"The sea does not forgive weakness. It only decides how long to wait before swallowing it." — Unknown
Chicago had spent seven months waiting for someone to fix the building.
The apartment complex sat on the south side, wedged between a laundromat that had been closed since winter, and a convenience store whose front windows were covered in plywood. Half of the eastern wall had collapsed during the Omni-Man incident months earlier, when shockwaves from a fight several miles away had traveled through the city and found every weak piece of concrete available.
The building had not been condemned.
Not officially.
Officially, it was under review.
Officially, the city had approved emergency stabilization funds.
Officially, the residents had been given temporary accommodations while the Department of Buildings, three separate insurance companies, two engineering firms, and somebody from the mayor's office decided which one of them was responsible for paying for the repairs.
In reality, most of the residents had never left.
Temporary accommodations meant cots in a high school gymnasium fifteen blocks away, with communal showers and fluorescent lights that never fully turned off. Families had returned within a week. They slept in rooms with plastic sheets covering missing walls and extension cords running through hallways because half the electrical system had been shut down.
Now, finally, a construction crew was there.
A police barricade had been set up around the front of the building. Yellow tape fluttered between metal posts. Residents stood behind it, packed together beneath the gray afternoon sky, watching a tractor push pieces of broken concrete into a pile.
The machine's engine growled.
Its metal bucket scraped against the pavement.
One of the workers waved the driver forward.
"Little more! Little—yeah, there!"
The bucket lowered.
Concrete shifted.
Then every loose stone on the ground turned pink.
The tractor driver screamed.
Not a dignified scream. Not even close.
It came out high and sharp as the entire pile of debris lifted away from the bucket in a glowing cloud.
The driver slammed both boots against the pedals, stalled the machine, then nearly fell out of the cab trying to escape.
"What the hell?"
The construction crew scattered.
Chunks of concrete, steel support rods, shattered windows, broken pipes, insulation, drywall, and splintered wooden framing rose into the air together. The pieces rotated slowly, each one surrounded by a bright pink aura.
People behind the police tape gasped.
Phones came out.
Someone yelled, "Look!"
High above the building, Eve floated with both hands extended.
Her red hair moved in the wind around her face. Pink energy burned around her fingers, brighter than it usually did, and her expression had settled into the tight concentration of someone holding several thousand pieces of matter in her head at once.
She could feel all of it.
Not individually. Not anymore.
When she had first started using her powers for reconstruction, she had tried to think about every brick, every nail, every wire. It had given her migraines so bad she could barely see.
Now she thought in systems.
Load-bearing walls.
Electrical channels.
Water lines.
Insulation.
Material density.
Weight distribution.
The debris flowed upward.
It looked like time reversing.
Broken sections of wall rebuilt themselves layer by layer. Steel rods straightened and slid back into concrete supports. Shattered glass turned liquid in the air, reformed into clean panes, and settled into repaired window frames. Pipes unfolded from twisted metal and disappeared into the walls. Cracks sealed. Burn marks faded. Chunks of missing concrete grew back from nothing as Eve rearranged matter from the rubble below.
The building's eastern side pulled itself together in long, smooth waves of pink light.
A balcony reformed.
Then another.
A child behind the barricade pointed upward.
"That's our window!"
His mother covered her mouth.
The construction workers had stopped running.
Most of them were staring now.
One had taken off his hard hat and was holding it against his chest.
The crew leader was not impressed.
He was a large man in his fifties with a white beard, a reflective vest, and the permanent expression of someone who believed the world would collapse if people stopped listening to him for more than thirty seconds.
He watched Eve seal the last structural fracture.
The pink glow faded.
The building stood complete.
Not patched.
Not stabilized.
Complete.
Eve lowered herself toward the pavement, boots touching down gently in front of the police line.
She released a breath she had been holding for the last twenty seconds and rolled one shoulder.
"Whew." She looked back at the repaired building. "There. Saved you some work."
The residents erupted.
People cheered. Someone started clapping. Then everyone started clapping.
The child who had pointed at the window jumped up and down.
The crew leader shoved through two workers and marched toward Eve.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
The cheering faltered.
Eve looked at him.
"Uh." She gestured toward the building. "Helping?"
"You scared the piss out of my entire crew!"
