All characters, settings etc associated with Young Justice and DC, are not owned by me. I am not making any profit off this fiction venture.

Chapter Warning(s): coarse language, violence, discussion of video game violence

Maelstrom

Kalladura'ham

"If you have two friends in your lifetime, you're lucky. If you have one good friend, you're more than lucky."

S.E. Hinton

39

Poseidonis, Atlantis : February 2, 2011 – 15:16 UTC-02

The birth of Prince Artur resulted in a much-needed rise in positive emotions and celebratory activities. I had been called back to Atlantis late last night a few hours after Artur's birth and quickly found myself confronted by Garth panicking about becoming Artur's Patrōna. After a few hours of sleep and some quick conversations with myself, Tula, Annex and Captain Hussal, he managed to regain his calm and was now in position just behind and beside Annex, Anassa and Artur as they spoke with the various dignitaries that had arrived for the three day celebration.

I, being less important than the parents, the newborn, Orm and the Patrōna, am working directly with the Royal Guards in keeping the four monarchs safe during festivities. The Team is getting extra training with my absence, which I'm sure they are enjoying.

Orm has moved on to holding Artur and, while he has already made jests over how similar to Annex the new prince looks, he appears to be making more. Annex has the long-suffering expression I've come to associate with older siblings, despite having none of my own.

Atlantis is in full celebration mode. More specifically, Poseidonis is in full celebration mode. Normally, I would be enjoying the festivities, usually by Tula dragging me from one thing to another, but right now it's terrifying.

I have never had to help with security in a leadership role during one of Poseidonis' celebrations. I have helped as another soldier, as another body, but never in a leadership position.

Granted, my leadership position is small and relegated to remaining in sight of the civilians and looking authoritative while working with four others on the fourth level to watch for potential threats, but it's still a leadership role.

Poseidonis in full celebration mode is a security nightmare.

On the surface, security for such events has to consider primarily street-level access, vantage points from buildings, blocking air traffic and sewer access, and having eyeballs on just about everything in every sector. In Atlantis, while we do block off the underground tunnels to all but a few, we're limited for what we can block of above or below, because we're underwater. Entry into Poseidonis is strictly controlled from all entrances, including those at the very bottom and those at the very top, but there are still challenges.

It's because we're underwater and such things as gravity are not as large an issue that crowds don't gather just on one level, street-level, they gather on a series of levels. Thus, of course, the multiple entrances to Poseidonis. People entering are subject to a number of security protocols, similar to those across American airports, simply more mystical in nature. However, we're limited in what can be confiscated and what magic can be restricted simply due to the limitations of magic. A pebble could be turned into a makeshift grenade with the right combination of spells, but we can't remove all possible grenades from the area or else there would be literally nothing left in Poseidonis. We can strengthen the already existing defensive spells, but those spells are limited. We can make it difficult for people to cast the one explosive spell, but we can't make it difficult for people to cast the combination of spells to make a grenade, because the combination of spells involves heat spells, which are used to help heal people, displacement spells, which are used for light crowd control, and others. It simply isn't feasible. Thus we're limited in what we can do and fall back on the less mystical ways of preventing a security breach. Thus, the ocean's worth of preparation, restrictions, more eyes, and a greater presence of authoritative bodies to discourage those who can be discouraged from rash actions.

After the underground tunnels, which due to the restricted access are largely not a concern, there's the base level. The base level is at the base of, in this case, Poseidonis' territory and comprises the rocks and such that make up the ocean floor. The second level in sectors 2 and 1, the most pressing sectors at the moment, icludes the part right above the base where most people swim when such things as ceilings aren't getting in their way. The third level is above, and the levels ascend until hitting the sixth level, which is the level where there's a pocket of air that those who need to take regular breaths of air can go to for that air, often a number of them live there as well in the other sectors.

