New Moves on the Board

No matter how life changed, duties remained. The higher the rank, the more duties there were. Naturally, labor was divided down, trusted individuals assigned the responsibilities of these duties, required to report back up when there were problems or if everything was functioning as intended.

Atlantis was no different in this regard. Its King and Queen held sway over various duties. For example, anything military had to go through Orin. Infrastructure as well, and you could include criminal justice among those. The Queen had her own responsibilities, and chief among them was education.

There were various education programs in the underwater world, but the most prestigious of them all was the Conservatory of Sorcery. While there was a Dean that oversaw the operations of the college, that Dean answered to her. Mera found that she enjoyed making rounds at the college, speaking to the students there and learning where their studies were taking them. It was almost fascinating, a joy she had unknowingly found but kept to herself as precious.

The college was one of many towers in the city, but this tower was one of the wider ones. It was located close to the palace so that a better eye could be kept on it, but there was some distance because explosions tended to be common.

The study of the art of magic was rife with all sorts of mismanagement. What, thought that the sorcery portion of the title was just a random word? No, no, it was exactly as it was named. Maybe in the surface world, magic was an unexplainable force, supernatural in nature, and oppressive in its use. In Atlantis, magic was a science.

Mera strolled her way onto the campus, the college's tower looming over ahead. Around in the massive courtyard, she could see the students either relaxing, studying, or socializing with one another. Sometimes the talk was recreational in nature, others were explaining an experiment or a project they were about to undertake. The latter were conversations she found herself drawn to, and sometimes interacting with.

The newer students tended to have the most amusing of reactions. The Queen! Here she was! Talking to them! The more senior students tended to add her into the conversation, re-present what they were working on, and hoping for some wisdom from royalty.

No matter what reaction she got, it was always fascinating.

She would be meeting with the college's dean in all due time, but she was hoping to see a more familiar face, one that had been absent from the palace for quite some time. She understood the reason for the absence, and it saddened her all the more.

It was after the fifth conversation that she finally spotted him, one of the ones relaxing though he kept some distance from himself and other students. Another pang of sadness resonated through her, but the queen made her way over. She hoped he wasn't isolating himself and that this was just circumstance, but these were trying times, and people, even in Atlantis, could change.

He was a young man, one with long black hair that was almost stringy, nowhere near the well-kept, luscious locks that they had once been. Arms were folded behind his head, hands acting as a pillow, and bare from any clothing with exposed discolored markings all over the upper limbs.

A blue-sleeveless tunic covered the upper body while a much darker blue, close to black, clad the lower body. One leg was stretched out while the other bent at the knee, the bottom of a foot set on the ground. Much of his body was shaded by the coral reef behind him, one that had petrified millennia ago. A carpeting of kelp served as a cushion as well as a lawn for the college.

There was some amusement, Mera found, with the desire to cultivate plants even down here, and it also appeared to be a trait that the surface dwellers shared. Maybe that was why she had some optimism when Orin set out to retrieve Black Manta, that the surfacers would be willing to negotiate.

It seemed differences mattered more than similarities. She understood this too well.

The young man didn't respond as she came to a stop, her shadow unfortunately masked by the coral reef's. Fortunately, she had an advantage that the reef didn't, such as a voice.

"I hope there isn't a class you should be attending. One with the king's favor, that might not look good for the both of you."

Blue eyes snapped open, surprise was replaced with joy as the young man scrambled up to his feet. "Mera! What are you—excuse me, Your Majesty! Um, it's good to see you! I mean, what can I do for you?"

A chuckle escaped her. "Garth, we're not that distant, are we? Though, the fact I haven't seen you in the palace for a while makes me doubt. How are you doing?"

Bare arms hid behind a youthful back, and a toe scuffed into the kelp. "Oh, that. Um…"

"You know, you're always welcome," she told the young man, her voice gentle.

"I know. I know. It's just… Well, you know." Now he wasn't looking at her, his discomfort so noticeable, even the blind would be able to see it.

A heaviness fell onto her shoulders because…well, she did know why Garth wasn't at the palace anymore. Why he kept to the Conservatory. She understood.

Because she understood, she reached out and pulled him into an embrace, arms wrapping around his shoulders. "It's not your fault," she told him. "It was never your fault."

