Two thousand years. Jorge let that number roll around in his head but he found it almost too mind-boggling to believe. There was no way that that was possible. However, standing here, looking out over everything, it was clear that it was actually very, very possible. The city was a beauty to look at, a masterpiece of sheer innovation, the fact that they were able to sustain this culture and this city for so long, beneath the water, it was shocking to say the least. And for as unbelievable as everything seemed, something in him actually was willing to set aside his doubt and believe it. This was real, this was Atlantis, this was home…

Wait…what? He blinked and shook his head. That was such a random thought that popped into his head. Since he stepped in through the walls, there had been a pulsating belief that this place meant comfort. It gave him all the warm fuzzy feelings of being home and yet he had never been here before. And, whenever his mind drifted towards doubt, it seemed that that feeling grew all the stronger, almost shouting the word “HOME” so loud that it drowned out any other thoughts until he began to accept the term. Maybe it was just his imagination, though. Maybe he just missed being home, at the X-Mansion, with Gemma and Chase. Yeah, that was it.

They would like it here, wouldn’t they?

Jorge looked over their tour guides shoulder as they turned a corner. There in the distance he could see the towering spire in the center of the city. Just looking at it seemed to fill Jorge with such a sense of calm and belonging. He couldn’t wait to check it out. With a grin he looked back to Achlus as she led the group on, answering, of course, all their questions with the utmost honesty.

---

Achlus smile never seemed to falter, especially when her eyes drifted to the redheaded woman. However, while it appeared that her attention was localized to her, the fact was that she looked around to everyone. They all had her interest, they all had her favor, so she paid each of them equal attention. It was almost strange how seamless she was in dealing with their questions, especially considering that it was only recently that she had started to meet people from the surface world. Still, despite the strangeness of it, she moved with the grace that was to be expected of royalty.

>> ”Ah dinnae mean tae be rude, Achlus, bit… thes place seems tay guid tae be true. Ah dornt mean, 'this is sae great.' Ah mean, it feels... impossible… Thaur must be citizens ay Atlantis fa ur opposed tae yer faither invitin' newcomers tae their city? Is thaur crime in atlantis? Free will is th' adversary ay perfection, efter aw.”

She smiled shyly at Lodestone, her eyes drifting to hers as the woman spoke. To her it seemed that Atlantis was too good to be true. Doubt was something that Achlus wasn’t really experienced with handling. Of course there were those that came to Atlantis a little suspicious but that suspicion never seemed to last more than a few feet into the city gates. If that were the case, why did the redhead seem to be so…resistant to the idea? Her brow furrowed for a half-second in confusion but she merely shook her head and sighed, almost pityingly.

”Dear one…” she said softly. She stepped closer, her fingers grazing across Rebecca’s cheek. ”Do not look for smoke where there is no fire. Your culture and your experiences had made you suspicious of good things when they happen. Atlantis is a safe haven, nothing to be feared.” She stepped back, looking between them all. ”Granted, there are those in this fair city who are fearful of newcomers. They have only known Atlantis. However, there is bound to be an adjustment for everyone. And yet, even with that in mind, they open their arms to you. Do not reject them.”

>> "What about the humans? How many humans?"

”Humans?” she said as she tilted her head at the taller man who seemed to be in discomfort. She smirked as one does when they speak to a small child and shook her head. ”There are no humans in Atlantis.”

She continued on, leading them towards the spire, but stopped, though, when the ghostly woman inquired about inhuman demigods. Her head tilted, confusion dotting her features for a moment.

>>” "Princess, are there no m—Are there no demigods that have an inhuman appearance?"

”Inhuman?” There was a moment that she tilted her head down, thinking and tapping her chin before a puzzle piece clicked into place. ”Oh, you mean the Gorgons? They are citizens as well, yes.” As to where they were, their number, whatever, Achlus seemed to leave that part out…especially when the younger of the group spoke up in a rather rude tone.

>> "So... you're telling me that a bunch of people with godlike powers fled from all of the normal human's aggressors in order to hide in safety bubble at the bottom of the sea? You should realize that others have been up here on the surface fighting racism for basic rights for like... ages now, right? We've done pretty well for ourselves."

Achlus hung her head a little a sighed. Turning her sad eyes into the younger girl, she drifted through the group until she was standing directly in front of her. She leaned down a little so that they were eye-to-eye, the smile never faltering from her lips.

”Young one…I am so sorry you and your kind have suffered the atrocities that you have. The registration, the internment camps, and so on. They ring of what my ancestors suffered as well. However, we knew not of your suffering until our King Atlan came into power,” that was the only explanation she could offer. She straightened up as she moved back towards the landing where the oversized gondola was waiting. ”It was his gift that revealed to us your suffering. And it was his decree that we immediately raise the city to offer help. What is it that you surface dwellers say? ‘Better late…than never?”

There was a soft smile on her lips. She moved back towards the street, leading them directly towards the citadel. As she moved, she stopped near a merchant who had had his wares available for them to look at. Upon his table were baskets. They were filled with various types of foots wrapped in linen, mainly baked goods, jerkied fish, and, strangely enough, fruit. The mysterious of Atlantis only seemed to compound further. However, Achlus merely smiled through any suspicions they made had.

”We will be at my father’s soon. In the meantime, please, sample our foods and drink.” she said. When they had collected their baskets (or decided not to), Achlus led them onward.

Surprisingly the distance to the citadel was quickly approaching. When they had arrived within eyeshot, they could see that it was a towering jewel of the city. A towering structure, seemingly coated in the purest pearl, the building glinted with iridescence in the light. The large doors were covered in coral and apparently made of some very aged wood. As Achlus approached, the guards standing there greeted her with a nod and pulled apart the spears they barred across the doors. Achlus stepped forward and pushed it open. Immediately they were all met with a burst of cool, calming air.

”Come,” she smiled. ”My lord awaits in his throne room.” She led the group in, not noticing that a newcomer had joined their ranks.

---

Atlantis was truly one of the most beautiful places imaginable. The architecture alone was something to marvel at. The people who had carved and crafted these homes did so with the utmost care and precision. Glittering white walls shone in the daylight and with the scent of the ocean breeze drifting through, it could easily be mistaken for some island city off the coast of Greece. The picturesque beauty and the sensation of home and safety could not be denied.

However, that was not all there was to be seen. In the outskirts of the circular city, the areas closest to the outer ring of walls, the buildings seemed to have lost their luster. They were not as immaculately kept and, for the most part, actually looked to be in some disrepair. Homes and buildings looked dirtied and broken…abandoned even. They had been emptied out of all useful materials that only scraps and pieces of broken pottery remained. It certainly wasn’t a place fit for any living souls.

And yet, there were sounds of breathing coming from one of these dilapidated homesteads. Peeking out from the corner of a doorway was a single, much smaller person. No older than a child of eight years-old, the young Atlantean did not share the beauty of the rest of the citizens. She was smaller and definitely not human looking, with what looked like jagged edges of coral sticking out of her multicolored skin in all directions. The young child could have been the living embodiment of a coral reef come to life, her rainbow shaded eyes looking left and right. Clothing hung from her body in tatters and rags and the fear exuded from her like a heatwave.

Gulping, she took a cautionary step out from behind the door. The sounds of celebration could heard in the distance but she didn’t dare investigate. Still…she was so hungry. The sounds of her empty stomach were enough to echo throughout the abandoned streets. Slipping out, she immediately ran for a new home, another empty building with hopes of finding sustenance. But as she shuffled across the street the sound of jingling armor cause her to freeze in fright. She turned in place, too scared to decide which direction to go, until it was too late. Guards, the very same that could be seen standing as sentinels in the city, greeting newcomers, were now actively on the hunt.

