> "Maya... What ever you are trying to do... Don't do it...p... Please, Maya... He's manipulating us-"

King Atlan had done this. He was not her king. He was not her anything.

"Don't get your spandex in a bunch." A very small and feminine voice escaped from between Saphirus' lips, directly from his own air supply as he exhaled. She was still figuring out which way was up so she couldn't extend her range of vision out beyond Saph's body just yet. She was mostly concerned with not losing which parts were her and accidentally merging herself to his body— not that she'd ever done that, but it was a scary thought.

"I can't see what's happening just yet, but you sound... less mad." The little voice continued so softly, she hoped that no one else would take notice of their little quick conversation. She had to steer herself away from insulting him. It just wasn't polite to take control of someone's body and then make fun of them.

He started to move and Ghost stopped him with a gross overreaction, sending his arm jerkily in the opposite way.

"Saph... if anyone deserves to get their face punched out the back of their head, it's Atlan, but he's not going to let you get close unless he thinks you're not you. Do you think you can let me drive?" She could, in theory, make him pass out, but that was also incredibly rude. Plus, if they wanted to make use of his power, he would have to do that. Ghost could only do the muscles and balance of a physical body. "Look... scared? Or something? I don't know. Can you act?"

ATLANTIS CITADEL – OUTSIDE

Deep in the darkest corners of his mind, buried under the choking piles of comfort, warmth, and home that he had initially appreciated, the true Jorge Cervantes could feel himself screaming. He was trapped, suffocating under the thunderous sounds that tried to force him to accept this world as his new home. They were no longer siren calls but instead had descended into harpy-like shrieks, demanding that he open his mind fully to accept Atlantis into his mind. But in this dark little corner, the true self of the detective held tight, much like a man pressing his body against a door to keep it from buckling under the pressure.

He gulped as he could feel his mind struggling to gain a foot hold. Already Atlan had seeped into his mind, taken over his physical body and was speaking through him. He was demanding that the rest of the team stand down, specifically, Rebecca. Atlan had already crawled into his mind, pulled out whatever details Jorge knew about his teammates, real names, powers, and threatened accordingly. Worst of all, if they didn’t stand down, Jorge knew that Atlan’s intentions – he was going to either accept them into the fold, or kill them where they stood. They needed to move and they needed to move fast.

>> ”STOP…Get it ay mah head,”

Silently Jorge prayed that Rebecca could continue to hold off. Most of the A-team was here on this island but with himself and Ghost already under the king’s control, that meant the only real challenge left was Rebecca. Her powers were the only thing that was keeping her from being killed on the spot. She would be useful, so very useful, to King Atlan if only he could get her to submit. But, at this point, that was a very, very big if.

Jorge moved with ease, the water churning and swirling about him to protect both the royal family and both himself and Elke. If they wanted to escape, Jorge could have easily provided that, but why escape when they were exactly where the king wanted them? Jorge struggled to keep his grip. He didn’t place any attention on Masochist as Ghost was already choking him from the inside out, all that was left was Rebecca and how could metal hurt water?

Deep down he could feel sorrow. He was strong, stronger than most mutants, and here he was, using his powers in such a disgraceful manner. While Atlan spoke through him, attempting to convince Rebecca to stand down, the young woman suddenly lashed out, sending out a magnetic pulse and repelled every piece of sizeable metal in all directions.

>> ”HYYYYYAAAH!”

Jorge flinched, shielding his eyes as a large shield flew past him. It was an impressive display of ability but Jorge/Atlan was not going to be dissuaded. He merely scoffed through the detective’s lips as he made the man advance like a piece on a chess board. Water continued to swirl dangerous around them. He didn’t pay attention to what Masochist was saying but at most he could only assume that Ghost was working her influence on him. Dammit. They needed a way out…but what…? It would be so much easier if he could just be taken off the boa—

He paused. He gulped. He barely had any control left but maybe, just maybe he could get one last bit out.

Jorge!Atlan charged at Rebecca, throwing up both hands and sending a torrent of water directly towards her with all the force of an explosive firehose. Water that spilled immediately snaked back to him, curling up his body and rejoining the burst of water. It was an endless, stinging, torrent of water that relentlessly struck the woman. Any more force behind it and Jorge would be breaking the young redhead’s limbs with how powerful the bursts of water were getting. Atlan, Jorge could feel him pleased with the effects of his abilities and images flashed through Jorge’s mind, glimpses of the purpose that he had for him. The man’s heart sunk – he needed to act now.

Bringing Rebecca to her knees, Jorge kept pouring on the water, swirling it about her face and features, pumping up the pressure so that she couldn’t even focus enough to breathe, let alone stand. Pleased by this progress, Jorge could feel the king’s mind momentarily wander back to the braid-haired young Indian girl (more disgusting thoughts), so he took the small break to kneel and stare into the redhead’s mismatched eyes.

’H-Help…m-m-me…” he whispered with as much force as he could muster from the king’s control.

---

ATLANTIS OUTSKIRTS – X-JET

“It’s a bird! Look at it’s wings!”

“It’s too big to be a bird! It must be a monster!”

“A gorgon that can flying with skin like steel? It is terrifying! It must be a God of Gorgons!”

”Shut. Up.” there was a growl to the voice that muttered this. His voice didn’t need to be raised any higher to quell his men, but instead rumbled low and unnervingly. It was a warning, the only warning that a predator like General Paci would ever give to his men. Once they all quieted down, the man turned his amber eyes away from them and back to the jet as it sat on the ground. ”It is just technology. A ship built to sail the skies, nothing more.” He smirked. ”And all ships can be burned.”

