The king was hurt. Bad. Jorge, in his watery form, watched as the god-king flew through the air like a ragdoll before he ended up hitting the outer wall of his capital with a loud clatter. Armor, bone, muscles, Jorge wasn’t sure which of those had made the sound, or if it was a combination of all three, but it the sound of relief to his ears. The king was a powerful telepath and that had been their best shot. Honestly he wasn’t sure if any of them had another round in them after all that. He only hoped that when the Atlan hit and fell that he would stay dow—

Rebecca echoed what he was thinking. She was frustrated, Jorge was fearful, as Atlan slowly began to pick himself up off the ground. Jorge knew how Saph’s abilities worked and if that had been a full impact, the Atlantean’s head would have clearly gone flying off. The fact that it wasn’t meant that something must have been pulled back. Whether it was Ghost or Masochist, he didn’t know, but he was thankful for it either way. But still it should have been enough to stop him.

The king chuckled, he started to climb up, he then finally fell forward, kicking up a cloud of dust in his wake. He was down.

Slowly Jorge allowed relief to wash over him as he melted back into a puddle and found his X-uniform. As he solidified with in it, Jorge began to adjust the collar, wincing at the phantom sensation in his back. Rebecca had gotten him good. If it hadn’t been for the pain, he might not have gained enough control to shift into his water form. The wounds wouldn’t remain there but he would feel those phantom stings for a bit longer than he would have liked. But at least he was alive.

>> "Lodestone? Ghost? Does anybody copy? How are you guys doing down there? The getaway car is here..."

Jorge looked up at the sound of the voice popping into his ear. Gawain, thank goodness, was still alive. Already he could see the X-Jet approaching and he nodded his head as he spoke into his intercom. ”Shaken up but we’re breathing, Mirror.” he said. ”Welcome back.”

Taking a breath, Jorge turned to the rest of the team and was backed away when Rebecca brushed passed him, summoning several elongated spears that hovered dangerously above her head, pointed directly for Atlan.

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

Jorge immediately moved towards her but Ghost, in her Masochist suit, was the first to intervene.

>> "Lodestone! Rebecca!"

Ghost shouted at Rebeecca, limping forward, trying to cut her off. Jorge was quick to follow, shouting her name along with his team mate. When Ghost got there first, she immediately put herself (or rather, Masochist) in front of Rebecca. Secretly Jorge reached out with his senses to the nearby canal of water but didn’t summon any. There was not need to bring more violence to this.

>> "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."

Ghost’s words were true. All around him, Jorge could hear the sounds of the people of Atlantis, waking up as if from a nightmare. People muttered in confusion, others in horror, some demanding where their “Gorgon” babies or siblings had gone, not that he knew what that meant. This was an entire civilization of people who had been manipulated and controlled for who knows how many years. While that alone should have been enough to call for the king’s head – it wasn’t their call.

Jorge watched Rebecca closely, eyeing the look on her face for any signs that Ghost’s words were getting through. Atlan was still unmoving so he wasn’t a threat right now, but it wasn’t their right to end him. Like Ghost, Jorge tried to appeal to Rebecca, but on a different level. Gently his hand rested upon the redhead’s shoulder, giving a supportive squeeze as he tried to catch her eye.

”Listen to me, Becca,” he said. ”You don’t want to do this. This is a line that you cannot cross easily and, once you do, there’s no going back. You have to carry that man’s blood on your hands the rest of your days.”

He took a second. Being a police officer, Jorge had been in similar situations and had taken a life as rarely as possible. The one time had been with his partner, a man he knew for years, that he didn’t know was corrupt until it was too late. It had been life and death, then; and still the guilt weighed him from time to time. If anyone knew the consequences of this…it was him. And it was a fate he certainly didn’t want for someone as young as his team mate.

”Be better than that…” he said, firmly, in a parental like way. ”Be better than him. Be better for Agnes.” He knew nothing of Rebecca’s personal life with the violinist, but from his own discussions with Agnes concerning her brother, he knew that there was still something there. Friendship? Companionship? Romance down the line? He didn’t know, but he did know that they still had a bond that he didn’t want to see tainted.

Wisps of smoke lazily lifted in the air, swirling around the spears that Rebecca had precariously balanced above her head. At first it just seemed like the aftermath of battle, dust whipped up in the wind, but as the seconds ticked away, as time passed, the smoke didn’t seem to dissipate, but rather collected into a single spot before the angered redhead and next to the possessed Masochist.

Smoke drifted lazily back into place, solidifying into a single form as the shape of Achlus, the princess whom had just seemingly been murdered, reformed. With a breath the wispy, ethereal woman looked down upon her hands and then back towards Rebecca. Their eyes met as she watched her, following her trembling vision back to her fallen father. Achlus bowed her head, no in anger or depression, but in pity. She tilted her gaze back to the redhead and spoke in a tone that could only be produced from royalty.