One of the men pointed in the visibly mutated child’s direction. ”There! There’s the Gorgon!”

She gasped. The young Coral turned and ran off, heading in a random direction, but was stopped immediately with a hand grabbed her by the scruff of her tattered clothes. A fierce looking Atlantean loomed over her, his face a mask of displeasure as he narrowed his eyes at the little run away.

“No! Please!” the young girl shouted.

“Quiet, Gorgon,” the dark headed man with the amber eyes snarled. “It’s time to put you back where you belong.”

---

Deep in the center of the citadel, sat a single, ornate room. Large and cavernous, the meekest voice would echo with a sound that would rival the very thunder. The floor made of the same stone that lined the walls, it helped to keep a coolness in the room that could rival the winter. It was here, in the very center, where there stood a small platform of stones and a throne of rock and something similar to coral. The man sitting there, however, didn’t seem to mind the chill.

He was strong of body but quite aged. Upon his head stood a crown of similar coral, though reddish and gold in hue, and his attire matched in color but consisted of brass armor similar to what would be expected of a Greek soldier. His dark, stormy eyes swept over the scene, staring at things that weren’t there…or were yet to be there? Seemingly listening in on conversations, the man tilted his head, almost as if trying to lean into someone invisible whispering into ear (though of course there was no such person).At a glance of this behavior the man would look quite crazed but at the sound of footsteps approaching, the mask of normalcy was slipped on.

King Atlan, the lord of Atlantis, straightened his posture and appeared with the same elegance as that of his daughter, Achlus. With a warmth in his eyes and a small smile pulling at his lips, he nodded to the newcomers.

”Guests, or should I refer to you as…X…Men?” he tilted his head a little and grinned. ”Welcome to my…home. I do hope that Achlus has been making you all feel welcome?”

>>”There! There’s the Gorgon!”

>>“No! Please!”

The place might have been straight out of mythology, but cries for help were pretty much the same anywhere in the world. Gawain heard a young girl's voice among the dilapidated buildings, and hurried towards it without thinking. He had to slip out of a shard of glass - in this part of town, shiny surfaces seemed to be in short supply. He peered around a corner just in time to see a guard grab the girl who looked a lot like a coral reef.

"Paradise indeed." Gawain muttered with a frown. The place really was too good to be true. He was about to move around the corner and knock the guy out...

>>“Quiet, Gorgon. It’s time to put you back where you belong.”

Where she belonged?
Where did she belong?

As much as it pained him to stand by, Gawain decided to watch and follow. If they were taking the girl away, there had to be others. Maybe even people who were not Atlantean. If they imprisoned visitors, that was a violation of international law... Gawain sighed, stealthily following the guards as they dragged the girl away.

Achlus was so pleased to be guiding the team of X-Men through the lost city, answering all questions with an ever-present smile until it came to Rebecca’s. Something about the befreckled young woman’s doubt gave the Princess pause and had her furrowing her brow, if only for a moment. For all the appealing traits the Atlantean woman had, the way she sighed at Rebecca’s concern felt condescending, leading to some brow-furrowing of her own.

Of course, she was the one faltering when those barely present fingertips touched her cheek. Was she just suspicious? It would be hard to blame the modern mutant, with conflicts dominating her life and at least one traumatic experience affecting her life choices, for looking at a Utopia with skepticism. She was being told that there were those in Atlantis who had their doubts and questioned the decision to welcome new guests, but something was not adding up. Where were these questioners? People giving wary looks, or glaring from windows. Everything was too… clean.

For now, she would concede, not looking to cause a problem before they even made it to the leader of Atlantis. ”Ah’ll… keep an open mind, Princess.”

Masochist had his own question about humans, and if Achlus’s sigh was mildly condescending, the tone she took with him was downright patronizing. In a way, Rebecca understood why their society might choose to be skeptical of humans, but she did not like the certainty with which the idea was dismissed. It was clear Atlantis never considered even entertaining the thought. ”What's yer intent fur uir... demigod bretheren who have human family? Human lovers?” Now that the seeds of doubt and defiance were in Rebecca’s head breaking the spell of Achlus’s beauty, she could remember Nessa, (and felt guilty for how quickly she put aside those thoughts. ”If Ah am welcome in Atlantis, whit ay mah human girlfriend?” she asked, unsure if “girlfriend” would be understood terminology by the Atlantean’s.

Come to think of it… how were they conversing with the Princess in English? From a timeline and geographical perspective, it made no sense. She would tuck that question in her back pocket for the time being, but it was yet another curious thing to consider.

Doubt was not solely a trait in Becca now, as even Ghost showed some hesitance. As a teacher at the Mansion, Becca knew about Rowan, which made her all the more concerned when Achlus nonchalantly brushed aside a group of mutants as “Gorgons.” Lodestone was versed enough in Greek Mythology to know that was not a compliment.

If there was anyone who deserved some credit in Rebecca’s eyes, it might be Elke. While everyone else was hesitant, there was something about a bold teenage girl that you could always depend on to speak her mind. This seemed to trouble Achlus as well, but she waved away accusations of cowardice with the reminder that they had not been aware of the plight of the surface world. And once again, everything wrapped back to her father, Lord Atlan. Rebecca was growing more and more interested in meeting this man with every new mystery.

Soon enough. For the moment, she would smile and play the gracious guest again, looking at the wares being given freely by those who would appear to be merchants. As she examined the food offered, Rebecca glanced at a nearby plate of reflective, polished metal, hoping to catch a peek of Mirror to know things were still going well with their reconning member.

She made a small basket of fish, bread, and even some of the unique looking fruits, though she chose not to try one yet; something about fruits grown under the ocean felt… off. She did try the bread, and was surprised to find its more naturally salty taste in the fluffy, flaky dough. She hoped her suspicions of Atlantis were wrong, because Rebecca would love to have a new place with all new foods to explore.

Carrying her basket of goods at her hip, Lodestone followed along with the rest of the group as they finally made it to the citadel, allowing Achlus to lead them through the impressive doors.

The inside of the citadel reminded her of an ancient church, and within the throne room stood a man who had some priestly elements. He was aged and weathered, but stronger than she would have anticipated for a man his age, (whatever age that may be.)

Unsurprisingly, Lord Atlan was already aware of who they were. If he truly was an oracle of some kind, he may know more than that. He greeted them, and ever the diplomat, Rebecca gave a slight bow of gratitude. ”Thenk ye fur th' warm welcome, Laird Atlan. Yer dochter has bin... most accommodatin' wi' uir questions.” Most of them, anyway. She wondered if Lord Atlan would be more open to their concerns, or if the… sea apple did not fall far from the sea tree… or, you know, some more fitting analogy. (It was not like Rebecca was a writer, after all.)

Elke came through. "Oh? Brought a med kit, huh? All prepared. Like a boy scout." He opened the little packet and swallowed the pills dry.

Saph's expression flattened as the very pretty woman looked at him like he was an idiot, and explained that there were no humans in Atlantis. No Humans. What? But... Two mutants could have a human child. That was definitely possible. He'd heard of it happening. One of the officers he worked with regularly had two mutant parents. Couldn't be more human.