Standing up straight, in his glistening armor, the Atlantean general turned his wild eyes onto one of his men. Boldly striding up to him, he grabbed him by the neck of his breastplate and pulled him close. A few harsh words were whispered into the man’s ears. The soldier gulped before he nodded his head, understanding what he was being asked for. As General Paci stepped back, he watched the soldier cut a slit into space itself and step through.

The seconds ticked away. The soldiers all turned their eyes between their general and the flapping fabric of space-time that the man had just slit. It wasn’t long before he finally returned, this time carrying a very large crate. Inside this crate were several small pottery containers, each and every one no bigger than a large orange with what looked like a thick wick sticking out the top. The men immediately backed away from the case, but the general’s eyes glistened as she stepped up, reached in, and grabbed one of the vessels.

He hefted it up, tossed it a few inches in the air and caught it again, causing the men to flinch. The general merely laughed in contentment. ”Take a few,” he commanded, ”And prepare your flint. Let’s see how that ‘plane’ can stand up to Greek Fire.”

Seconds would pass before clay vessels were seen flying out from the brush, colliding with the side of the plane. Thanks to a concoction whose ingredients had been lost to time, the second that the flaming vessel struck the plane, it shattered, causing the material inside to burst out, catching fire, and spreading all along the surface. The chemicals were made to burn, even in water, and to stick to whatever material they touched.

More and more volleys of these clay meteors flew out. Some missed but the majority struck the plane and continued to burn with a fierce, blue flame. None were safe from the might of Atlantis…

---

ATLANTIS CITADEL – OUTSIDE

Achlus stood by, watching as her father imposed his will on the kindly older man and the young girl with him he simply would not stop touching. His hands resting on young Moose’s shoulders, the man just smiled gleefully from behind the shield of swirling water, his large hands kneading into the younger girl’s flesh with utter jovialness. She knew his mind, to him it seemed like victory was a lock. He possessed the might of the ocean with one and the strength of the air with the other, what good were the rest of these “mutants” as he called them? It seemed almost too unfair to watch – and to a point it was as Achlus wanted to hide her face.

She knew to bring these X-Men to her father for a discussion. It was his hopes that he could pull in mutants from the upper world in order to help spread their message of peace and unity for demigods across the globe. But their suspicion and her father’s impatience seeming were running these matters now.

Sadly she looked on as her father focused all his strength on Lodestone, the redheaded demigod that had bewildered the princess upon meeting. She was struggling to hold onto herself and it was to a point that Achlus wanted to step in and stop her father. But the man was gleeful, he was mad, and she knew better than to cross him. Her hopes for a peaceful accord with the surface world was quickly failing.

”Father…” Achlus said as she approached him. She squeaked when Lodestone screamed and sent all the surrounding metal flying into opposite directions. If not for the wall of tidal water, she was sure that they would be dead. Catching her breath, she drifted to him. ”Father! Please! T-They’ve had enough!” she tried to appeal to his more logical and mad side. ”You will…You’ll ruin them for breeding. If you turn their minds into mush, what use will they be?”

The king scoffed. He had broken his attention away from Jorge and Lodestone, briefly, to shift his eye back to Masochist who was currently being possessed. ”What do we need of their minds, my child? We only need them to aid in repopulating our bloodlines. As soon as they produced enough offspring, they would be discarded.” The king turned to face Achlus, his hand still holding young Moose’s shoulder tight. ”Do think me too cruel? Too wasteful? Or do you fear I would damage the redhead plaything I promised you?”

Achlus shrunk away, her eyes turning from her father’s mad gaze as his attention was now focused on her wispy form. Already she could feel his mind splitting a third time in an attempt to pierce hers. She shuddered, feeling the effects tenfold as she fell to her knees. ”N-No…m-my lord…” she begged, wincing under the intense pressure of his mind. ”I merely…ugh…I only…”

”Spoiled. Brat.” There was a suddenly widening of his eyes. In a burst of air, Achlus screamed but was cut off as her eyes rolled back into her head and her body dissolved into vapor. Turning back to the matter at hand, Atlan shook his head, addressing the X-Men. ”’Spare the rod, spoil the child’? Isn’t that the expression?” A toothy grin flashed across his pleased features. He turned to Masochist again. ”My sweet Goddess of the Air,’ he addressed her with charm dripping from his tongue. ”Do you have your troglodyte friend under control yet? Or shall he have to be castrated and sent into the pits? Shame if that is the case,” He leaned down and planted the softest of kisses atop Moose’s head. ”He breeds fine stock indeed.”

Mirror strapped the girl into a seat, and then moved to the control panel of the jet to set it on autopilot. It did not need to do much, merely float out of reach while he mirrorhopped over to the citadel and took a look at...

>>"No! No! You're going to- no! No! You- you can't! The General- You don't have armor! Please, please don't die. Please don't go!"

The girl freaked out, trying to get out of the seatbelts, but not succeeding. Gawain set the controls and the jet rose up, floating at a safe height that still allowed him to hop into the nearest reflecting surface outside.
The girl was scared, he could tell that.

"Shhh, it's okay. I know what I'm doing. My friends are in trouble, and I have to go help them. You'll be safe here..."

He tried to sound as calm and possible. He was worried about Becca and the others, but he also did not want to leave a panicked child in the jet. Just in case she managed to break out of the seat...

>>"Thexjet, don't let him go!"

"Kalos, it's okay." Gawain looked at the girl as the jet floated to a safe distance and balanced itself "I'll come back soon and bring my friends. I promise I'll..."