There was tension in his body, but he did not try to escape. "It still feels that way," was the response he gave, his voice muffled by his mouth being too close to her shoulder.

Another casualty. Garth wasn't just pulling away from the palace, he was pulling away from Orin—Arthur. He still felt guilt with his role, even now. That hurt, not as much as…as the source of the true hurt, the one dealt by Black Manta, but it still had its sting.

"I don't blame you, and Arthur doesn't either," she told him. "We're…we're doing our best to fix this. We know where Black Manta is, and we are trying to retrieve him. He will answer for what he did."

With those words, Garth pulled away, eyes wide. "It's true? You know where he is?"

"We do, but the situation is…complicated." Before there could be a retort, Mera was already explaining, "He's in the surface dweller's custody, being held in one of their jails. Arthur has sent a battalion to the surface to try and gain custody, but the surface dwellers are resisting."

Garth's hands curled into fists, visible muscles straining with tension. "Why can't we just take him? After everything he's done, why are we trying to use words?"

"Arthur has told me about how matters operate up there. Should we have gone in force and tried to take him, the local authorities as well as the Justice League would have intervened and we would come back with nothing. Right now, we're depriving them of the ocean's bounty, but Arthur…the king, he has begun to consider stronger measures. He has gone into the restricted area of the armory."

Anger slowly bled away, but the slight whitening of Garth's face gave away the shock. "He's not planning on using any of those weapons, is he?"

"I don't know," Mera answered frankly. "We had hoped that taking away one of their major food sources would make the surface more willing to negotiate, but that hasn't happened. We need to make a new offer and soon, and my husband wants to consider all options before he does."

Garth looked away, biting at his lip. "Maybe I should talk with him?"

An ember of hope flared into life. "Maybe you should. I think he would welcome it."

The younger man shook his head. Hope cooled. "No. No, I don't think I should. There has to be another way. Is there any way to take Manta and bring him here? A way to sneak him out?"

"I think Atlanteans would stick out on the surface," Mera answered dryly.

"Someone else?" Garth tried. "Some other…person? People? Other people? There has to be another way."

Mera was about to answer, but one of the words he spoke struck a chord. Other. Other people. Actually, there might be.

She said as much. Garth began to look hopeful.

"I'll need to speak with Arthur. Make the proposition. But I think it has merit," she was beginning to tell him when several footsteps crunching on the kelp drew her attention away from her younger friend, and to the two guards who approached. "What is it?" she asked.

One of the guards straightened up. "Your Majesty, the prisoner you captured attempted to escape. We were able to capture him again, but felt you needed to be notified. The King hasn't returned yet."

Her green eyes narrowed. That man, the one from the surface, had managed to free himself? Even if it was temporary, it was alarming to say the least. Had he managed to escape the dungeon, that could potentially put the city at risk, especially if he managed to find a way out beyond the dome and return to his masters.

What would he be able to tell them? What had he learned about them that they hadn't been able to discover yet?

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I will speak with the King as soon as he returns," she told the guards. Turning back to Garth, "I'm sorry, but duty calls."

Garth nodded. "I understand. Just…just try and bring that son of a bitch back."

That went without saying. Yes, the duties that she had to attend to were many, and her duty to the college would need to wait a little longer. With circumstances changing and the situation becoming more and more untenable, it was only a matter of time until it was true emergency.

What came after that could only be called calamity.

Biding Garth a farewell, she followed after the guards, seeking out one of the college's faculty along the way to relay a message to the dean for a postponement of their meeting. So many duties, so many responsibilities, but they all had to be addressed.

The latest developments with the prisoner were just the latest.

The radio silence was steadily increasing her anxiety. There were only so many reasons for why the signal just ended. The area of the ocean could be a dead zone; the signal malfunctioning.

The ship was destroyed…

Cassandra did her best to ignore the image of her father's body floating around the bottom of the ocean. It would only make her act rashly and now wasn't the time for that. The call from the Green Lantern only reinforced this. It was only a matter of time before he called again, and she needed to cover for her father's absence.

Part of her wondered if she should get in contact with J'onn J'onzz. He was a man her father trusted, so if there was anyone she could confide in, it was him. He could do something. She could trust him too.

