months, he was forced to close shop. Left with no choice, Zhao Long took up work in various New York restaurants. Yesterday, he tried his luck at this famous establishment, hoping to land a job as a waiter, having heard that business was booming and the pay was generous.

Unexpectedly, the owner hired him on the spot as a chef, offering excellent compensation. Zhao Long felt as if fortune had finally smiled on him. He cherished the opportunity and resolved to work hard at Atlantis Restaurant.

"The boss seems to really love Chinese food—how wonderful!" Zhao Long remarked, watching Arthur eat with gusto.

Another busy day drew to a close. In the brightly lit Atlantis Restaurant, Arthur held a meeting with his staff.

His team consisted of three chefs—Jack, Zhao Long, and Mike—and three waitresses—Lina, Isa, and Omily. Looking at his six employees, Arthur felt his team was both solid and formidable.

After discussing new menu items and ingredients needed in the kitchen, Arthur dismissed the staff for the night.

"See you tomorrow, boss."

"Goodbye, boss."

The young women bid him farewell with hopeful glances, each wishing their handsome, youthful employer would ask one of them out.

"See you tomorrow," Arthur replied with a smile, oblivious to their wishes.

The boss’s lack of romantic awareness left the girls helpless. After bidding them goodnight and locking up, Arthur walked alone to the seashore.

Standing on the rocks, Arthur gazed at the surging ocean. Waves crashed over the stones, soaking his clothes, but he paid no mind.

"It feels as if the beginning of the story is drawing closer," he thought, having been closely following the latest news online.

"Stark Industries’ newly developed Jericho missile is receiving a frenzy of international orders!"

"Brilliant scientist Bruce Banner has mysteriously vanished after a failed experiment!"

Reading these seemingly ordinary headlines, Arthur knew the plot of the Marvel universe was about to unfold.

After some investigation, he had confirmed that this was indeed the world of Marvel—not the comic version, but the cinematic universe. There were no signs of mutants or X-Men, nor was Gotham City mentioned, so DC heroes hadn’t crossed over. As for his own identity as Aquaman, it could only be explained as fate’s special gift.

With the story about to begin, Arthur knew he had to strengthen himself quickly. He ate enormous meals daily, maintained a strict exercise routine, and each night submerged himself in the ocean to absorb its energy.

He discovered that the deeper he dove, the faster he could absorb power. Knowing there was a way to grow stronger filled him with joy.

Arthur swam toward the bottomless ocean trench, plunging ever deeper.