It had been a few weeks since the disaster in Atlantis. No media outlet was able to get pictures of the cause of the disturbances; no pictures or videos were made of the theft of the leviathans, colossal ships of an older age of Atlantis that had been buried deep beneath the ocean floor and had been recently freed to sail in the skies. But the media was able to get hundreds of photos on what some were calling signs of the apocalypse: parted seas, scared marine life, and an ocean of death.
A trio of beach bohemians sat hunched around an old TV plugged into the outlet of an abandoned souvenir shop. They hadn’t moved or stirred for a few minutes, waiting for something…
A theme tune played as faces came across the screen; one was Sam Storm, a graying, forty-ish Virginian with a warm, fatherly voice; the other was Laura Natchios, a young Sicilian woman with blonde-highlighted brown hair and a winning smile.
“Welcome to Good Morning Metropolis! I’m Sam Storm—“
“And I’m Laura Natchios—“
“And we’ve got the news everyone wants to hear about.
“And I think—and this is a long stretch—“ Laura said sarcastically “—that everyone wants to hear about a certain modern-day ‘prophet’ who calls himself ‘Noah’. Sam?”
The camera focused on Sam, and a small square appeared in the corner of the screen. Letters formed, slowly spelling ‘Noah’, and then the square disappeared. “Several weeks ago, after what meteorologists are calling the ‘Frantic Atlantic’ case, a man came seemingly out of nowhere to preach about what he calls ‘The Second Wave’. Apparently, this Noah believes that the Great Deluge, the infamous Flood found in many of the world’s religions (with slightly varying legends) is going to return soon to ‘wipe away the wicked’ from the pure.”
The camera switched to Laura. “While many choose to ignore the wild claims of Noah, others of overwhelming numbers are flocking to his speeches,” she said. “With all of the hurricanes and floods over the years that have made victims out of people everywhere from Louisiana to Asia it is no wonder that the chaos in the Atlantic Ocean has scared many into considering alternate possibilities. Even worse, Noah himself has caused chaos amongst his followers when he announced that he had in his possession an ‘Ark’, one that has allowed him to not only carry a pair of selected animals for his new world-to-be, but one where he can collect a pair of each kind of human as well.”
“Each kind of person?” Sam repeated as the camera switched back to him for a moment. “I’m sure all of our viewers are wondering what that means. Simply put, Noah has outlined the necessary visionaries for a new age, and so will be looking for the perfect pair of artists, biologists, psychologists, and so on, until he has seventy-seven pairs of people. While all this may seem more like the prophecies of a madman with a huge ego, one can just imagine the hysteria this could cause within his followers worldwide. Just think of the thousands and thousands of people who would do anything to be a part of the 144 chosen.”
“So far there has not been any cause for concern, at least not according to the Metropolis Police Department, though some reporters have uncovered supposed cover-ups of random deaths, death all linked under a relationship to the ‘Deluge Dilemma’. Whether these acts are those of deranged men and woman, we won’t know. How this further affects our world also remains to be seen, but nonetheless you know Good Morning Metropolis will keep you informed,” Sam said confidently.
“Next up: Uniquely Foreign Oddities,” Laura started. “Foreigners from beyond the skies are immigrating to America: what does this mean for Earth’s enormous population and are more coming to stay?”
“Wow man…Frickin’ wave’s coming to wipe us out man…” one said.
“You’re such an uneducated idiot,” one of the others commented. “That man’s hogwash.”
“I don’t know…” the last said. “We got magicians fighting crime and demon celebrities and alien philanthropists…Flood’s a possibility, man. Might be why the aliens are coming around.”
“Yeah! Superman’s like the frickin’ messiah man! He’s here to save us!”
“Or maybe he’s here to conquer us! Don’t you idiots know the best way to conquer anyone is through trust? I’d rather the world be washed of his presence forever!”
“My thoughts exactly.”