But…when did she call him? Was it necessary? If he was hurt or dead, then it was far past time to reach out. But…what if he managed to get out of the crash, assuming he was involved in one? He could still be alive and active and…and…

Damn it, she needed to know!

Her fingers attacked the keyboard on the Batcomputer. She opened up a program, one she had seen her father use countless times. A grid of Gotham appeared, which she then zoomed further out on. Then she activated the GPS device that was in her father's armor. There was one in all of the suits of the Gotham vigilantes, and it was for this reason they existed.

Immediately, the image swept out to the east, which got her hopes up. If the device was damaged, this wouldn't be happening, she figured. Then the image stopped and a red dot began blinking.

He was alive. He was alive out there. Relief overwhelmed her at the sight of that glorious red dot.

A loud sound rang out, causing Cassandra to jerk her head away from the computer. She could still hear the echoes of that sound, even as it faded away. The bats overhead just chirped, but weren't further alarmed.

What the hell was that?

Walking away from the Batcomputer, she headed to the edge of the plateau she was on. She looked over the edge, a frown on her face. Had it come from there? It was hard to tell because of the acoustics. What was even down there anyways?

She spotted a staircase descending along the wall of the cliff she stood on. It only took her a moment to realize that the dock was down there. The teen girl got onto the stairs and walked down them, eventually reaching the bottom.

And right where she had last seen her father's boat was another one.

Okay, where the hell had that come from?

As if in answer to a question she hadn't asked, Damian suddenly appeared, darting around the sea vessel. At least she knew the how and why now. A scowl on her face, she marched over to the boat, the teen boy leaning into the cockpit as he fiddled with something.

Coming to stand behind him, she crossed her arms over her chest. "What are you doing?" she bluntly asked.

Damian stiffed before he leaned out of the boat, standing straight on his feet. "That's none of your business, Usurper," he snipped. He didn't even look over his shoulder at her.

"I think it's my business because you are messing around with a boat that wasn't here earlier, Jerkface," she countered.

He finally turned around, an irritated look on his face. "I was merely…doing…inventory."

The dark-haired girl raised an eyebrow. "Inventory," she repeated in a deadpanned tone.

"Yes. One must always stay vigilant, and I felt it was necessary to inspect the supplies Father kept down here. I found this boat because of that."

Cassandra glanced at the boat as it bobbed softly on the water. There had been a second boat? How had she not known that? Actually, why had she not expected there would be a spare one? There was a literal garage of cars and motorcycles, so why not boats? It was actually a little embarrassing she hadn't thought of that already.

It was even more embarrassing that Damian had figured it out before her.

"So why do you have it here?" she then asked.

"One must always be prepared. I felt that the boat should be ready for when Father needs to perform another underwater mission."

Perhaps if Batman were here, that would make sense. Except, he wasn't here, so having another boat prepped made little sense unless one was intending on using it. She wouldn't put it past the brat.

"Since there isn't much else going on, I suppose I can help you," she eventually said. Damian's shoulders slumped, his irritated expression increasing.

"I don't need any help from you," he spat back.

"Fine, then don't use my help," she shrugged. She then stepped around the boy and leaned her back against the boat, keeping her arms crossed over her chest. "I'll just supervise you. Batman would insist I do that so you don't hurt yourself."

"Your supervision is not required!"

"Yet you're going to get it for free. Now return to your chores. I'll just be right here."

Damian glared at her before he stormed off, his stamping feet echoing into the cave. Cassandra just watched him leave before her eyes glanced into the open cockpit. She wasn't certain how operational this boat was, though it was clear it could be moved since Damian had managed to do that much.

There was also a computer terminal nearby that would certainly have a set of coordinates she would need. And she also had the GPS signal…

This interrogation room was starting to feel more like a second home at this rate. It was the only place that he got to see outside of his cell.

Having worn that helmet for so long, Black Manta had begun to separate himself from his given name. Sometimes he found himself calling himself by that moniker. At some point, he ceased resistance because this was who he was now.

The police here, they liked calling him Hyde. It was a struggle to remember that had been his name once. When they had opened his cell, they had called him Hyde. Dropping him off, they hadn't uttered a word, not after restraining him to this damn table again. You would think they had trust issues.