Behind him, the tractor driver was still leaning against the machine, one hand pressed against his chest.
"I thought I was being abducted," the driver said.
Nobody acknowledged him.
The crew leader pointed at the building.
"How do I know that's to code?"
Eve stared at him.
The man stared back.
For a second, nobody said anything.
Then a woman behind the police tape barked out a laugh.
She was older, maybe late fifties, wearing a purple coat and house slippers despite the cold. She ducked under the yellow tape before the nearest officer could stop her.
"You know what?" she said, walking toward the crew leader. "You can take your code and shove it up your ass."
The crew leader turned.
"Ma'am, this is an active construction—"
"I live in that building."
"That doesn't—"
"My daughter lives in that building. My grandbabies live in that building." She pointed toward the repaired apartments. "And if it was up to the bureaucrats, we'd still be sleeping in a high school gym until Labor Day."
A few people behind the tape shouted their agreement.
The crew leader's face tightened.
"We have procedures."
"You've had six months."
"The city—"
"Six months."
"I don't work for the city."
"Then go yell at them."
The crew leader looked from the woman to Eve, then back toward his crew.
Most of his workers were very carefully pretending not to enjoy this.
He snorted, turned around, and stalked back toward the tractor.
"Everybody check the site," he shouted. "Nobody touches anything until engineering gets here."
The older woman watched him leave.
"Jackass."
Eve smiled despite herself.
"Thanks."
The woman turned toward her.
"No." She shook her head. "Thank you."
The cheering behind them had started again, quieter now. People were moving closer to the tape, trying to see the repaired sections of the building.
The woman looked toward the opposite side of the street.
"You see that mess over there?"
Eve followed her gaze.
An empty lot stretched between the apartment complex and the convenience store. It was fenced off with rusted chain-link and covered in broken concrete, trash, dead weeds, two abandoned shopping carts, and the remains of what might once have been a playground.
A cracked sign on the fence read:
CITY PROPERTY
NO TRESPASSING
REDEVELOPMENT PENDING
"You know how long I've been asking the city to clean that up?" the woman asked.
Eve had a feeling she already knew the answer.
"How long?"
"Six years."
Eve looked back at her.
The woman laughed bitterly.
"Six years. They sent people out. Took pictures. Put up that sign. Had meetings." She waved one hand. "Oh, but unless you know somebody? Good luck."
Eve looked at the lot.
Broken concrete.
Rust.
Garbage.
Dead ground.
Then she looked at the woman.
A small smile pulled at the corner of her mouth.
"You know me, don't you?"
The woman blinked.
"What?"
Eve stepped toward the fence.
Pink energy gathered around her hands.
The residents started backing up instinctively. Even the construction crew turned to watch.
Eve lifted both arms.
The fence dissolved first.
Not exploded.
Not bent.
It simply came apart into glittering particles of metal and streamed into the empty lot.
The cracked concrete followed.
Chunks rose from the ground, softened, and spread outward beneath a new layer of dark soil. Trash disassembled into its base materials. Plastic became piping. Metal became support structures. Broken glass became smooth decorative panels.
The dead weeds disappeared.
Fresh grass rolled across the lot in a green wave.
Trees grew from the soil, thin at first, then thickening as branches reached toward the sky. Pathways formed between them. Benches rose along the paths, polished and clean. The abandoned shopping carts folded inward and became the steel support for a small playground.
People screamed with delight.
A fountain formed in the center of the park.
Stone curved upward in layered rings. Water pipes assembled beneath it. A bronze sculpture rose from the middle—not a hero, not a politician, just a group of children holding hands.
Water burst from the top and spilled down into the basin.
The lot was gone.
In its place stood a small community park.
Grass.
Trees.
Benches.
A playground.
A fountain.
Even the sign changed.
The old warning letters melted and reformed into:
COMMUNITY PARK
BUILT FOR THE PEOPLE WHO LIVE HERE
The pink aura faded.
For half a second, the entire street was silent.
Then everyone rushed forward.
Police officers gave up trying to hold the tape.
Children ran toward the playground. Adults moved slower, some laughing, some crying. One man touched the bark of a newly formed tree as if he expected his hand to pass through it.
The older woman stood beside Eve, staring.
"You just…"
"Yeah."
