The Most Wanted

Summary:
October 30, 2014: Magneto seeks Namor, suspecting he is a mutant, and wanting to learn about ancient Atlantean technology

Atlantic Ocean


Characters

NPCs

  • Atlantean soldiers

Mood Music:


Ever since the Namor made his anti-human announcement, Magneto has been trying to find him when he had spare time. Trying discreetly, of course, because Magnus is near the top of the lists of the World Most Wanted criminals.

Eventually he managed to pass the message, and a channel opened for (wary) communication. A few weeks of negotiations led to this meeting on one of Atlantis warships. Magneto comes flying, clad in white and black armor.

"The men are floating ready to decapitate the human on sight, Your Majesty."

The admiral delivers his report, his voice coming stiffly through the transceiver mounted to his shell-like armor. Like all of the Atlanteans assembled on the top of Namor's flagship, his armor is sealed up, maintaining the oceanic environment that all growing fish people need to breathe.

All of the Atlanteans are decked out in their environmentally sealed, but ceremony-friendly, battle armor. They look for all the world like crustaceans with fishbowls over their blue heads. With the exception of one of them, that is.

Namor himself has no need of any such armor, nor does he need to breathe water constantly. Which is why he is as underdressed as ever. He has added an elaborate crown to the ensemble, as well as some of his antique jewelry and his ceremonial trident. But he certainly doesn't look as prepared to fight as the rest of the receiving committee.

"I believe that you mistook my orders, Attuma. You are to decapitate the human only at my signal. But if the stories of our guest are true, swords will be ineffective against him anyway. Now, stand at attention and look impressive, I think I see him on the horizon."

Sure enough, Magneto doesn't disappoint. As he approaches the submarine, the Atlanteans all raise their fishy tridentgun things as a form of salute, and continue to stand at attention while Namor does his best to look both inviting and imposing.

Magneto slows down quickly once he is close enough to the ship, enough to examine briefly the warship with his electromagnetic senses. Then he lands a few yards from the Atlantean monarch, bowing politely. “King Namor. I am honored to have this chance to meet with you at last.”

The Atlanteans replace their tridentguns in front of them in unison. It's perhaps admirable the way they're able to function while standing up when doing so is so alien to all of them. Clearly they've been practicing operating on land.

Namor graciously nods, but he seems to find the formality of the assemblage a bit tedious. Perhaps it's his impatience to get the ceremony over, or perhaps it's just his firsthand knowledge of human customs, but either way, he extends a friendly American handshake. The Atlantean onlookers seem a bit mystified by it, and also a bit taken aback.

"It is Atlantis that is honored to have occasion to host a person of such consequence. I have personally followed many of your exploits with admiration."

His grammar is stiff, but perhaps that's to be expected from someone who only speaks English as a fourth language.

Magneto takes the offered hand and gives a firm handshake. Then he checks a readout in his helmet displays, and relaxes slightly. “Then… we have even more in common I believed.” For a second, Magneto hesitates. It is not something he does often. He recovers quickly. “Maybe at some point we should talk at leisure about past exploits. But today I have some news I think you would find intriguing. And some questions about Atlantis’ past I hope you would see fitting to answer.”

One of Namor's already-pointy eyebrows raises. "Interesting. I thought perhaps you simply wanted to take a ride down to the Mariana Trench."

As Namor is speaking in English, most of the assembled Atlanteans don't really know what he's talking about. But even if they did, it's unlikely that they would laugh. They're standing at attention, after all.

"I'd be glad to receive whatever news you have to bring, and I'm sure I'll be most willing to answer your questions. However, I must insist that you partake of refreshments first. Not merely because Atlantean cuisine puts that gorshwald your surface world cooks call 'sushi' to shame, but for more practical reasons. You see, I have already exposed my flagship to a certain amount of risk by remaining here so long. Surely, even the borderline simpletons in charge of S.H.I.E.L.D. must have tracked us on their satellites by now. We'll all be much safer below the surface."

A hatch is opened, and that Atlantean monarch gestures toward it. "If you'd care to join me below deck, I've already taken the liberty of filling the entire ship with air. My crew is not pleased."

Magneto chuckles, “very well, lets follow the protocol, and avoid giving S.H.I.E.L.D. unearned opportunities to hunt us down.” He follows Namor into the ship, removing his helmet once they are under deck.

“A friend of mine,” he comments, “created a device that can identify mutants, the homo superius, by certain characteristics on their brainwaves. Would you be surprised if I told you that you registered as a mutant?”

Once Namor is safely inside the crew is quick to seal the hatch and begin preparing for the dive. Of course, now that a human is on board they'll have to descend much more slowly than they normally would. That is, unless they want to have to clean bits of human brain off of the various surfaces.

With the water emptied out of the ship, the interior looks a bit depressing. The bioluminescent slime that generally covers the interior is already starting to die, as are the barnacles and various bits of ocean life that cling to the ship's briny interior under normal circumstances. But once the guest leaves, it's likely that the flora will quickly start to grow back.

For a moment, Namor is silent, as if he doesn't know what to say. But, despite his parentage being a bit of a sore subject, he still remains diplomatic. "My, that's quite a claim. But your friend is surely mistaken, perhaps thrown off by my rather inhuman physiology. But now you've raised my paranoia, and I must instruct my ship's captain to cover all of the ship's walls with tin foil."