Not that he would complain. He was biding his time, waiting for the opportunity he needed to get out of here. It didn't matter how many people he needed to kill to do it, but first he needed a chance. One sliver of freedom, that was all it took. Then he could get back to getting his hands on the submarine and the radar.

His thoughts were interrupted when the detective that had been interrogating him before entered the room with a phone. "Your lawyer," the slovenly detective grumbled, "wants to have a word with you, Hyde. Don't take too long."

There that name was again. Black Manta stared at the detective blankly, and the man continued to grumble as he placed the smartphone down on the table's surface and slid it over to him. It stopped centimeters from his fingertips, yet he continued to stare down the detective who left, slamming the door closed behind him.

They were going to try to listen in, but there was little they could do when it came to lawyer-client confidentiality. Legally in this country, they couldn't listen in otherwise any evidence they obtained from such an action would be declared inadmissible, a legal argument that was called the fruit of the poisoned tree. American defense attorneys loved to use it to dismiss evidence.

As long as he kept it vague, then there would be little that could be done against him.

Calmly, Black Manta picked up the phone and placed it against the side of his head. "Speak."

"You're not an easy man to get a hold of," the voice of the Scavenger spoke through the phone's receiver. "What happened on your end?"

His eyes narrowed, but he did not express any of his irritation. "There was a complication. I had hoped that we would have been able to leave before the elements of this city caught up. I underestimated them."

"And that's great. Do you know what I'm going to have to do to fix this? There's a whole mess waiting out here while you're busy playing jailbird." He was not amused with Scavenger's description of the situation. "You're lucky, Manta. You're lucky that I know how to fix things. Everything is already in progress and you'll be out too. You still have your end of things to keep up."

Remaining calm, Black Manta said, "When do you plan to enact this?"

"Like I said, it's already underway. My crew is some of the best in the world and they know what they're doing. All you need to do is sit still and look pretty in that cell of yours."

There was a pause, a pause that stretched too long. Then it occurred to him that there was more than just a statement there. There was a question.

"One, one, three," Black Manta said.

"Right. You just sit in there and wait while my men come to pick you up. You'll know when they'll arrive. When they do, be ready to move quick—"

"You do not need to spell it out," he interrupted. "I am a patient man, but my patience does have a limit. Will everything be ready?"

"Of course. It's going to get loud; I bet you'll be able to hear it even in the clink there."

"Then don't disappoint." Without waiting, Black Manta ended the call and placed the phone down. His hands folded together as he contemplated the other man's words.

Scavenger was moving quickly, but there were obstacles. Whatever those obstacles were, he planned to remove them and to do so loudly. Such noise would be a distraction, and when your enemies were distracted, they did not pay as close attention as they needed to.

The Aquaman's attempts to take advantage of his current incarceration would end in failure. Everyone else swept up in the chaos would soon realize their powerlessness. The maneuvers being played out there would amount to nothing while he would prove the victor. After that, he could resume his own goals, and soon enough he would find the city his true enemy called home.

Atlantis would finally find itself back where it belonged, lost and destroyed, and that bastard overseeing the ashes right before his heart was carved out. He still had the knife, the same one he had pulled from his father's chest.

It needed a new sheathe, and Aquaman was a promising candidate for that. Their little war was coming to an end soon.

Mera was waiting for him in their quarters.

It had been…a long day. Surrounding himself with some of Atlantis' deadliest weapons did not speed it up in the slightest, nor did it do anything to improve his mood. Each one reminded him of their devastating potential, and he could not bring himself to use even one.

Though king of Atlantis, he still remembered his time growing up on land. He remembered the lighthouse that his father took care of. Still remembered the beaches, the beauty of a sunrise over the horizon, and the scent of salty ocean air. It still held a part of his heart, no matter how many years had passed or how his life had changed.

He loved the beauty of Atlantis. Its spires, the glow that was its and its alone, the people that had come to embrace him, trusting that he would not lead them astray. The ocean around them, from every living being in it, be it those close to the surface, those on the ocean floor itself, and even the travelers of the Midnight Zone, animals, plants, and even volcanic vents, all of it. All of it held his love.

No matter how many years it was, he was a product of two worlds, and could not help but heed the call of both.

This was the reason he had returned to the Royal quarters, decision still unmade. What would they do? What could they do? How to escalate without bringing doomsday about?