"You made a park."
"Looks like it."
The woman laughed.
It came out wet.
She pulled Eve into a hug before Eve could react.
Eve froze for one awkward second, then hugged her back.
"Thank you," the woman whispered.
Eve looked over her shoulder at the families spreading through the park.
For once, nobody was asking whether it was legal.
Nobody was asking whether she had permission.
Nobody was asking whether the forms had been filed.
They were just using it.
Enjoying it.
Living in it.
Eve smiled.
Her phone started ringing.
The caller ID appeared on the inside of her wrist display.
MOM.
The smile faded slightly.
She pulled away from the woman.
"Sorry. I need to get this."
"Go. Go."
Eve stepped away from the crowd and answered.
"Hi, Mom."
She waited.
Her expression changed.
The noise of the park seemed to move farther away.
"Yeah, everything's okay." Eve turned slightly, one hand coming up to press against her opposite arm. "Why?"
Another pause.
Her brow furrowed.
"Mom?"
She listened.
"Is something wrong?"
Mark arrived at the GDA already annoyed.
Not angry.
Annoyed was what happened when Cecil called him on an emergency line, refused to explain the emergency, and told him to come to the Pentagon immediately.
Mark descended through the concealed access shaft beneath the building, his nano-suit reflecting the white overhead lights in broken lines of black and deep red.
The security doors opened before he reached them.
Agents flattened themselves against the walls as he flew past.
He could walk But Floating was faster.
Also, at this point, Cecil had summoned him away from breakfast with his mother using the phrase fishy situation, and Mark felt entitled to be slightly dramatic.
ARIA mapped the facility around him as he moved.
"Director Stedman is in his office," she said. "His current heart rate remains elevated."
"Still?"
"Yes."
"That's encouraging."
"It was not intended to be."
Mark turned the corner and flew through Cecil's open office door.
Cecil stood behind his desk; one hand pressed against a holographic map. Donald was beside him, looking tired in the way Donald always looked tired: professionally.
Mark stopped six inches above the floor.
"What's the situation?"
Cecil dismissed the hologram.
"I'll explain on the way."
Mark folded his arms.
"I just got here."
Cecil walked around the desk.
"I know."
"You told me to come here."
"I did."
"And now we're leaving."
"Yes."
"I hate surprises, Cecil."
Cecil placed one hand on Mark's shoulder.
Blue static erupted around them.
The office vanished.
Rain replaced it.
Mark's boots touched wet grass on a hill overlooking the Atlantic. Wind hit him from the side, carrying salt and cold spray. Lightning flashed behind thick storm clouds, briefly turning the ocean silver.
Cecil appeared beside him, coat snapping in the wind.
Mark looked down.
A circular white platform had been set into the hilltop. Ancient markings covered its surface, cut deep into the stone in spiraling patterns that glowed faintly beneath the rain.
ARIA began scanning immediately.
"Unknown composite," she said. "Mineral structure contains elements consistent with deep-ocean volcanic deposits. The markings predate several known coastal civilizations."
Mark looked at Cecil.
"I hate surprises."
Cecil shoved his hands into his coat pockets.
"Well, you're gonna hate this one even more."
Mark waited.
Cecil looked toward the ocean.
"Turns out the Atlanteans are still sore about Omni-Man murdering their king."
"Aquarus."
"Yeah. Aquarus."
Mark's jaw tightened.
He had seen the body.
Not in person. In the footage Cecil had shown him during the investigation.
Aquarus pinned to the floor of Guardians headquarters, his own blood spreading through water from his ruptured armor plating's.
His father had used War Woman's mace to kill him.
That detail had stuck.
Cecil continued.
"Since the full report on the Guardians' deaths was broadcast, Atlantis has been under pressure to respond. Nolan's gone, and Atlantean law dictates that his sentence falls to his next of kin."
Mark looked at him.
"Me."
"You."
"That's a stupid law."
"It's an old law."
"Those usually overlap."
Cecil shrugged.
"Maybe. But Atlantis controls most of the ocean floor. They've threatened to erase the Eastern Seaboard if we don't resolve this."
Mark slowly sat in the air, legs folding beneath him.
Rain struck the surface of his nano-suit and streamed away. Lightning reflected across the black armor.
