The Avenging Son: Namor Attacks!

August 14, 2014: King Namor makes his proclamation - humanity keep out of the oceans! And he plans to show what happens when humans trespass!

Oil Rig Off South Carolina — Atlantic Ocean

An oil rig, offshore of the southeastern face of the North American continent.



  • Warlord Krang of Atlantis

Mood Music:

"I don't see the point, Your Highness. This target is of no value, and your decision to all but broadcast our attack plan will certainly mean that it is well-defended. Surely we ought to call off the attack and strike silently at a more valuable target. Perhaps… New York?"

The bald, blue-skinned man tugs at the black hairs on his chin as he addresses the small group of military leadership assembled in the meeting room of an Atlantean warship. A general murmur of assent rises from the other leaders gathered, but neither the question nor the approval of the group have any immediate effect upon the only white-skinned person in the room.

With his back to the group, King Namor of Atlantis floats before an enormous window that gives him a gorgeous view of an ocean that grows steadily bluer. Apparently the vessel is ascending pretty rapidly.

"Make no mistake, Warlord Krang, my actions today are the product of many months of planning. You assume that I mean to conquer my target, when my goal is far more subtle: I seek to effect change." There is no malice in his voice as he rejects one of his closest advisors recommendations. If anything, he wears an air of resignation, or perhaps he's merely tired.

Just as the tone in the War Room was becoming tense, the doors whoosh open to allow a fresh-faced officer to swim through. It is only then that King Namor turns his head. "Your Highness, recon units are in position, we will be upon our target momentarily."


Several miles off the coast of South Carolina, a deep-sea drilling platform appears to have already wound down its operation for the day. Which is fortunate, because it's unlikely that anything productive would happen there after the crew got a glimpse of the sinister-looking submarine that surfaces about a mile away from the platform. Nearly two hundred meters in length, the black vessel is covered from bow to stern in both detailed engraving and enormous barnacles. But it's unlikely anyone seeing the vessel is thinking about how lovely it must have looked a hundred years ago.

It's also unlikely that anyone that far out can see the man standing next to the vessel's figurehead. But there he stands, hand on the hilt of his dagger, glaring intently at construct that, for him, symbolizes everything abominable about the modern world.


SHIELD knew this was coming. As unlikely as it seems, as crazy as it might be to think about, they had time to prepare. The oil rig had been cleared of personnel, replaced with trained agents. Key locations have had some reinforcements made. Weapon placements had been installed. Boats and aircraft are close at hand. And, Hill's trump card, the UNN Alpha itself lies in wait in the skies above. The Helicarrier she had been in direct command of before relocating to the Triskelion is back under her control once more.

On top of that, she's called in some special reinforcements of the superhero variety. Iron Man, as an 'important trust building exercise.' Wonder Man, because everything is a publicity stunt with him. That he's also darn near invulnerable doesn't hurt, either. For everything they can't handle? She's a firm believer of peace through superior firepower.

Now she stands on the UNN Alpha's bridge, hands loosely held behind herself as she glances between numerous screens, HUD readouts, and the open heavens surrounding them. It's always just a matter of time…

"We've got movement, Ma'am."


Wonder Man is watching from an open bay on the UNN Alpha's underside, where fighters are sometimes launched. He removes his jacket and hands it to one of the SHIELD guys, "Make sure that doesn't get lost, OK? It has my phone in it."

He looks down at the water below. That thing that looks like a whale, coming up to the oil rig, that … wow.

"Disney almost had it right," he says into the comm-link stuck in his ear, microphone down his neck. "That's the Nautilus, or a really good imitation."

He hasn't been given a 'go' but he has been given a 'do not dare go before you get the word or we will do very bad things to your corpse after you die' from one of the SHIELD guys, and he's pretty sure that means he might need to be careful. This isn't a Baye movie, causing an international incident won't really solve problems, it'll just get people killed. So he'll try not to cause one.


When he got the call from SHIELD over the secure channel he had established with them through JARVIS, Tony Stark was deep in research down in the workshop. Honestly, he wasn't sure he actually expected that they would ever ''use'' the communications, at least not until they told him what it was about.

The next several hours were spent towards a different kind of research. Stark had JARVIS move the Stark One satellite over the Atlantic and put it in rotation with the earth to give him constant informational feed directly to his HUD. One corner of the Iron Man suits view showing topographical data off the ocean, while another triangulated the probability of where exactly a ship ''that size'' could be housed without anyone having noticed it before.

Suited up in his armor, Stark hovers above the instillation amidst the clouds, using the nimbus to keep him physically camoflaged. Now in contact with the Alpha well above him, his digitized voice speaks over comms, "He's sending a message. A ship that size could have easily attacked anything on the eastern seaboard… It's like sending Iron Man to shoot fish in a barrel."

He laughs, even if you all don't.


Get back into work they said. Call Patches they said. He'll have work for you. He always has work for you. Get a different past time than drooling over the girls in Orange is the New Black. All these demands, who's Domino to tell him what to do. The patchy-eyed adorable big bosomed puppy. Damnit. The girl's got a point. He's been out of work too damn long, and the cost of rent is just too damn high.

So his first client is some superhero or super villain or some undersea dude. Whatever, he doesn't care.

Wade's perched, sitting between two girders of the oil drilling platform. He's already here, waiting for the order to begin the fun. At least five SHIELD agents have passed him by, technicians and field officers alike. If it weren't for the agreement and thin ice he's on, he might've already jumped down and started the party early, but this is serious. As serious as Deadpool can take something. That's probably dangerous for others more than himself.

"If I wait any longer, my blisters are going to have blisters." Deadpool complains over his communication device. Silent. Another agent walks by.


Tel's sitting in Titans Tower, his feet up on a console as he watches the news. They've just recently activated the computer system to monitor the news channels and radio frequencies for trouble spots and he's using it as a means of getting acquainted with this time period. And boy, does it have issues. Carbonated liquid sugar for one. The open can of soda sits next to him untouched past his first sip. Disgusting. And he's unfortunately discovered that Hostess apple pies are neither apples nor pies in any meaningful sense of the words. He's wondering if he really wants to know what doodles are and if they're really made of cheese when his attention is caught by a news report.

Seems evacuated oilmen talk and a local news station caught wind of it. They sent out a helicopter and are broadcasting live. Centered in the screen is the submarine and there's lots of speculation about just what's going on. He puts the report on record for anyone else to see if they show up and then goes up to the roof to fly off. He can be there shortly.


"Aadu kawagala nintho serberkian worpikorshnik." In Atlantean, this means 'I don't speak English.' and this is what the poor, confused dispatcher is attempting to communicate to Deadpool before promptly turning his headset off. Deadpool is now effectively cut off from any radio contact with the submarine, at least until someone who speaks Human Languages can be found, which means he'll have to act on his own if he wants to earn that bucket full of pirate treasure that he was promised.

Namor, of course, speaks Human Languages, but he's currently unavailable. Not only is he posing dramatically next to the elaborately-sculpted figurehead (For those who are interested, the figurehead is a woman in a shell bikini, but very classy), but he is also making a speech through what appears to be an enormous conch shell. However the shell works, it's broadcasting his words to all of the Atlanteans available.

It's standard motivational fare, plenty of talk about the 'destiny of Atlantis' and 'taking their rightful place in the world.' It is, however, all in Atlantean, which means that only a few of SHIELD's analysts are likely to have any idea what Namor is talking about.