”Please. Lay down your arms, Rebecca,” she said. ”He is no longer your concern.” He turned, drifting away from the group, a few of the guards who were confused started to gather, joining their princess. ”This is a matter of Atlantean law. He may be my father…but he will answer for every bit of it.” She looked almost pained to say it but she nodded towards the unconscious king. ”Take him into the cells.” As the guards hauled the tyrant away, Achlus shook her head, her eyes glancing back to the X-Men. Conflict was seen upon her features as she eyed each and every one of them, almost unsure if she was mad, relieved, or saddened by what their arrival had brought. "Understand that those who wish to leave are free to. My people shall not bar their way.” She said as she turned her back and drifted back into the palace. "Now please...just...go...".

There were long moments of silence on the radio before Jorge's voice finally came through.

>> ”Shaken up but we’re breathing, Mirror. Welcome back.”

The mirrorwalker let out a breath he had been holding, and instantly regretted it, the wound on his side hurting with every move. He fell back in the pilot's seat. They were all breathing. It sounded the crisis was over. He glanced back at Kalos, who still seemed distressed, then shook his head, stabilizing the jet above the palace. "It's almost over, little one. We're okay. Hold on."

Getting out of his chair as the jet kept to its holding pattern, Gawain walked back to the mirror, where the general (or whatever he called himself) was still trapped, and his companion still out cold. He switched the comm back on.

"Ready to pick you all up in a timely fashion" he reported to his teammates "The jet took some fire, we have two arrests, and a refugee. And I really need a solid nap and a band aid, so if you could cut this party short, I'd appreciate it. I'll be down there in a sec to beam you all up."

Adrenaline was slowly ebbing away, and exhaustion was already creeping in. Gawain planned on bringing everyone safely on board before he took a well-deserved rest in the med cot.

Atlantis was not quite what the stories made it out to be.

Rebecca was angry and her stability was compromised. Atlan had mentally tortured her with the intention of breaking her, leaving behind a shattered psyche and a husk for mating. It was only poetically just that her altered mental state was now putting him in the path of cold Atlantean steel. He was going to reap what he sowed.

The world was blurry around Rebecca, and noises sounded distant. What she could hear, barely, were the pleas of her teammates asking her to stop herself. Jorge and Maya were people she trusted and looked up to, but how could they not see she was doing what was necessary?

Maya reminded her of their place and who deserved justice. The X-Men were foreigners and Atlan had wrought horrors upon his people by bending their wills. They deserved justice, but was that not her place? Seek and distribute justice? Masochist’s body was between her and the king, but her powers would allow her to send the spears around him. He had been an a**, but he was a good man. Atlan was a monster.

A hand was placed on Rebecca’s shoulder and she flinched. It was Jorge. She was fighting to remind herself that she was not just surrounded by enemies. She had friends with her. Jorge was trying to save her soul. He was an officer of the law; he knew what it was like to carry the burden of a life taken. It was noble, but it was his mention of Agnes that sank in. For the first time, she turned her eyes away from her target, looking up to Jorge.

Her eyes were filled with panic and tears, because she wanted to be better, but it did not feel like a choice. ”If Ah dinnae dae thes, whit’s tae say he doesnae jist gie up again? 'en nane ay us ur safe. Us, th' Atlanteans. Agnes.” If she did not take the burden, how could she be certain they would be done with Atlan forever?

She turned her attention back to Atlan and braced the spears, but a wisp of smoke caught her by surprise. Rebecca hesitated long enough to watch as Achlus reformed from nothing to stand between the X-Man and the fallen king.

Achlus told her to stand down by name, and Rebecca had to comply. Her voice commanded respect and authority, but there was a solemnity there. She was a victim of her father, but that did not change who the man was. She was going to have to bring her father to justice, which for all Rebecca knew meant execution. She felt the sudden guilt of almost killing a parent in front of his child. She felt regret and sympathy for Achlus’s position.

Heavy was the head that wore the crown.

The spears lowered to the ground slowly, resting before her in a neat row. ’Very well, Pr—Ah’m sorry. Queen Achlus.” She met the new monarch’s eyes one last time before turning away. They needed to return home where she could clear the debris from her head. She had to go back to her girlfriend and a woman she was suddenly finding it hard not to think about.

When presented with the agony of the Atlanteans, Achlus, and Jorge's gentle reminder, Lodestone relented. Her body language was reluctant, but the spears of metal did lower and eventually clatter to the ground. Ghost relaxed the Masochist's arms and let his body sag for a moment while she worked to untangled herself from his body. On an exhale, Ghost took her leave. Whiteish smoke poured out from between Saph's lips and on the exhale he just kept going.

> "Ready to pick you all up in a timely fashion"

Was that... a child she heard crying in the background? Ghost's mom-dar was going off.

Eventually she pulled herself free of Saph and recompiled her body into something almost solid so that she could reply to Mirror. Something about a refugee? Was that... allowed? As much as Ghost had hoped to speak with the new queen, this wasn't the time. They had answered the call of Atlantis. Now it was time to go.

As soon at the jet touched down, she tried to make sure everyone got on the plane alright.