"So how do we appease them?"
Cecil gave him a look.
Mark continued.
"You wouldn't have called me if you didn't already have something arranged. And you definitely wouldn't have teleported me to a glowing Atlantean pickup circle in the middle of a storm."
"You're getting annoyingly good at this."
"I spend a lot of time around you."
Cecil exhaled through his nose.
"According to the information their ambassador gave us, the traditional way to atone for killing an Atlantean king is for the murderer—or his next of kin—to marry the widow."
Mark stared at him.
Rain fell.
Thunder rolled across the water.
ARIA remained silent.
Mark slowly lowered one leg.
"Let me make sure I understand this."
Cecil said nothing.
"You're in charge of a trillion-dollar intelligence organization."
"More or less."
"And to prevent a war with an underwater civilization, you want to marry off your strongest defender to their queen."
"That's an aggressively dishonest way of saying it."
"In the hope that said marriage creates political influence over Atlantis."
"No."
"No?"
"No influence. No control. Symbolic union only."
Mark's helmet hid his smile.
"So everything except the part where you admit you're giving me to them."
"I'm not giving you to anybody."
"You teleported me to a wedding platform."
"It's a diplomatic transfer site."
"It has glowing runes."
"Lots of diplomatic sites have glowing runes."
Mark looked back at the platform.
"They really don't."
Cecil studied him.
"You don't seem that pissed."
"I'm not."
"That worries me more."
Mark unfolded his legs and rose upright.
"I know I can break out if I need to. I also don't believe a civilization advanced enough to build cities at the bottom of the ocean has no legal workaround for an ancient marriage law."
Cecil's expression shifted slightly.
"And if there isn't?"
"Then I improvise."
"That's not a plan."
"It's worked before."
"Barely."
"Still counts."
The markings beneath them brightened.
Gold light ran through the carved lines.
Cecil looked down.
"They're here."
The ocean began to rise.
Not the water itself.
Something beneath it.
A dark shape broke the surface several hundred feet from shore. Water poured away from a large Atlantean craft, its hull shifting between deep blue and purple as though the surface was alive.
The vessel floated soundlessly toward the hill.
It had no wings. No visible engines. Its front tapered like the head of a predatory fish, with narrow windows glowing along both sides.
Mark stood.
"Guessing that's my ride."
"Good guess."
Cecil looked at him.
"Stay connected. Don't take too long. And try not to start a war."
"That last part depends on how the wedding goes."
"Mark."
"I'm kidding."
"Your jokes have gotten worse since you started leading the Guardians."
"Leadership is stressful."
The rear of the Atlantean craft opened.
Two Atlantean guards stood inside.
They resembled Aquarus enough to make the relationship between their species immediately obvious. Blue-green skin. Fins along the arms and head. Wide black eyes. Armor made from overlapping scales of dark metal.
Both guards were glaring at him.
Mark floated closer.
They continued glaring.
He stopped in front of the opening.
"Are you two going to keep staring, or are you going to let me in?"
Neither moved.
Mark tilted his head.
"I apparently have a wedding to attend."
One guard's mouth tightened.
The other stepped aside.
Mark entered.
The hatch sealed behind him.
Through the forward window, he saw Cecil disappear in blue static.
The craft rotated.
Then it dropped toward the ocean.
Water swallowed them.
The Atlantic became dark quickly.
Sunlight faded from bright blue to gray, then to black as the vessel descended.
Mark remained standing in the center of the passenger compartment. There were seats along the walls, but they had been designed for bodies with different hips and longer spines, and he had no interest in discovering how uncomfortable they were.
ARIA quietly recorded everything.
Water pressure.
Depth.
Temperature.
Energy signatures.
Hull composition.
Navigation routes.
Two miles above and several hundred yards behind, the Milano followed under full stealth.
The ship had detached from its concealed position before Mark entered the Atlantean transport. Its hull bent light around itself while its engines ran below the threshold of Atlantean sonar systems.
He had not built the stealth system for spying on Atlantis.
Technically.
He had built it for "Mult environmental reconnaissance against technologically advanced hostile powers."
This happened to qualify.
"Milano maintaining distance," ARIA said privately. "No indication of detection."
"Good."
One of the guards glanced toward him.