All of this changes, however, when Namor suddenly begins transmitting in English. "People of the Surface World. It has been a long time since last we talked. I, Namor, King of Atlantis, Protector of the Oceans, Lord of the Seas, Scion of the Deep, Imperius Rex, et cetera, et cetera, speak on behalf of those beneath the waters. Atlantis sends a simple message: Humanity has lost its ocean privileges. Further attempts to violate my sovereign territory will be dealt with thusly…"

And then, as if on queue, the mouth of the submarine opens up, resembling a giant whale. There, within the ship's bowels, is what can only be described as a Ridiculously Oversized Oil Platform Grinder.

The ship begins speeding up, on a direct course for the platform.


"I'm not a fan of the message he's trying to send us," Hill responds on the HeroLine. "Hold fast, Stark. You may get your barrel today." To those on the bridge, she calls out "You know the drill, people! Full vessel scan, armaments, defenses, dimensions, weak points, get our systems to work crunching the numbers while we have the chance! War parties rarely travel alone so keep scanning that water, I'm not in the mood to be blindsided by a bunch of damn fish today."

"And SOMEONE find out who let that damn news chopper get involved in my operation! Bloody freedom of speech… Comms, prep a signal for their vessel. I want-"

"Miss Hill..?"

The Deputy Director's attention snaps toward the agent that called her name. "What?"

"We've got audio. They're broadcasting."

Hill nods once, "Let's hear it."

It's not the most clear of broadcasts from their altitude, but it's enough. Atlantean, followed by something they all can understand. This is when things go from bad to worse.

"Goddammit, so much for negotiations. Team One, you've got point!" That would be Wonder Man and Iron Man. "Don't let them destroy the rig! If they want a fight then we'll kick their asses back down before we try to make nice. Get a long range bombardment prepped, if our flyboy heroes miss their mark I want a contingency plan that redefines 'overkill.' Get to work, people!"


Simon salutes the SHIELD guy and falls forward, jets firing to launch him towards Namor and the Nautilus. International Incident? Yeah, there's already one in play, so he falls on the (usual) script, not unlike falling on a sword, or so the critics have said. He aims for the figurehead, planting his arms on either side of its waist, and SHOVES, purple and red ionic krackle erupting around him as he tries to slow, or turn, or upend, the ship.

Wonder Man or not, he may have under-estimated the size of that thing, and he's not psyched himself up to Kryptonian levels. Still, he's at least as strong as a tugboat, right? Please? This could turn out to be so embarrassing…



Blahblahblah, undah da sea, blahblahblah.

"Two steps ahead of you, Assistant Director." Tony actually does listen to this broadcasted demand message from the King of all things aquatic, but he's busily taking diagnostic scans of the ginormous whalemarine. "JARVIS, transmit relative armor thickness with a point to point reference of likely weapon platforms and suspected density comparison to all known defense projects, to the Helicarrier. Send a comprehensive material listing to the Tower and cross reference it against known and suspected elements. See if these guys have anything we can use."

"Of course, sir." The AI starts sending information with lightning quick efficiency to the viable parties.

Nor does he, technically, wait for a green light to cut power to his repulsors. The Iron Man begins a free fall down towards the Atlantean War Vessel. On their scanners, it might well look like little more than falling debris, but visual scan would certainly identify the real nature of the incoming hero.

At three thousand feet vertical, Tony puts powers to his repulsors and goes from zero to SOS in a whoosh of ionized neutrons exploding out from his palms and feet. Wind crashes against the suit as he arcs around in a corkscrew approach of the vessel, palms coming forward to fire a double barrage of mini jericho warheads from wrist launchers at the hinges of the Submarines open mouth. Hoping, perhaps, to damage the gears enough to close it before it can devour the platform.

Then he too is broadcasting, "Hey Fish man, haven't you heard you shouldn't swim for forty five minutes after eating?" Over very loud speakers on either side of the flat gold mouth port on his helmet.


Deadpool remains up in the girders for at least a few more seconds after that message. Atlantean? "No hablas espaniol." He replies. They've cut him off. Well, it looks like he's on his own. Good, that's how he prefers it. Looking down, two SHIELD field officers happen to be walking by. It's go time.

Pushing himself off the ledge, Wade grabs one of his swords by the handle shouting, "YIPPEE!" as he falls. SLPURSH! One decapitation order up! The other man react, drawing up a pistol, but he's got nothing on the surprise attack. Wade's other hand quickdraws a high calibre pistol that blows a neat hole through his face, "Like my momma always told me, ain't no problem can't be solved by SHOOTING IT IN THE FACE." He looks up, spying the helicarrier now that he's on platform floor numero uno. Interesting.

Another couple agents run around the corner and effortlessly DPiddy raises his pistol and shoots them both in the chest, "Blam blam! Now you're dead! Wait, that's not right." Time to move. Dashing forward, Deadpool begins working his carnage towards appropriated technicians. Sword in one hand, pistol in the other. In a sing-songy voice he sings, "I'm gonna be the head of SHI-EELD. I'm gonna be the head of SHIII-EELD!" There's no mistaking the sound of more gunfire. He's heading for the helicopters.


Tel's over Virginia when Namor starts broadcasting. Thanks to his communicator, he can understand it all even though it doesn't work in reverse. Another lack in this century. No wonder they try to kill each other so often when they can't communicate easily. Knowing that action follows pep talks, he pours on the speed.


Cannonball learned about the tense situation in the South first from a student at Xavier's. Her dreams sometimes pick up future events, though she often forgets them upon waking. Not the case this time around.

After corroborating the dream with live news coverage, it isn't long before Sam Guthrie suits up and bounds out with the help of a friendly teleporter. He's sent from his station at the Institute to a point not far from where the excitement is going on and reminds himself to applaud that one on his accuracy later.

With a flash and a bang, Sam is headed for the platform, followed by a plume of silvered smoke. Though he's tempted to fire things up and make a grand entrance, he feels a stronger need to take stock of the situation first, so his flight path is a slowish arc around the oil rig for the moment.


"Ah… the frontal assault. I suppose I wasted all of that time I spent studying martial tactics."

As Namor is still speaking through his conchshell bullhorn, his voice is both amplified in the vicinity and broadcasted to anything capable of receiving a signal. Which means that nobody need be without his Atlantean snark.

Simon is a brave man to even attempt such a crazy maneuver. Positioned at the front of the ship as he is, one wrong move could send him flying through the chomping, grinding, chopping interior of the vessel's 'mouth.' Which, apparently, is exactly what Iron Man intends.

The vessel begins slowing down, and the engines become much louder as they strain to compensate for the added stress. However, it looks like the platform has been bought a few extra minutes.

The hinges of the ship begin shaking, and cracks form all over the ships hull. Whatever the ship is made of, it's clearly not immune to high-grade explosives.

"Purple cretin! Remove your hands from my ship or I shall remove your arms from your body!" Namor pulls the dagger out of its jeweled sheath on his belt, and leaps into the air, heading directly for Wonder Man as if he intends to make good on his threat.


Here, have another dilemma! One of the techs is quick to call out, "Miss Hill, I've got something here! We've caught the signal of an unsecured comm channel-"

"I've got gunfire on the rig, non-Atlantean! Agents down!"

Seconds count. Seconds cost lives. Hill snaps her fingers and points to the first agent to get her attention. "You, trace the signal, I want coordinates within three feet of the source. You," she turns toward the second, "Organize ground forces on the rig. Barricade them in if you have to. Could be we've got an opportunistic villain out here or these bastards aren't working alone. Worry about a positive ID after they're on the ground."