The fifth level had been where Artur had been first presented to the public in sector 1 and was taken over by most of the media in the harrowing fifteen minutes of Artur's presentation. Now, the fourth level is my current nightmare. Areas of the fifth are now restricted to media who are being given a statement by the Royal Family's press representative in a muffling bubble, but the fourth is packed with civilians and media who weren't put through the imaginary velvet rope to report on the statement. Generally, the media are understanding. The media that get the exclusive statement and access to photographs of the newborn are the ones the Royal Family has an existing relationship with and that's widely understood. It's the paparazzi that are a problem. I've had to give in to their questions about my parents just to keep them from moving too close to the muffling bubble. At least if they're paying attention to me they probably won't try storming the bubble.

My earpiece crackles with Tala's - the overseer of the six levels of sector 1 - voice, ::: Overseer. Diophan from the United Students for Democratic Reform just entered the second level. Get eyes on him, now. :::

Vaguely, I recall some mention of Diophan being involved in a couple of mostly harmless protests against the monarchy. I must be missing something.

"Is it true you're leading a team on the surface-world?" asks one of the paparazzi.

Obviously, not a question that should have been asked considering The Team was supposed to be secret. Which, looking back, is not something we've really succeeded at, particularly during the split of the worlds into adults and kids. Extraneous circumstances though, so I suppose that's understandable.

"Frequently, Annex and I work with others on the surface-world," I say, and make a mental note to find out if that question is representative of a larger rumour or assumption in Atlantis. It probably is. I've told Tula and Garth about it, and while I hadn't specifically told them not to tell anyone they may have. Wow, I might actually be blowing my own, admittedly rather nonexistent, cover on the surface-world. That was astoundingly irresponsible on my part.

"So it is true?"

For the love of Poseidon.

I answer, "Annex has a policy of cooperation with the surface-world and we endeavour to follow that during our work with the champions of the surface-world, which may involve ensuring criminals see justice or the various non-profit work undertaken by the Justice League."

Another asks, leaping ahead of the one from before, "The Justice League operates according to a UN Charter, have you been involved in any discussions about Atlantis considering membership with the UN?"

In what world would I have been invited into such talks?

"I am not sure why I would be included in such discussions, were they to happen, and I don't know of any such discussions occurring," I answer, puzzled.

Apparently satisfied, she doesn't say anything else and a merman picks up, "Did your friendship with Artur's Patronā affect his appointment to the position?"

There's a murmur from the other paparazzi, media, and civilians at that. I hesitate, because honestly, yes probably, but that would be far from a wise thing to say.

"I know that Annex and Anassa considered a number of candidates for the position, reviewing everything relevant to the protection of their child," I begin carefully, "and my friendship with Artur's newly-appointed Patronā may have helped to make him a candidate. But he would not have been made Patronā if he did not meet or exceed the expectations of Annex and Anassa."

The murmur continues and the merman adds, "Do you believe that's fair? For someone's friendship with you to lead to them reaching such a position?"

"No," I answer immediately, struggling to keep from holding back my surprise. "Garth's situation is unique, incredibly unique. Yes, he is friends with me, but he was also beside me during that attack by Ocean Master that first led to me becoming Aqualass. We got incredibly lucky, for one because we survived and for another because we managed to distract Ocean Master long enough for Annex Orin to attack again. We were offered the same opportunity, to train as a protégé of Aquaman. Garth chose not to take the opportunity; if he had there would likely be an Aqualad in front of you now, instead of an Aqualass. He has been known to Annex and Anassa since that moment, which I have no doubt did affect his candidacy. He was lucky. We were both lucky."

I might throw up.

::: Ryo. Primary Media leaving the bubble, ::: says the guard in charge of the bubble and press representative.

::: Overseer. Aqualass, that means you head to the third level, ::: says Tala. ::: Head to M'Boye, he's got eyes on Diophan. :::

The fourth level guards head in to deal with the media, giving me the opportunity to descend and ask as I swim, ::: Aqualass. Should I be seen? :::

::: Overseer. Absolutely, make sure he sees you, ::: says Tala.

::: Aqualass. Give me a brief? ::: I request.