He smacked his lips a few times as Ghost chimed in, barely listening to the senior X-Woman's question, as her face and voice were suddenly very annoying. It was probably some sort of question about how she was a perfect parent, and people who maybe got a little angry and raised their voice a tad deserved to go to hell.

Elke chimed in, throwing lip like an Olympian threw discus. Part of him was proud of her for talking down to the woman who had just talked down to him. The other part was still mad she was here in the first place. He landed a hand on her shoulder, muttering. "Settle down, Moose... Not the place or time to pick a fight."

He knew the Atlantean's answer would naturally provoke more arguing from the teen, as nothing seemed to do so better than trying to be logical about things. No, he didn't blame these people for leaving... Hiding. He didn't think it was the right approach. At the end of the day, they were all human. Some just had powers.

Except for maybe Ghost. She sucked.

They were shown to a market. He huffed, crossed his arms, leaned against a wall off to the side, and kept an eye out for Mirror. He was sure the knight would tell them if he saw anything off.

"Where they getting all the land to grow stuff, here?" It was asked as more of a rhetorical question. Apparently he was a giant #$$^ing child, and all of his questions were answered as such, so #$^$ all of these @#$holes, honestly.

He still had a head ache as they walked in to meet the old man. When were those pills gonna kick in already? Why did he have trouble looking at this guy? It was like... he was too bright or something... He wasn't glowing or nuthin... just... he felt bright, was all. Hurt his head even more. He grunted when the man asked if his daughter was treating them well.

Well, pops, she's kinda condescending, and my daughter could beat the crap outa her, but i'm sure you think she's golden, so good for you. Father of the year.

Did he think that out loud?

Gorgon. The word clanged around in her head almost as loudly as the welcome call. It was getting kind of hard to think, actually, with all that noise. Princess Alchus kept drifting around and smiling, but Ghost remained silent; unable to parse what everyone else was saying because of the war in her heart.

She knew Medusa had been one of the gorgons, but not a whole lot else other than the fact that the words was pretty much synonymous with ugly. Rowan was not ugly. This place was so perfect. But no place would be home without Rowan. She had to be there for him. She'd failed to protect his brother. She'd failed to keep Sebastian from going bad. She would not leave Rowan. Not for a hundred Atlantises. Atlanti?

Ghost had paused at the food baskets with everyone else, but knew that almost everything there was too heavy for her. She settled for taking a single piece of fruit into her hand and changed herself to be entirely incorporeal.

The call seemed somehow louder.

Ghost lagged behind her position at the front, filtering toward the back of the group and only partially trying to keep up. She should be listening. She should be saying something. It was just so nice to be here. To be home.

NOT HOME! Ghost's form became murky in the throne room as she put less focus into keeping herself together and more focus into fighting against the call.

"Oh? Brought a med kit, huh? All prepared. Like a boy scout."

"Stuff it where the sun don't shine, old man." She bit back at Saph, while shoving her bag back behind her.

Ol' Smokey addressed her comment, and in the most demeaning way she possibly could have. If she hadn't been surrounded by people she was trying to impress, she would have spat right in that woman's face.

”Young one…I am so sorry you and your kind have suffered the atrocities that you have. The registration, the internment camps, and so on. They ring of what my ancestors suffered as well. However, we knew not of your suffering until our King Atlan came into power, It was his gift that revealed to us your suffering. And it was his decree that we immediately raise the city to offer help. What is it that you surface dwellers say? ‘Better late…than never?”

She'd bitten back a snarl before it left her mouth at being addressed as 'young one' by some kinda immortal smoke demon, instead grinning at the woman with all her teeth. There were a lot of things she wanted to say, or point out... like how that BS apology didn't in any way address what Elke had been trying to get at.

Aside from how infuriating that answer had been, it did give her pause. The woman had mentioned quite a few interesting things. The internment camps and registration acts being some of the most prominent. Their King knew a lot more than just their suffering. He knew specifics. How had he gotten those particular bits of knowledge? Picked though a bunch of people's brains? Asked some of the locals who had wandered in already? She found herself staring at the back of the white woman's head as she mulled over various possibilities.

How much did they know?

"Settle down, Moose... Not the place or time to pick a fight."

There was a vein bulging on one side of her temple from gritting her teeth, but when she turned to look at Saph she simply sighed through her nose and ground out a "10 4."

It was easy for him to say, but just you wait until someone looked him in the eyes and insulted his pride!

She pointedly ignored any further conversation from that point on, moodily trudging forward with the rest of the group. They approached some kinda market and their guide explained what it was.

”We will be at my father’s soon. In the meantime, please, sample our foods and drink.”

The Native eyed all of the offerings on the table with shrewdness. She'd seen enough movies to know that eating strange things from strange places didn't end well. They were probably roofied.

"Where they getting all the land to grow stuff, here?"

Elke tore her eyes away from attempting to stare down the Merchant himself in order to look at Saph. She knew that tone seeing as he'd used it on her quite a bit. "Settle down, Dad." She smirked slightly at him, just to rub it in.

Once they started moving, though, she noticed that one of their party seemed to be a little out of it. Ghost lady was lagging behind, and even though she wasn't very well versed in tactics Elke knew enough not to get separated from the group. That's how people died in crappy horror movies all the time.

Purposefully slowing her steps a little, she let herself lag back as well, and focused her attention on the woman. She didn't want to outright ask if she were okay... you didn't point out potential weakness when surrounded by unknowns.

...Bitter, sassy, old hag unknowns.

When they entered the throne room, she let the adults scope out the room. Possible exits, places where guards might be. Things to loot.

The usual.

ATLANTIS CITADEL – THRONE ROOM

The throne room couldn’t have been more elaborate. It almost reminded him of something from that hit cable TV show, Chess of Crowns. Though the Greek influence was obvious, there was something almost medieval about everything as well. If it weren’t for the fact that those around him were dressed in X-Men uniforms, the man would have found himself completely lost in the world he was standing in. Historians would probably give their right arm to stand in the same room that Jorge was standing in. To inspect the architecture, to see the subtle influences of unknown or unsuspecting cultures littered throughout, truly this was a place to feel awe and inspiration.

Even Jorge felt small and insignificant in the room. The startling statues that lined the walls looked down upon the inhabitants like a pantheon of immortals gazing with indifference upon humanity. But the friendliest, and yet most terrifying, gaze came from the single man who sat upon his throne of stone and coral in the center of the room.

King Atlan was a terrifying image to behold. Old and wizened, his body was still strong and powerful enough that even Jorge began to question if he could take him in a fight (not that he would consider fighting the most generous host of his new home). The older detective found that he couldn’t take his eyes off the man, just because his voice and presence seemingly commanded sheer and undivided attention. Any other time the detective may have wondered about this, felt that it was wrong, but in the thick of it, surrounded by this magical city that had been lost to the annals of time, he found himself unable to form together such concrete thoughts.

His King (where did that thought come from?) greeted them all with a kindly smile. As he stood he addressed them by their more heroic moniker and hoped that his daughter had been showing them a grand time. Jorge nodded that Achlus had been a benefit to the meeting but turned when his teammate, Lodestone was the first to find her voice. For some reason that made him jealous…

>> ”Thenk ye fur th' warm welcome, Laird Atlan. Yer dochter has bin... most accommodatin' wi' uir questions.”

Oh how he wished he could have formed words so eloquently. Still, the man would not let the opportunity pass as he pipped in with his own commentary. ”Indeed,” Jorge confirmed. ”It has been a pleasure looking over this…magnificent hom—um…city. This magnificent city.”