The Atlantean language came through the translator in his helmet a fraction of a second after the guard spoke.
"The surface creature talks to itself."
The other guard answered.
"Perhaps lack of oxygen has already damaged its mind."
Mark looked toward them.
Both guards went still.
"You know I can understand you, right?"
The first guard's eyes widened.
The second's hand moved toward the weapon at his hip.
Mark smiled behind the mask.
"Relax."
One of the guards picked up a mouth breather from a storage compartment and held it toward him.
The device resembled a small mask connected to two flexible filters.
Mark looked at it.
Then at the guard.
"No, thanks."
The guard pushed it closer.
"Surface lungs will fail before we reach the city."
"I'll be fine."
The guard muttered something.
ARIA translated.
"He expresses a desire for you to drown."
"I gathered that."
The guard froze.
Mark turned toward the forward window again.
"ARIA, configure the suit for underwater combat."
"Configuring."
The armor shifted.
Thin vents opened along Mark's ribs and collar. The suit's filtration membranes expanded, pulling dissolved oxygen from the water cycling through the external layers. Stabilization fins formed along his forearms and calves. The density of the armor changed around his joints to compensate for drag.
The guards stared.
Mark ignored them.
The craft descended past a cliff.
Light appeared below.
At first, Mark thought it was bioluminescence.
Then the darkness opened.
Atlantis stretched across the ocean floor.
The city was larger than he expected.
Towers rose from the seabed in spiraling shapes, some carved from stone, others grown from coral or constructed from a pearl-like metal that glowed from within. Roads curved between the buildings beneath transparent tunnels. Massive creatures moved slowly through the upper levels, harnessed to platforms carrying cargo.
Schools of luminous fish passed through open plazas.
Atlanteans filled the streets.
Some looked similar to Aquarus. Others were stranger. Thin bodies covered in silver scales. Broad species with hammer-shaped heads. Tall eel-like beings moving through the water with ribbons of cloth trailing behind them.
Statues stood between the towers.
Warriors.
Kings.
Sea monsters.
Aquarus appeared on more than one wall.
Mark watched the city pass beneath them.
Despite the reason he was here, he felt something close to awe.
"Record all passive scans," he said.
"Already recording."
The guard nearest him heard.
"You will not steal the secrets of Atlantis."
Mark turned his helmet slightly.
"I'm looking at buildings."
"You are recording."
"My suit records everything."
"Surface spies."
Mark considered explaining the difference between routine environmental logging and espionage.
Then he remembered the Milano following them invisibly.
"Fair."
The transport passed through a glowing barrier.
The water shimmered against the hull.
Atlantis became clearer on the other side. The currents were calmer. The pressure changed.
The craft descended toward a massive circular structure at the center of the city.
An arena.
Stone walls rose hundreds of feet around an open floor carved into the seabed. Thousands of Atlanteans filled the stands, packed into tiered rows. Their cheering traveled strangely through the water, less sound than pressure, a deep vibration Mark could feel through the suit.
The transport landed inside the arena.
The rear hatch opened.
The guards motioned for Mark to move.
He floated out.
The crowd saw him.
The cheering changed.
Some Atlanteans roared.
Others hissed.
A few threw objects.
One object bounced harmlessly off Mark's shoulder.
ARIA identified it as a shell containing rotten fish matter.
Mark looked at the splatter sliding down his suit.
"Really?"
"Hostility levels are elevated," ARIA said.
"Helpful."
The guards escorted him across the arena floor.
Massive chains had been anchored around the perimeter. Each link was larger than a car. The chains disappeared into a dark opening in the seabed behind him.
Mark noticed them.
He also noticed the movement beneath the sand.
Something large.
Very large.
He kept floating.
At the far end of the arena, a raised platform overlooked the floor.
A woman stood at its center.
Queen Aquaria.
She possessed the same basic humanoid shape as Aquarus, but broader through the hips and shoulders, with pale blue skin and long fins extending from the sides of her head and down her back. Webbing connected her fingers. A dark blue gown moved around her in the water like smoke. Armor covered her shoulders and upper chest, carved with gold patterns. A golden tiara rested above her brow, set with a purple stone.
She had a commanding presence.
Her face was severe.
Her body was full and powerful, built less like a swimmer and more like the carved figurehead of a warship.