Speaking of opportunistic sorts… Cannonball's sudden entrance catches Hill's attention in a heartbeat. "Team One, we have an unidentified meta in your neck of the woods! Can you confirm which team they're batting for?"

Welcome to the fustercluck!


"Cretin? You realize you're gonna tear this rig up and cause an oil spill over the whole east coast, kill millions of fish and marine animals, just because you got pissed off at us messing up your ocean? Hypocrite much?"

He shoves harder, ignoring the dagger. Wait, if the fish guy stabs him it's gonna hurt. He glares at Namor, and a purple-red blast of energy lashes out from his red-red-eyes, aiming to hit him right in the Imperious Rex.


"Assistant Director…" Tony's voice is probably going to start getting annoying, as every time he speaks it's to tell her how far ahead of her orders he is… He'd feel bad, but he doesn't. "I'm already on it." Technically, JARVIS is already on it, but still… these things are really just semantics.

JARVIS goes through several different frequencies until he finally finds one that's more or less inline with whatever comserv Cannonball is using. The loop keeps running until a response is received, but Satelite monitoring has also informed him that there's another anomaly approaching over Virginia, so he'll keep searching. The message being broadcast is pretty straightforward, a recorded affair from Tony Stark himself.

"Unidentified flying persons. I am Tony Stark. If you receive this message, respond on your comm channels and I will link you to command HQ. Transmission code zero omega." Ain't he just professional. "Unidentified flying persons. I am-" It repeats, over and over, until someone says hello.

Down at operation 'fish in a barrel', Tony moves both hands and feet forward to stop his momentum on a dime, cuts powers to his repulsors so he can twist into another direction and rockets off again with a whoosh of burnt ozone. As he flies along the side of the submarine, his right hand extends out and a compartment pops up to fire a high density, tight wave laser. It's a one off, much like the missiles, but he's cutting a very sizable line across the waterline of the sub as he flies aft of the vessel.

"I bet you wish you'd brought more lifeboats? Running into a well armed Ice berg and all that…" Pause, "I'm renaming your vessel the Titanic Two."


Deadpool's certainly taken the offensive here. As soon as he reaches one of the clusters of computers set up for information processing and intel for SHIELD, he lobs a grenade. The two technicians there turn just in time to see a red and black dude running to shoot a pilot out of a helicopter, then see the military green grenade. Shit. Fire envelopes the console and technicians as the incendiary explodes, making a kick-ass backdrop for the man.

One of the agents manages to get out a short, "It's D-" before radio silence. Oh, well this just isn't fair at all. The more he moves around, the more agents seem to close in to his position. "Uh-oh! I think they know I'm here!" He shouts with a laugh as he shoots another agent. Then another. Tens of them come out of the wood work, working around him and actually managing to exchange gunfire at this point. "Woah, woah! I can only handle so many of you at one time. There's enough Deadpool to go around!" Who knew he'd be so popular?

A couple bullets punch through his chest, another through his leg. Some automatic fire lodges a few more bullets into his body, but he doesn't stop the carnage even when he's the center of attention in a mass of writhing bodies trying to pull him down. "Hey! Haha! That tickles!" This is where the sword in his other hand becomes useful, and just the more bodies that are sent to him, the more that are cut down. "Did I ever tell you guys why my suit's black and red?! It's to hide all the blood! Woah, is that Jim over there from AIM? Oops. Nope, now you're dead!"

Pushing a couple people aside he begins running for the helicopter that contains the dead pilot he shot out earlier. "Hey sorry fellas, but I got other plans! C-c-c-catch ya later!"


"This is Gravity Kid of the Science Police." Which is technically true and he doesn't think twice about it since it's who he is. Even if the Metropolis Science Police have never heard of him. "I'm receiving your transmission and am about to take action to keep the submersible from attacking the…" What did the news call it? "…Rig." The forcefield around him faintly glowing blue, he comes to a halt above the submarine and starts directing the gravitons from the back of the ship to the front, increasing the pull of gravity on the nose while the tail increasingly becomes free of it. It's like a see-saw.


A burst of static through his comm system, then the message from Stark. From his distance, he can see that a mess is already being made both on the oil rig and in the water nearby. Some of the specifics elude him.

"Howdy, Mr. Stark! Cannonball here. Looks like y'all got a mess to deal with out there." His thick southern drawl carries over the airwaves as he turns to made a head-on approach toward the action. "Need a hand? Or maybe a hole through that freakin' scary fish out there?"


"All ground forces," comes the calm and cavalier voice of a SHIELD pilot across the communications band, "We have Iceberg inbound in 3, 2, 1 … "
Overhead, an aircraft streaks through the sky above the Rig and the bomb bay doors open long enough for a silhouette to drop out of them. As he speeds through the air without a parachute, the shapes resolves itself as a man clad in red, white and blue. Captain America.
Plummeting through the air, the Captain brings his shield down with both hands and places it under his feet. He quickly straightens out, arms akimbo for balance as he streaks through the sky towards the rig and an unoccupied helipad. The strange 'TWANG' reverberates through the air as he lands in a crouch upon his shield, the force of the impact absorbed and dissipated by that wonder of metallurgical science. He steps off it, jamming his foot down on the lip to send it arcing back up into his hands as he takes off at a run.
"Miss Hill," says Cap into his radio as he moves. "Point me where you need me."


One of the nice things about oil rigs is that they provide a good view of almost everything, including that which is below them. Calm in the face of battle, Hawkeye has been biding his time as the fight rages around him. (He'll probably get yelled at later, but the timing has to be right.) The moment Deadpool begins to make his run towards the helo, his bow is pulled, arrow loosed, and a tipped shaft lands right where the black and red suited character is running for- the helo.

For a long moment, it's simply an arrow lodged in the interior of the helicopter. A second passes, then another until the roters begin to slowly rotate.

"Surprise," is murmured, and Barton has another arrow nocked and ready to loose. "Let's see what you're gonna do, smart man."

Over the noise of the com, Barton's voice comes through as, perhaps, only one more to join the chorus. His words sound calm, cool and professional. "Rig is unsecure. Repeat, rig is unsecure." Beat. "Give me five minutes."

When Steve drops in on the rig, blue eyes look down to where he lands. "We've got wounded below. Perp is making a run for the helo. I've got control of the bird. Repeat, I've got control of the bird."


"You fool! Do you think for one second that the Warlord of the Waves would allow even a single drop of oil to fall into his precious ocean?" Namor says all of this into his conch shell bullhorn as he descends quickly with a drawn dagger. The look on his face makes it obvious that he has every intention of chopping up Wonder Man, even though he's also flying into danger himself. One wrong move could send either of them through the grinding, chomping mouth of the submarine.

The sudden onslaught of ionic energy from Wonder Man sends Namor flying backward and knocks the wind out of him. This is, however, a temporary setback, and it's not long before he's turned his body into the blast and turned his ankle wings up to high gear. Soon, he is within striking range of his target, and swinging his dagger in wide, vicious arcs.

As the sides of the ship are perforated by advanced weaponry, clear fluid beging gushing out of the new holes. The fluid is, of course, water. Fortunately, Namor can't see this development, or it might distract him from trying to chop up Wonder Man.

The addition of another high-powered helper has all but stalled the vessel in mid-water. The ship begins to groan and creak as it's barnacled hide takes more stress than it was designed for. Century-old technology against the best heroes of today (and the future): Mismatch.