::: Theta, ::: says a new voice, likely one of the analysts. ::: He's twenty-three and goes by the name Dio. He was born in the Pacific on the Atlantean-New Zealand border and spent his childhood in Oon Atoo. Now he studies Global History at The Academy and spent a semester in New Zealand in 2009 studying at the University of Auckland as part of that education agreement between us and New Zealand. Currently a high-ranking member of Cleisthenes' Students who was arrested once for assaulting a guard outside of a restaurant and claiming that an insurgency against the imperial reign needed to occur. :::

::: Aqualass. He doesn't sound too large of a concern, ::: I comment. ::: One arrest? :::

::: Theta. He's been around a few known radical members of Cleisthenes' Students who are entirely willing to use force to achieve their goals. Current data suggests that they're rather displeased about the continuation of the monarchy. To say the least. :::

::: Aqualass. Have other radical members been spotted? :::

::: Theta. That's a negative, Aqualass. He's the only one so far. :::

::: Thanks. :::

I hover by a jewellery store, ignore the guilt from having not visited Matim's store recently, and scan the crowd for M'Boye. I spot the tall black man with no gills speaking to another undercover, or at least feigning a conversation. I lift a hand and he spots me, his eyes darting to the right. To the right there's a short man with long brown hair, light brown skin and gills stretching down his neck. His file photo has him with short hair, but otherwise he looks the same. He's wearing tight clothing but is also carrying a bag so could have weapons or other surprises not permitted in this sector by anyone but the vetted guards.

I swim across the level, flashing smiles at people I pass, and make sure that Dio sees me. I smile at him and he glares at me in response, which could either be his standard reaction to someone who works for the institution he hates, or could be a sign of something he intends to do.

M'Boye calls, "Aqualass!"

I stop at the chance given and hover by him, asking, "Can I help you, sir?"

"There were some strange people hovering by the fin detailing place down there," he says, gesturing down the way and a level above us.

"I'll look into it, thank-you sir," I say before swimming away. When I enter the shop boasting of the Greatest Fin Detailing Ever I'm greeted by one of the proprietors, a woman who has often helped investigators look into Purist threats, and shuffled to the rear of the shop. I head up to the second level of the shop where there's an analyst and sniper set up.

"Theta," the analyst says, nodding up at me. "This is Zīn."

The sniper lifts a hand but doesn't look away from the section he's covering.

"He glared at me," I say, leaning over Theta's shoulder to get a look at the data she's running through on a series of connected tablets.

"Glared as in – I hate everything you represent, – or glared as in – this place is too noisy, – or glared as in – I'm going to do something horrible today?"

"Not sure," I say.

She sighs, "Wonderful. No offense."

"None taken."

I grimace at the video feed playing in the top right corner of the mass of tablets. It displays me answering the paparazzi before switching to one of the reporters hovering in front of the restricted sector the celebrations are mostly confined to.

"Base is running cameras through facial recognition," explains Theta. "If we get a match I'll know the same time they do-" she taps a small box in the bottom left corner of the tablets, "but so far none of the other radical members of Cleisthenes' Students have showed up. A couple tried to get in but were denied entry because of their records, which they're complaining about of course, but there's no one else."

"That means we are doing our job."

"That, or the bad guys are getting better."

I don't admit to the chill that runs down my spine.

Poseidonis, Atlantis : February 3, 2011 – 12:26 UTC-02

The first day was relatively non-eventful. Threats were thwarted, but none were massive threats. Dio did nothing and no other radical members of Cleisthenes' Students were spotted, which was apparently extremely concerning for Tala who had expected something from them. Instead, all she got was Dio and a couple of members being denied entry and complaining about it. In the grand scheme of things, neither appeared particularly concerning.

Tala admits she's probably being a little paranoid when she says that the fact that they don't appear concerning is what is concerning.

Garth explains this to me when we meet for lunch on the second day with Tula. Garth shrugs, picking at his octopus, "I don't know if it's just Tala getting to me or something else, but I'm a little concerned too."

"You are supposed to be concerned," I point out. "You are Artur's Patronā."

"Thanks for reminding me," he responds dryly as Tula chuckles. "I was not nearly stressed enough as it was."

"You're welcome," I respond just as dryly. "Garth, trust your instincts. If something feels wrong it probably is."

"What about you?" he asks. "What do you think?"