Mark stopped beneath the platform.
The crowd gradually fell silent.
Aquaria looked down at him.
"Welcome, son of he who slayed my husband."
Her voice carried through the entire arena, amplified by hidden systems in the stone.
Mark inclined his head.
"Your Majesty."
The crowd murmured.
"It is an honor to stand in your presence," Mark continued. "And I'm sorry we're meeting under these circumstances. Not as allies, but with me accused of inheriting another man's crime."
Aquaria's eyes narrowed slightly.
Mark looked around at the arena.
The chains.
The crowd.
The guards moving away from him.
"But based on the setup," he said, "I'm guessing we're not getting married."
A ripple moved through the audience.
Some laughter.
Mostly angry noise.
Cecil's voice entered Mark's helmet.
"Careful."
Mark ignored him.
Aquaria descended one step.
"You are correct, surface dweller."
The crowd quieted again.
"I commanded this kingdom for a decade while Aquarus played dress-up among you humans."
A few Atlanteans cheered.
"He was our king," Aquaria continued. "But I governed Atlantis. I protected its borders. I fed its people. I negotiated its peace."
Her fins shifted behind her.
"I do not require a new king."
The crowd roared.
Aquaria raised one hand.
The sound stopped.
"We abolished that barbaric custom years ago."
Mark glanced toward the nearest guard.
The guard looked away.
"So you're not savages," Mark said.
Aquaria's mouth tightened.
"We are not."
"Good to know."
Donald's voice came faintly through the connection.
"Was that necessary?"
"No," Cecil said. "But we're past necessary."
Mark looked up at the queen.
"What replaced the law?"
Aquaria smiled.
It was not a warm smile.
"Trial by combat."
The audience erupted.
Mark slowly turned his head.
The guards were retreating toward the walls.
The massive chains behind him began to move.
Sand shifted around the dark hole in the seabed.
Aquaria raised both arms.
"Release the Depth Dweller."
The chains snapped tight.
Something pulled from below.
The arena shook.
Mark looked over his shoulder.
A small creature floated above the hole.
It resembled a bright blue seahorse, nearly the size of a human child. Large eyes. Tiny fins. Round face.
It waved at him.
Mark stared.
The creature drifted closer.
"ARIA."
"Scanning."
The seahorse opened its mouth in what might have been a smile.
Mark did not move.
"Scan results indicate that the visible organism is not the primary body."
"Yeah. I figured."
"The organism beneath the seabed is significantly larger than the lure would suggest."
The sand exploded.
A colossal head tore out of the hole.
The seahorse snapped backward, connected to the monster's forehead by a long fleshy line.
The Depth Dweller rose.
Its body was covered in a massive dark blue shell, layered like the armor of an ancient crab. A white torso bulged beneath the shell. Two enormous forearms ended in pincers large enough to crush buildings. Three black eyes opened beneath the seahorse lure.
Its jaws separated.
The roar shook the city.
Pressure slammed through the arena, cracking several stones beneath Mark.
The audience screamed with excitement.
Cecil's voice came through the comm.
"What the hell is going on?"
"The law changed."
"What?"
"No wedding."
"That's good."
"I'm fighting a sea kaiju instead."
"That's not good."
The Depth Dweller pulled itself fully from the hole.
Its shell scraped against the arena wall. Chains broke loose from anchors as it moved.
Cecil swore.
"That wasn't the deal. I'm calling this off."
"All good, Cecil."
"Mark—"
"This shouldn't take long."
The creature lunged.
Mark moved sideways.
One pincer closed where he had been.
The impact crushed the arena floor and sent a cloud of sand outward.
Mark's suit shifted around his hands.
Nanites flowed from his forearms, forming two short conical drills. Each drill split into curved halves that rotated in opposite directions, designed to reduce water resistance while maintaining cutting power.
Aquaria leaned forward.
The crowd roared.
The Depth Dweller dragged its pincer free and swung the other arm.
"Sir, stay still" said Aria
Mark crossed his forearms.
The pincer struck him.
The blow launched him across the arena.
He hit the stone wall.
The wall cratered.
The audience above recoiled.
Dust and fragments of rock moved through the water.
For half a second, Mark remained inside the crater.
