Aquaman #12: "The Return", pt 3; Taking on ...

On a deserted pier near Siegal Beach…

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…

“It’s coming on!”

“Shhh!”

“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?”

“That remains to be seen.”

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—“

“Is stolen!”

Some time ago, Days after the Atlantic Tragedy

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?”

“Only the Gods know that one, Mera.”

To Be Continued![/b]