The fog grew hazier in his mind. The pulsating was returning, that call for home and comfort and peace and tranquility. This was it. Atlantis was the home of all of that and if the king asked him to stay and move his entire family over, he would do so…in a heartbeat. However, even with such a proclamation in his head, he had to let his mind wander back to something that Rebecca had asked – what if she brought her human girlfriend to this place? It didn’t escape his attention that Achlus didn’t answer that question but even as he began to wonder, it quickly became drowned out by the sense of home and belonging.

---

ATLANTIS CATACOMBS – THE NECROPOLIS

Every Heaven needs a Hell. If the Atlantis under the dome appeared to be a glistening paradise of shine and luster that would not fade, filled with the most beautiful forms, and sights which could not be matched, then the Catacombs were the polar-opposite. Beneath the city streets, under the running waters of the rivers that poured through the city, was a hidden section of the city that none of the new inhabitants were privy to see. It was a place where the living where tortured as bad as any pit of Hell could torture a soul -- it was a place where souls came to die.

Winding through a labyrinth of darkened tunnels, brightly lit only by carefully cultivated masses of bioluminescent fungi, the passages could easily became lost in. They wound beneath the entire city in a beehive of lefts, rights, and confusing dead ends. It was here that run off from above poured through, the excretions from primitive plumbing, the seeping of putrid, festering waters, the leftover trash from foods only half eaten and discarded as if it grew on trees. This was the side of Atlantis that only a select few were able to bear witness to – and only half of those did so willingly.

In the center of these confusing catacombs, in a large hollowed out section that ran directly underneath the center of the city, were was a massive underground city. The architecture was similar as what lay above, but it wasn’t clean, it wasn’t appealing to the eye, and the dilapidation was clearly ignored. It was questioned where those who were born human and those who were born as Gorgons were located; this would be the answer to those questions.

This was the Necropolis, the home of the dead – or rather any of those individuals who did not fit the ideals of Atlantean society. Atlantis was treated as a safe haven for mutants of all kinds back in its day, but as time went on, as the need for genetically perfect offspring became required, those who were difficult to mate with or were humans, were sectioned off. Finally, when their numbers became too large, the officials of Atlantis created the Necropolis to condemn those poor souls too. It would be here where they would live, work, and die, away from the eyes of the rest of the city.

Throughout the town, all that could be seen were visible mutated Atlanteans. Some looked like animals, some were misshapen with large limbs, others resembled elementals of stone or crystal. Those who did not appear to be a mismatch of natural creatures, were older and 100% human, those poor souls who were more to mutant families but were not granted the gift of the gods.

This was hell for these Atlanteans. It was here that they cleaned and worked on the under structure of the city to ensure the surface continued to stand. Of course having access to such an area was not the wisest to leave unattended. Among the twisted, misshapen jokes of living beings there moved the sentinels of the Atlantean army. Individuals who detested working in this place and took their frustrations out on the populace. Beatings, humiliation, and other unspeakable acts were cast upon these poor souls whose cries would never pierce through the stone sky above their heads.

A pair of Atlantean military officials stormed into through a twisted cavern of tunnels, leading them into the Necropolis. One of them was the dark-haired, predatory eyed man who had captured the young Gorgon made of coral. As she squealed for mercy, the man dragged her over to the nearest muck pit and tossed her inside. There was a splash of festered mud and gunk as she cried, gripping onto the glob.

“Continue your duties, Gorgon,” the man snarled. “Lest you incur another clubbing.”

The mutant cried, sniffling and wiping muck on her nose as she tried to wipe away tears. Shakily she gathered up mud and meekly tossed it into a nearby mold. Her blubbering continued as she eyed the man whom she knew to be a general. “I-I-I was…just so hungry. Please…I’m tired…I can’t…”

The general stared at her, his eyes narrowed. Glancing down to the round, he casually tucked his foot underneath a half-eaten and mostly rotted carcass of a fish that had been discard. With a swift kicked, it flew through the air and struck the younger mutant in the face before falling into the gunk.

“Feast upon that.” He said. “NOW WORK!! ALL OF YOU!”

The mutants in the muck pits jumped and immediately started to gather more gunk to put into molds, some even attempting to scurry towards the half-eaten fish. In the middle of it all, the young, coral covered mutant continued to sniffle but held her dirtied hands over her mouth to keep from crying out too loud. A beating was certainly not what she wanted now…

---

ATLANTIS CITADEL – THRONE ROOM

The lord of Atlantis was a powerful and strong, if old, man. Standing at least 6’3, the man had the body of someone in his physical prime. Standing to his full height, he stepped down, away from his throne and onto the ground floor. He moved with grace and ease towards the intruding mutants, his gaze moving between them but thankfully never straying for too long. There was something about his eyes, about the way he looked at someone that made it feel as if he was mentally digging into his skulls, looking for those precious gems of information that people kept locked away. It was something he did with the most genuine of smiles upon his lips.

His hands carefully brushed down over his grayed beard as his white teeth shone in a brilliant smile. He stood before the gathered room, his hands rest casually upon the hilt of the sword he kept at his waist. He was in no way making a move to pull it free but instead simply rested his hand upon the jeweled pommel precious stones. His head tilted as he looked between all of them, before turned his stern, yet kindly, gaze upon the larger man calling himself Masochist.

>> Well, pops, she's kinda condescending, and my daughter could beat the crap outa her, but i'm sure you think she's golden, so good for you. Father of the year.

The thoughts were as clear as thunder to the old king. He couldn’t help the condescending smile that pulled at his lips, that of a parent catching a child backtalking. ”I admit, Achlus tone can be a bit…blunt. We don’t live in a society of two-way talks or grumbling under ours breathes. We present the truth as forwardly as possible. Considering the world you all come from, I would think you would find that refreshing.” He smiled winningly. ”And yes…I would consider myself ‘Father-of-the-Year.’” He eyed Masochist and then the young woman. ”I’ll be more than happy to pass along any tips.”

>> ”Thenk ye fur th' warm welcome, Laird Atlan. Yer dochter has bin... most accommodatin' wi' uir questions.”

>> ”Indeed…It has been a pleasure looking over this…magnificent hom—um…city. This magnificent city.”

Both these individuals the king stared at with clear interest. One the one hand, the man known as Jorge seemed to gain the kindest of smiles. The lord looked him over as one would appraise a prized bull, scrutinizing and seemingly approving of what he had seen so far. The other, thought, the redhead, earned only the most perplexed looks from the old king. He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he stared at her long at hard. There was a problem here. Though he wouldn’t voice it…he couldn’t hear her thoughts – her mind was closed to him in both ways. That would be an issue.

Still, despite whatever misgivings the man had, he nodded to them all. ”I am glad that you are here…X-Men. Atlantis will surely be in need of your services.” He turned and began to greet them more formally now, nodding as he spoke to them in a manner that seemed to suggest she knew them all intimately well. ”Mr. Cervantes. Please welcome.” He slipped over to the semi-transparent young woman, Ghost, grinning as he held out his hand for hers in order to kiss it. ”Greetings to you sweet elemental of the winds.” He then turned to the redhead, still scrutinizing her with his gaze. He gave her a more curt greeting. ”Welcome Lodestone.” He had already spoken to Masochist so he simply nodded his head again. At the last, he stood, looming over the youngest girl with the most attitude. He gave her a soft smile, but his gaze never faltered from her. Unlike the others, his mind wasn’t attempting to pierce hers, but instead his gaze had an altogether different meaning. He remained silent, watching her for what seemed like a second too long before he gave her a bow. ”Welcome.” He said in a low, sweet tone.