But just when it seems like the day is saved, a bunch of long tentacles begin slithering up the side of the oil rig. At once seemingly organic and metallic, the tentacles quickly engulf a large portion of the rig. Soon, a heavily-armored group of Atlantean soldiers is being tossed aboard the platform, their water-filled helmets showing only a small portion of their blue faces.

Suddenly Deadpool's radio comes back on. In broken English, the leader of the strike team initiates contact. "Mercenary. Kill more. Payment embiggened."


"I'm happy for you, Stark, but one man alone can't handle everything, super-advanced AI companion or not," Hill comms back. That, and she refuses to have half of her Division seem redundant compared to one guy in a flying tin can. It may be good for their budget but it's awful for morale.

"Cannonball, this is Deputy Director Hill of SHIELD. I'm not sure where you came from but frankly at this point I couldn't care less. You wanna be a hero then you go right ahead and lend my boys a hand, but if they tell you to haul ass I want you out of engagement ASAP, copy?"

It's also really bad for morale, and PR, if she launches the missiles while there's still active superheroes on site.

Hill barely needs to think of a response to the Captain when Hawkeye reports in. Oddly enough, she was just about to have Rogers coordinate with Barton. One's on eyes, one's on frontal assault. "I want to know who that joker is down there that's gunning down my agents, and why they haven't managed to paint the wall with him by now! Barton-" ..Somehow telling Hawkeye to keep his distance seems entirely redundant. Wait..that's a bloody mercenary down there?! "-You're clear for lethal engagement. In fact, please do."

Likewise, those agents already on the rig are far from helpless. As the Atlanteans start to drop onto the decks the black and white-uniformed Divisionites are ready to respond in force. Those fancy Whump Guns that the SRD have been enjoying in the Tri-City area? They aren't the only kids on the block to pack that sort of tech. Getting shot in the chest by one of these weapons would be like getting flicked off of the rig by the hand of a God.

They're even (mostly, in theory) non-lethal!


Wonder Man is shoving upwards with great enthusiasm when suddenly the nose (PROW! BOW!! NOT NOSE!! a screenwriter somewhere curses) of the ship becomes really heavy, as if all the mass of the ship were concentrating itself there. Fine. He lets go of it, and Namor swings at him, so he ducks. Well, he ducks because in turning, he's caught the loop of his rocket-belt on the decorative filigree of the lovely figurehead, and she's yanking him down into the water.

Panic besets Simon Williams for an instant before he realizes — You don't breathe any more, just don't inhale — and instead, FINE, he grabs her again and pulls DOWN, ionic krakle spreading around as he needs to be stronger… ten feet tall… twelve feet… make the thing flip. Maybe it'll eat that … ROBOT KRAKEN?! that's directly below them?!!


Seriously, Tony isn't trying to make the agents on the carrier redundant. They've all got their jobs and their equipment and he's just one man. He puts his iron pants on one leg at a time, or so he's so pointedly informed more than one person before. Just that once those iron pants are on, he does everything a full team of agents can do by himself.

What he neglects to mention is that while he is a one man show, he's perfectly capable of being distracted and in this case, it's with disastrous results. When Steve lands, JARVIS lights Tony's HUD with diagnostic scans of the man's shield, the one that absorbed the shock of freefall onto a metal oil rig like it was nothing. "Structural integrity reads beyond anything element in my database, sir. Conductivity is well within nominal limits, advanced alloy comparison indicates primary composition of vibranium, titanium, and a yet unidentified particulate with a molecular density of seventy three thousand pounds of steel."

Stark hovers there like an idiot, barely aware that he's staring at the oil rig and not doing a damn thing towards stopping the submarine. Which, he'll regret, since he's right there next to Tel's gravitational field anomaly when it lifts the stern of the ship from the waves.

Suddenly Iron Man is on a whirling spin in every direction but the one he was intending and the HUD is even worse. JARVIS tries to correct it with each no rotation and only manages to make the pilot inside dizzy beyond the capacity for rational thought. "Oh. My. God. Going. To. Vomiiittttt…"


Tony's repulsors finally stabilize him, but when it finally does, he's about a mile beneath the waterline and absolutely unsure which way is the surface. He can barely hear JARVIS speaking and… he vomited. "You're fired JARVIS…"


Deadpool laughs as he climbs into the pilot seat, probably unaware of the arrow poking in the interior. He starts flicking controls and switches as the rotors spin up. "Hahah! I don't know how to fly." One sword goes back on his back, the gun goes on the co-pilot's seat. Then his radio buzzes in. Payment? More of it? If he kills more people. "Gee, Poseidon." He waffles a bit while the helicopter spins up. For all he knows, this helicopter's going to be in the air soon and he'll be hijacking who knows what.

The deployment of Atlantean crews is an interesting thing he didn't quite expect. That's cool. Sea-boy's got his own posse or something. The tentacles are cool, though. Girls love tentacles. He saw it from some Japanese movie or something, he's sure. This final variable gives him enough confidence to pull out one of his wildcards.

For the moment, Hawkeye goes unnoticed. Steve doesn't. Deadpool looks at him from the cockpit and gives a dainty little wave while another hand digs through one his pouches. He is not adjusting his crotch. "Heeeey! Captain A!" He shouts before pulling out a silver pen with a button on it. A remote ignition detonator. Ya think he just ran around destroying electronics and killing agents for fun? Well. It was. That's beside the point. Think of how long he had to wait in that perch.

"Idle hands are the devil's plaything!" He yells with a laugh before pressing the button.

Several explosions rock the oil platform. One off a structural support off the corner of the platform which causes the whole thing to tilt slightly. Cans, debris, and loose items begin rolling down the retrograde into the water before the whole platform stabilizes. Several more explosions rock other parts of the platform, causing a south-eastern crane the crumble and fall, and one of the lower levels to become massively unhinged. Fires break out at several points, causing a viscous black smoke to start rolling into the air, fed by the raw oil. At least one of the explosions is adjacent to a tentacle, liking damaging it and killing some of Namor's men. Oops!

"Deal, deal, deal! I'll take explosives for 1,000 Alex! I hope it's TWO buckets of pirate's treasure. Pirates are awesome." Deadpool says to himself as he thrusts upwards on the controls. It's time to take this little birdy into the sky.


As the prow of the sub sinks and the stern rises, Tel lets nature take its course and flies further away from Namor. He's not really the hand to hand type. "There's really no need for this." he broadcasts. "In another thousand years, the seas will be clean and those on and under the surface will be working together." More or less. There's always bumps and friction. "It can start in this century if you make it happen."


Though Cannonball feels an itch to test the structural integrity of Namor's submarine, by smashing into it, he's also not sure what sort of collateral damage that might do, since he's seen more than one heroic type zipping about it. His time might, for now, be better spent on the rig.

"Aye, aye, Deputy Director," is his response to Hill as he near the rig just moments after Deadpool's explosions go off.

Sam circles the rig at high speed, spotting a piece of one of the lower decks where the Atlanteans seems to have the upper hand. It there that he lands, using his propulsion stream to both control his descent and to knock some bad guys on their asses. At his feet upon landing, one of those fancy Whump Guns near a fallen SHIELD agent. It's in his hands a moment later. "This thing looks cool."


"Is there a medic en route?" Cap asks, his chief concern being with the wounded agents. Still, he's a fighter not a healer. His eyes narrow as he spots Deadpool in the helicopter, managing to keep his footing as the explosion rocks the oil rig. His shield comes up without a look, a chunk of flaming debris bouncing off of it. There may be a crisis but Captain America has his mission objective now.