"I do not know," I admit. "My interactions with Cleisthenes' Students have been minimal. Most they have done is simply posters protesting my working with Annex, comments on articles, that sort of thing. I usually do not see it, because I don't go looking for it. I do not know much about Dio."

"There isn't much to know," says Garth. "What's in his file is it. He seems like a decent person. Did you read his file?"

"No," I say as Tula pretends to not be listening.

"You should read it. That assault just…comes up out of nowhere." He leans forward, speaking to both Tula and I, "You know how we were taught in that investigative class that there's usually a lead-up to violent behaviour? Hurting animals, becoming more aggressive vocally, that sort of thing?"

I nod encouragingly. Tula nods and frowns, sensing something odd coming.

"There's nothing like that in his file," says Garth. "It's…it's weird."

"What do the others think?"

"They think it's weird too."

"Maybe it is," I say.

Garth sighs, "What if we're wrong?"

Tula pipes up, "Then you're wrong. It's not the end of the world if you're wrong, Garth."

He exhales heavily and asks, "What would you do, Kalla? What would your team do?"

"Investigate," I answer immediately. "Follow the facts to wherever they lead, even if it is not to where we expect."

He nods silently, thinking.

Tula watches him for a moment before turning to me and asking, "Do you do a lot of investigative work?"

"Some," I say. "We could probably stand to do more. Have someone to do background. The League does not have a particularly detailed historical database of crime rates, patterns and such. We have a database, but it's…Atlantis' is more comprehensive."

"More people to work it," says Tula.

"True. But without that information it's difficult to be anything but reactive to crime. There was, recently, an incident that had an immense amount of lead-up to it. The end incident was…it could have been much worse than it was. We got lucky. Incredibly lucky."

"And you're Kalla and don't like relying on luck," says Tula wryly.

"I do not know anyone who does," I respond.

Garth tilts his head and comments, "She's got a point, Tula."

"The point is," I say, "the only reason we did what we did was because of luck, in the end. There's no way around that. We should have died, but we didn't because we got lucky. I've been reviewing the past missions, past cases, both in the League's database and out of it, and there was evidence leading up to the end incident that should have been found, that should have been recognized. But it wasn't, because the evidence was scattered across different databases and no one was analyzing it. Or if they were it wasn't as intently as, perhaps, Atlantis does."

"And because we have teams of analysts, Dio popped up," says Garth.

"Exactly," I say.

Tula frowns, "Have you told Batman or someone?"

"No," I sigh. "This has been a personal project of mine."

"Kalla it isn't a personal project," laughs Tula, "it's your job."

"I'm sorry?"

"It's your job, Kalla. Being Aqualass is your job. Being a superhero is your job. It's not a personal project, it's another part of your job, and while the League has people whose primary focus is on their job as a superhero – like, I don't know, the Green Lanterns maybe – the team you lead doesn't. This is your entire job, figuring out what works and what doesn't."

"That…is true."

Tula laughs, "I know."

"Is there someone in charge of the League's database?" asks Garth.

"I assume so, but I'm not sure who that would be," I answer. "Perhaps one of the Green Lanterns…"

"Maybe you should talk to them."

"I could help," adds Tula. "Put some of my training to good use."

I shoot her questioning look. She grins, "Your old trainer has decided that I've pretty much mastered everything I need to know to go topside, and Annex gave me the go-ahead to join your surface club."

"Really?" I ask. "That's wonderful! Does that, I mean, are you-"

"Yes, I'm joining your team," says Tula. "If you'll have me, and if Batman and Black Canary approve of me."

"Of course you're welcome," I say. "And they will approve you. You will need a codename."

Garth shoots a glare at her, "No. Do not. No. No-"

"Tempest," she says, her grin barely contained on her face.

Garth groans, "I wanted that name."

"Too bad, I called it and you're on Artur duty," says Tula. "You can be Aqualad, that'd be less confusing than Aqualass and Aqualass Two."

"Aquagirl," says Garth.

"Like that's any clearer?" she counters. "I'm Tempest."

"Do you have a uniform?" I ask.

"It's like yours, except with yellow and blue instead of red and navy. Plus, I get sleeves, because your arms are better than mine."

"Lies," I retort. "Heinous lies."