The homeless men turned to find a pair of men passing by behind them: one, an elder man who smelled of rust and open sea; the other was a bald man, usually well-dressed but today covered in a shoddy overcoat layered over a hoodie. It had been a long time since he had walked the Boardwalk as a normal civilian.
The two walked on, in silence, though soon there was no silence due to the exclamations of the three bohemians; each had found a hundred dollar bill on the ground behind them.
“Pretty generous, Luthor. It’s not quite Christmas time y’know.”
With his eyes still forward and his face emotionless, Luthor replied “It’s the least I can do for my fellow man, Krell…especially since I bulldozed their apartment building to build a bank.”
“You’re a man that knows everything about his territory—I can appreciate that.”
“Exactly what I’d like to speak to you about, actually. I am a man of science, logic and fact, Captain Krell. I am a man who plans, makes choices for my highest possible benefit, and then I proceed with an action; no hesitation, no fear.
“But something I lack is trust; and in this relationship I lack control and authority. To a certain extent I am okay with being a mere benefactor; all businessmen know that it occasionally takes a risky investment to excel. But this is unfamiliar territory, this reliance on magic, and people I’ve never heard of—Nemo for one—and then people who I’m not sure exist, like your so-called ‘Supreme One’. Why should I keep my interests in your plans? Why should I keep my interests in your organization?”
They continued to walk, both men in silence. Krell remained quiet for a moment—gathering his thoughts, it seemed. Luthor kept his eyes on his surroundings, and more importantly for him, the sky: he always kept an eye out for a certain caped hero. “Luthor, I understand where you’re coming from. Those words of territory and control are something I know well. When a man makes a decision to enter the sea, he’s stepping into a place—a world really—where he can control nothing that the seas throw at him. But we learn to manipulate it pretty well.
“Nemo’s a man who can do all that—he’s tough and persistent. When he opposes someone he won’t stop ‘til they bow down…or die. I’m not sure about how well Black Manta will perform in all of this on his end—but I do know Nemo will get his job done.”
Luthor’s eyes narrowed on Krell. “Why do you have so much faith in Nemo?”
Krell smiled a gruff smile, his eyes still forward. “He’s the reason I’m here.”
“Explain.”
Krell stared into Luthor’s eyes and continued smiling, the kind that one gives when they know a secret. “He’s the reason I’m at sea. Not only did he inspire me to be strong in an age of strife, he’s the first captain to take me on his boat.”
“Krell, I’d rather receive reassurance on my business through another’s facts, not some lost sea captain’s boyish affection for a hero.”
“But Luthor, you’re half right and half wrong, you just don’t have enough facts to be it all together.”
“Don’t be so damned cryptic.”
“I’m an old man, Luthor. Listen carefully: when Nemo took me in, I was but eight years old…”
“Eight?”
“And he was already an old man…Guess how old that makes Nemo.”
Luthor’s brow furrowed as he thought hard. “So you’re trying to tell me Nemo is more than a century old?”
Krell nodded. “More than a century of becoming not only a fantastic sea man, but living through numerous wars, untouched by the horrors, only getting better and better. He’s a brilliant tactician; naval or terrestrial. He knows how people think, especially in combat situations. He’s got access to some of the greatest resources, and now because of you and our other resources, and mercenaries, he’s got access to some of the greatest technology of Atlantis. Aquaman’s nation will undoubtedly fall before the might of its own heritage; a cruel, cruel irony that only the sea could beget.”
Luthor nodded, replaying the words over and over in his head. When satisfied, he asked a different question. “You’re assured me of Nemo, albeit only a slightly. But what about the superiors of your organization? I don’t even know who he or she is that I’m ‘donating’ my money too. Is the Supreme One human, or an Atlantean traitor?”