There was a crash from outside, not strong enough to make the jet wobble, but making it clear that something had just hit the outside. Gawain blinked, moving back to the monitors that were clearly signaling that... the jet was on fire?!

"Oh NO you didn't..." Gawain groaned, plopping down in the pilot's seat to take control back from the autopilot. The monitors told him the fire was on the outer surface of the jet, and it was supposed to hold... but who the hell was throwing freaking Molotovs at them?!

"Hold on Kalos, change of plans!"

He swung the jet around, angling it so that he could face the mysterious attackers. He could see people below int he bushes, and he caught a glint of armor as well. Oh. The a**holes from the dungeons. Go figure. Gawain was less worried about the fire, and more so about whatever invisible mutations they might have... but he also knew that if he got bogged down here, the rescue would never reach his friends in time.

Gawain steered the jet higher, hopefully out of throwing range, then tapped into his comm again.

"Lodestone? The Jet's taking fire. What the ever loving hell is going on down there?..."

The moments after Rebecca screeched were filled with chaos. Weapons flew everywhere, clattering across the ground, hitting Masochist and the water shield surrounding the royals and the team’s thought-traitors. In that group was Elke, who lost control of an arrow that would have pierced right through Rebecca, had the magnetic wave not knocked it slightly off course, sailing over her head by inches. Elke would have killed her; this was madness, and there had to be a way to put an end to it all before she had to take drastic measures against her own student.

Elke squared up on Rebecca and formed one of her clones, but the result was… less than impressive. The clone seemed disoriented. Rebecca still remembered how the secondary Elkes could be… less mentally coherent, but the effect of Atlan’s presence was accentuating the problem.

Rebecca wanted to concern herself with the clone, or check on the status of Masochist, but she had a problem of her own. Her mind was still her enemy, and Jorge was bearing down on her. She wanted to move away, but there was no time. Water pushed her off her feet, pressing her back against a pillar. Water was impossible to fight, which was why Jorge was always the X-Man she considered most dangerous. Now she was on the other end of his torrent, and she could feel her body just barely putting up resistance. If not for her well-crafted chestpiece, her ribs would have likely shattered.

As she took her beating, more good news came across on her earpiece.

”Lodestone? The Jet's taking fire. What the ever loving hell is going on down there?”

Backup was not coming. Bad. Maybe good. Did she even want Gawain putting himself into the cluster****? Best-case scenario might put another team member in Atlan’s control. Worst-case, she was leading another team member to his death. She spoke, but water kept splashing into her mouth, leaving her coughing and sputtering intermittently. ”Mirr—! All bad! We canblrgh!” It was no use; the water was not just pressing on her chest—it was a full body assault.

Things were going badly, but there was suddenly hope. Jorge’s voice whispered weakly, and Lodestone could just tell: This was not Atlan. The king was dealing with his own daughter, so maybe his attention was splitting. It was hard to focus with the water pressing on her, but even her mind was feeling more clear. She could think for herself again, even for just a moment. Maybe this was the opening.

From the corner of her eye, Lodestone watched in horror as Achlus was dispersed; dead? Hopefully not. But she had to take her window of time before it vanished just as quickly. Rebecca did all she could to ignore the pain pounding through her body, putting her mind to something else: a group of metal arrowheads. Moose’s arrows had scattered along the ground, and there were many of them. Focusing on a grouping, Rebecca yanked at them as hard as she could, sending them toward Jorge’s back with as much force as an actual barrage of arrows. It was not ideal, and she feared two things: that the plan might fail… or that it wouldn’t.

"Don't get your spandex in a bunch." The tiny whisper met only his ears, and a look of confusion formed on his face. Was... she joking? Did brain washed mind-slaves tend to start a career in stand up?

She'd been faking it this whole time? No.

"I can't see what's happening just yet, but you sound... less mad."

She had a way to fight it? His attempt to move was interrupted by a sudden jerk away... Oh... that was just Strange.

His eyes landed on at Atlan's grip on his daughter as he processed her words, and he fell to a knee, as if struggling with something. Ghost wasn't trying to overpower him just yet. Something was going on, here. He covered his face with his arm and shook violently as he muttered. "Oh... Still pissed... Just reasonable this time." So, she didn't have some sort of cure-all for Atlan's powers, then, if she was asking this kind of stuff... Happy circumstance, then?

He would go with that.

Through his concealing limbs he spotted the struggles on the outside of their little body bubble. Things were getting worse quick. Rebecca needed help. He clenched his teeth as Maya's voice rang in his ear.

"Saph... if anyone deserves to get their face punched out the back of their head, it's Atlan, but he's not going to let you get close unless he thinks you're not you. Do you think you can let me drive?"

He would have to trust that Lodestone could hold on... Getting close was their best bet. "Just get us close... I'll make him regret he was ever born."

He relinquished control to her, grimacing as she told him to act. Was he going to look scared? Hell no. He was going to look rightfully pissed off. Sweat dripped from his brow as he awaited his opportunity to strike. If things got too intense- If Rebecca got backed into a corner, or if Elke was put in danger, he would have to act quick.

His grimace deepened as the King called him a troglodyte. What an @#%hole... He then kissed his daughters head. His heart skipped a beat. Oh... This was going to happen. His mental broadcast would be open lament for the things he wanted to do to Atlan, but he couldn't.

Whatever was happening, Saphirus' body was responding by upping the tension in every muscle.

"Let me drive." She complained as their movements were jerky at best. Okay. So maybe it wasn't Masochist that was making it so rough. Maybe it was the hurry Ghost was in and how very rusty she'd gotten with this ability. People didn't like it. It was scary. But right now she was fighting to make the arms and legs move without slapping Saph with himself.

