Under the Sea

Batman was making good time if the GPS was accurate. It had been a few hours since he had left Gotham, avoiding the various maritime vessels present, be it the US Navy or the Atlantean forces.

He had departed the surface some time ago, his ship burying itself endless feet beneath water. It seemed he had chosen the vessel well.

That said, it had taken him time to leave. His biggest obstacles had been his kids, who had protested his leaving without them. Cassandra had fallen silent as Damian erupted into a tantrum. Against a weaker parent, they could have won, but he wasn't so easily swayed. So he left them sulking in the Cave.

Checking his navigation system, if the coordinates were accurate, he should be reaching Atlantis soon. Perhaps minutes away. That was fine, he was starting to get stiff just sitting in his seat. Though the ship had underwater capabilities, his original intent was to perhaps run around Gotham Bay at most, not head out twenty thousand leagues under the sea. Plans had changed obviously.

It was mostly dark where he was at, the light of the surface unable to reach his current depth. The radar and sonar systems indicated he was close to the ocean floor, perhaps a hundred yards. This was far from the deepest levels of the ocean, but visibility was nonexistent here. What he wouldn't give to see light.

Batman closed his eyes. He should have rested himself more at the beginning of his journey here, right after he had successfully avoided the blockade. Now though, after being on alert for so long, he felt mentally fatigued. At any moment, he would see strange lights, though that would be caused by his tired mind. For instance, he thought he saw a glow off to his…

Batman blinked owlishly. A glow? There was a light source down here? Glancing to his navigation system, he saw that he was rapidly closing in on his destination.

Could it be?

Steering the ship, he angled it towards the glow. Slowly, he began to make out various features of the ocean floor just before he saw it.

The vigilante couldn't help but gasp.

The dome was large, a series of smaller ones scattered around it with connected bridges to it. Contained within the massive one was a city of indescribable beauty. Tall edifices rose up, seemingly stepping higher and higher the further into the city one went. He was too far away to make out much more architecture, but that would be changing soon enough.

So this was Atlantis.

An alert began to blare then, causing Batman to look at his radar system.

Oh great, incoming bogies, coming in hot and fast. Too fast for an underwater vessel, so it must be a weapon of some kind.

This must be Atlantis' first line of defense.

Immediately, the dark-clad man went into evasive maneuvers. He put on speed, moving his ship to cross the incoming torpedoes perpendicularly. He watched the sonar screen to see the torpedoes change direction to give chase.

Great, they were heat-seeking as well. This was going to be a pain in the ass.

Pushing down on the wheel, he pointed the nose of his vessel down. He could see the muddied ocean floor closing in. At the last moment, he pulled up, his ship running perhaps a foot or two above the ground.

Visibility was poor; there was the darkness in the ocean, and his eyes could only peer straight ahead through the windshield. He glanced at the sonar, eyeing it to see if the torpedoes vanished. Seeing as they hadn't, he realized it was too much to ask that the incoming weapons would hit the ground and explode.

Alright, plan B then.

Activating headlights and craning his neck around him, he spotted a number of rock formations that rose up from the sea floor. One in particular arched to one side and joined another rock formation, which created a circular gap between the formations.

He angled his ship towards it, picking up as much speed as he could. It might be a little tight, but he just needed to make it through it.

Batman continued to make adjustments before he shot through the hole, immediately angling his ship to his left. Moments later and he heard and felt an explosion. It was muffled, but he knew one of the torpedoes had hit the rock formation. Checking the radar, he immediately saw one dot gone, and the second one…fading from sight. How lucky, he had gotten both of them.

And then a number of other dots appeared on the sonar.

The hell?

Looking out the windshield, he then noticed a number of dark shapes that seemed to be staying in place. Some were large in size, perhaps equal to the size of the ships he had seen in Gotham Harbor. Others were smaller, perhaps a little bigger than a jet ski.

Well, shit. He had found the first line of Atlantis' defenses.

Suddenly, the number of detected dots on his sonar doubled, the news dots closing in on him. Ahead, the multitude of ships emitted an eerie green glow.

This wasn't going to end well.

So this is what it felt like to be purposefully sidelined.