In the Atlantean Throne Room there was a silence that for the last few weeks had been unheard of. The waters in the Atlantic had gone back to normal in three days, but by then so much damage had been done to Atlantean homes. The Castle of Poseidon had become a shelter for any without a home, and so had been almost over-packed. Reconstruction had been put off until scientists and mystics could investigate and report back. It had been a week since Hagen and the Sorcery Elite had declared the affected areas as habitable but no one trusted the report enough to try and rebuild their homes. It didn’t help that Hagen still couldn’t explain how any of it happened.
The doors opened; in swam an elderly man wearing a brown cloak that had silver lining and tan details. His face was kind and soft, only enhanced by the gentle smile he gave his king. “Milord.” His voice was warm and friendly. He performed a small gesture that was custom in Atlantis in paying respect.
“Hagen, my friend,” Orin said, standing and returning the gesture. “Come, let us talk in the private quarters.”
Orin led the way as Hagen followed him to a passage way that led to a large room where a host of comfortable seats floated with lines that tied into the floor. They took their seats, leaning back: Orin crossed his legs, while Hagen allowed his legs to float under his robes.
“Milord, if this is about the act of terrorism and the following catastrophe, I regret to say I have come no closer to obtaining the results than before.”
Orin smiled and shook his head. “No, this is something different altogether. It’s about this dream.”
“Then it may not be something altogether different or unrelated: dreams tend to reveal plenty of revelations to the real world. Would you like to share your dream with me?”
“Dreams, Hagen. I’ve been having them a lot. But I really need an outside look at it.”
He took a moment to collect his thoughts, and then spoke clear and precise. My dreams have always started with myself in the sea, being hurt by it in some manner or form which has never been possible: I’ve been frozen, burned, pressured, weighed down, things I normally can’t distinguish unless in extreme conditions.
“After that…I always see a man who resembles an Oceanic—that is, he’s half a man and half an squid—who calls himself the Dweller in the Depths. After this, I’m reminded that the Dweller dwells in the depth of my soul and that great strife is coming.
“Usually after this, everything changes. Sometimes I’m chasing a motionless Dweller on the ocean floor, only to find that I can never catch him. Other times I’m chasing the Dweller by land, only to arrive at a bottomless well that has no water, but many secrets; the well whispers to me, tells me I’m not allowed to hear the secrets yet. And many other times…” Orin paused.
“Go, milord. Do not trail off,” Hagen said. “Well…the Dweller sometimes doesn’t go anywhere at all…he just stands there and whispers a prophecy. One where he says—“
“Don’t!” Hagen shouted.
Orin had never heard Hagen raise his voice before. This caught him off guard. “What’s wrong?”
“In magic we are schooled in the belief that prophecies are meant only for the person they’re told to. It is my belief that this message is meant only for your ears.”
“I suppose so…Any input on the rest of it?”
The old man stared downward for a moment, looking thoughtful, pondering over Orin’s dreams. Finally, he said “For the first time in a long time, I’m not sure what I can tell you. All I can tell is that you are about to face some incredible challenges…and that you may find that this ‘dweller’ may be an aspect of yourself that you have yet to explore. Just be prepared, my king, and always keep an eye over your shoulder: danger is all around you.”
It was a cold rainy day in Atlas Point. The sea waves thrashed, the wind blew hard, and the air was heavy with anticipation as one man step through the bad weather steady and unfazed. He had a singular mission driving him on, and he would not fail.
His cloak, with the dove and raven symbols patched onto the respective shoulders, waved around him like a cape; his hair was wild in the wind; hi s staff was held tightly in his grip, reaching towards the heavens.
A crowd had gathered, a massive one at that, all to hear his words: he was a prophet for the modern man and they needed his guidance. Hundreds and hundreds of people, mainly in pairs (or groups of even numbered people) were present, some with cameras and others with bibles and crosses, to not only show support, but frantically call his attention.
“Noah, take us!”
“We are your chosen people!”
“Take me, my wife and I are the most gifted sculptures in the world!”
“We’re the most beautiful!”
“No we are!”