As Tula laughs, Garth agrees, "Here, here."

Poseidonis, Atlantis : February 4, 2011 – 14:16 UTC-02

In retrospect, I really should have expected something to go badly on the third day.

Admittedly, I did not expect an allergic reaction to be the thing that went badly. I was thinking more bombings, shootings, some sort of attack that involved multiple people and a lot of screaming and terrified civilians. Likely, I would wind up hitting someone. Instead, it involved some ink, a crying child, Garth valiantly attempting not to panic, Mera and Orin actually panicking, me freezing, and one of the guards using a spell to slow the detrimental effects of the ink because apparently he had two children with allergies at home and therefore knew what to do. Then the healer arrived and everything was fine.

I may be hovering now but I figure that is understandable after Artur suffered an allergic reaction to some ink. In my defence, Garth is worse.

"Tula's matim is allergic to shellfish," says Garth. "When we were children Tula thought that she was too."

I frown at Garth and point out, "She is adopted though, why-"

"We were children, didn't understand genetics. Far as Tula was concerned, her matim was allergic and therefore she would be allergic as well," explains Garth. "What about yours?"

"My matim has no allergies, unless you count lactose intolerance, but that is common to most Atlanteans."

"The ones who've left the sea and actually drank surface milk."

"Yes," I confirm. "I never asked my matim about my biological father. All I know is that he is, or was, human and my matim is not fond of him. When I was a child though she was rather concerned about strange things I did."

"Like what?"

"Surface children have, ah, blocks. They pile these cubes atop of one another, create towers and such-"

"Like those connectors toys," Garth says.

"Yes, though these don't float."

"Obviously."

"Generally, the cubes are different sizes and colours. I would always separate the cubes according to their sizes and colours, and would only use them to build things if my matim prodded me into doing it," I explain. "That concerned her, for some reason."

"Never asked why?"

"I believe it has something to do with my human side. Her concern probably would have been greater if I did not look as Atlantean as I do," I admit, lifting one of my hands to the gills along the right side of my neck. "I suppose she was concerned about how strong my human genetics would be."

"Aren't gills recessive?"

"I have no idea, I'm not a genetic-"

The doors open and one of the guards swims in, bowing before speaking quickly to Annex and Anassa. Garth and I don't relax until a smile crosses Annex's face and Anassa turns.

Anassa swims over to us, calling, "Garth, hold him for a moment." She passes Artur to Garth and smiles as his eyes widen and he adjusts his hold on the infant while Anassa says, "You haven't gotten much of a chance to yet."

"Which is criminal," Annex adds. "Unfortunately, we have to take a message from the surface-world. Kalla, feel free to stay here with Garth. Orm, are you coming?"

"Am I needed?" asks Orm, rising from his perch on a chaise lounge.

"Not particularly," Orin answers. "You can shove off being polite for a little longer, if you really want to."

"Desperately," Orm deadpans.

Annex snorts then turns with Anassa and nods to the guard, "Thank-you. Let's go."

They leave and I smirk lightly, glancing down at Artur resting comfortably in Garth's arms. He has Annex's hair, blond and bright, though at the moment very little hair is present. His eyes are blue, and I am almost positive that he has Anassa's nose and long fingers.

Garth summons a water construct of a seahorse and Artur peers at it curiously before breaking out into a grin.

"He is adorable," I comment, looking up as Orm approaches us.

"What else was possible with Orin and Mera?" asks Orm with a grin.

"Wait," says Garth, lowering his hand and making the seahorse construct dissipate into the surrounding water.

Garth gently tilts Artur slightly to the side and presses the back of one of his fingers to Artur's cheek, nudging his head to the side so he can see Artur's neck. There's a flap of skin slowly peeling away from his neck, rising up to expose a slit disconcertingly similar to the slits on my own neck that are the only obvious physical sign of my ability to breathe underwater.

Orm's eyebrows shoot up and he leans forward, nudging Artur out of Garth's arms so that the infant swims instinctively in the water and Orm has better access to inspect Artur's neck.

Garth asks, his brows furrowing, "Did your matim have gills?"