Then he pushed away from the wall.
No blood.
No visible damage.
The creature's three eyes narrowed.
Mark rotated one shoulder.
"Strength estimate?" he asked.
"Below forty percent of your current maximum output."
Mark looked toward the monster.
"Then why'd you let me get hit?"
"To obtain an accurate strength estimate."
"Next time, ask."
"Noted."
The Depth Dweller charged again.
Despite its size, it moved quickly underwater. Its limbs pushed against the current with enormous force, creating pressure waves that struck the arena walls.
Mark accelerated.
He flew directly toward it.
The creature opened both pincers, trying to catch him between them.
Mark angled upward.
The pincers slammed together beneath him.
The shockwave flattened sand across the arena floor.
Mark passed above the monster's shell and drove one drill into the armor.
Sparks and fragments of shell erupted.
The drill cut several feet before resistance increased.
"Shell density higher than anticipated," ARIA said.
The Depth Dweller twisted violently.
Mark released the drill and moved away as the creature's tail snapped across its own back.
The tail missed him by inches and shattered the section of shell where he had been standing.
Mark looked at the damage.
"Interesting."
"Self-inflicted fracture has exposed a weaker sublayer."
"Mark," Cecil said, "we have diplomatic extraction teams standing by."
"I don't need extraction."
"You got thrown through a wall."
"I was collecting data."
Cecil went silent.
Donald spoke.
"Was that Your idea?"
"Yes."
"Thought so."
The monster spun.
Its lure darted toward Mark.
The seahorse's cute expression vanished. Its mouth split open vertically, revealing rows of needle-like teeth.
The lure bit down on Mark's arm.
Its teeth snapped against the suit.
Mark looked at it.
The lure looked back.
"That was rude."
He grabbed the line connecting it to the Depth Dweller's forehead and pulled.
The monster's head jerked forward.
The entire crowd reacted.
Mark pulled harder.
The Depth Dweller's front limbs left the ground.
Its enormous body tilted.
The monster clawed at the arena floor, trying to anchor itself.
Mark wrapped the line once around his arm and shot upward.
The creature rose several feet.
Then ten.
Then twenty.
The crowd fell silent.
The Depth Dweller weighed thousands of tons.
Mark kept pulling.
The chains attached to its shell lifted from the ground. Several anchor points tore free from the walls.
Aquaria's expression changed.
In fear.
The monster swung one pincer toward Mark.
He released the lure, dropped beneath the attack, and drove both feet into the underside of the creature's jaw.
The impact closed its mouth.
Its head snapped backward.
A shockwave burst across the arena.
Several rows of Atlanteans were pushed back in their seats.
The Depth Dweller crashed into the floor.
Mark hovered above it.
"ARIA."
"Scan complete."
A red target appeared in the corner of his HUD.
Beneath the neck.
Behind the white torso plating.
A dense cluster of nerves and blood vessels connected the brain to the lower body.
"Identified weakness is forty-six meters beneath the exterior tissue."
"Straight line?"
"Yes."
The creature began to rise.
Mark ascended.
Not far.
Enough.
He stopped near the top of the arena and bent one leg beneath him as though bracing against solid ground.
The water around his body started moving.
Currents pulled inward.
His drills merged with his forearms, forming longer spiraling blades. Nanites reinforced his shoulders and spine. The suit calculated the angle.
The Depth Dweller looked up.
Mark looked down.
"Cecil."
"What?"
"Blood debt's about to be paid."
He kicked off nothing.
The acceleration created a vacuum behind him.
Water exploded.
Mark became a black and red streak.
He spun as he descended.
The drills rotated around his forearms, cutting the water into a spiraling tunnel.
The Depth Dweller raised both pincers.
Too slow.
Mark struck beneath its neck.
The armored plating split.
The drills tore through flesh, bone, blood vessels, and the central nerve cluster in a single line.
He entered through the front.
He exited through the creature's back.
A burst of dark blood filled the water behind him.
Mark stopped several hundred feet past the monster and turned.
The Depth Dweller remained upright for one second.
Its lure went limp.
Its three eyes rolled inward.
The massive body collapsed.
The impact shook Atlantis.
Sand rose across the arena floor in thick clouds. The monster's pincers struck the ground. Its shell cracked along the path Mark had cut through it.