“No, it is not joking matter, King Namor,” Magneto glances around the room with mild curiosity, trying to picture how it would be full of water. Perhaps next time, he can pressurize his armor easily enough. “Atlanteans became water-breathers how long ago? Fifteen thousand years, twenty thousand? The so-called X-Gen that grants mutants their super-human capabilities was already part of the human genetic code. Even if you weren’t a hybrid, it was already part of your genetic legacy.”

"We try to keep our history off of the wikipedia. It's much more fun when the humans don't understand us. But…. I suppose you're mostly correct. In the long history of the planet we Atlanteans are a relatively recent addition to the ocean's fauna." Namor looks mostly comfortable in the ship, even though it looks like it's dying. However, things inside are clearly designed for a crew of people who are constantly swimming, rather than walking. But for some reason, the main passageway through the ship has a flat 'floor'. Must be a holdover from the days when Namor used to actually have human company regularly.

"I'm sure your anonymous 'friend' would be able to shed quite a bit of light on the mystery of our lineage. But… it depresses me to think that I share any blood with the men who terrorize each other and treat the planet like a landfill."
"No offense to your kind, obviously."

“None taken,” replies Magneto. “I confess I am very curious about the kind of technology Atlantis can manage underwater, and how and why it has less impact on the environment than the surface industry.” A pause, “I found the Wikipedia sadly inadequate. But I have been very interested in Atlantis in the past decade, ever since I found some environmental-controlling technology in the Antarctic dated maybe twenty thousand years old. And still operative. Some fringe scientists and historians claim Atlantis was already an advanced technological society back then.”

"And… this is the closest we could get to making our galley human-friendly on such short notice." The door is opened for Namor and his guest, revealling a room that is probably quite opulent when it's in its normal state. However, presently, the furniture in the room is covered in some sort of plastic film. The alternative would have been sitting in seaweed, probably.

"Please sit." The galley crew are already bringing out the food and drink. The bottle of schnapps they bring out looks as if it's from the 40's, no telling how they were able to preserve it. "If I remember correctly, we liberated this bottle from Master Man's private stock. Or maybe it was Baron Zemo? I'm starting to get old, all of the humans are becoming a blur." Yet another thing that they probably haven't got much use for on the Numenor's Wrath: cups. But the goblets that are set on the table look like they were plundered from an old pirate ship.

"We Atlanteans find human fascination with us rather amusing, given out outright contempt for them. It's particularly humorous that they cling to our discarded tech as if it might be the key to some future advancements. Atlantis is always been home to great thinkers, scientists and mystics. I'm not one of them, unfortunately."

Magneto takes a seat and listens politely. The mention of old Nazi criminals darkens his expression, but he abstains of commenting. “Some humans, and their deeds, need to be remembered, and remain unforgiven forever,” he states coldly.

“But that is not relevant now. I do find fascinating some of the deeds of ancient Atlantans. Because those deeds are still quite relevant thousands of years later. I am a man of science, Kind Namor, genetics is one of my fields of expertise.”

As he takes a sip of the antique vintage, Namor's eyes close and he seems to be transported back several decades to when he was a young man. "Yes, this is one of Zemo's. I almost killed him that night, actually. Slippery bastard."

It's a bit rude to drift in and out of conversation, but Namor certainly doesn't seem to be interested in giving offense. It's unlikely that he would have entertained a guest at all if that had been his goal. However, it's clear that he doesn't quite know what to make of his guest.

"Perhaps we can help each other. Given your interest in Atlantean science, it is perhaps not out of the question to assume that you understand the theory behind bioremediation of oil spills?"

Namor pauses dramatically, looking over his glass at the guest. "I could be persuaded to give you access to certain knowledge which would allow you to clean up one of the biggest natural disasters in recent history. A mess which I am unfortunately responsible for, but which I am unable to clean up myself."

He leans back in his chair, setting the glass down on the table. "How would you like to be known in America as the man who singlehandedly invented a method to clean up the coast of South Carolina after the Atlantean attack ravaged the shoreline?"

“I care little what humans think of me,” replies Magneto evently. “If you wish the damage repaired, I can arrange for the deed to be done and the merit laid down in some organization that could use the good publicity. Mutants Sans Frontieres perhaps.”

“As for my interest in science, it is… too broad. Not irrelevant, but not a pressing concern.” He explains, “I was curious to see if you had interest in Atlantean remains from before the cataclysm. Perhaps it was presumptuous of me, hrm?”

"You've… come into possession of these remains?" Namor looks extremely skeptical. Which is perhaps warranted, considering just how old Pre-Cataclysmic Atlantean remains would have to be. "Well, I'll admit, you've piqued my curiosity. Tell me your story, and I'll speak to some of my chief advisors."

“Said remains are building-sized machines, still operative,” notes Magneto. Then he pulls a small data unit from his glove and leaves it on the table. “There are pictures here and partial schematics. The system was so advanced I didn’t want to dissemble without fully understand it, but I am quite sure it is part of an antediluvian weather-control grid. Later this week, I will return to the Antarctic and perhaps I will be able to conduct a more intensive investigation. I will keep you up to date.”


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