"Jorge..." She stopped the watermancer with a touch at his elbow. Of all the people, he had seemed the most affected. She wanted him to know that she still trusted him, that despite their stumbles that now they were back on track... she just didn't know how. Later, maybe.

"This one was rough. I'm so glad you're still with us, and thanks whatever you said to Lodestone..." There was a reason why they were a team and why they went out in pairs or groups like this. No one person seemed to be able to do it alone. Ghost wasn't sure what else to say so she leaned in for a one-armed hug.

"Let's get home."

>> "Ready to pick you all up in a timely fashion…The jet took some fire, we have two arrests, and a refugee. And I really need a solid nap and a band aid, so if you could cut this party short, I'd appreciate it. I'll be down there in a sec to beam you all up."

Jorge heard the report going off in his ear but he could scarcely hear it. His eyes were locked solidly upon Rebecca and the intent that glistened in her eyes. She was angry, she had been ripped apart from the inside, and every last ounce of what she wanted to do to the man was completely and utterly justified. But Jorge knew that the line she wanted to cross was not meant for X-Men. Once a man’s life was taken, it was on her from then on out. She was too young to be able to survive something like that unscathed.

He did his best to reach her. No matter what Jorge had thought of the mad king, this was not their law. This was not their country. They were supposed to be delegates and part of keeping up relations like that was being able to follow the laws of other countries. Atlan would pay for his crimes, but it wasn’t the X-Men’s place to play judge, jury, and executioner.

Something he had said managed to strike a chord with the young woman. She turned to look at him, her eyes faltering but still seething. She implored him, told him that if it wasn’t them, then who. They couldn’t risk Atlan coming back otherwise this would happen all over again. Jorge dipped his head and ground his teeth.

”I know you have good intentions, Rebecca,” he said firmly. ”But the road to hell is paved in good intentions.”

She paused. He watched her. Thankfully they didn’t have to stare at one another for long before there were wisps of smoke forming. Jorge lifted his head and turned, watching in surprised as the Greek princess whom they had just watched be scattered to the wind, reformed.

Achlus looked as if the weight of the world were not sitting upon her shoulders. She hung her head, looked quite destitute and unnerved. Jorge could only imagine the thoughts and pain she had. Her father had manipulated an entire country, was planning to enforce his will upon who knows how many others. He was a mad man with power that could indeed rival a god’s. But for all of his faults, he was still her father and that alone spurred her to beg Rebecca to drop her weapons. It was only with the heaviest hearts that the redhead agreed.

>> ’Very well, Pr—Ah’m sorry. Queen Achlus.”

Respectfully, when the woman’s gaze turned to him, Jorge dipped his head down to her as well. ”Your highness…”

The air was tense. Change was in the wind and there was little else left for them to do. They had come to inspect Atlantis and found it to be exactly what writers across the ages have described – that there are no utopias. Watching the Queen and her escorts leave with the unconscious king in tow, Jorge slumped. Adrenaline had been pushing him on, allowing him to move and think coherently. But now that the X-Jet was beginning to land behind them, he could feel the weight tightening his shoulders.

What had he done? What could he have done to his team mates. For the briefest moments, Jorge could feel his faith in himself begin to falter. If the king had been more focused, he could have easily killed Rebecca, Masochist, hell, anyone the king pointed him towards. In the middle of the ocean, with the power that he possessed, he could have easily been a superweapon used by the nation of Atlantis.

He should have never have come here..

>> "Jorge...”

A hand was placed upon his shoulder, so light and gentle that if he hadn’t had been paying attention, he never would have felt it. His eyes drifted over to see that Ghost was standing by, looking at him with her large, sweet eyes. He stared at her for a few seconds before he finally zeroed in on what she was saying…

>> "...This one was rough. I'm so glad you're still with us, and thanks whatever you said to Lodestone..."

Softly he nodded his head. ”…yeah…”

With thoughts of Gemma and Chase still in his head, the man shook himself as he moved over to Moose whom had fallen unconscious when Atlan did. Masochist was slowly coming to himself again but it was clear he was still suffering a bit from what Atlan put him through. Not wanting to make the man work any harder than he had to, Jorge knelt down and carefully scooped the much younger woman into his arms and held her against his chest. It was clear from the focus in his eyes that right now was not the time to talk about what they had all just experienced.

>>"Let's get home."

Jorge stopped, watching as the rest of the team moved onto the jet. He turned, giving one last look over to the towering citadel. As his eyes drifted higher, he found a silhouette in a window high above. There stood the white-haired, smoky Achlus as she stared down at the X-Jet, watching as they tooo their leave. For a second Jorge stood there, watching her, cradling Moose in his arms. Together the two of them shared a gentle nod of respect before he turned and marched onto the plane.

The ramp lifting behind him, Jorge carried Moose to a chair where he securely strapped her in, reclined the seat back so she could rest and moved towards the front of the plan. He slipped into the seat next to the injured Mirror and nodded his head that he’d punch in the coordinates for home.

”Amen to that…” he whispered, finally replying to Ghost, but speaking more to himself than anyone else. It was certainly time to go home…

MISSION COMPLETE...