It was hard to deny that after spending a lot of time with Raymond, Carl occasionally forgot that Raymond was technically… insane.
Even though Raymond often claimed he was "cured," Carl and Psylocke had already reached the same conclusion back when Raymond fought the Juggernaut—there was no way that was his primary personality at the time.
Whoever had taken over then was clearly one of his more violent and twisted personality.
If Raymond got into another serious fight, who knew which alter ego might surface? And if that happened… things could spiral out of control.
"No way, I have to warn them. They have no idea what they're getting into…" Carl decided silently, already planning to talk sense into anyone trying to challenge Raymond.
At the airport parking lot, a nearly brand-new extended Rolls-Royce Phantom awaited them.
Raymond didn't even blink at the sight.
He knew well the level of wealth the Hellfire Club wielded. Carl alone had a fortune worth billions. The club's inner circle was made up almost entirely of the ultra-rich—many of them with enough power to influence global politics.
Compared to that, a Phantom was nothing. A private helicopter wouldn't even be surprising.
But for Clarice and Lorna, it was another story.
Even Clarice, who came from a relatively normal middle-class family, had never had a chance to experience such upper-class luxury firsthand—save for riding a rented stretch Hummer during a school dance, which was nothing compared to this.
As for Lorna—her life had been modest, sometimes downright rough. Compared to Clarice, she'd experienced far less, and it showed.
Once inside the car, the two girls became wide-eyed and curious, poking around like excited kids in a candy store.
Raymond let them be and focused on chatting with Carl.
"Earlier you mentioned you know Namor—are you two close?" Raymond asked casually.
Carl chuckled, shaking his head.
"Met him twice. He wouldn't even remember my name. Namor's the king of Atlantis, after all. He only hangs around people who are on his level."
"Like the Red Devil?" Raymond guessed.
"Exactly. The Red Devil's power is about equal to Namor's, and he's lived long enough to command respect. It's rare for someone with that kind of longevity to make real friends, so when he does, people notice—Namor included."
"Even the Black King doesn't get that treatment."
Raymond nodded thoughtfully. That lined up with everything he'd ever heard or read about Namor—proud, aloof, and not exactly the most social guy.
In one particular parallel universe, Raymond recalled, there existed a secret society on Earth called the Illuminati.
The members were some of the most intelligent and powerful figures alive.
And yes—Namor had been one of them.
The secret organization had only six founding members, and they were:
Namor, the King of Atlantis
Reed Richards, leader of the Fantastic Four
Professor X, leader of the X-Men
Doctor Strange, the Sorcerer Supreme
Black Bolt, King of the Inhumans
Tony Stark, Raymond's new friend—also known as Iron Man
By that point, Tony had already become one of the leaders of the Avengers. So when these six formed the Illuminati, they were not only powerful and highly intelligent—they each controlled enormous influence.
Among them, Namor may have been the physically weakest. But the power of Atlantis easily outmatched the other five's forces.
After all, the Atlanteans were a completely different species, with their own kingdom and population. Even the Inhumans, led by Black Bolt, didn't have a tenth of Atlantis's numbers.
Because of that, Namor always held a strong voice within the Illuminati.
And his personality? Arrogant, proud, confrontational—he never hesitated to start a fight if someone rubbed him the wrong way.
The Hellfire Club may have been the oldest mutant organization in history, but to Namor, who ruled over an entire race, they weren't all that impressive.
He clearly had no reason to befriend Juggernaut just because of the Club.
As for his friendship with the Red Devil—that was likely personal, unrelated to the organization.
"Do you know why Namor has a grudge against Duke Ventrue?" Raymond asked with curiosity.
Carl shrugged slightly. "Not the details, but it's not surprising. The vampire clans and Atlantis have been blood enemies for over a thousand years."
"Nobody even remembers how it started—and it doesn't matter. All that matters is that they'll never pass up a chance to strike at each other. No mercy, no hesitation."
"Last time they had a real confrontation was during World War II. At first, the vampire clans tried to stay neutral. But once Atlantis allied with North America, the vampires sided with the other side."
"It was the wrong call. The vampires got crushed in the end, but Atlantis didn't come out unscathed either—both sides paid a heavy price."
Raymond nodded in understanding.
If it was a generational feud, then there was nothing more to say.
That's what a blood feud is—after enough time, no one remembers why it started. The hatred just keeps growing, generation after generation.
And unless one side is completely destroyed, the feud never ends.
So whatever personal grudge Namor might have with Mia's father probably just stemmed from that ancient hatred.
No wonder Namor had no qualms about kidnapping Mia—it was just another way to strike at his enemy.
When it comes to blood feuds, there's no need to act with "class" or "honor."
And according to Namor, it was Mia's father who ambushed him first.
Sneak attacks aren't exactly noble either.
In this case, Raymond saw it more like two vicious dogs fighting—neither side was particularly righteous.
To him, it was just amusing.
He wasn't interested in deciding who was right or wrong. In this kind of conflict, there was no right or wrong—only opposing sides.
Namor backing down for Raymond's sake had left a fairly decent impression. Even if the Red Devil's influence played a part, the fact remained: Namor had shown him respect.
That kind of favor wasn't something Raymond could ignore. If something similar happened again, he wouldn't feel comfortable interfering a second time.
As Raymond and Carl chatted, the Phantom began to slow down.
Looking out the window, Raymond spotted a grand white castle not far ahead.
"That's one of Lady Betsy's estates," Carl smiled. "Every year during our end-of-year gathering, she lends one of her properties for the event."
"That castle belongs to Sister Betsy?" Lorna asked, tongue slightly out in surprise.
She still remembered the warm, big-sister-like woman who had shown her so much kindness.
She hadn't expected her to be this rich.
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