The raging sea tosses the expensive craft about like a toy sailboat. Inside the cabin, Bruce and Diana tumble against the console, the walls, and each other. Multiple alarms are sounding, drowning out Bruce's voice as he calls to the Amazonian. She shakes her head, pointing to her ear with her free hand while holding herself steady against the bulkhead.'

"Are you alright?"

His voice is extremely loud in the relative silence that washes over them. The alarms quiet themselves, one by one, until only the sound of the sea hangs in the air. Confused by the sudden stillness, Diana looks outside, to see that they appear to have entered the eye of this storm. The rains pour into the sea in the distance, while weak rays of sunshine peek through the clouds above the yacht. She looks to Bruce to gauge his reaction, only to find him staring intently at past her, outside the cabin.

He moves past her, roughly throwing the door open and stepping out onto the deck. Turning, she sees the source of his ire, a man stands on the yacht, smiling mischievously at the pair of them. Bruce is already beginning to question the man.

"Who the hell... wait... Arthur Curry?"

Looking closer, Diana realizes Bruce is correct. The man before them is certainly not dressed as he was when he had appeared in FORBES, but his face is easily recognizable. Arthur Curry, the founder of Curry Industries, and one of the leading voices in the campaign for renewable resources. The two tycoons stare at each other; one in disbelief, the other in amusement.

"Yeah, that's right;" Arthur answers, gesturing vaguely at the two of them while continuing, "and you're the Batman, and she's the Wonder Woman."

Bruce's confused response is cut off as Diana places a hand on his shoulder, moving out of the cabin and next to him.

"Bruce, I think Mr. Curry may be an Atlantean."

"A what?"

"An Atlantean. One of the people of Atlantis."

He fixes her with a glower, but she does not frighten as easily as the thugs in Gotham, and simply stares back. Finally, he speaks.

"So, Atlantis is real, too? First it's a flying man, then magic, then a teenage boy who blows up a city on accident, and now there's fucking mermaids?"

"Should I be offended by that?"

Arthur's joking response is ignored as Bruce heads below deck, entering the small seating area and immediately moving to the wet bar. Diana and Arthur follow, the Amazonian appearing relaxed, but intently studying the man before her. Arthur's relaxed posture is genuine, he is completely at ease, not threatened in the slightest by them.

Bruce pulls a crystal decanter of bourbon from the bar and pours a generous serving into the least damaged of the glassware. Arthur surveys the shattered dishes and shrugs before grabbing the decanter and pouring the liquor directly into his mouth. Bruce downs his tumbler and holds it out to the other man, who gladly refills his drink before taking another guzzle. Turning, he holds the alcohol out to Diana, but she shakes her head, declining the offer. Arthur sets the container back down, most of its contents having been emptied in the last few seconds.

Bruce looks to Diana, sipping at his second serving. "Anything else I should know about? I hate surprises, you know that."

Diana feels empathy for the young man, but has no patience for his self-pity.

"Bruce, it was not my place to disclose the existence of Atlantis to you. Had your people not abandoned the Pact, you would know of them."

"Oh, yeah, the Pact. The one you won't tell me anything about, because it 'isn't your place' to inform me?"

"You know that I cannot. I do not even know the terms of the Pact, for it is my mother's duty, and will not be entrusted to me until she decides to pass on."

Arthur clears his throat, once again taking the bourbon. This time, he empties the container before finally lowering it to the bar top. His voice is lighthearted as he interjects.

"I feel like I'm interrupting, should I leave? I don't want to be a third wheel."

Bruce looks at him in shock. "You jut drank five hundred dollars worth of my bourbon."

"That much, huh? I think you got ripped off, I can get stuff just as good for less than five hundred a gallon."

His smile fades, and his voice takes on a serious quality that has been missing until now. "Why are the two of you heading through a storm in such a small ship? Must be something important to get two big heroes together."

Diana speaks. "We need to get to Australia, we're looking for Superman."

Arthur's smile returns. "You're pretty damn far from Australia, need a lift?"

Bruce shakes his head. "No one can know we're on our way there, and especially not together."

"Don't worry about that, I've got you covered."

Later

"I can get you to Australia, but Antarctica is a different beast."

Bruce looks at the other man, puzzled. "Why would the waters South of Australia be any different, or is there a national border to the citizens of Atlantis."

Arthur's smile is mildly unsettling, as if he is enjoying a joke only he knows. "There are no borders for my people, or their king."

Bruce raises an eyebrow in Diana's direction at this, but Mr. Curry continues, gesturing to the two heroes. "But there are places in this world that belong to neither of your people, nor to mine. There are things in this world greater than us."

"Is this another one of those things that I need to know about the Pact for?"

Arthur laughs. "No, not at all. Truth be told, ancient history is boring, and the scholars of Atlantis aren't too happy with my dislike of reading dusty books."

Bruce decides not to comment on books being underwater, much less them being dusty simultaneously.

Diana's hand lightly touches his elbow, and she inclines her head to the horizon ahead. The shoreline is barely visible, and Bruce is confused by the sight of land so far into the open sea. Arthur's grin clues him in to the reality of the situation.

"You did something, didn't you? Something with the currents."

Arthur's smile is filled with muted pried. "Currents, nah. That's too much work for so little a payoff. I just gave us a river on top of the ocean. It's a simple trick, really."

"I'd love to learn that one."

The bearded man claps Bruce on the back, with a surprising amount of force, considering his slim frame. Bruce is reminded of Clark, and the young man's disarming stature. He has long known that judging an opponent by their sheer size is a recipe for disaster, but he cannot help but feel unnerved by the knowledge that beings with greater abilities could so easily blend in with humanity.

"You never know. Maybe a Curry/Wayne collaboration would be beneficial to all involved. We'll talk about it some other time. You two be careful, you seem like good people."

With that, he leaps from the deck of the yacht into the waters below, slipping smoothly into the sea and disappearing into it's depths. The yacht now floats gently on the tide, slowly edging closer to the continent. Bruce makes his way back into the cabin and once again takes to the controls, steering the ship toward the coordinates provided by Alfred mere hours before.