Cassandra slouched in her father's chair, staring up at the monitor of the supercomputer. She hadn't changed out of her Batgirl suit, nor had she left the Batcave. She had sent a message to Bluebird and Spoiler to patrol without her; another one went to the Birds of Prey and Oracle to monitor the Atlantis situation.

And that left her alone, in this cave, staring at a map of the Atlantic Ocean, a red dot slowly moving eastward. That was her father in that boat of his, and it was surprisingly making good time.

At least she assumed it was good time. She didn't know where Atlantis was, so for all she knew he was three days out.

She didn't like this. Never, not since she had lost her ability to fight, had she been pushed aside. Her father always had a use for her, a task, a mission, something that he trusted her to do. Instead, he left her behind, a glorified babysitter.

That baby in question…

Slumped in a chair next to her was Damian. Alright, so she hadn't been told to babysit him, but that's what this felt like. He was completely incapable of taking care of himself, so naturally making certain he was fed and safe was left up to her.

Already, she was planning takeout. Like hell would she be cooking for this ingrate of a child, even if she could cook something more complex than eggs.

"Usurper," Damian said, pulling her out of her thoughts. "I'm hungry."

It was as if he knew her thoughts. "Then go eat something," she grumbled back.

"I want you to make me something."

"I feel like we've had this conversation before. It did not end well for you."

"That is because Father wasn't present."

"Do you see him around here?"

There was silence. "Usurper," he growled, clearly meant to be an insult.

"Jerkface," she automatically responded in the same tone.

They fell into silence once more. That was how they had spent the last…few hours? Couple of hours? Half a day? She honestly wasn't certain anymore. Time just seemed to become one long endless stream, and she had lost track of it.

Then, "He shouldn't have left me behind," Damian said.

Cassandra resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She wanted to say something snide, but she couldn't really think of anything. Plus, that would cause her to engage him in prolonged conversation and she didn't care to do that.

"I should be out there with him, proving my worth to him."
…resist. Resist the urge…

"He surely sees me as his true successor. Why else would he choose me to help him in his crusade?"

Resist…resist…

"So how can I prove myself if he will not give me the chance?"

"Perhaps he doesn't think you are ready," she said. Damn it! Why did I say that?

"Oh, and you are?" Damian snapped at her.

"More so than you," she snorted back. "I've been doing this longer than you."

"That means nothing."

"Says the boy I kicked off of the dinosaur."

"Says the boy who knocked you off first."

"Says the boy that still lost the fight."

Damian jolted up in his seat, seething. "I will take you any time, anywhere. That was only a fluke, nothing more!"

Hmmm, should she humor him? On the one hand, she could beat the snot out of him and relieve some of the mounting frustration she felt. On the other hand, Damian wasn't that much of a challenge for her—nor would he ever be. The image of her with her hand on his head, pushing him back as he flailed at her popped in her head, amusing her for a moment.

"Tell yourself that," she replied after a moment. "I have beaten better fighters than you."

"I highly doubt that," he sneered. "You just don't want to suffer the embarrassment of losing to me, so you hide behind false bravado. That is the favorite cover for people of weak fortitude—essentially being a woman."

Cassandra slid her eyes to stare at the boy, or rather teen. "Then it must be so embarrassing for you to have lost to this weak woman."

"You, me, in the dojo. Now."

"If you must," she drolled before looking back up at the monitor. "I have five seconds…to…

"To die," Damian finished for her.

Yet, she paid him no mind. No, instead her sole focus was on the screen and what it wasn't showing. That something was the dot that represented her father's ship, the one he had gone to Atlantis in. It had been broadcasting a frequency that she had been using to follow him and now it was just…gone…

There was only one reason for that.

"Did you hear me, Usurper?" Damian pressed. "Get your helpless butt out of the chair so I can kick it thoroughly."

"Shut it, Jerkface," Cassandra snapped at him. "Batman isn't broadcasting his signal anymore."

"What?!" Damian's head whipped back to the screen. He saw what she saw, and his face paled. "What happened? Why isn't it there?!"

That was a good question, and Cassandra didn't know where to start to get the answer. She could feel a pit forming in her gut, which made her clench her hands tightly.

She needed to go out there. She needed to go out there and find her father, or find the people responsible for his current condition and make them regret ever touching a hair on his head.