Then it stopped moving.
The arena went quiet.
No cheering.
No chanting.
Only the slow movement of blood through the water.
Mark's drills retracted.
He looked at his suit.
"Damage?"
"Negligible."
"Good."
He floated toward Aquaria.
The crowd watched him pass.
Thousands of eyes followed him.
The guards who had escorted him earlier moved toward the queen, then stopped when she lifted one hand.
Mark came to a halt level with the platform.
Aquaria stared at him.
He inclined his head.
"You have a good day, Your Majesty."
The translator carried his words through the arena.
"Your blood debt has been paid."
No one spoke.
Mark turned.
The water behind him shimmered.
The Milano appeared.
Its stealth field dropped in a ripple, revealing the dark spacecraft hovering directly behind him.
Every Atlantean guard in the arena raised a weapon.
The crowd recoiled.
Aquaria's eyes widened.
Mark looked back at her.
"Relax. It's my ride."
The Milano's side hatch opened.
Mark floated inside.
The hatch sealed.
The ship turned toward the upper city.
As it accelerated away, the arena remained silent.
The Milano cleared Atlantis without resistance.
That surprised Mark.
He had expected pursuit.
Maybe gunfire.
At minimum, another rotten fish.
Instead, Atlantean defense vessels moved aside as the Milano passed through the city's outer barrier.
Mark stood in the cockpit with his helmet retracted.
The ocean stretched dark beyond the windows. Atlantis glowed below them, growing smaller as the ship climbed.
Cecil's voice came through the speakers.
"Good job, kid."
Mark sat in the pilot's chair.
"Thanks."
"You couldn't have done that without killing it?"
Mark looked toward the blood still drying along one side of his suit.
"They called it a trial by combat."
"That's not an answer."
"It tried to eat me."
"It was their sacred creature."
"It was a large crab with a baby seahorse attached to its forehead."
ARIA spoke.
"The organism was not taxonomically related to terrestrial crabs."
Mark looked at the ceiling.
"Thank you, ARIA."
"You are welcome."
Cecil sighed.
"Atlantis has confirmed the debt is settled. They're standing down their coastal weapons."
"Great."
"Queen Aquaria also formally requested that we never send you there again."
Mark leaned back.
"That fast?"
"You killed a creature they've used for royal executions for nine hundred years in under two minutes."
"It took that long?"
"The Atlanteans included the time you spent talking."
"That shouldn't count."
Donald's voice entered the channel.
"The official engagement time was one minute and forty-eight seconds."
Mark smiled.
"Thank you, Donald."
"You're welcome."
Cecil cut in.
"Don't encourage him."
The Milano broke through the ocean surface.
Water streamed off the windows. Gray daylight filled the cockpit.
Mark looked at the horizon.
"What next?"
There was a pause.
Cecil sounded almost offended.
"You just prevented a war with Atlantis."
"Yeah."
"You fought a sea monster."
"Also yeah."
"You don't want five minutes?"
Mark thought about the apartment complex in Chicago.
His mother at the kitchen table.
Titan's family.
The poll numbers.
The thousands of things still waiting.
"No."
Cecil was quiet for a second.
Then his voice changed.
Back to business.
"We've got a developing situation in Seattle. Multiple reports of duplicated hostiles hitting armored transports. Same face, same biometrics, increasing numbers."
Mark sat forward.
"Multi-Paul?"
"That's our guess."
The Milano turned west.
Mark's helmet began forming around his head.
"And?"
"And we've got an energy spike in an industrial corridor outside the city. Something big is powering up."
Machine Head.
The Maulers.
The cloning apparatus.
Mark felt the shape of the problem before Cecil said anything else.
The faceplate sealed.
His HUD came alive.
"Send me everything."
"Already transmitting."
ARIA filled the display with incoming files.
Satellite images.
Power readings.
Traffic-camera footage.
A warehouse with no windows.
Mark watched the data populate.
The triangle on his chest brightened.
"Cecil."
"Yeah?"
"You should probably call the Guardians."
The Milano accelerated.
Behind them, the Atlantic rolled beneath the clouds as though nothing had happened.
Ahead, the sky darkened over the continent.
"PLEASE READ AUTHORS NOTE"