He leaps towards the helicopter, his aim to cling onto the front of it before it has a chance to go anywhere - just in case the arrow in the rotor isn't enough. He supports himself with one arm, the other sporting the shield across it which he brings down hard against the glass over and over.


The nature of the shield coupled with Cap's impressive strength sends a spider's web of cracks racing off across it. He bring his shield-less arm up in turn, jamming his fist through the glass with a shatter and reaching through the newly-made hole in an effort to drag Deadpool out by his throat.
Namor has reconnected.


"I thought I -was- using lethal…"

Well, it was a plan, anyway. Barton watches as Deadpool gains access to the helo, the rotors slowly chopping at the air as the engine begins to heat up. The SHIELD agent has the mini-RC controller in hand; something made to order courtesy of the Brooklyn Superhero Supply Company. (He's been dying to use this arrow!)

Where the plan goes awry, however, is when the tentacles begin to slither up the sides of the platform and the fish-guys flip onto the main deck. Sure… that's fine, and a couple of well placed arrows from his perch will find their targets. But only a few as the explosions begin to rock the rig.

Thrown about on his perch, one hand is repurposed for the distinct job of actually not plummeting hundreds of feet into churning water on one side, before his view changes as he is flipped over backwards and begins to fall down the other side, bumping iron braces as he does.

It's a lucky grab that stops Barton's fall, and with a yank that feels like he's dislocated his shoulder, he hisses a "Ow, dammit!" that is probably picked up by a sensitive mic. "Crapcrapcrapcrap.." is added as he pulls a leg in and a foothold is finally gained. Okay. He may have to abandon ship after all.


As the engine heats up, the blades go a little faster, the little blinky lights in the cabin begin to glow a shade of green. One of the few things left to the archer is to brace and get a shot off at the helo once more, this time, closer near the bottom such that he can get a line in and over. If he doesn't kill himself in the process, that is.

Aaand, with Steve moving in, there goes his chances. "Crap." Okay, his fault for not telling the guy that he is actually the one in control of the bird and not Deadpool.

"Uh.. Cap…" There's silence before Barton finishes with, "Never mind."


Although Wonder Man might be dreading taking a dip beneath the waves, for Namor the sudden submersion is all but a godsend. Spending so much time hovering about a ship can really dry an Atlantean out, and as he falls into the water he instantly feels refreshed and reinvigorated. He's less happy about losing his bullhorn, but he's already provided enough soundbites for the evening news as it is, assuming that SHIELD doesn't digitally redact the entire thing and force him to stage an identical stunt in the future.

In the chaos, Namor also loses his grip on his dagger. He doesn't have time to search for it at the moment, but he makes a mental note of where it is most likely to land. Should only take his subjects a few weeks to find it once the dust settles.

The ship begins literally breaking apart. The water fills with Atlanteans as they attempt to get free of the vessel before it's destroyed. Judging by the crowd, most of them seem to have gotten free, and there was only a skeleton crew to begin with. 'Minimal losses' will sound good when Namor has to address his people later.

Apparently Wonder Man is dead set on making himself a target. Having grown to an unmissable size, he can't help but catch Namor's attention. Focusing on him as the most obvious contributor to the destruction of his vessel, Namor takes off toward him like a bullet underwater, his fists extended in front of him as he aims directly for the enormous ionic being.

"Imperius Rex!" Yes, his war-cry works underwater.

The Atlantean strike force makes a good account of itself, but they're mostly there to provide cover fire. As their armor gets damaged, they inevitably leap into the water before suffocating in the oxygen. The disadvantage of fighting in pressurized environment suits. Many, of course, are hurled into the ocean by the valiant SHIELD agents, but the scene is far too chaotic to tell who is winning. The tentacles begin dislodging as the explosions rock the rig. Apparently, it's work is done.


"Miss Hill, we've got explosions-"

"I'm well aware of that, thank you," Hill cuts the other operative short. Demolition charges don't seem like the sort of thing these Atlanteans would resort to, which means the finger only has one killer left to point toward: The mercenary.

The rig's going to fall, isn't it… By God, the rig's going to collapse and there's nothing she can do to prevent it. All of the intel, all of the preparation, somehow just one mercenary (well, and that giant tentacled thing) slipped completely beneath their radar and managed to take home the victory. All of those Agents…

Hill can actually hear the material of her gloves creaking as her hands slowly turn into fists at her sides. The Director's not going to be happy about this. She's in command of a damn Helicarrier and she couldn't protect a single..oil rig…

"Somebody Get Me That Merc."

The Captain's question doesn't make things any easier for her. "Ground's too hot, secure the space." (If it hasn't fallen into the goddamned ocean by then…) To Hawkeye, her words hold a level but notably dark tone when she asks "Then why isn't he dead yet?"

Mother Hen is livid.

This is when the decision is made. White fingers snap once more, motioning toward those in control of the Helicarrier's weapons. "We've got an active bird taking off from the rig. I want it in our cross-hairs, single ZX-14. Get me visual and thermal confirmation, any more than one onboard and we hold. Count to a distance of six hundred feet minimum from the LZ."

Back to comms, "Team One, if you cannot secure the bird then stand the hell back." Finally, muttering beneath her breath, she challenges "Come see what happens when you kill my agents, you sonuvabitch…"


Somewhere there is a mad dramaturge-power who has decided that the more powerful beings need to call out their attacks, or at least, to give war-cries in warning of their imminent assault. Simon is still growing larger, as he thrashes the nobow of the ship downwards and he's now an un-missable eighteen feet (Giant-Man's favorite fighting height) when the cry of 'Imperius' alerts him, just in time for 'REX!' to hit him right in the stomach.

Fortunately for Simon, that doesn't mean he's going to die a Houdini death; he did manage to tense first. So it just hurts, a bit, and shoves him towards the rig… which is teetering. Air bubbling out of his lungs means his reply, "Up yours!" comes out "BWwuwWBRRz" and he fires another eye-blast at the Atlantean, moving further toward that rig. He is NOT going to let that rig fall if he can help it… twenty-five feet, and he starts to brace it… incidentally and accidentally saving a number of Atlanteans about to be crushed by the thing. What? That wasn't Deadpool's intention?"


Finally the world stops spinning enough for JARVIS to get the suit pointed in the right direction to reengage in the situation and Tony erupts from the water a few hundred yards from the destablized Oil rig. The armor hovers there, defying gravity a moment by force of his initial momentum, but then he's redirected his flight path to the most damaged support beam and rockets in that direction.

The structure is probably built to withstand one beam giving way given the rather explosive manner of the oil it's pulling up, but when three or four thick steel supports are super heated by the explosion? The whole thing starts to lilt towards the ocean. Iron Man hits hard enough that the titanium bands of his armor clank audibly across the battlefield and both repulsors fire at full force from the bottoms of his feet. His hands close around the lip of the platform, distributing as much weight as he can across his shoulders, and forcing the structure into something that vaguely resembles its original position.

Tony is bracing his jaw as he pushes every bit of power towards keeping the rig from toppling. Meanwhile, JARVIS calculates the most likely geometric location where they can blast enough steel to create temporary support beams without dropping the whole thing into the ocean. "Hey…" His voice is a little strained, "Everyone on the platform brace yourself…"

Tony releases the weight from his palms and extends his hands out to his sides firing a beam in either direction to buckle the remaining supports so that they start hyper extending under the weight they're trying to keep stable. The metal expands, remolds, and connects with others to form a makeshift matrix of rewelded beams beneath the rig itself.