“Save us, Noah, we’re yours!”
Upon a stage he stood, elevated meters above his crowd. With one word, and a few dozen speakers carefully laid out at the edges of the crowd, he said “Silence!” and the crowd hushed at once.
“I have been given visions…visions that have given me knowledge and in turn begat in me wisdom. I have seen the future. I’ve heard whispers of dark days to come, days that are coming soon. As Jehovah God caused the Flood so many millennia ago, whipping out the wicked from the true worshipers, so will Jehovah God return again. But this time he is more merciful. He has recognized that we are in an age of sin: we are misguided and our faith is tested by disaster and false messiahs who fly in the sky with red capes and blue tights. So he has given me the power to choose those who are truly faithful and are true representatives of the potential of humanity. People who have exceeded the boundaries of earthly ways, transcended physical wants and desires, and are ready to receive a mission in blind faith.”
Someone began to shout. Somehow the silence grew greater, and a woman stepped forward as the crowd around her backed off. Soon, her rants became clear even at the stage. “How are we to just believe you? An old man in a coat steps up after a disaster and we’re supposed to take you at your word? People do that at each disaster and we do what? The weak follow!” The woman threw her hands up in frustration. “Well we’ve had tsunamis and earthquakes in Asia, hurricanes in the Caribbean, and we survived the Katrina Disaster and 9/11! We’re a strong people dammit. What makes you legit?”
The crowd remained quiet. Noah grimaced and stepped forward on the stage. “You are truly not worthy of the blessed plan made from the Lord. But as Moses and Jesus, I shall prove myself by performing an act of God!”
Noah began to mutter Hebrew under his breath, first slowly and then more rapidly, until the patches on his shoulder began to glow. After a blinding flash the crowd gasped: his patches of the Dove and the Raven had vanished, beside him now were sixteen feet tall abstract versions of those very animals.
After a moment of silence, the woman began to start up again. “What’s that supposed to do for me? For all I know, you’re a metafreak, or an illusionist!”
“My poor, lost child. These are not the works of pagans or false prophets: a mystic I am not. This is the work of the Lord, and in your lack of faith the lord has certainly frowned upon you. In his name, you shall be judged.”
Noah wrote the sign of the cross in the air with his fingers: suddenly the cross appeared and glowed for a moment, and then vanished. The woman began to shake, and soon her limbs were pulled apart, her body raised into the air and hanging as if she were on an imaginary cross. The two birds shrieked loudly for a moment and then flew toward the woman at lightning speed: their artistically styled talons piercing into her and snatching her up. Her eyes began to glow. The birds screeched and carried her away as she screamed, pulling her up to the clouds until she could be seen no more.
The crowd sank into deep silence, some gasping, others covering their mouths in surprised.
A minute later, a screech was heard as the two birds dived from the clouds and then dropped the woman’s limp body before Noah on the stage. The weak, wet woman struggled to move, blood pouring from the wounds where the talons had pierced her side and trickling into a puddle of rain water. When she looked up, first at Noah and then over the crowd, everyone close by could see that she was blind. She began to whimper as the crowd starter to whisper with fear and awe.
Noah stepped up to her, kneeled beside her, and used his staff to balance while he took her head in his free hand, pressing her against his chest like a father would. “Child,” he said, “what is your name?”
The woman whimper still, finding it hard to say her name aloud. “Ray-Rachel.”
“And Rachel,” Noah continued, “what have you seen?”
Sobs began to force their way out of her mouth, making her stutter. “Th-the fuh—fuh-face…of God!”
The crowd collectively gasped, again. Some even began to lace their fingers together and pray with hushed voices. Others even went so far as to drop to their knees and bow their heads. Noah remained silent for a moment, closing his eyes to mouth his own silent prayer while holding the woman named Rachel.