Maybe Atlan would think they were fighting for control?

Yeah. Something like that.

Once Ghost was a bit more comfortable moving them without the entire Masochist Machine falling over, she pushed her vision outward to catch up on events.

What she perceived only made her goosestep them faster toward Atlan. Trouble. That's what was going on. Mirror's communication still somehow buzzed in Ghost's perception, no doubt giving Saph a weird thrill of vibration.

Ghost didn't push their speed any further. Didn't want to seem as desperate as they were.

"My King!" Once they were close-ish, and because Ghost wasn't sure what the water deal was about, she stopped and made the Masochist kneel. It... wasn't pretty. But she did it. His head flopped forward in complete subjugation. "I have him, my king. He is ours to command."

Oh. Getting up was more awkward than she'd expected. Ghost had to use his hands to help push him up to his feet again so that they could take those few steps to close the distance.

Would it work?

ATLANTIS CITADEL – OUTSIDE

Water. Water was rushing inside of his head. The deafening crash of waves that had seen the passage of time from the very beginning. Jorge could hear all of it and he liked it. He could feel the draw of being back home, of that sense of belonging, but the problem was that for was calming as that sound was supposed to be, it irked him. Atlan had dug himself deeply in to the detective’s mind, but the one thing he didn’t count on was the trauma that had been neatly tucked away and, for the most part, forgotten. Jorge had control over water, he respected water, but in this point in his life, he wasn’t happy with water.

Jorge had suffered deeply when he had dispersed into the ocean and drifted so many, many miles, torn apart into so many particles. It was one of the most terrifying experiences in the man’s life and it had left a lasting impression. While most would have wished for nothing more than those feelings to be gone, for Jorge, it would turn out to be a saving grace. He grabbed onto those feelings like a lifeline and dragged himself back into the shores of consciousness. Atlan was still there, building more and more pressure, but Jorge could eek out some minor control – and just in time.

It was Jorge himself who was not killing Rebecca as they spoke. As much as Atlan wanted her for more carnal purposes, he was willing to cut out those people who wouldn’t comply. Rebecca Grey was certainly not one who would comply. But, while his king demanded that he end her life, it wasn’t a task that Jorge could achieve. Still…he made it look damn real with whatever control he was able to wrestle back.

The water soaked her, pummeling her with high enough pressure that could have ripped flesh from bones with enough time. But as Jorge advanced, his features softened, his eyes pleading secretly as he hoped that she would look at him. When he was close enough and she was at the doors defeat, Jorge ushered his command, a single prayer and a hope that she could hear him over the water that was probably seeping out of her ears.

End this. Take him out of the game. It was the only chance that any of them had if they hoped to get out of this alive. Jorge was by no means the strongest mutant on the team but he was up there and so long as he was taken out, it was going to ensure that they at least had a chance.

He felt the grip loosen just a bit. He turned, painfully, glancing over his shoulder as he spied his king bearing down upon his daughter and ending her with a flicker. As the wisps of smoke vanished, Jorge turned his attention back to Rebecca. His eyes told the story. If she was going to do it, she needed to do it now.

Her attention away from him for a moment, Jorge could briefly feel the magnetic pulse that Rebecca released course through the fillings in his teeth. And as soon as he felt it, he heard the whoosh of air as several projectiles flew behind him.

It was like being stung by a swarm of very large bees. As each arrowed pierced his back, Jorge gasped, his body arching as he lifted his head up towards the sky. Eyes widened at the surprise and the pain, the X-Man hissed, shouting as he fell to his knees and then onto all fours. His back warm with red ichor seeping out of his wounds, the man collapsed down onto the ground, feeling his connecting with Atlan weakening as the need for survival overtook his mind. With a deep breath and Jorge flattened against the ground, still, unmoving, dying.

Only when eyes turned away from Jorge’s body would it begin to shimmer and become translucent. Soon enough, water would replace flesh…

---

ATLANTIS OUTSKIRTS – X-JET

General Paci eyes narrowed as he watched the plane attempt to climb higher but the Greek fire burning ever brighter upon its hull. It wasn’t easy to see but the general’s enhanced vision allowed him to peer upon the surface as the plane shuddered, the fire slowly bubbling the surface and making the metal red hot. A glance to his men showed that they weren’t relenting in throwing fire at the plane, but rather were all making well timed strikes. The plane was under constant bombardment but the General knew planes, he knew it was only a matter of time until it would take off.

He growled as he smacked the nearest soldier on the arm and shouted to the rest. ”Aim for the engines!!” he shouted, pointing at the bulges on the plane. . ”I won’t tell you again!”

The soldiers knew better than to defy him so, with renewed fear as to why he would do, they altered their aim and let loose a volley of clay grenades directly at one of the plane’s engines. As the clay broke, fire spewed forth, spilling all over. However, it still wasn’t enough. They needed inside.

Grabbing the nearest soldier, the teleporting he growled at him and pointed to the plane. ”Get me in there.”

The man gasped. “B-But…I’ve never seen…”

Paci merely glared harder, his golden eyes flashing. ”Now.”

The teleporter squeaked, released from the hold and nodded. Closing his eyes, he tried to reach out, tried to peer into the “plane” with his mind’s eye. He had never seen one before, really, except for wrecks in the water that had to be collected and scavenged. Doing his best, the teleport prayed to the gods before she swiped his hand, cutting the very air.