Because of past history, Superman felt it should be him who spoke with General Lane and Vreeland. He was more concerned about Lane than he was Vreeland, and that usually was about what ulterior motive the general had.

The man was smart—his daughter was Lois—and he kept a lot hidden. You never knew what kind of connections he had, or how they would come to impact the Man of Steel. The Kryptonian had learned how to keep his thoughts to himself and remain cordial around the man. For all the good it did, there would always be a distance between them.

He knew how much the general disliked how often he saved his daughter. He knew this because Lois had mentioned it from time to time. Being a journalist could be dangerous, and Lois was more aware of this than most people. And of course he was going to save her!

Ahem. Keep it together.

When he had arrived on the American side of the stalemate, he didn't need the skills of an investigative journalist to pick out how stressed the two generals were.

Vreeland was the most vocal about it. "How am I suppose to know how he did it? Who the hell threatens to take fish away and does it? I don't know where the fish went! Ask that so-called king! No, he isn't here!"

Telling by the pauses, Vreeland was on the phone with someone and very loud about it. A glance to General Lane found a man who was a little less kept than usual, but he held it together than his comrade. Lane noticed his arrival the second it had happened, and while Superman clearly heard Lane tell Vreeland about it, he pretended not to hear it.

"Sorry, Superman is here. He wants to talk. Right, right."

There was some sarcasm there, but again, the Kryptonian ignored it.

Taking careful steps, he closed the distance between them, and once he had, it was General Lane who asked, "Have you found out anything?"

Such an honest question from a man he knew to keep secrets. It almost shocked him, but he held it together. "Not yet. There's been no word from King Orin, but the reports are from all over the world. No one has been able to fish and catch anything. It might be a matter of time until there's violence."

"Over fish?!" Vreeland exclaimed incredulously.

Eyeing the more vocal officer, "There are places in the world that can't survive without fishing. Those places will be hit with food shortages sooner rather than later. We're talking about something worth billions of dollars a year just disappearing in an instant."

"And apparently enough to destabilize the globe," General Lane muttered, crossing his arms.

"It's just fish," Vreeland grumbled.

But it was their problem all the same.

"Whether it's 'just fish' or not, this is still a situation that can get out of control. The ships are just a show of force, and so far they don't seem to be willing to use them yet. We have to consider what else they can do before trying to force anything," Superman decided to get to the heart of the matter. "The only demand they've made is for custody of Black Manta."

"We're not about to surrender our only leverage," General Lane denied.

"And if worst comes to worst, we can blow them out of the water," Vreeland added.

"And if they have more?" Superman pressed. "What if it's not just Gotham? What if they decide to launch a coordinated effort on every city in the Eastern Seaboard? Does the United States have the capability to defend that much territory and in a short period of time? Do you even know what those ships are capable of?"

General Lane literally stomped on Vreeland's foot to prevent the man from instantly responding. "According to Mayor Hady, the king admitted he had more ships out there."

They knew this intelligence and Vreeland still wanted to saber rattle?

"If it wouldn't escalate things, how fast could the Navy get more ships here?" Sometimes knowing the capabilities of your allies, no matter how tenuous you could call them that, was just as important.

"We have a fleet on standby. They can be here in less than four hours. Probably closer to two. The Air Force can be here in less than five minutes," General Lane stated. "The orders for all personnel, active and off duty, has already been sent out."

They were already preparing for a fight. The Kryptonian did not want to find himself fighting against two sides at the same time. Luthor would have a field day if there was any footage of him fighting against a single American.

"What are you willing to offer them?" Keep on the basics and stick with what you knew or could readily find out.

"Not a damn thing!" Vreeland spat out.

General Lane nodded his head. "They are trespassing in American territorial waters and we will uphold the integrity of our territory. Nothing less than a full retreat, end of story."

Atlantis was not going to do that, and saying those words felt like a waste of time. He glanced towards the harbor, getting a clear view of the various ships blockading the city from the ocean. Just in the periphery were the American warships.

Hopefully, the others were having better luck than he was.

Superman was going to try and do his best with the American side of things. Good luck. It was down to Hawkgirl to handle the Atlantean side.

The thinking was that between herself and J'onn, they were the least impacted by the revelation that yes, Atlantis was a real place. Neither had grown up with the tales, and so had no shock to their system about it.