Turning his back to them, the Lord Atlan stepped away and returned to his throne. From there he stepped back up the steps and regained his seat upon the chair. He looked down other the gathered group, silent for a moment as he contemplated. The silence was heavy, almost crushing, but eventually he spoke up.

”X-Men…I still find that name perplexing. But I’m aware of what you do and…” he turned to them. ”…why you are here. You are curious about us. You want to make sure our intentions are just. I assure you…they truly are. We are only here to help offer an alternative to the fear that as seemingly encapsulated your kind. We only want to be a safe haven.” He sighed. ”That is why I am inviting you all to stay for the evening. Enjoy the festivities throughout the city, partake in what pleasures you will while here and see for yourselves that we mean you no harm. Will you take accept this offer? I assure you…your every desire will be fulfilled.”

Gawain was glad he had left the mirrorwold to follow the guards who dragged the girl away. The place where they were going was lacking any sort of reflecting surface... or clean surface, or light, for that matter. Gawain's stomach twisted at the smells as they descended into the catacombs under the city, and the more he saw of what they were walking into the more disgusted he got... and that had nothing to do with the smells anymore.

Atlantis, like most seemingly perfect places, had a dark side, and this one was exactly as horrible as the upside was gorgeous. Most inhabitants, other than the Atlanteans who were obviously guards, had visible mutations, and seemed to be living in some form of slavery and forced labor. Gawain's hands curled into fists as he watched the guards tossing the girl into a pit.

Atlantis was most definitely not what it was drummed up to be. He needed to tell the others. They needed to tell the world.

Gawain hid in the shadows of the tunnel, and waited for the guards to move on. He assumed most exits were closely monitored, but also the girl had slipped out somehow, so there had to be a way. The mirrorwalked backed away slowly, finding a secluded, semi-lit spot that was a way away from both ends of the tunnel. Pulling a small mirror out of his bag and placing it on the ground, he merged into the reflection. These small mirrors had been made specifically for mission purposes, but he only carried two of them. For emergencies.

Being inside the mirrorworld told him that he had options. There were enough shards, broken windows, and other surfaces to work with, and there were also shiny places directly above them that he could make the jump to. It was not going to be a perfect heist by any means... but it would have to do.

Gawain walked back to the entrance of the tunnel, peering inside. The guards had moved on, harassing some other poor souls on their rounds, and the coral girl was digging around in the muck, sniffling and looking miserable. Gawain wished he had his archery gear. This was going to be a diplomatic mission... He waited for a moment where the coast looked clear, and moved to a better position, closer to the pit. He only had one shot at this...

The small mirror skidded over the dirty, muddy ground, until it came to a halt at the edge of the pit. A few moments later, Gawain used the other one to walk into and hop over. By then, the girl had noticed the shiny object, and looked at it curiously; she seemed startled when she saw Gawain appear on the other side, and looked ready to shriek. The mirrorwalked pulled her into the reflection before she could.

They were on the run now. Whatever diplomatic gymnastics the others were doing right above them, Mirror had just aided a fugitive. He just hoped he could make it back to the jet before anyone noticed...

Lord Atlan’s presence was… weighty. Ancient. This was Rebecca’s first interaction with a monarch, and the Leader of Atlantis did not disappoint, looking over their group with kindness, but above all else, authority. They were in his kingdom and in his throne room, so he had every reason to feel in control of his environment and all meetings to happen within.

Rebecca tried her best to play the role of the diplomat despite her concerns, well aware that the team was seeming… off? Yes, things had been off since the arrival on the island, and until further notice, their plan was to put their best foot forward. Thankfully, Masochist might have realized that as well, as he kept his silent meeting Lord Atlan. It was nothing against Saph generally, but specifically since they arrived on the island, he had been irritable. At this moment, he was not their best foot. Moose was also quiet, and that was a general comment, since Elke had a smart mouth naturally. Meanwhile, counter to her father, she might have been one of the only people in their group acting “normal” for the entire trip.

As for Ghost… after showing nothing but enthusiasm on their walk to the citadel, she was surprisingly quiet. In fact, in the corner of Becca’s eye, she could have sworn their Team Leader was flickering. Hold it together, Ghost… please… she thought to herself, wishing the white-haired woman could hear her. Depending on the turns their mission might still take, Rebecca would feel much more comfortable with the wisdom and tenure of Ghost on their side.

And then there was Jorge. Rebecca’s tone was tinted in her uncertainty, regardless of the elegance of her words. The veteran detective, meanwhile, sounded wholly reverent speaking to their host. It was a small slip, but at this point Rebecca was acutely listening for anything out of place, and calling Atlantis “home” was certainly out of place. Did this have to do with “the call” Rebecca was missing?

Atlan graced the group with his presence, moving down to their level while always remaining somehow above them all. He had words for, of all people, Masochist. Why? Had Lodestone missed some comment made under Saph’s breath? No, she was listening to everyone too closely to miss something like that. All she could think was everything went back to “the call.” Atlan could telepathically extend a call out to the nearby mutant population, so maybe it was possible the power was not one way and he could read thoughts as well as send them.

This was new information. That made Lord Atlan a truly powerful “demigod” to be sure, but they already knew that. What Rebecca wondered now… was if she was immune to this power as well. Maybe the king tipped his hand a little too far?

His greetings made her think she was onto something. He greeted Jorge and Maya as though he was glad to welcome them into his kingdom, whereas his greeting to the magnetic manipulator was brief, as if to let her know he was impartial to her presence. Your city is sae pretty, an’ yet yer th’ ugliest thing here, she thought to herself, smiling warmly to the leader, wondering if she would earn a response like Saph, or at the very least a grimace.

Lord Atlan questioned the name of their team, and while Rebecca felt the urge to educate him on the advances in science since his time and the identification of the X-Gene, she held her tongue. Something told her “informative” would only come across as “condescending” in this instance, and she doubted condescension was appreciated by royalty.

The stated purpose of Atlantis’s message was reiterated, but Rebecca’s growing suspicion had her wondering if the mission statement was coming across as rehearsed. He invited them to stay the night and indulge in whatever pleasures they wished. If he could glance into her mind, he might disapprove of the brief flash of thoughts Rebecca had, all featuring the Monarch’s daughter. Extending their time there could be a problem if the island was having some effect on the team, but could they really leave without knowing if Mirror had anything to report?

Rebecca was not the Team Leader, and it was not her place to make the call, so all she could do was smile. ”How very kind ay ye, Your Grace… thoucht Ah’d hope we’re nae overstayin’ our welcome?” Of course they weren’t; Lord Atlan was looking to invite them to his kingdom as permanent residents, so how could they overstay that? Still, she turned to the woman in charge, hoping she was still just that. ”Ghost?”

Saphirus actually managed a grin when Elke told him to stuff it, winking at her. The brief moment of very like-them activity only lightened his mood for a second, though. He soured quickly.

He went back to looking at the area, the guards, and finally, his companions. Look at them... All gaga over this place. Particularly Jorge and Maya. I mean... Look at Maya. #$%&kin putty in old man river's hands.