To see his wife, her flowing red hair, greens contrasting with her skin, and those…eyes…

He walked up to her and wrapped his arms around her in an embrace. His face smothered itself into her shoulder, several locks of red hair trapped between them. He felt her reciprocate, holding him just as tightly.

"Go on. Tell me. What troubles you?" Mera asked softly, her voice ghosting into his ear.

The question was one she had asked many times, and every time…his answer was always the same. It had been for some years. Once more, he gave that same answer, with maybe a few different words here and there. There was an addition, an admittance of his thoughts about the stalemate with the surface, Black Manta so close to being in their reach.

What could he do? What would they do? How would they find resolution this time? With all the power they had, how come it felt as if there was nothing they could do with it? It was a twisted irony to sit on a throne and yet be more powerless than a guppie. So many can'ts compared to cans.

"I know," Mera told him. "I know. I visited with Garth today. He still suffers as we do."

He had to close his eyes. He hadn't seen Garth in a long time, and not because he was being avoided. If anything, it was him who was doing the avoiding. How long had it been since the two of them had a conversation? A chat? A nod of acknowledgment? It was another casualty in Black Manta's war.

"I was reminded of something while we spoke," his wife continued. "Maybe there is a way to resolve this without further bloodshed or destruction."

This caught Orin's attention. Pulling back, he looked Mera deep into her green eyes. "What is it?"

"Do you remember, before you assumed the throne? You had a group of friends, ones you trusted with precious relics from this city. You called yourselves the Others," Mera explained.

The Others. It had been a long time since he had been in person with them. One or two, but never the whole group. The relics that Mera had mentioned, those weren't ordinary relics, but the treasures that had come from the Dead King himself. The Dead King's Atlantean Weapons had been crafted for purposes unknown, even to the Atlanteans themselves, and each possessed a unique power.

As a show of not only trust, but friendship, he had entrusted one of each weapon to each member. They would at the very least hear him out first. Should they agree, it was a means to get Black Manta without needing to risk any Atlantean lives.

It would also spare the lives on the surface as well. It was worth a try.

"I'll speak with them," he told her. "I don't know if they will answer my call, but I can at least try."

"Go then," Mera bid him. "I will see to the prisoner."

He felt the frown form on his face. "Whatever for?"

"He attempted an escape earlier today, while you were visiting the armory," she told him. "He was apprehended before he could get far—"

"And why would you put yourself at risk?" Orin pressed.

She gave him a wry smile. "Remember, I was the one to capture him. I hope that he may be willing to divulge more information to myself while you seek the aid of your friends."

"I don't like that. If he was able to attempt one escape—" the king began to argue.

"The dungeons can be flooded in an instant. He stands no chance in such an element. He was unable to counter the guards while submerged; I will be more safe in that environment than he would be," Mera cut in.

Someone who was able to mount an escape in the first place was too great a risk to put his wife in. He couldn't bear to lose her too.

"You were unable to gain much information from him when you tried to question him," Mera continued.

"And you think your beauty may succeed where my lack thereof failed?" Orin quipped back, raising an eyebrow.

Green eyes trailed down to his facial hair. "It has been some time since I have seen your face. The beard and mustache does a lot to hide it."

"And you know why I refuse to trim it," he stated, giving a bit of a wince once the words had left his mouth. Even though it was a pain maintaining the upkeep of such long hair, he refused to shave it off, a symbol of his dedication, his persistence…his grief.

"And I hope the day where I can see your face again is soon," Mera said.

So did he. "I can turn him over to the interrogators. Let them take the risk."

"Like with the surface, it is best not to show all of the cards," Mera replied. "Go now. The sooner you speak with the Others, the sooner you can return. I will see if our guest will drop his guard around me. There will need to be a response to the surface's refusal, and time for our response is running out."

It was. He could not forget what this was all about. Not yet. Too much was at stake, and he had already disrupted enough of the world with nothing to show for it.

A change in tactics then. A call needed to be made, and hopefully, it was one that would be answered. Options were becoming more limited by the hour, and he did not want to use any of the weapons kept in the restricted section of the armory.

Black Manta might not care about bringing the world to the brink, but Orin did. Justice would be had, one way or the other.

It would all depend on the Others.