The cloth of fabric shimmered in the open air as Paci stepped forward, peering at it. Inside he could see the backs of chairs inside the plane: one of which held the Gorgon, and the other the intruder as he struggled with the controls. A growl on his lips, Paci grabbed a guard and stepped forward, dragging him through the tear. And, like that, they were both in the plane.

”No one escapes!” he shouted. There was a scheeeeeek as he pulled his sword from its sheath. The other solder suddenly reached out, trying to forcefully grab the young Kalos from her seat (the straps proved to be difficult) while Paci set his eyes on the pilot. ”I condemn you to Tartarus, young pup!!” he shouted lunging forward with his sword. He would run the X-Man through.

---

ATLANTIS CITADEL – OUTSIDE

It was terrible what he did to his daughter but he knew that it was a necessity. Achlus was intelligent, beautiful, and produced several of her own healthy offspring with plenty more planned for the future. However, she was beginning to question and questioning was something that Atlan needed to squash out as soon as possible. Leaving his minions to do their jobs, the old kind focused hard upon the woman, enforcing his will on her, convincing her panicking mind to just let go, to allow herself to unravel, to dissipate into the open air. She had such a tenuous hold already.

All it took was a simple though, a forced consciousness, and she vanished…like a puff of smoke. It was painful and he would shed tears later – but for now, he had other matters to occupy his mind.

Turning back around, he winced as he felt the sudden collapse of another mind in his control. His attention snapped as he caught the mutant Lodestone near his fallen night, the bleeding Jorge Cervantes with several arrows in his back. Sensing his conscious fading every second, the man’s lip curled and twisted as he set his eyes upon the redheaded warrior. She was definitely more of a nuisance than she should be.

”Child…you are so misguided…” he whispered with trembling rage. He advanced, his eyes locked solely onto her. ”I bring peace through order. Freedom is an illusion! People need this. They need to be made to see the better way!!”

He walked closer and, as he did, he began to focus all of his psychic attention directly onto her. He bombarded her with emotions, feelings, digging as deep as he could into her mind, no matter how many barriers he came across. It was difficult and, for the most part, he wasn’t getting very deep but he was relentless. He pushed, and pouring everything he had into piercing those barriers in her mind. It took patience, time, power, but he poured every last ounce of it into her until finally he got something, an image, of a dark haired woman with the most piercing blue eyes and who played the music of a muse.

He grinned. That was all he needed, that little crack in the surface. Atlan swept into that, using the image of the girl whose name Rebecca wasn’t allowing him to know. He didn’t need to know her name, he just needed to bombard her with every sensation, feeling, and emotion he could in relation to her. In that moment, Rebecca would feel the greatest blissful pleasure, the tears of a broken heart, the agony of watching her die, the laughter of her funniest joke, and the elation of their future nuptials, and harshest glare from her worst day. Over and over, looped, repeated, played backwards, louder, softer, a thunder and then a whisper, all of it at the same time as he dug persistently into her mind.

”Do you think you can stop this? Do you think you can sink Atlantis?!” he snapped as he marched towards her. ”This is my world! My kingdom! And you have nothing. To. Stop. Me!”

>> "My King!...I have him, my king. He is ours to command."

He barely caught the movement out of his eye. His jaws clenched, his eyes boring into the redhead. He turned only long enough to see that the troglodyte was there, nearly, but speaking with the voice of the wispy woman whom he had already managed to capture. That was it. That was all of them – for the most part. Ghost was his, Masochist was incapacitated, Mirror would be brought in soon, and he would leave Rebecca a gibbering husk of nonsense by the time he was done with her.

”Good,” was all he said to Masochist/Ghost. His attention snapped back to Rebecca. ”And you…my dear…you don’t need to have a mind to be of use to Atlantis!”

”Hey!” came a gurgling, bubbling voice.

Atlan turned and, to his surprise, found that the body of Jorge Cervantes was gone and, instead, there stood the quivering, watery form of an elemental. The humanoid churned with water, his clothes on the ground, emptied of all flesh, the only other evidence he was there were several arrows, all of which were still stained with blood. Jorge set his shadowy eyes firmly upon the tyrant.

”Round two, ***hole!” A gesture of his arm and the water that he had once summoned to defend the king flew forward and immediately wrapped around the man, spinning hard and fast, creating a constricting wall of sorts. Just as the king snarled at the abrasive swirling water cutting into his skin.Jorge didn’t know if Ghost or Masochist had anything planned, but he hoped they did. In the meantime, he needed to keep Rebecca separated from the king, at least until she got her senses back. So he shouted to Ghost. ”Ghost!! Whatever you're going to do, make it good!”

The team was in trouble, the jet was on fire - Greek fire - and some f***r just walked into the cockpit through thin air. Sure, as a teleporter, Gawain should not have been so surprised by the latter, but it didn't mean he was not annoyed about the timing. Whipping around at the voices, the mirrorwalker flipped a switch to keep the jet climbing. He could correct course later, once he had dealt with the intruders.

Man, I hate close quarters combat...

It was more of Sam's thing, but tough luck. It wasn't like he could use his archery gear inside the jet.

>>”No one escapes!”

It was the dude from the catacombs; Mirror recognized the voice and the bulk of him. He had to be some kind of a captain or something, thinking he could waltz in here and take the Jet. As if. Gawain was pissed enough about the kid he had to rescue from slavery; if the guy wanted to make it a fight, then it would be a fight.

Abandoning the bow, the mirrorwalker threw himself over the first row of chairs, using his leverage on the back of a seat to knee the other guard in the face, and knock him away from Kalos. He heard the sword sliding free as he landed in a crouch behind the seats. "Kalos, stay put!"

>>”I condemn you to Tartarus, young pup!!”

