Chapter 421
"Firestarter 2"
Atlantis
Present Day
He coughed, spitting stale dirt out of his mouth. All around him were pieces of the Galeos' wreckage that weren't engulfed by the Spiritomb and soulless bodies of dead crew members.
Steve Harvey wiggled his fingers, his toes and his lips and was shocked that he didn't have a scratch on him. "Haha," He sprang to his feet, dusting off his uniform, ". God bless." Pointing to the sky.
In that moment, he felt eyes on him. He restudied the area and saw his master, Donald Trump in the hands of a man with neck-length brown hair and a beard. Flanking them were the Swords.
Trump pleadingly looked at him, as if begging with his eyes for help.
Steve weighed his options. It was clear who was in charge on Atlantis. Trump seemed to be powerless. The Swords seemed to hold all the keys.
Steve smiled, "Hehe," strutting up to Prince, "Gimme some skin, brotha," offering his hand.
Steve felt gravity pulling against him as he was shoved into the dirt.
"Get the fuck out of here." Prince snorted.
As Steve lay in the dirt, Prince then turned to Seth, "Can you lock him up too?"
Seth wryly shrugged, "Sure."
(Damn.) Steve Harvey thought as he was seated next to Trump in the dirt.
"What was that?" Trump muttered.
"I was trying to give em the fake-out, ya know." Steve tried to explain.
Trump rolled his eyes, refusing to acknowledge the presence of Steve any longer.
"Damn," Steve hissed, "That's what's wrong with black people. We always sell out and put down our own."
Everyone gave Steve a look of disgust before shaking their heads and carrying on the conversation as if he didn't exist.