When he opened his eyes again, he took a deep breath in and began to stand, bringing Rachel up with him. “Now even though Rachel had not the faith to stand before God and believe, the rest of you are worthy of seeing the grace of the Lord as I have. He has given me a true a gift, one not only ready for the coming tide, but to stand above all obstacles.” Noah raised his free hand high and yelled with a mighty command. “Arise, Ark!”
The ocean waves a few miles from Atlas Point parted as a ship rose from its depths. Water spilled off the ship as it came toward Noah, creating a waterfall over the crowd. It hovered over the stage and lowered toward Noah, causing a draft of wind to brush over the crowd. The ship, which many could have expected to be loud, was actually near silent. Had they not seen it, they wouldn’t have known it was there.
“For you disbelievers, here is my proof! This is the Ark, given to my by God to save the modern world. This massive construct of the Almighty will save the most worthy! This is the instrument of your salvation! Give me your entire will and you are guaranteed a place in the Lord’s new city! This world is unsalvageable!”
“What about the world’s superheroes? Can’t they help?” Someone shouted.
“You have no other heroes or saviors, save for me. They are false messiahs who will burn for their misdeeds!”
“What about Jesus? Isn’t he supposed to gather up the good souls?”
“Why do you think I’m here?” Noah started, waving his staff. Metal disks came down to Noah from the Ark, forming a hovering platform. He stepped away from Rachel, who reached out for him before falling to her knees, stepping onto the disk. It took him to the top of the massive ship, where he turned to his followers and threw his arms into the sky. “I’m paving the way for our Lord, beginning the process for our Messiah’s return! This Ark is a sign from God! This Ark is the first sign of hope for a coming apocalypse! This is an instrument of redemption! This Ark—“
Everyone turned to the back to see a familiar face, one they had seen in the news countless times in quick clips, photos with the JLA in the newspaper or magazines, or even viral videos that were placed on the net by sailors and cruise ship passengers. It was Aquaman, the so-called King of the Seven Seas, monarch of a supposed nation of Atlantis.
The crowd divided as the furious royal marched towards the stage. “How dare you lie to these people? How dare you pass yourself off as some kind of messiah?” Aquaman shouted. “I was waiting for you to call out the Ark, and now I’ve found both you and the property of Atlantis.”
Noah calmly spoke to the king, stepping to the edge of the ship’s platform. “I never called myself a messiah, sea king. I think that’s how you see yourself. A mere prophet is all.”
“A mere prophet? You are a mere thief! You’ve stolen one of the treasures of Atlantis! That is a crime punishable by death!”
“Is that a death threat, Aquaman, former chairman of the JLA? Aren’t you a so-called superhero, or have you become a vigilante ushering in your own brand of justice?”
Aquaman tried to restrain his anger; his body had puffed up in rage, his face had turned into a scowl; his hand had balled into fists. Ultimately, he failed, letting out a loud roar. “I am the King of an entire nation, one greater than yours in territory and in power! I will do what I will to get what is mine!”
Everyone remained silent for a few moments. Noah smiled. He began to chuckle, putting one hand on his hip and keeping his other on his staff.
“What is so funny?”
“Seems to me like you are a traitor to the world. Maybe the government was right to take you in. Seems like you are a traitor to the United States, and to the one true God.” Aquaman’s brows furrowed. He tried to offer his defense, but Noah continued. “How does that sound to you all?” Noah said to his legion.
Aquaman turned to see the hundreds and hundreds of people around him. Construction workers, nurses, doctors, artists, scientists; everyday people of all walks of life, all lifestyles, all races and all ages. Slowly and collectively they became infused with a battle spirit they would have never possessed before. They began to shout out, first individually and then as one, in their support of Noah.”
“Be gone, sea demon!”
Aquaman turned to see a man in the crowd who resembled a pastor.
“Go back to your grand toilet bowl, you un-American A-hole!”
Aquaman turned to the side to see an overweight man with grease stains on his shirt.
“We don’t want you here!” Rachel shouted meekly from the stage. Everyone shouted in agreement.