"Wrong. Mythology." Gawain growled, inexplicably pissed about the whole Greek thing, as he lunged forward to engage the captain in what was hopefully going to be a short fight. He ducked and kicked, trying to get the man close enough to the mirror set up in the back of the jet. The sword slashed at him but went over his head; a kick was blocked by the man's chest plate, and it felt like kicking a piece of rock. Gawain swore. Sam had trained him well in close quarters combat, but the man was probably a captain for a reason, and he had a weapon. His next attack knocked Gawain back into the jet's wall, his head bouncing; he dropped and tried to sweep the man's legs, but was not quick enough. The fight was getting longer than he'd wanted it to be, the jet was still flying on its own, and the team was still in trouble.

Time for desperate measures.

The next time the man lunged at him, Gawain did not block or dodge. He only shifted enough that the blade did not run straight through him; it did graze his side, and Gawain felt the sharp pain as it tore into the muscle, but by the time the man noticed it had been intentional, they were standing face to face. Gawain placed one hand on the man's neck, and the other on his shiny, shiny breastplate.

The breastplate clattered, empty, to the ground, and the two figures appeared in the nearby mirror. Gawain stepped out of it a moment later, holding a hand to his bloodied side, leaving the captain trapped in the mirrorworld. The other guard was still down, blood seeping peacefully from his nose. Gawain caught his breath.

"Kalos. You okay?"

It was hard to get a grasp on time when a torrent was water was literally trying to shatter her bones. The assault lasted for only a minute or two, but it felt like the longest month of her life painfully drawn out. It was hard to think, and Lodestone wanted to come up with any other solution than the one Jorge managed to grunt out, but there was no other answer she could muster. Time was of the essence; knowing some of his upper limits, Jorge was probably holding back, and that would not last forever.

There was a look of wide-eyed horror in her face as she watched blood seep from her friend as the attack on her subsided. ”Jorge!” It was pointless of her to yell since she was the one to impale him with a collection of arrows, but there was no reasonable way to react to what she did to a man she considered her friend.

There was no time for regret or pity! Turning angry eyes to Atlan, Rebecca’s presence lifted three nearby spears from the ground, prepared to put an end to their telepath problem.

Atlan was faster, and just as angry at the woman who was proving to be a constant thorn in his side. She could feel the overwhelming force of his intrusive thoughts, and her knees buckled. Her mind was being bombarded by a flurry of different thoughts, but the true pain came when they came into focus.

It was… so much. It was Agnes. It was their first meeting, the sleepover, the kisses in closets and gardens. It was the fight when they woke up from the Sebastian dream, and the tearful farewell kiss when she left for London, and their reunion at Gotham’s Lost Lady. Every emotion Agnes ever made her feel rushed through her, but there were thoughts and memories she never lived forcing themselves into her head. Joining Agnes at the alter, watching Agnes leave her for River, raising a child with Agnes, and watching Agnes die in her arms.

She was screaming again, but she could not hear herself over the roar of thoughts in her head. Tears were streaming down her masked cheeks—tears of joy, anger, and anguish, all at once. It was more than Rebecca could bear, and she had no way to put an end to it. Her powers did not lose control this time, but instead started listening to her subconscious. She could not bear this much longer; all the joy and all the heartbreak she might ever feel in three lifetimes pounding away at her was too much. Lodestone was not aware of it, but the three spears she had lifted from the ground were now pointed squarely at her.

Rebecca could not do this anymore.

Before she could unwittingly command the spears to finish what they were positioned to do, as if a prayer was answered, the thoughts began to quiet. It was a slow return, with flashes of Agnes still crossing her mind, but it was becoming more manageable. One thought stuck out: their first fight, when Agnes chastised Rebecca for joining the X-Men and risking her life. She so genuinely wanted Rebecca to be safe, and hated the thought of something happening to her. When Rebecca could focus her eyes enough to see again, she realized she was pointing her spears at herself. The low din of her former lover’s voice in her head was no longer overwhelming; it was just a reminder that she was meant to survive this and see Agnes again.

Getting to her feet, Lodestone grabbed two more nearby spears, arranging her five weapons in an arc over her head, now pointing at the true problem: Atlan. His focus was split, but he was still putting pressure on her, so every move and command was taking longer, like she was slogging through water physically and mentally.

She was taking in her surroundings for the first time in what felt like ages. Achlus was gone, but Atlan was the one now under attack by water. Except… it was not water exactly. It was sentient. It was… Jorge!

He was alive, which was a relief and further contributed to her peace of mind. She knew he had some kind of shifting ability, but watching him was something else. He was like some oceanic god, and the Lord of Atlantis was suffering the god’s wrath now.

Before Rebecca could command spears to run Atlan through like he deserved, Jorge’s booming voice called out to Ghost. Ghost? Ghost! She had taken over Masochist, but suddenly, it felt like there was more to the situation than they initially considered. ”Gang oan! Ah’ve got yer back!” Rebecca was done being tormented and manipulated by a zealous tyrant.

Atlan wasn't on guard against them. He was a busy man juggling all these combatants plus his own ego. There just wasn't enough of him to go around, apparently.

Round two? Heck yeah! Atlan had round one, but this was a comeback story.

Ghost did not have control over the Masochist's power. But Masochist did and there was no way in Perdition, Tartarus, or other hells, that Masochist was going to let Atlan off the hook after the creepfest that had gone down between Atlan and his daughter Elke.