Speaking of old man river. "I admit, Achlus tone can be a bit…blunt. We don’t live in a society of two-way talks or grumbling under ours breathes. We present the truth as forwardly as possible. Considering the world you all come from, I would think you would find that refreshing. And yes…I would consider myself ‘Father-of-the-Year.’ I’ll be more than happy to pass along any tips.” Throughout the man's little private speech to him, his face got more and more red. It was just... He was such a D$%^! And when he looked at him... Something about him... Something about the light.... the #$%&ing LIGHT that wasn't there. It made him want to fling all of the colorful language.

His teeth clenched as he held his tongue and the down nose looking #$$& went about his business.

He stared at his team mates. That made him mad. He spoke like a sh%&y parent did to their kids. It made him mad. He invited them to stay. It made him mad. Lodestone referred to Maya to make a decision. He got rage-based tunnel vision.

"I say we hightale it... This place feels fake as #$%^... And You... You listen, old man. You read my mind again, we're gonna have some real f#$&in problems, you hear me?" He practically snarled.

Did he just say that to a king?

#$%^in right he did. Where did this ja#$^ff get off invading his most personal space? Why not say it out loud, too? This #$%^gobbling @#^hat would just skim it off the top anyway.

He tried to greet her and take her hand, but she did not corporealize for him despite him kissing in the general vicinity of her ghostly fingers. She did not want him to touch her.

"Greetings, my king." She hadn't been aware that she'd been smiling until she heard the emotion in her voice as she echoed his greeting. Ghost felt wholly conflicted. On one hand, this man and this island felt like they were fast becoming an important part of her life. She was sure that every day she could wake up happy, if only she was here.

Except, that just wasn't right.

Her king spoke. Maya lowered her head, internally torn.

If... if she had no child... she would be free to be here, where she belonged.

The guilt that flooded in after that thought made Maya's hands clench at her sides.

Would they accept the offer to stay overnight? Of course not! They had to get out of here RIGHT NOW. For once, she and Saph were in complete agreement.

"We would be delighted to stay." Was NOT AT ALL what she'd tried to say. Maya grit her teeth and added, "but, my king, you already understand our responsibilities in New York and why, despite what we may want, we cannot stay." She could not call the Mansion home. Her tongue and brain were having a terrible disconnect.

"Apologies." She sounded as curt as she had been with Saph. "We would love to bask in your-" This was getting embarrassing. She didn't skip a beat, but just kept talking until it came out as she needed it to. "Er. If your majesty pleases, could we see more of the city, perhaps meet some of our people? Your people?"

To say she was impressed was the overstatement of the year. In her opinion, the whole place, from the ceiling to the floor had been designed to impress. Like some fancy interior designer with an obsession for little mermaids had been hired to decorate the whole place. The king himself was large but old... intimidating in the same way elderly professional wrestlers were. She pondered over what kinda of political structure a place like this could have but grew bored with the notion rather quickly. If he wanted to call himself king, sure. He'd built the sand castle, he could sit on the throne and she wouldn't argue with it.

”...And yes… I would consider myself ‘Father-of-the-Year.’ I’ll be more than happy to pass along any tips.”

... The @$%#? Where the hell had that come from, and why the hell was the old guy fixated on Saph, and then her when he said it? The Native, who was past mystified at this point, glanced between her dad and the king suspiciously. Saph was turning red in the face... Coulda matched a tomato at that point. Boy, was he pissed! First Ghost, now some strange King Neptune wannabe. Guy just couldn't catch a break with the parenting advice, could he?

She watched as said King made the rounds introducing himself. Most of the greetings were polite and formal. Saph got a nod. She resisted smirking.

By the time the self-proclaimed king got to her she was watching him like a hawk. He was big, and in her mind, his small silent smile and closeness were a clear challenge. She drew herself up to her fullest, muscular shoulders squared and jaw set with determination. She wasn't gonna let him try and intimidate her in any way, shape, or form. She settled her pride across her shoulders and met his gaze with an even stare.

”Welcome.”

"Thank you." She replied evenly, without budging an inch. He turned his back, and she relaxed slightly. Hadn't been much of a reaction, but at the same time, he hadn't tried to molest her hair or looked down on her like some stupid child. He was already a million times better than his weird daughter in her books.

”X-Men… I still find that name perplexing. But I’m aware of what you do and… why you are here. You are curious about us. You want to make sure our intentions are just. I assure you…they truly are. We are only here to help offer an alternative to the fear that as seemingly encapsulated your kind. We only want to be a safe haven.”

... Your kind? Was that a slip of the tongue or an accident? Just a few minutes ago they had been greeted as equals. Apparently, everyone with a power was a demigod or some @#$%. What was the difference between them now? Elke spared a quick glance at the X's.

... Was it the costumes?

”That is why I am inviting you all to stay for the evening. Enjoy the festivities throughout the city, partake in what pleasures you will while here and see for yourselves that we mean you no harm. Will you take accept this offer? I assure you…your every desire will be fulfilled.”

Blinking, the Native thought back to everything she had seen on the way in. What freakin' other pleasures were there to be had? She'd seen baskets, boobs, and questionable food. Were they hiding party supplies in a broom closet somewhere?

"I say we hightale it... This place feels fake as #$%^... And You... You listen, old man. You read my mind again, we're gonna have some real f#$&in problems, you hear me?"

No sooner than Saph had finished his gripe, Elke jabbed an elbow at his ribs harshly. She was slightly alarmed by the outburst, considering he'd been so adamant about keeping tempers in check not too long ago during their training sessions.

"Kindly excuse him, he hasn't had his nap today."

Becca deflected the question to Ghost while Elke turned a burning glare on her father. How the @#$% could he nag her about her temper and yet go and blow his top on a supposedly important mission? She turned back around while grumbling to herself while pondering over the other thing her dad had mentioned in his threat.

The king had read his thoughts, apparently. The teen tucked away that bit of knowledge while casually edging her own thoughts to other things so she wouldn't fixate on the mind reading bit. If what she had suspected before had just been proven correct, it made forming plans much harder...

What were the last few impossible math equations her teacher had thrown at her? She was gonna try and solve them loudly in her head.

"We would be delighted to stay, but, my king, you already understand our responsibilities in New York and why, despite what we may want, we cannot stay."

She tuned back into the conversation in time to cast an owlish, confused look at Maya. My King...? The absolute @#$&

"Apologies. We would love to bask in your- Er. If your majesty pleases, could we see more of the city, perhaps meet some of our people? Your people?"

Confusion turned to outright suspicion and her expression was quickly schooled into one of teenage indifference. Our people, was it?

Why were all of the adults acting so goddamn weird? Her dad was having some kinda psychotic breakdown from a headache, Ghost was apparently integrating herself into the populace already, Becca had been fawning over the freaking princess (she'd seen that blush earlier!) The Jorge dude had been mostly quiet the whole time, so she couldn't get a grip on him.

Still, one of them should have been freaking tellin' Saph to shut his pie hole already, and yet that task had been left to her. The stowaway.

"I've got school in the morning... and detention." It was true, and while she didn't really mind missing it she figured it was still a valid excuse to not stay. Becca at the very least would probably agree with her.

ATLANTIS CITADEL – THRONE ROOM

This was a good place. The architecture was beautiful, the people were beautiful, it was exactly the kind of place that he wanted to have a family and raise kids. Jorge couldn’t think of a better place to be, especially since he was surrounded by other mutants and wouldn’t be suffering from the same prejudices that other mutants out in the world suffered. Of course, there would be some getting used to, but once he settled in, met a nice Atlantean, he was sure that the two of them could have a bouncing, happy family in no ti--

He stopped. An image of someone dark-skinned and with a brilliant smile flashed through his head. For a second he didn’t recognize her, merely thought her to be just another phantom in the back of his mind. The seconds ticked on and suddently realization came to mind that this was someone that he knew…she was…Gem—Gemm? Gemma! It was like taking a breath after being under the water for too long. The sound and fury of memories started to course through his head again, of their meeting, of their first date, him meeting her kids, and so on. Everything started to slip into place like puzzle pieces until the complete image of Gemma Taylor and Chase all formed together into a cohesive picture. They were real. He had a family. Why did he want another?