As much as she would like to be there when Black Manta was questioned, J'onn had far more experience with such procedures. By process of elimination, that left her to handle the Atlanteans.

In appearance, a Thanagarian had more in common with humans if you took the wings out of the equation. J'onn could shapeshift, but when he was able to, he preferred his usual skin. In some ways, he was constantly shapeshifted as he adapted his features to something more human than Martian.

Default. That was why she was here. Default. Well, let's see about keeping things from escalating though she preferred the hands-on approach of accomplishing that. Hands-on, of course, meant the head of her mace.

Corum Rath did not look impressed when she showed up. He seemed even less impressed that it was just her. "No one else?" he drawled, arms crossed and stance aggressive.

This seemed odd. If you were going to leave behind a diplomat, why not leave someone behind who could talk like one?

"No one else is needed," she quipped as she adopted a more casual stance, though her hand was close to the handle of her mace. A nonverbal way of saying she could jump into action at any second.

The Atlantean tilted his head back, giving the impression he was looking down his nose at her. "They send a Thanagarian to talk with us?"

Years of practice kept her eyes from narrowing. Were the wings that obvious? "They is the Justice League and you are looking at one of the founders."

"A founder who comes empty-handed," Corum Rath replied. "The hour draws near, Thanagarian. My patience is short. Are you going to be delivering the Black Manta or not?"

"The ones holding him are still talking it over." She didn't like the answer, but what else was there to give? Even after nearly seventy-two hours, the Americans were no closer to making a decision. "I don't care for that stuff. I am wondering about what you're going to threaten next if there is no response. You've already taken the fish away. What else can you do?"

There was practically a sneer on his face. "More than you can imagine."

A boast, but was it one that could be backed up? So far, Atlantis had been able to back up their threats. What more were they capable of and would they go further?

"You gonna rattle the saber or leave it to my imagination?" A little bit of a taunt, but when someone like this guy thought they had all the cards, they got chatty with their bragging. That's when they slipped. Ego always demanded to be inflated.

It looked like he was going to fall for it too. His mouth was opening and everything, and she shifted her stance. It was barely too, but it caused her wings to ruffle slightly, and his eyes flickered to them for an instant.

His mouth shut, cutting off ego and frustrating her slightly. "There's no need to give you anything. For all I know, you'll report it back to your Thanagarian masters."

That was unexpected. Her shoulders tensed at the accusations and she had to exert her will to keep from…reacting.

"What is that suppose to mean?" Her eyes did narrow.

"What reason does an alien have to be involved in affairs that do not concern her?" Corum Rath leered. "Especially a Thanagarian?"

It sounded like he was spitting the word out. "You have something against me?"

"Why wouldn't I?" the so-called diplomat quipped. "Was it not the Thanagarians who lied and tried to destroy this planet?"

A reminder of what the High Council had tried to pull. Hro thrown under the bus for his failure, the Guardians of Oa at odds with Thanagar, and there had been jabs thrown her way ever since. The sight of her mace tended to ward off some of it, but ears had a wider range, and she had overheard so many comments.

It wasn't like she could hide and she wasn't the type to. The wings would mark her for who and what she was, unlike this Atlantean here who could probably shed his armor off, wipe that face paint off, and look like an average human Joe.

That smug look on his face. She wanted so much to wipe it off. Some asshole from the bottom of the ocean, where did he get off trying to—

Bottom of the ocean. How would some idiot at the bottom of the ocean know anything about Thanagar? This was the first time—apparently ever—that someone from the depths of this planet's oceans had deigned to come up to the surface. How would they know anything about what was happening up here?

"You know an awful lot about a place you shouldn't even know about." Her tone was casual.

"You surfacers are arrogant if you think we are not affected by what you do up here. We need to monitor you, day and night, to make sure you do not destroy us. We know the folly of arrogance, and we will not suffer someone else's. You're lucky we did not rise from the depths. You Thanagarians would know a true opponent." And there it was, the ego she had been trying to fluff. You could always count on it, like clockwork. He had just given her something juicy.

Spies. Atlantis had spies up here. Watching, listening, no wonder it wasn't a coincidence that they had shown themselves the same day after Black Manta's arrest. It should have been obvious to her; it was how Thanagar operated, if not every single country on this planet too.