“Yeah!”
“You know what it sounds like, Aquaman? Like you’ve been replaced by a real messenger of hope. That means we have no time for you.”
“What do you mean? How dare you?” Aquaman said, trying to make his way to the stage, but found himself restricted by a barricade of the hundreds surrounding him.
“The people have spoken, Aquaman. If you are strong enough, you’ll find me by the cliff-side.” Silently, the ship rose, elevating above the crowd and increasing in speed. “My followers! Prove to me your loyalty and faith! Take on this false king! Prove you belong in my 144! Show our Lord God you are not afraid of any threat on this material plane!”
Everyone closed in on Aquaman as the ship began to move towards the Atlas Cliffs. Aquaman swore under his breath. “Why do you follow this delusional madman? Why do you bar my way? Let me through!”
“So you can do what you want in our state?” Someone yelled. “You attack our mighty country and then attack us individually? Hell no, we won’t go! We won’t let you through!”
A group of hands held onto the sea king; the crowd closed in, and soon he couldn’t see anything but a hundred angry faces glaring at him menacingly.
“Damn you all!”
Aquaman struck out in all directions, pushing everyone off of him in a mighty blow, and looked at the fallen crowd around him. “I didn’t want to do that but I won’t hesitate to do it again. Stay down!”
Everyone remained quiet for a moment. Some looked scared, others were confused on what to do without their leader.
One man got the courage to lunge at Aquaman and punch him with one solid blow. Where that punch could have downed a normal man, it did nothing to Aquaman. He stared at the man who hit him, and then backhanded him. The man twisted in midair, spiraling a dozen feet into the crowd. Everyone turned to the man and stopped. Aquaman grunted and began to walk away.
A man’s jaw began to quiver until he could will himself to stop it. Balling his hands into fists, he stepped close to Aquaman, and shouted to the crowd around him. “He can’t take us all as one! Let’s prove our strength! Get him!”
One by one, everyone followed his lead, steeling themselves and tensing up. The man yelled. “Let’s go!”
Suddenly, Aquaman was swarmed again, but this time instead of being restricted, he was attacked by dozens of blows. He threw his hands up to defend himself as punches rained down over his head. He threw himself backwards, knocking the crowd behind him down like dominoes. Then, bouncing forward, he dove into the crowd, rolled past a few dozen people, and then rose up and ran on. As hands came at him, he dodged and struck back, quickly downing the rioting mob closest to him.
First five men, then twenty, then forty, and on and on; stroked to hurt them long enough to delay them and move on, until he began to get overwhelmed. Soon though, he saw an opening, and hoped to escape before the crowd took his life.
Mera slowly swam to the other reaches of the city of Poseidonis, finally seeing the shape of her husband in the distance by a coral cliff. As she came closer, her husband turned and gave her a weak smile, rising up to greet her.
“Orin, my love…how are you?”
She hugged him close, pressing his head into her neck. He kissed her neck softly, then pulled away in a half-embrace, looking out into the world of the sea. “You want to know the details, eh?”
Mera put her free hand on his chest, rubbing softly. “As your wife, your queen, and your other half, I think I’d really like to know, yes. What is this whole thing about?”
“It’s not as big a deal as you think, really. I don’t mean to look secretive…and I haven’t been holding it from you for any reason but feeling exhausted, really. It’s getting tedious, all of these conflicts. Let’s lay back and I’ll give you a little history lesson…”
The two let their bodies lift off the ground and fall backwards, floating just off of the coral floor beneath them. “In the First Age of recorded Atlantean History, our first great king, Ameilius, a man of progression, helped to advance our culture from a vast, nomadic tribe to the first world power on Earth. He wanted to go even further, and create wonders; such as monuments and even advancements of mankind’s technology. He made many theories and plans, but ultimately failed to achieve his dreams due to the constant civil war between the Children of Light and the Sons of Belial, the two rival factions of magic in Atlantis.