With a sigh, Tony lowers down from where he's been bracing it and seems pleased when it doesn't immediately start falling back down towards the waves. Let's see how the Altantean's handled the sudden movement without forewarning? Right now, he's more concerned with keeping everything from becoming an under water exibit. "JARVIS, calculate structural integrity and transmit it to the helicarrier. Let them know how long our supports will last…" He's in a suit, sure, but this thing is directly linked to the power keeping the electromagnet running in his chest. If it drains, things could get pretty sketchy… so his voice is notably wobbly and the cockiness is all but gone.

Data should start flooding in shortly, but she's probably busy right about now.


Deadpool's face smashes into the glass wrought forward by Cap's hand at his throat. One of his hands manages to catch the side of the frame and the comes to his hip. Pulled taut, Cap won't be able to quite pull Deadpool through the windshield, and Deadpool can't quite pull back to fly the helo away. Small choking sounds escape his crushed throat as he hoarsely says, "Always .. wondered."

The time that he whispers that, his hand's already removed his secondary pistol. Concealed against the shattered glass, he has it aimed at Cap's torso, shaking in his grasp. The metal of the barrel clinks against the glass and he pulls the trigger several times. BLAM BLAM BLAM. He'd do better, aim for Cap's head, but he just can't at the moment. He'll have to settle for getting this AMERICA fellow off of him. If that doesn't work, he'll let go and let Cap pull him out. This guy is going to get it.

Meanwhile, the rig stabilizes a bit with Tony's help and quick welding work. Unfortunately, oil fires are still spreading across the platform. One of the pumps explodes, sending fiery debris and flaming oil into the ocean. The damage has already been done, and now it's just a cascade. Maybe it can be saved. Maybe not.


Silence. Okay, the underwater guy's not in the mood to listen to reason and talk things out. He's under the ocean somewhere, the sub is taken care of, the rig… Explosions. Looking over, Tel pales slightly and flies toward it. The damn thing is big. Too big. But the guy in the armor's doing something so let's see if he can't help a bit. Flying under the platform to the center, he starts lessening the pull of gravity on it bit by bit. The sub is forgotten as he concentrates only on the oil platform. "I'm doing what I can to keep it from collapsing but I don't know how long that'll last. Evacuate it fast or do something else." he transmits.


It's clear that the rig isn't in the best shape, as Cannonball nearly tumbles overboard when one of the support beams gives way even further. Gripping the SHIELD-issued weaponry tight, he does one better when hearing Tony's command to brace himself. He jumps overboard.

With an explosive burst of thermokinetic energy, Cannonball is in flight again, staying close to the rig as he circles it and gains altitude. He's on the hunt for Atlanteans, looking for any on board that are giving SHIELD agents trouble. These are fired upon by the Whump Gun, which may not be handled perfectly at first, being unfamiliar to the X-Man. He's learning fast, though.


Cap has learned a lot since he was thawed out. He can work those weird slivers of plastic and glass that pass for a telephone. He knows how to ask the Google about things. But when it comes to considering hi-tech solutions for problems? Well, sometimes he doesn't. He saw the arrow in the rotor of the helicopter, but the assumption was: Hawkeye plans to blow the chopper up. Win some. Lose some.

"What's your situation, Hawkeye?" Cap calls, the way the rig suddenly tilts and the plumes of smoke in the air causing him to momentarily lose sight of the Archer. Bringing in the renegade mercenary might be his chief goal, but he isn't about to let anyone die or get seriously harmed in the process. He reaches through the glass, the shield on his arm making the gap wider as he reaches to pull Deadpool completely from the cockpit. Just in time for the handgun to go off against his midsection with a dull crack.

He doesn't cry out save for a grunt of pain, but there is no denying that he is staggered. At point-blank the bullet carves through the protective outer layer of his uniform. Swiftly blood begins to pool from the wound, red staining the white bars on the lower right of his torso. His teeth grit, his knuckles popping as he clenches a fist and drives it hard across the Merc's jaw. He sends him toppling off the helipad and towards the water below.

But then he staggers, overshooting with the punch and losing his footing. His vision swims as he puts a hand to the wound and crimson begins to run in rivulets through his fingers. He slips, voice oddly hollow and breathless as his voice rings through the comm: "Secured - "
He doesn't get a chance to finish, toppling off the edge of the rig after Deadpool and disappearing beneath the churning waves below.


Tony's aid in getting the platform restabilized does mean that Barton's makeshift spot has to be changed around a little again. Not that he's not grateful, because he is. Last thing he wants is to be under several million tons of iron… under water.

Hawkeye has something of a perch back, as awkward as it might be, with arms and legs pushed through for support and balance. He hasn't lost his hold on his bow, and he has more than a few arrows to get him through this last bit. "Because I got a damned oil rig blow up underneath me. You're just lucky I don't go through OSHA."

"I've got a toehold. Don't worry about-"



While he doesn't actually hear the gunshots, Hawk can see Cap react, getting pushed back against the force of almost pure point blank range. Who the hell can survive something like that? He couldn't, and he's not all that sure about Cap.

The bow is drawn once again, and the tip leads the pair into the water, the sleeper arrow released pretty much too late. It may make its target, sure, but damage has been done.


What the hell.. and Barton starts to take stock of his position. Up here.. and.. oh screw it.. and climbing quickly on the now stabilized platform, he gets to a spot where it appears there is less stuff floating in the water that can kill him than most. Who knew that Clint Barton could dive? (He sure as hell didn't…)


"And the last meshpuggit floats" This is an Atlantean saying that roughly equates to dominoes falling. The heroes have all fallen for his trap, committed their resources to attack a derelict submarine and save a worthless oil platform. Meanwhile, the Atlanteans have begun scattering like aquatic cockroaches. A few dead are left behind, but by and large they've made a clean getaway. Things are all going perfectly according to plan.

Namor smiles triumphantly as he sees the UNN Alpha finally within view. Leaving the platform and the heroes to their fate, he takes off, shooting out of the water on a collision course with the Helicarrier. With the heroes distracted, it'll almost certainly be an easy target. Victory won, a statement made.

But then he sees it out of the corner of his eye. He's tempted to dismiss it at once, as it clearly couldn't be what he thought it was. But the sight of it is jarring enough to make Namor stop in mid-air, and look down into the water to follow the path of the recently-fallen red, white, and blue object.

"What foul human blasphemy is this?" The Avenging Son streaks toward the man in in the star-spangled costume, with a look of surprise mingled with anger. "Who would dare to impersonate Captain America?"

He dives into the water, and his nostrils fill with the salt water, and the blood. Capable of seeing perfectly in the water, there's no mistake about it. If this is an impersonator, he ought to win an award at this year's SuperheroCon. Anyone conscious in the water would be able to hear an almost feral howl as Namor struggles to choose between winning this fight and saving one of his oldest (and apparently no longer dead) friends.

About a half minute later, Namor is streaking through the air toward the UNN Alpha, carrying a rapidly-bleeding superhero with him.


Maria's always busy, it's par for the course. The UNN Alpha's viewscreen constantly changes, now showing a targeted helicopter in red with various figures and graphs in constant fluctuation. Another shows the oil rig, well through Iron Man's stunt which has the Deputy Director holding her breath for a prolonged period of time. "You crazy bastard…" she mutters when said stunt appears to -work.-

The third active display shows the Atlantean ship, complete with scans and tech readouts compiled both from SHIELD and from JARVIS. Now they know where the weak points are.