"No," says Orm, pulling away from Artur, his nose wrinkling in what can't possibly be disgust.

"One of Anassa's parents must have been gilled," says Garth as I swim around them to get a good look at the right side of Artur's neck. It's not just the one flap, there are signs of other slits slowly beginning to open the more Artur moves and is exposed to the ocean.

Orm's concern seeps into his voice as he says, "I thought gills weren't dominant."

Garth and I glance at one another over Artur, eyebrows raised. I have absolutely no idea what to make of this.

Mount Justice, Happy Harbor, Rhode Island : February 5, 2011 – 13:46 EST

Tula raises her eyebrows at the sight of the mountain's interior. She steps forward, raising her foot too high and moving her arms reflexively as if to swim, and promptly stumbles. I grab her, keeping her from falling on her face, and restrain my laugh.

"They trained me for this," Tula mutters, gripping my arms tightly. "How do you stand dealing with gravity all the time?"

"Practice," I explain, helping her regain her footing.

"They trained me on grass and sand," Tula says. "Not on…whatever this is."

"Concrete."

"Concrete," she repeats. "Thank goodness no one was around to see that. Okay, I think I have it now. Let go."

She makes a shooing motion at me and I step back, lifting my hands in the air. She takes in a breath and takes a step. I twitch but don't move forward as she stumbles, her arms flying out and her foot coming down painfully hard. She winces then straightens up again and takes another step, steadier. I dig my fingers into my arms to keep from following her as she continues to walk, doing a lap around the main room before she comes to a stop next to me with a hopeful grin.

"Much better," I say genuinely. "You have been trained."

She snorts and asks, "How do you get your land legs back so quickly?"

"Practice," I answer.

"I doubt I'll ever be able to move like you can from water to land."

"Perhaps my human side helps," I suggest with a shrug.

"Advantage, darn," she mutters. "Okay, where are the others? Are they spying on us? Did they see my failure?"

"You did not fail," I retort. "You are adapting, they cannot insult you for that." I pause then amend, "They will likely tease you though. I can talk to them, try and make sure they do not, if you would-"

"Do not even think about it. I can handle teasing and you know I will give back as good as I get," says Tula.

"I do," I agree. "I believe only Raquel, Zatanna and M'gann are here right now. They are kind, you'll be fine."

"Great, wonderful, fantastic, how's my accent?" asks Tula. "Greetings, I am Tula of Poseidonis, it's a pleasure to meet you land-dwellers."

"Stiff," I say. "Though mine is the same and I have been speaking English longer than you. It's fine. M'gann is a Martian though, and you've already met her."

"So calling her a a land-dweller is incorrect? Don't they have land on Mars?"

"On Mars they live underground," I say. "So I suppose, technically, yes they are land-dwellers, arguably moreso than Earthlings seeing as Earthlings live above land rather than within it."

Tula stares at me for a beat then nods and grabs my arm, betraying her reluctance to walk on land before she's fully regained her land legs. I remain her safety net and guide her down the hallway to the kitchen and living area, where I can hear a video game playing and Zatanna swearing backwards.

"Tihs, tihs, tihs!"

Tula glances at me and asks, "Is that a word I should know?"

"Zatanna speaks backwards for her magic, so she is fluent in all manner of backwards speech," I explain. "So, no."

"I draeh ym eman!" Zatanna exclaims.

Tula looks at me in confusion and I shrug in response. Raquel is perched on the back of the couch, watching the gaming battle with obvious amusement. M'gann's controller is floating in front of her and moving via her telekinesis as she lies on her belly on the ground and eats popcorn. Zatanna is on the couch looking faintly murderous as she alternates glaring at the television and glaring at the back of M'gann's head.

"I think she said that she heard her name," says Raquel, looking away from the television. "Oh, hey!" She jumps and nearly falls right off the back of the couch, only barely managing to grab the cushions and keep herself from tumbling off. She grins sheepishly at us and nudges Zatanna's shoulder with her foot, "Zee, she's here."

"Yawa!" Zatanna retorts, waving her right hand at Raquel. Raquel promptly slides a foot away from Zatanna, putting her on the very edge of the couch. Zatanna yelps in surprise and turns sharply, her eyes wide, "Yrros! Tiaw – wait – I mean, sorry! I totally didn't mean to do that!"