“Atlantis could take no more, and the devastation of the war plunged Atlantis into the sea. This led to the Second Age, where Atlanteans lived in small territories; island serfdoms ruled by Lords. This was a dark time called the Black Days, which is the reason the Second Age was also known as the Obsidian Age. All of Ameilius’ theories and wonders were destroyed or forgotten. Corruption took over our land, ruled by the Dark Kings. Eventually a resistance was created, formed by various Lord Protectors, sorcerers who stood for the good of Atlantis. A few generations in, a man named Arion became the greatest Lord Protector of history, forging magic and science together for his use. He made a vessel that allowed him and the other fabled Heroes of Bravery to journey into the Realm of the Gods, where he petitioned the help of Neptune Poseidonis. Great Neptune brought his wrath upon the Dark Kings, exiling them, and promised that Atlantis would rise again. And indeed it did, better than ever.
“In our Third Age, our Golden Age, all of our dreams returned. Academics and magic ruled our minds, and we became the most advanced civilization to ever grace this planet. It was a time of Marvels. Through the marriage of science and magic our ancestors eliminated sickness, mastered their bodies to allow shapeshifting, and eventually created things that even to this day are highly advanced. These treasures of Atlantis include some of Ameilius’ dream projects, such as the Leviathans.”
“The flying ships?” Mera questioned.
“Exactly. They were made by cocky Atlanteans who wanted to show the other civilizations they could build anything others did bigger and better. Now that I think fo it, Atlanteans were as bad as Americans.”
“So the first ship was the one Black Jack piloted?”
“Yes. It was made to just be huge and massive, but not very powerful. The second and third were created back to back, more massive and stronger than the first. Not muc his known beyond that.”
Mera thought to herself for a moment, and then asked “So how did they get buried beneath our city?”
“Eventually, a great evil came from the Lower Worlds, an entity known as the Dark God Xthulhu. He used the vessels through his minions to cause much death, fueling his necromancer magic. Neptune soon forged the Trident of Atlantis, banishing Xthulhu, though not before the Dark God managed to permanently plunge Atlantis into the depths of the sea and bind its people to the sea. Generations later, many Atlanteans forgot the need to breathe on the surface, shapeshifting to adapt to the ocean floor, and accidentally forging a weakness into their very DNA.”
“With the exception of you and Orm, born under different circumstances; me, a refugee from another world; and Garth, Tula, and select officers of the Sorcery Elite and Royal Guard, who are random throwbacks to less-flawed genetics. I know. You’re digressing, love.”
Orin smiled. “I can’t help it: it’s rare that I get to teach anymore.” He chuckled. “But yes, in time, around the Fourth Age, my ancestor Kordax, the Bastard of Atlantis, and his unnamed bride, were said to have waged war with three lost treasures of land and sea, which I assume are the leviathans. Ultimately, he lost to my namesake, the Great Orin I. What happened to the ships after that is lost to obscurity and time, but it is believed that Atlantis took fifty years to fully sink. So perhaps the ships crashed into the sea as our home rained down above it, until nature took its course and buried it fully.”
“Do you think we’ll be able to recover the stolen treasures?”
Orin came to the cliffs, whose edges curved in a wide 270° semi-circle, almost like an arena. There were many boulders he glanced around, fatigued and weary, looking for his enemy. The day had turned into night, though this hadn’t affected his vision. It was quiet also, and if he hadn’t know any better, he would have assumed he had been stood up.
Suddenly he felt movement, and rolled to the side in time to dodge a talon to his side. Another sudden move made him roll backwards and leap away, missing another attack. As he looked up, he saw two giant birds swooping after him, one black and white. They came down again, this time together, and Orin leaped straight up into the air to get out of the way.
As he came down, he landed on the neck of the white bird, pounding on it as hard as possible. It thrashed wildly, trying to toss him off, but he grasped it strongly. “I’ve ridden waves stronger than you!”