As far as Hill's concerned, that means she's now holding the winning hand. For the battle, at least. The war's still up in the air, teetering on some very weakened structural supports.

"Target every weak zone, if we're going to crack that nut open we're going to do it right. Open a channel to their vessel, we're all in."

"Namor, this is the UNN Alpha of SHIELD. This is your one and only chance to surrender or your ship will be fired upon. You have thirty seconds to comply."

With that part out of the way she receives the Captain's report next, as abrupt as it is. "Cap? Captain, report!" Pause. "Hawkeye? Is -anyone- still there?" Insert a heart-felt curse beneath her next breath here. "Get the Quins in the air, sweep and secure. We've got personnel down.

"Hill, Namor's coming right for - wait..he's changed course-"

Forget the chopper, target Him," Hill snaps back.

There's still no response. As that thirty second timer wears thin she prepares to call in the strike. Then..Namor comes into view. With Captain America.

"Would someone please tell me what the Hell is going on here..?" And where's Hawkeye!

"rbrbelw!" underwater Wonder Man attempts to say, warning Hill that Namor is attacking … with … Cap? He just saw Namor grab a floating Captain America?

Well. That's strange.

His head breaks the surface of the water, shoving aside debris, and his hand reaches out of the oil-and-seawater mix… it's a hand about the size of a Cadillac at the moment, and Simon has a moment to wonder how and why everyone else shrank, because, sure, salt-water shrinks things, but … he realizes that the falling small purple-clad fellow is Action Figure Hawkeye and he catches him reflexively, like catching an egg. Another figure moves past, red and black, and he whiffs, missing it. Not left-handed.

Simon exhales hard, and water drools all over, and then air can fill his lungs again.

"What the… Hill? Namor. Incoming." >COUGHCOUGHCOUGH< …


"Sir, reactor power at thirty three percent." JARVIS, ever helpful, informs Tony with his usual mix of steadfast programmed smarm and joyous knowledge that Iron Man is going to do whatever he wants regardless of this very important piece of information.

To his credit, Tony does cut back on all the fanciness, given how turbulent his condition is when he's at one hundred percent output. Might as well save a little for the trip home, right?

The repulsors keep him stable in his hover, head swiveling around to search out the most immediate threat. At present, that's explosions, but he's pretty sure he saw someone else down there fighting the good fight against crude oil fires… and he forgot his freeze ray.

Note to self: Build a suit with a freeze ray. Or a huge, grotesquely oversized, watergun.

Then there's that little brawl taking place on the spinning whirly bird, complete with one gen-U-ine historical relic. Is that really Captain America? Then there's the sounds of gunfire and the Boy Scout is falling towards the water holding his side. "Sh- JARVIS, keep track of him…"

Then Barton is jumping in too? "I really hope his arrows can be used as a flotation device…" What the hell right? Might as well make this a retelling of The Little Mermaid. Tony redirects and blasts off towards the water, creating one hell of a splash as he hits the waves and starts blasting Atlanteans.

No sooner is he down there does Namor grab Cap and start heading back to the surface… Did the Prince of the underwater really just flash past him carrying Cap? "Are they hugging? If they're hugging, I'm calling bullshit…"

Tony is flying after the Prince. Turning to make sure someone is going after the Archer, "Someone's got him… like hot potato, only… nevermind. I'm on my way, three yards behind Namor and the Captain. Orders?" See? He's good at big cast action flicks.


Deadpool tussels with Captain A. His pistol reports managed to make a few superfluous holes in that sweet bod. It seems to only infuriate the superhero further. Tugged from the helo and thrown on the helipad, the momentum carries Deadpool on over to the edge and he falls. But not before one hand catches the ledge. No. No, Deadpool's alright and he's getting back up. "Heeeee's BAAAACK! C'mon Johnny Superhero!" One arm up over the side, he starts pulling himself up as Captain America rolls on past him, a bloody mess.

Tapping his communicator a couple times, he cracks his jaw back into place. An audio-only channel is opened to the UNN Alpha, with none other than Deadpool on a straight line to the tactical channel of Maria's team. "Ugh, that was awful. Big A can hit like a dull freight train of suck right into my face. Got some news for you SHIELD-weenies, I'm coming for y-*thunk*". One of the SHIELD agents probably had a trace on Deadpool's signal from there.

What happened? Well. First. Hawkeye shot an arrow straight between Deadpool's eyes. The carbon shaft pokes out right from his forehead, and he pauses to look at it. ".. Nnn. My brain's itchy." Are the last words from Deadpool as he slips off the edge of the platform. Falling, falling. He zooms by Iron Man, still falling. Before belly-flopping right into the water. OUCH. Then slowly sinking. His signal shows him sinking, sinking, before finally vanishing.


From his vantage point below the platform, Tel can't see much fo anything going on above it. He can though see one person after another falling off. "We've got men in the water." he broadcasts. Wait. Is that? No, that's not Colossal Boy. "How's the evacuation coming?"


The last thing Cap remembers is the ocean closing in around him and the sharp pang of regret over having failed. In a way it's almost nostalgic. It's the same feeling he felt in 1945 as he sank beneath different waters thousands of miles away. The brief glimpse of something - someone - moving through the water and then he blacks out.
When he regains consciousness, the chill of the air hits him and he opens his eyes. He may be wounded, and the disorganized fall from such a height only added to that, but he is made of stern stuff. His eyes quickly regain focus, looking at Namor who looks exactly like he did years ago. For a moment he wonders if it was all a dream. Are they back in 1945? Was waking up in the future all just a dream?
The sight of the oncoming UNN Alpha answers those questions quickly enough and he does his best to shout above the roar of the air around them: "Namor! Stop!"

As Cannonball zips around the rig, he notices heroes falling right and left, and some emotional cursing can be heard over the comm. The good thing is the Atlanteans seem to be pulling back. As much fun as its been playing this weird arcade game, he's glad it over. Almost.

Now the drama with Namor and Captain America…and the rest. "Director Hill," he says, rocketing to join the rest of the heroic bunch on their path to the Hellicarrier. "Still out here if ya need me. Just say the word." Either way, he's looking to intercept anything fishy (get it?) should it arise.


Diving from a reasonably high spot and landing on something decidedly hard rather than the 'softer' water, well… that's just really painful. Very. Being 'caught' by a big hand unexpectedly causes Barton to bounce before threatening to roll off the edge. It's pure instinct added with a shot of adrenaline that makes him pull an arrow from his quiver and dig the tip into that which he's on to be sure he's got some purchase; something to hold on to before he's ready to pass out. He'll be letting go when someone pries his cold, dead hands off. (Well, cold, unconscious hands off.)


"The Avenging Son stops for no man!" Namor practically shouts that, despite having essentially stopped his evil plan just so that he could fish a dude out of the ocean. But he looks very cross and conflicted about it, so it might not be a good idea to push him right now while he's flying several hundred feet above sea level.

As he lands on the deck of the Helicarrier, there are more than a few weapons pointed right at his head. This does not bother him much. It's unlikely that anything the SHIELD agents could do at this point would make him more angry than he currently is at himself. "You! The ape with the glasses! Yes, you! Don't act like you don't know who I'm talking to!"

Namor continues to keep his former Invader compatriot held above the deck, but he's clearly looking to pawn him off on someone. "Call your doctors, and tell them to fetch their most potent healing magics and poultices."

"Like… a first aid kit?"

"I don't know the human name for it, just fetch it! I leave him in your hands." A couple of the more quick-thining agents have already grabbed a stretcher, finally relieving Namor of any moral obligation to care for the injured man.