Water or no water, Ghost pulled back Saphirus' fist and just like Sam had taught her, she let that fist fly with the full force of Masochist's body behind it. She would just have to trust that the Masochist and his power would work like they were supposed to. Worst case scenario, by touching Atlan, Ghost could extend her influence and... for better or worse, she would suffocate him.

Fright was upgraded to downright terror. Paci was there. Paci was there and so was the teleporter who never let them stray too far. They had the cloth she'd swiped to cover herself in their dirty, terrible hands and thexjet wouldn't let her go for them just like it wouldn't let her go for her. At least the bird was consistent.

She kicked and clawed and screamed and the moment Paci's sword came out, she knew that nice demigods were in short supply for a reason. Paci killed them all.

Mirror got run through with Paci's sword and Kalos was inconsolable. Thexjet would let her go! She would kick and bite and sting until Paci ran her through with a sword too because she was not going back.

And then Paci's breastplate fell to the ground with a clatter.

Eyes wide as saucers, Kalos saw Mirror's ghost step out of the breastplate.

"I'm s-s-s-orry you died!" She sobbed.

ATLANTIS CITADEL – OUTSIDE

>> ”Gang oan! Ah’ve got yer back!”

Rebecca shouted over the roar of the waves. Jorge himself, an effigy of living water, loomed back, the water that he had summoned had firmly encased the mad king. Atlan was foaming at the mouth, wincing under the bite of the water. He could feel the king trying to use his abilities on him, trying to dig into his mind for a grip again, but not only had Jorge sobered up from the drink he had had, but in his liquid form, it was harder to get a hold of his mind. It wasn’t impossible, but it was all the time needed for the cop to do what he needed to do.

Protectively he kept himself between Rebecca and Atlan. He didn’t know what the man had just finished doing to her, but whatever it was, it looked painful and pretty scary. Those spears that she had lifted. Even as she cringed on the ground, covering her head, he watched as they pointed towards her. Was that her, or was it him? Was that her only, desperate way out of what he was doing to her? What the hell did he do?

There would be time for that later. Instead the man had a tyrant that needed to be quelled and the only way to do that was with whatever Ghost had up her sleeve. It was a gamble to hope that she had her senses, but considering how the king had shifted his full attention to Rebecca, he surmised that it was the only bet they had. Thankfully, he would be proven right.

Keeping Atlan detained, Jorge growled through the water, feeling the man as he desperately clung and clawed deeper into his mind. He was beginning to get a foothold and Jorge himself was barely managing to keep his own mind together. Atlan was apparently trying to do the same to him, that he had done to Rebecca. Images of Gemma, Chase, of his life in New York and Atlantis began to run rampant through his head. But through it all, Jorge held on, summoning water from nearby canals and pots, using any and all of it to distract the king as Ghost/Masochist reared their fist up.

It had to be now. It had to be now or they weren’t going to get another chance.

The punch moved like molasses, or maybe that was just Jorge’s perception of time. The fist flew forward, arching towards the mad king. Atlan attempted to turn his focus onto his new attacker but just as the white-haired man arched his head towards them, the water Jorge used to entrap the king shift, forcing him to turn away and giving Ghostichist the perfect bullseye.

CRACCK!!

The impact was harsher than Jorge expected – then he remembered the mutant’s power. The ability to deliver a blow of energy from one side of his body, the same that he had used to punch the king. Atlan gasped, momentarily losing the ability to breath as arches of energy ripped throughout his body. At the moment of impact, Jorge dropped the cage of water and felt himself whip backwards from the energy that had been released. Somehow Jorge managed to keep himself together, but he did.

It was like a cartoon. Atlan flew, dazed, ragdolling through the air until he collided with the wall of his citadel with a resounding THWUMP!!. Walls of pearl cracked and sprinkled down a rain of sparkles. Atlan, surprisingly still alive, fell with a groan onto the stones upon the ground, his body quiver and unresponsive. And while he may have had one of the most powerful minds in the world, right now, it wavered between consciousness and unconsciousness. Meekly, his jaw shattered and ballooning to ten-times its normal size, Atlan raised his head to eye the group of X-Man. A small, knowing grin appeared on his lips as he attempted to stand but, before he could get a few inches off the ground, blackness finally took over and he collapsed back into the dirt.

The king had fallen – and the effects were wide spread...

---

THROUGHOUT ATLANTIS

The screams were far and wide. Throughout every building, every street, every man, woman, and soldier of Atlantis shouted in unison at the exact moment that their king had fallen. What wasn’t known about this tyrant, this man who vied for control, was the fact that for years now he had been manipulating the people of Atlantis. His influence had seeped into their minds, forcing conformity and acceptance for all demigods that lived on the surface. Gorgons had been the only individuals freed from the king’s control – who needed monsters to conform? But the rest of the citizens, it was suddenly like waking up from a bad dream.

The nightmare was over. People sat up after the horrendous pain, their eyes peering about in shock and awe. Confused they stared at the walls of their homes, at the people who they were with, and suddenly the concept of free thoughts had returned to them. They realized that the roles which they played out every day were not the roles that they wanted. It was amazing how quickly the free spirit of Atlantis returned to its citizens with the toppling of one individual; a mad king who quelled civil unrest by force; a force they didn’t know he exerted over them each and every day.

It was this day that would be remembered as the day that Atlantis had regained is freedom.

Gawain deposited the captain (or whatever he was) inside the jet mirror; it was made of unbreakable glass, which was preferable on a moving vehicle, and better for keeping a criminal locked up. At least for 24 hours. The man yelled and slammed his fists on the glass, but to no avail. Gawain looked back at him with a frown.