A shot burst out, and a second later Orin felt a bullet grazed his side. A second shot burst out, and this time grazed his shoulder. Noah was nearby. Orin dropped to the wings, moving just in time for the Raven to attack the Dove’s neck. Running along the Dove’s shoulder, he missed another couple of bullets, leaping onto the Raven.
The Raven was wilder, and Orin found himself wishing that he had brought the Trident. The Raven shrieked and buckled, tossing Orin to the ground.
“Dammit.”
Orin rolled quickly, missing two bullets but getting grazed by a third off of his cheek. He hopped up into a sprinters position and started running full speed towards Noah. As Noah began to draw fire, Orin strafed to the left, missing a shot, and then leapt to the right a few feet, dodging another. He sidestepped, dodging the third shot, and spun into the air to miss the fourth and fifth. As he came close to Noah, he cartwheeled to ddoge the sixth shot, forcing Noah to reload.
“I’ve got you know!” Orin yelled.
Noah smiled and stood still. “Do your worse!”
Orin landed in front of Noah and quickly leapt past him. Turning in mid-air he saw the Raven and Dove slam into a surprised Noah, knocking the so-called prophet back a dozen feet. He walked over slowly towards Noah, who was breathing hard. “You thought you could trick me, eh? Guess you were the one who was sur—“
Something hit Orin’s back with the force of a truck, throwing him forward dozens of feet. He tried to get up, turning around, and found a red blast striking him again, this time in the chest, and launching him backwards while taking the air out of him. He coughed up blood; his vision was blurry; his head was pounding. He could hear heavy uneven steps coming closer and closer, until a person came into his sight…Black Manta!
“So…the sea king falls before me yet again. It’s amazing how many times I’ve looked down on you.”
Orin wheezed. “It’s—it’s amazing how many times I’ve got-gotten back up to kick your ass.”
A metallic boot struck Orin’s face, leaving dirt and grime on the king’s face. The rain washed over him, but he didn’t feel refreshed. He felt battered and bruised.
Manta’s voice was deep and booming from inside the helmet. “It’s been a while, Orin. I’ve been thinking about you for a long time. Thinking about how you’ve practically crippled me. Do you remember what you did to me Orin, after the battle with the JLA? “
“You took my hand! I hope every time you walk into a seafood restaurant you remember hope they broke your bones you slimy bas—“
An optic blast smashed into Orin’s body, dragging him on the ground towards a cliff’s edge. “It ends here Orin. A better world, my better world, begins now.“ Black Manta took out a large hand cannon, pointing the barrels directly at Orin’s head. “Hope you like being fish and chips—“
A blast struck Manta’s side, damaging his armor and knocking him back. A barrage of lasers struck around the villain, causing him to limp backwards to the other side of the cliffs. He fell off the cliff’s edge, and moments later the Ark arose silently into the air. Orin turned to where the shots had fired. A giant red submarine had risen into the sky with an old man dressed in crimson leather on top, holding his own large cannon. “Hop aboard, Aquaman!”
Orin forced himself up, and hopped over the edge onto the ship. The Ark sped off as the old man grit his teeth and opened a latch on the top of the submarine. “Who are you?” Orin asked.
The old man smiled. “My name’s Jim Lockhart. Back in World War II some called me the Red Torpedo, the Robin Hood of the Deep. Well, this here’s the Red Torpedo,” he said, motioning to the large red vehicle they stood on, “A brand new upgrade to the one I used in the war.”
Orin had stared in awe. Had humans really come so far to construct their very own leviathan? Of course they had. This was a new age of wonders.
Jim stared off into the distance as The Ark sped away. “Seems to me that the baddies have been causing a terrible stir around here and it’s only going to get worse. You think you’re up to catching Manta?” Jim said with a smile.
Orin held his hurting stomach and laughed lightly. “Damn straight I am. Let’s go kick his ass.”