Below, the fires continue to consume the oil platform. Namor looks over his shoulder at the smoking ruin, which only adds to his anger. "This was not the plan. It'll take us days to clean up this mess." That's assuming, of course, that his super stealthy mess-eating submarines are capable of getting anywhere near the disaster area without setting off SHIELD alarms.



"And we don't negotiate with terrorists," Hill needlessly replies to the merc's threat in a surprisingly level tone. (Ah, -there's- Barton.) Hopefully Rogers wasn't around to witness that shot, he probably wouldn't approve.

"Copy, Cannonball. I've got a lot of downed agents in the waves and plenty of fires that need putting out, take your pick."

Off to the side another agent chimes in. "Hawkeye's clear, Ma'am."

The situation seems to be calming down, though Hill's feeling more at a loss now than she had been just a moment ago! From up here within her stupidly powerful Helicarrier it sure is easy to write off Namor as nothing more than a fly on the windshield of life but he's holding Rogers. To Iron Man's query, she comms back "Hold tight, I don't know what the deal is here but I'm not trusting it. How's your charge looking?" Actual, honest concern! She is still human, after all! Sometimes. As opposed to most times when she may as well have a mutant power of not giving a flying leap.

Another agent hesitantly calls out "Ma'am, Namor has just escorted Captain America to the flight deck…"

"Then it seems like we have a temporary cease-fire," she thinks aloud. "All teams, secure and clear. Don't let your guard down but start getting this place back under control. Get on those fires before we lose the rig."


Darnit, missed the red guyyyyOW! Bee-sting? No, just Hawkeye being all jumpy and stuff. Arrow right in the pink of the pointer finger too. Simon manages to keep from reflexively shaking that hand.

"Hey, Hawk, stop stabbing me and help me find the other guys who fell off?" Simon says, lifting the hand up to eye-level. Giant purple glowing face, other hand now balancing against the buoy - wait, oil platform. BURNING platform. Simon realizes that Wee Hawkeye is kind of stunned. Must've been knocked out when he caught him. Wonder if he realized that the water would have been even worse to hit. From seven stories up, like concrete, with non-optional drowning after.

He moves the hand onto the platform near some SHIELD agents. They can extricate the guy.

"Anyone who's flying around the platform, the Atlanteans are leaving, help get our guys out of the water," Wonder Man says, not on comms, because he's pretty sure that they're fried. He's just big enough to be heard. And he has to get Hawkeye to let go before he can do anything himself. Like putting out fires, or pulling people out of water, or figuring out how to not be so freaking huge.

Man. He's probably gonna be naked again when he stops being ions. At least his phone didn't get killed this time.


Three point landing in 3…2…1… Boom. Iron Man touches down on the deck of the helicarrier and rises up from his most dramatic of poses with both repulsors pointed at the King of the Ocean. One back a little from the other, sure, but they both have this whirling whistling sound and the growing ball of energy building in the palm just waiting for him to let loose.

What with Cap still in the picture, he holds off, and instead plants his feet to prepare for whatever secret attack the Carptain… Carp…tain… whatever, don't judge. Whatever Namor might have planned. "You do realize that you caused that down there right?" Tony asks, eyes glowing in the slits of his armored helmet. "All you've managed to do is cause a major environmental disaster.. in your own ocean. That's kind of like shitting where you eat."

Maybe he shouldn't poke the very angry fish person, but people are dead down there. Fires raging across the surface of the water as oil spills ignite… it really is a matter of time before one of those sparks follows up to the source and… that's going to be bad.

Not to mention Maria's question? With a glance at the meter on his HUD, "thirteen percent." Reply, which is just about the level where things start to get a little… questionable. There's still lots of things that need doing and Tony doesn't have time to find a plug to recharge (even if it worked like that, which it doesn't). "I'm fine, I'll let you know when I'm running on fumes."

"I strongly advise you to stand down. Biometric scans indicate your heart rate is one fifteen and climbing and your core temperature has dropped significantly." JARVIS speaks to Tony, knowing better than to broadcast something like that. "You are ''not'' fine, sir."

"I. am. fine." He repeats, disregarding the JARVIS' health warning label. Namor is still standing, no time for sitting on the sidelines.


When Deadpool hits the water, he submerged through a layer of burning oil. A bit of blood rushes from the wound on his head as he reaches up and pulls the arrow out. Woozy. It must have been a tranquilizer arrow, but it wasn't enough to knock out his healing factor. The hole closes just as the bullet holes did before. He can take quite a beating. Now here's the dilemma. He's floating in cold water, being pulled down by his weight and the currents. He could swim up, or see how long he can hold his breath.

That decision is made for him, thankfully, as a couple flesh-eating mermaids swim up to the side. "Well hello, why this IS a gun in my pants. It doesn't mean I'm not happy to see you." Is something he tries to say, instead was comes out is "blr brblr blg brl blr blrlbrblr blrb rlbrl bl…" Sexy. Taking the mermaids in arm, he is swam from the scene. He can breathe water. Really. Not. Pass out time will be soon. Eventually, he'll probably find himself on a beach. Eventually.


Pulling people from the water is one thing Tel can do even with him keeping most of his attention on the platform. He'll have to go get them individually and find a place on the oil rig that's safe but that's better than getting eaten by a shark, right? "Hey… Colossal Guy. Think you can scoop some water up and douse the flames?"


"Copy that," Cannonball responds to Hill, glancing away from the helicarrier and down to ocean surface. Lots of little bodies bobbing up and down.

Altering course once more, Cannonball finds a way to shoulder his adopted weaponry (should be intuitive, right?). He hones in on a stranded SHIELD agent, adjusts his flight speed, and - as gingerly as he can - plucks the injured woman from the water. "Hang in there. We'll get you back home and toweled off real quick."
As he shuttles the agent back to the helicarrier, he is conscious not to get too near the spreading oil. He'd hate to ignite any more of the stuff.


Cap urges himself up onto an elbow, even as the medics try to get him to lay down and stay still. It seems as though with bullets in him he is still stronger than the group of them. He holds a hand tight to his middle with his free hand, laying pressure firmly upon the wound. His eyes find Namor and his brow knits behind the cowl he wears.
"Lower your weapons," Cap demands in his most authoritative voice of the SHIELD agents and Iron Man, too. "That's Namor. The Sub-Mariner. He's not … the enemy." Shows how much Cap knows.


"I? I caused this?" For a moment, it looks like Namor might actually begin spluttering. But he apparently remembers something from his royal comportment lessons from childhood and takes a slow breath before responding.

"You are mistaken, poltroon. Atlantis did not cause this. Your kind has filled my ocean with oil many times. It's time for me to begin filling the ocean with your blood." Okay, so there goes any credit he might have earned by retrieving Cap. Namor practically spits out his words, clearly just a few seconds from throwing an epic temper tantrum. One of his eyes is even twitching.

"Consider this a final warning. If humanity does not change, Namor will be back." His glance flits over in Cap's direction. Clearly, he's not happy to be seen in this light, but this is the path that he's chosen.

With a ridiculously graceful backflip, Namor dives off of the side of the Helicarrier. On his way down, he nearly breaks the sonic barrier, leaving one hell of a splash when he collides with the water at aircraft speeds. And then he's gone.

The oil rig is almost unsalvageable, but it won't fall today. The heroic efforts of all involved have kept civilian lives from being lost, and managed to minimize collateral damage. But now comes the difficult process of cleanup, and whether the structure will ever be rebuilt is hard to say.

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