"If the glass breaks, you break too. Besides, it's unbreakable. So quit it." he growled, before he turned back to see to a very distressed, tearful, and thoroughly freaked-out Kalos still strapped into one of the seats.

>>"I'm s-s-s-orry you died!"

Gawain blinked, then the look on his face softened, as the walked over to pat the kid on the head (careful of the spikes).

"It's okay, Kalos, I'm not dead. Just injured. It's a scratch." it was more than a scratch, from what he could tell, but he doubted it hit any vital organs, so he was going to be okay, as long as he did not faint from blood loss. He glanced at the girl, then at the breastplate, then back. Oh. "That was just part of my mu... um, my demigod powers. I can walk into mirrors, remember?"

There was no more time to waste. Gawain walked back to the front of the cockpit, and took back control over the Jet, turning it around and aiming for the palace. As they flew, there was a sudden pang, like a bubble bursting, or the pressure suddenly changing... it took Gawain a moment to realize that the persistent droning of telepathy in the background had finally gone away. That had to be a good sign.

"Let's go rescue my friends, shall we?" he muttered, wincing as his side began to hurt. He'd have to take care of the wound, eventually. He steered the Jet above the palace, as far as he could tell his friends were still in there. He tapped the comm in his ear to make sure it works. "Lodestone? Ghost? Does anybody copy? How are you guys doing down there? The getaway car is here..."

Ghost and Masochist wasted no time because there was no time to waste. Atlan was struggling to fight against the torrent that was Jorge, but he had proven to be strong in his own right. Delaying would only allow him to fight his way out or worm his way into one of the X-Men’s heads to save himself. Lodestone had several missions with Masochist under her belt, so she had seen his power in action. What she had not seen was the use of his power on another person.

The blow was devastating. A weak person might have crumpled at the massive punch, and it did knock Atlan back with a mighty force. Lodestone was still shaking from her previous experience, but she watched silently, hoping everything was over.

For a brief moment, Atlan moved to possibly get up from his spot, and Lodestone’s heart sank. ”Ye gotta be ****ing kidding me…” She braced herself and the weapons under her command. If blunt force was not going to put an end to the mad king, she was ready to see what sharp steel might do.

Then, suddenly, Atlan, the King of Atlantis, fell.

Everyone around them was stunned for a moment. Lodestone thought everyone was experiencing shock, but it was more than that. Everyone in Atlantis, likely for the first time in a long time, was beginning to think clearly and independently. There were no more whispers urging them forward or keeping them in line with the rigid rules of their king. They were going through the jarring experience of being themselves again.

Atlan had taken the free will from his people so he could rule with absolute control. He turned the X-Men on one another to protect his power. It was disgusting and that alone was more than she could bear.

But the fact that he had fallen did little to ease her fury at what he did to her. Atlan used the love she still felt or Agnes against her, raising her up in an effort to better tear her apart by envisioning Agnes’s death, and repeating that cycle on a loop until it nearly broke her. He took something beautiful and weaponized it against her.

Rebecca was not thinking like an X-Man, and at the moment, she was barely thinking like herself. She was still recovering from her mental torture, and there was a wild, dangerous look in her watery eyes. She took hasty steps toward the fallen king, all five of her spears in an arc over her head, pointed directly at the man responsible for her pain. ”Ye slimy, manipulatife, arrogant b******!” she roared, moving close to do something she might regret when peace of mind returned to her, assuming it was going to return at all.

Was he? Or wasn't he? Lodestone's curse was a summation of all the twisty feelings Ghost had in her heart while they all took a collective breath and waited to see the final outcome. Ghost was having a hard time telling Atlan's status since he sort-of got up, sort-of fell down. Her vision in this state was less than stellar. One thing was for certain, Ghost breathed a sigh of relief that they had not actually, literally punched his brains out. Because as far as she knew, that was a possibility with Saph's power.

"Thank you for working with me, Saph." She would have to apologize about her comments in relation to parenting later. She didn't know the struggles Saph and Elke might be going through. She'd overstepped. But it was an overstep she would probably do again unless they had an honest conversation on the matter.

The king bumbled one last time and fell still. The Masochist's face turned up toward the sky as a piteous cry rose up in the momentary silence that followed King Atlan getting his just desserts. Lodestone's spears hesitated only a moment before the X-man commanding them marched forward with metal in tow.

> ”Ye slimy, manipulatife, arrogant b******!”

She was moving the Masochist before she had really meant to, probably before Saph had been expecting to. He didn't run normally, foot, leg, propulsion— he ran almost like a mannequin pulled along by the Ghost inside who was sort of in a hurry.

"Lodestone!" As much as she hated to and as much as Saph probably hated it, she put herself and Saph between the spears and the fallen king. Her earlier cry seemed to go unheard, or maybe Ghost just couldn't see well enough to decipher what may have been little to no acknowledgment. She tried again, her voice coming out of Saph's open mouth. "Lodestone! Rebecca!"

Could she grab Rebecca and keep the spears from falling? No. Probably not. She had to keep Masochist planted between the potential harm and the villain of this story. There wasn't time to take herself out of Saph's body. There just wasn't. She flung Saph's arms out wide making it clear that any stabbing would have to go through him which... was really, really uncool since Ghost was making this choice, most likely against his will.

"Rebecca! It's not our place to be judge, jury, or executioner! Please. Surely Atlantis has some law, some courts. If you kill him now, you rob the people of their voices. Can't you hear them crying out for satisfaction? It needs to be their choice as a people."

They were probably going to execute him anyway. That was an ugly thought, but there were so many wrongs that not even his life could make it right. For the sake of the people here, she hoped that Lodestone would make the right choice.