"Hah!" M'gann shouts, punching the air triumphantly.

Zatanna whips around to look back at the television and a strangled groan escapes her throat, "Augh, I died!"

"Good, you can meet the new girl," says Raquel.

Zatanna sighs loudly and sets the controller down. M'gann grins at Zatanna, unashamedly delighted in her mastery of Earth video games.

"Hi," says Raquel, holding out her hand to Tula, "I'm Raquel Ervin aka Rocket. Those morons are Zatanna and M'gann."

Tula remembers to grasp Raquel's hand and shake it, causing Raquel to wince. Raquel extricates her hand from Tula's grip and comments, "Ow, girl, that's quite a handshake."

"Oh!" Tula exclaims, her hands flying to her mouth. "I am so sorry, I completely forgot you surface-dwellers are not as strong as we are! Are you well?"

"Fine, I'm good, fine," says Raquel, shaking out her hand. "Tula, right?"

"Sorry," says Tula, looking like she wants to move forward and help Raquel but clearly reluctant just in case she does more damage. "Tula of Poseidonis. My codename is Tempest."

"That is so much better than yours," says Rocket, looking at me pointedly.

I purse my lips in feigned irritation and respond, "My king chose mine."

"He calls himself Aquaman. Seriously, all the first-gen heroes have no imagination. Although…" she glances at Zatanna and M'gann, "no, you know what, no one here has any imagination whatsoever except for Tula and I."

Tula snickers, Zatanna rolls her eyes and M'gann completely ignores the comment.

"This is Zatanna and you already know M'gann," I say, gesturing to each girl in turn.

"It's great to see you again!" M'gann exclaims, darting forward and promptly flinging her arms around Tula in a hug. Tula releases my arm and responds easily to the hug before extricating herself and smiling at Zatanna.

"Hey," says Zatanna. "I'm not usually this…" she gestures vaguely between the controller and the television, "violent or out-of-control with my magic."

"She's been losing a lot," Raquel explains with faux gravity.

"M'gann has an advantage," says Zatanna. "Telekinesis and telepathy. That is entirely unfair."

"I didn't use my telepathy, and you have magic, that's way more flexible than my abilities," M'gann points out. She looks at me pointedly, "And it's actually really good training for my fine TK control. Like applying nail polish!" She displays her painted nails to me, which create a neon rainbow.

"That's great, M'gann," I say, uncertain of what exactly to say to that. Yay, training?

"Do you have video games in Atlantis?" asks Raquel abruptly.

"We have mystic games," offers Tula. "From what I understand they're sort of similar."

"Except you have to be magical to play them," says Raquel.

"Well, yes."

"You don't have to be magical to play this, just need good hand-eye coordination," explains Raquel. "How's your hand-eye coordination?"

Tula, recognizing a challenge when she hears one, responds easily, "You clearly have never witnessed me sparring."

"Cool, we'll do a four-way with zombies," says Raquel, turning and grabbing one of the controllers. "Zatanna, you're out, you're getting dangerous."

"Probably a good thing, I would've thrown this thing at the TV," admits Zatanna, passing her controller to Raquel.

"I don't have to play," I point out, only for Raquel to grab me and shove me onto one of the couches before thrusting a controller in my hands.

"You're playing," says Raquel. "I doubt either of you has had a break since the prince was born."

"How is he anyway?" asks M'gann. "Gar and I saw photos from the surface introduction and he is adorable."

"He's healthy," I answer. "How is Garfield?"

"He's…" M'gann hesitates, "adapting. In a couple of weeks he's going to start coming by once a week with his, um, adoptive parents to get a handle on his shapeshifting. I figured we could do a meal or something for him. Totally vegetarian."

"That sounds like a great idea, M'gann," I say, opting to not ask how she's doing. I doubt she'd appreciate that right now.

A heavy silence descends and Raquel runs through the screens until coming up to one declaring a zombie hoard. Thankfully, Tula breaks the silence, questioning, "So…how do you play this and what is the objective?"