He gulped. He couldn’t explain why he was having so much trouble keeping his thoughts straight. He wanted to blame it on this place but found that whenever those notions popped in, they were quickly dispersed by the overwhelming sense of home and community he felt emitting from every inch of the city. These were sensations that were even stronger, he would note, with every step that the old king Atlan took in front of them.

What was going on here?

Jorge pushed through the noise in his head, the screaming voices telling him that this was his home now and trying to persuade him to silence any reservations he had. Thankfully the voices of the others were enough to distract him from any discomfort he had. As much as he wanted to pipe in and say something, he willed himself to keep his mouth shut. He was sure that his voice was going to fail him and he clearly wasn’t the only one.

>> ”How very kind ay ye, Your Grace… thoucht Ah’d hope we’re nae overstayin’ our welcome? Ghost?”

Rebecca didn’t see all that bedazzled by the king but she clearly had some kind of reservations judging from her body language. As she tried to gauge the man, and being unwilling to speak for the team, she passed the answer along to their comrade and team leader, Ghost. However, before Ghost could even answer, the less than subtle member of the team, Masochist, reared his ugly head. The kind had said something to him, as if answering part of a conversation that no one had heard. It was something that wouldn’t sit well with the man…

>> "I say we hightale it... This place feels fake as #$%^... And You... You listen, old man. You read my mind again, we're gonna have some real f#$&in problems, you hear me?"

Met with a harsh elbow from his daughter, Ghost gave Masochist a firm side-eye before she turned her attention back to the king and attempted to answer for them.

>> "We would be delighted to stay…but, my king, you already understand our responsibilities in New York and why, despite what we may want, we cannot stay… Apologies. We would love to bask in your-- Er. If your majesty pleases, could we see more of the city, perhaps meet some of our people? Your people?"

>> "I've got school in the morning... and detention."

Jorge would have to follow Ghost’s lead. As much as part of him thought that spending the night was more than reasonable before heading back to New York, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. He needed to speak with the other’s, privately, in hopes of seeing if they all were having the same feelings but first they had to get away from under the stern gaze of the lord who sat regally upon his throne.

He finally piped in at this point. ”Yes. We…um…have duties to attend to…back ho--…in…New York.” Gulped. Why couldn’t he say “home” when he was thinking about the Mansion? He shook it off. ”But yes. If we could see more of the city, that would be ideal. Just to ensure that the rest of the…demi-gods…are doing well.”

---

ATLANTIS CATACOMBS – THE NECROPOLIS

Paci, general of the army of Atlantis folded his arms across his chest as he partook in his required rounds through the catacombs. After capturing that little whelp that had escaped earlier, the man was disgusted that he got to see daylight only to have to come back down here. This was a big day for Atlantis, rising above the waves and opening the gates to the citizens of today. He still didn’t fully trust them but the fools were desperate for any kind of salvation. Besides, as trusted King Atlan and if the man said this was a necessity to ensure their survival, then he would begrudgingly accept them. Besides, their fates would be far worse than the gorgons littering these catacombs.

The tall man with the dark hair and predatory eyes moved between his troops, dressed in his military garb with a sword hanging at his hip. The smell of the catacombs always turned his stomach but he knew that making rounds down here was important. The soldiers didn’t care for doing rounds here either and, if they weren’t watched, could easily slip away to partake in the joys above. But if everyone did that then there would be none to watch the gorgons, something the man couldn’t allow. They were a dangerous lot if left unchecked.

”Did you hear? Leonidas, captain of the city watch, spied a metal bird flying towards the island. Strangely dressed demigods emerged and were met by Achlus.”

”Fools to have such fortune. Achlus is a beauty worthy of only the gods. Well, the gods and, of course—“

”Shhh! Here he comes…”

General Paci approached the trio of guards he found clucking away like hens. ”I see three of my soldiers talking – when they should be working.” His eyes flashed dangerously. The three offending soldiers nodded and muttered their apologies as they turned away to work. Paci followed them with his eyes before raising his voice. ”And if I hear any of you...” he was addressing all the soldiers within earshot. ”…speak of my s--…of Achlus again. You shall feel the tip of my blade dig into your stomachs!”

Silence greeted the man’s words but it was the silence of understanding. These soldiers knew better than to upset their general. As they all moved to get back to work, Paci shook his head as he turned and started on his next rounds. As his eyes fell onto the muck pits, he for a moment caught sight of the coral-skinned gorgon he had just saved, but only for a moment. In the split-second he took to blink – she was gone. Lips curled upward, the man shot his gaze forward, his eyes flashing a deep amber yellow as his vision began to heighten. It was then he saw it, the sparkle of something shiny on the ground. As he started to advance, his enhanced hearing picked up the sounds of rushing footsteps off in the distance. His gaze flew and he saw, for a millisecond, two fleeing figures.

He growled. ”Men! Follow me! We have more escapees!” And with that, he and a small battalion started their pursuit.

---

ATLANTIS CITADEL – THRONE ROOM

It is confusing to hear the thoughts of the world. Of course that may sound like a bit of an over-exaggeration, but in the case of King Atlan, it was something that could very well be true. Ever since he was a boy, he could hear the thoughts of the entire city of Atlantis. It was maddening at first, distracting and it grew to the point where he had confessed to his sister, Atlanta, that he was thinking of ending his life. But it was with her patience, her understanding, and her guidance that Atlan learned to control his abilities, to drown out the voices and turn them into simple, dull murmurs in the background. For years he lived in happiness – that is until the Rite – the day that Atlanta sacrificed herself to save the city after a near cataclysmic loss. From that day forward, his focus, and his control, began to slip.

Now, sitting upon his throne, the man seemed fairly well pieced together. His kind smile, his warm, yet hard, eyes, he looked exactly like what anyone would expect royalty to look like; but within his head it was a different story.

Atlantis is our new home...This is so great...I wonder if my grandmother would like this place...Look at that hot piece of @$$ over there...I can’t wait to see what else this place has to offer...Gemma…Chase…...Yo look at that hottie...I wonder if I can get a signal here so I can MyFace Live all about it...I hope they have TV...I don’t want to miss #GreyisDrama...Goddamn, I just want a burger...#$%^in right I did. Where did this ja#$^ff get off invading my most personal space? Why not say it out loud, too? This #$%^gobbling @#^hat would just skim it off the top anyway. ...I thought I heard a jet earlier...I wonder if my cat Mr. Bumbleberry will be happy here...They’re Greek, right? Shouldn’t they have wine...Mmm, who was that redhead I saw in the spandex earlier...I’d like to -- NOT AT ALL what I'd tried to say Toga! Toga! Toga...Jeez did you see the t**** on that one swimmer...Wow, all the fruit and veggies I could ever want...I wonder if they’ll try to open a Starbucks here...Hulllo? What crappy wifi...Our people....My crotch is itchy…

There as a twitch in the corner of his eye as he could filter out only the smallest fragments of information from the group that was gathered around him. He tried to focus on only them but with so many new people in the city, so much new information, the old king was having a somewhat difficult time processing all the voices. However he kept his focus on the gathered group and mulled over their request and tried to filter out the rest of the sounds until he could only hear their thoughts. They were getting suspicious but some of them were actually susceptible. Good…he just needed them to trust him for a few moments longer.