But part of the spy game was that you didn't let on that you had learned something. You kept them rambling, multiplying their mistakes. It worked like a charm on crooks, too.

"I think you're overestimating yourself. Turn a whole planet against you, there's no way you could survive such an assault." Challenge them, insinuate weakness, and let male bravado do the rest.

"Perhaps that helmet of yours is a little too tight," Corum Rath retorted. "It keeps me reminded that you are an alien, when I forget the wings. I bet it reminds the rest of the surfacers. They'll never forget what you are. Just a woman with a bird face. Never one of them. Do any of your Justice League founders even know what are you under it? Do you lack that much trust in them?"

"Says the man who paints his face." Did not mean to let that slip out, but she did not like where this asshole was going.

"I remove the paint when I don't need it. My comrades, my brothers-in-arms, they know who I am and have seen me smile in joy. I trust them. Can you say the same, alien?"

Definitely did not like where this asshole was going.

She had to still her tongue, otherwise a comment about his diplomatic skills and how shit they were would have come out. Anger was not helpful in a game like this. Yet, Corum Rath here seemed determined to get on her nerves.

Was he being antagonistic on purpose? How would that help his cause? What was the game he was playing at?

"Nothing to say?" the Atlantean asshole mocked.

The mace was suddenly looking very tempting.

What did an explosion look like underwater? Well, instead of flames, it looks like smoke mixed with bubbles that appeared to be collapsing on itself. Of course, smoke was just the gaseous remains of whatever fire was burning, so at its core were discarded carbon atoms in the form of visible gas. Those carbon atoms were now mingling in saltwater, which turned it dark.

That was all that was left of his ship. From a rock formation, Batman watched as Atlantean forces surrounded the area, keeping guard as the mobile units searched the wreckage.

It had been closed, but he had managed to eject from his ship before the torpedoes blew everything to bits. The force of the explosion had thrown him around, but thankfully it hid his escape from watchful eyes. That was how he came to his current hiding place.

He was in a diving suit, one specifically designed to withstand the pressure in these depths—barely. Any deeper, and he would be in trouble. A reinforced helmet kept his head from being crushed like a beer can, even shaped like his usual cowl. There was a rebreather where the opening for his mouth was, allowing him to breathe.

Naturally, he was on a time limit. Even with the rebreather, it would only last for as long as the battery kept it working. He couldn't stay here forever, though maybe a couple hours would be alright. He didn't want to test it, however.

Sounds in the water alerted him to something approaching, so Batman lowered himself to a darker part of his cover, allowing his suit to blend in with his surroundings. A pair of those smaller, mobile ships motored by, coming to a stop a few yards above his head.

"I don't see anyone or anything moving," one of the men said. Miraculously, he spoke without water muffling his voice. It was as if he were speaking normally. Curious.

Also, advantageous.

"I say we report total termination of the object," the other man said. "No way could anyone survive an assault like that."

"Call it in."

The second man took off then. Apparently calling in was different down here. Regardless, this gave Batman an idea.

Pushing on the rock formation, he forced himself up towards the mobile ship. Again, he was reminded how much like a sleek jet ski it looked. He floated just behind it, finding a man in Atlantean military garb sitting on a seat for one.

Raising a hand up, a needle slid out of a groove above his third knuckle. Slowly, the dark-clad man drifted towards the guard until he was certain he was within grabbing distance.

With one hand, he grabbed the man's shoulder, pulling him backwards. This allowed him to jab the needle into his neck, the guard crying, but then going silent a couple moments later. The sedative was fast acting, just the way it was designed.

Batman retracted the needle back into his glove, then shoved the drugged guard off of his jet ski. He watched the man sink downwards, ending up resting on the very rock formation he had been using for cover. Certain the man was out for the near future, the vigilante got to work.

Seating himself on the seat, he gripped it tightly with his legs. There were two handle bars, again like a jet skin. Grabbing them with each hand, he began to experiment. It didn't take him long to figure out how to drive it forward and once he had the hang of it, he took off in the direction of Atlantis. The ships from the ambush were already heading that way, so he saw no reason to not join them at the rear.

Now he was going to get a good look at the fabled city of myth.