Immediately, Raquel answers, "The objective is to survive as an unrelenting zombie hoard comes at you and your three teammates."

"You can't use any of your powers though," says M'gann, clearly frustrated with that aspect of the game despite her apparent mastery of it. "You're a normal human."

"I cannot just summon a wave and drown the zombies?"

Raquel smirks, "Nope. And drowning zombies never works anyway, you have to shoot off their heads."

"What are zombies?"

"You don't know…okay," says Raquel. "Zombies are creatures of the undead, sometimes created via some sort of virus, sometimes by magic, sometimes by aliens. It's all make-believe, by the way, though Zatanna says that zombie-like creatures are possible with the right type of magic, which is freaky beyond all belief-"

Zatanna cuts in, "These zombies are just random zombies. Human, but zombie-fied. There's no explanation for why they exist, they just are and they're attacking you."

Tula frowns and asks, "Could we not retreat to a high location and pick them off one by one?"

"You're restricted to one map and not all of them have high locations," explains Zatanna.

"Well, that doesn't seem very realistic," scolds Tula. "If a hoard of these creatures were attacking me I would be retreating to a more ideal defensive location and taking them out with a series of explosive mystic balls, a variety of grenades, and be sniping them. Then I would move to another location and do the same. That would make so much more sense than staying in the same spot."

"It's not supposed to be realistic, Tula," says Raquel. "This isn't training. It's just a game, y'know, for fun."

"Are games here not meant to be training for your future as warriors?" asks Tula, confusion creasing her forehead.

"No…" Raquel looks from Tula to me then asks, "Is that what games are like in Atlantis? They're all made to make better warriors?"

I shrug, "We are a warrior culture. I suspect the same is true of Themyscira."

"Oh. Right."

"Can we fight the zombies now?" asks M'gann, floating upside down as she stares at the television.

"Yes," I answer. "We have an arsenal of guns, by the way, Tula. Though we can only carry two at a time, plus our combat knife and a few grenades."

She snorts, "Well, at least we're not totally defenseless. What kind of guns are they?"

"I'm guessing you want something you can snipe with," says Raquel.

"That, or a grenade launcher."

"You really don't go for the middle ground, do you?"

"Depends, will slitting their throats kill them?"

"Yes."

"Oh, I won't need a gun then."

"You aren't an Atlantean in this game, remember."

Tula thinks for a moment then admits as the first map loads, "I may need a gun." As the zombies began to approach our scattered characters, Tula asks, her character hopping as she begins pressing random buttons, "So, how do I use my gun anyway?"

A/N: I made an instrumental music mix for Maelstrom because I got bored and was flicking through my music collection. Look me up on 8tracks and you'll find it.

There had to be organized opposition to the monarchy not because of their "impure leanings" but because it's a monarchy, there just had to be. Google Cleisthenes if you want to know why his name was chosen. Of course, now the issues the Purists have with the monarchy are going to get a lot more intense and people are going to be questioning Orin and Mera, and specifically Mera's faithfulness to Orin, and geneticists are going to be panicking because apparently we know nothing about gills what the hell, and it's just not going to be pretty. Not at all.

I've thought a lot about what a nightmare securing anything in Atlantis must be. You have magic and extremely high-tech science, gravity isn't an issue, there are people who can camouflage not because of magic but because of their physiology (which of course can't be changed or else we're getting into x-men territory and Magneto Was Right), there are spells happening everywhere…it's horrible. I bet Tala started having nightmares about securing Poseidonis for the celebration the instant Mera's pregnancy was announced.

Totally changed Tula's superhero costume because I have Kalla's superhero costume being a uniform and Tula's YJ superhero costume is just her clothes. Which is obviously not a uniform. So Tula gets a uniform in her colours with sleeves and no exposed stomach because none of the Atlantean soldiers have exposed stomachs so why would they let their superheroes have exposed stomachs? I mean, really. The soldiers do have shorts, but I'm going for some consistency amongst the Atlantean superheroes, which means [generally] pants and the glyph for Atlantis somewhere on their person. This…really doesn't matter much though since this is not an illustrated fic, but The More You Know.