He turned his gaze to his daughter, Achlus, and immediately saw into her mind. He whispered a thought over to her, just a simple picture of several unopened wine vessels in the next room and bade her to pour some cups. As Achlus slipped away, Atlan turned back his visitors and presented himself as sweetly as he always did. A grin and a gentle nod of his head, he gestured behind them to the city.

”I can hardly deny such a request. Please, my new friends, take your time, explore, see what the city has to offer you,” He nodded to the guards at either side of the door. They immediately opened the doors that would lead back out into the city. ”While it pains me to know that you will not be staying, I do hope that my looking around the city you may reconsider. Or, at most, stay for the feast tonight.”

At this point Achlus returned and smiled as she brought out a marble tray that was laden with clay mugs. In each one, it was filled to the brim with a deep, rich purple liquid. A glance would easily identify it as wine, one that looked particularly sweet with an aroma that could ensnare the senses. The fruit this wine was made is very well known to many scholars of the classics, to anyone who had read the story of Odysseus and what happened to his men when they landed upon the island of the Lotophagi. To most it was a myth, but to the Atlan, it was a reality – and an excellent way of keeping control.

Achlus smiled heavenly to the group and held up the tray filled with drink. ”Please…” she said. ”For your journey through the city. Sure you must be tired of water by now.” The scent of the wine would have an almost hypnotic effect. ”Just a taste of what Atlantis has to offer…”

The coral girl made a startle little sound as she was pulled into the mirror, but didn't cream or cry for help - probably due to thinking that wherever she was being taken, it could not very well be worse than where she already was. Gawain pulled her along from mirror to mirror, leaving the cavern behind.

>>”Men! Follow me! We have more escapees!”

"Sh*t." Gawain frowned, breaking into a run. The mirror-teleportation was a great advantage, but if he did not manage to lose the guards before they caught a glimpse of him and his uniform, or guessed which direction he was going, the whole team would be in a world of trouble. Jumping from surface to surface, he tried to make zig-zag, and stay out of the guards' sight. Reaching up with his free hand, he turned the comm on.

They have a telepath.

"Hey, guys" he said with as cheerful and matter-of-fact tone as he could muster while running "Don't have too much fun without me, will ya?" he frowned, he needed to get the message across "Don't forget you have your party clothes here in the jet. Come back before the party gets going, so we can hit downtown together, hm?"

Hopefully, at least one of them would realize something was up. Gawain did nut usually sound this chipper about a party... And they did not have clothes in the jet anyway.

Moving away from the main roads and making a beeline for the landing pad, Gawain glanced over his shoulder at the girl.

"Hey. I'm Gawain, and I'm here to help you. What's your name?"

With an offer for the team to stay in Atlantis for the night on the table, Rebecca was grappling with the benefits of obtaining information over the state of her team. She would not speak for them, as the only one in the group that could possibly remain in Atlantis overnight with a clear mind.

The first one to speak up was Masochist, and unsurprisingly, he stood against the idea of a night at some lovely Atlantean Inn. He was vehemently against the plan, but to be fair, he was appearing to be vehemently against everyone and everything around him. Somehow passing Ghost on his ****list was Lord Atlan. Masochist realized what was going on just as Rebecca did, and the energy-absorber did not take kindly to his thoughts being gleaned by some arrogant tyrant who was about to question his parenting abilities. (Maybe his hate for Atlan and his hate for Ghost were not entirely dissimilar, actually.)

While not as vocal in their refusal to stick around, Ghost, Moose, and even Jorge all jumped on board with Saph. It was odd to hear from Maya and Jorge, because it almost felt like they were convincing themselves not to stay. The two were forcing out words, and occasionally a more out of place word would slip from their lips naturally. Rebecca’s trust in Atlantis was declining rapidly, as it was becoming almost undeniable that the place was messing with her friends’ heads.

Rebecca nodded in agreement with Jorge’s last request. ”Aye, oan th’ way it, we’d be grateful tae see more ay th’ city. Make sure th’ people, yoors an’ oors, ur safe.” Rebecca wanted to make a clear distinction between the Atlanteans and the surface Mutants; until they could trust Lord Atlan, she was not read to give him dominion over some of those she had considered to be “her people.”

The King expressed his regrets that they would not be staying, but wanted them to at least attend the feast. This was not the first time he requested this… was he that convinced the feast would win them over, or was there something more?

Rebecca was ready to turn for the door to the throne room when Achlus, who had been silent while her father met with them, returned with a tray of mugs, offering them a drink to enjoy while they explored Atlantis. Rebecca took the mug, looking at it cautiously.

The scent of the liquid reached her nostrils, filling her head with the sweet, captivating scent. Rebecca felt her body warm and relax, and much of the tension she had been carrying slowly ebbed, as she looked back at the beautiful princess. Her father was suspicious, and even arrogant, but Achlus had treated them warmly, right? She had just been a kind host, eager to share her culture with the newcomers. The redhead smiled and brought the mug near her lips and—

"Hey, guys! Don't have too much fun without me, will ya? Don't forget you have your party clothes here in the jet. Come back before the party gets going, so we can hit downtown together, hm?"

The presence of a voice in her ear startled Lodestone, who momentarily worried Lord Atlan had broken through whatever it was that kept him out of her head. Once she realized she was just hearing Gawain over the comm piece in her ear, she was only more confused. Party clothes? She was certain she did not have a change of clothes on the jet. And was Mirror already back to the jet? Why did he sound so weird?

A thought dawned on Rebecca as she looked up at Lord Atlan. Of course Mirror was acting weird; he was aware that telepathy was in play. She could not say “something is wrong here” without Atlan eavesdropping into the minds of the others. Rebecca wished they could have a separate channel so Gawain could tell her what he found, but in absence of that, they had to get to the jet. Something was rotten in the state of Atlantis.

Looking back down at her mug, she took another breath in of the aromatic wine. She felt her mind fogging up, and she was already questioning why she was in such a rush to get back to Mirror and the jet. Achlus was…

Achlus was Atlan’s daughter. Even if Rebecca wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, (and of course she did,) there was no saying that Atlan did not have his own odd effects on his child, just as he did on the X-Men. If not for Mirror’s cryptic warning, Rebecca’s blurry thoughts would have finally let her lower her guard, and she knew that was the opposite of a natural reaction to her situation.

The palm of Rebecca’s gauntlet-adorned hand covered the top of her mug. She bowed, trying to find her words in her dulled mind, taking pauses when she could not figure out what was on the tip of her tongue. ”Thenk ye, Princess, but Ah dornt hink mah… stomach coods handle somethin' sae… sweit reit noo.” She placed the mug back on the tray, trying to regather herself. She did not like feeling so cloudy—and that was just from a few deep breaths. ”Mebbe at th' feest,” she promised with a smile.

”We shoods gie goin,” she affirmed, looking to her team as she turned for the door. ”We'll want tae gie tae th' jit suin tae gie ready.” Surely Atlan already overheard that they had a friend at the jet, so she wanted to stick to the story that Gawain was just waiting for them, looking forward to seeing Atlantis and the feast for the first time. He did not need to know there was a report waiting for them from Mirror to let them know exactly what happens on the side streets of Atlantis…