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xp_logsThe science team’s success at unlocking the artifact leads to a record of what happened to Atlantis, more questions, and a map forward.
It was dark, but not pitch.
The lab was that way when they all entered, and full blackness was only cut by dim overhead lighting and the wavy blue light that would occasionally pulsate from what had been the only salvage from their vacation to Florida. The glow was a new development and, ostensibly, the reason for this meeting. Its glow was accompanied by an incessant chorus at the very edge of human hearing — a low, bassy thrum that wasn't quite human and almost formed words. It pulsed with low whistles and calls. Almost whale song.
"We are pleased that you all have, once again, accepted our invitation."
This was, much like the moody lighting, delivered in a tone that was almost theatrical in its severity by the figure who stood in the center of the tableau. Namor, dark featured and dark mooded, leaned forward toward those gathered, draped in all seriousness and what looked to be a ceremonial wrap matched with linen pants.
"Our scientists have managed to solve the mystery at the center of the outpost," the Atlantean continued, "You have suffered the most at the brunt of my actions. As those closest to its discovery, I wish for you first to learn of this device's secrets."
He let that phrase hang.
Clint nodded solemnly, gesturing for everyone to walk a little closer to the device.
Alani cocked her head, her curiosity had gotten the best of her but Namor’s ‘invitation’ had hammered home her urge to see whatever it was the man had wanted to share. Did she understand all of the science behind any of this? No. But did she know that sound? Yes, again the barely audible sound from her vision was present, just like when they had been in the ruins. For a moment she forgot to breathe, blinking suddenly at the realization that she’d been staring at the log and inhaling like a gasp as she reminded her body to do what it was programmed to.
“You made it work?” She asked, doing nothing to hide her awe.
The very idea that he might have sent a thrill through Meggan, and she almost repeated that very question. Everything he had shown them earlier had been magnificent. “That’s amazing if you have!” Amazing wasn’t the right word, but she didn’t know what was if this much had survived.
While she had worried that the recording might have eroded after all this time, and that he would be left disappointed by random noises, she had still metaphorically crossed her fingers with all her might and hoped for something—anything—because everyone needed a miracle.
“Mostly it’s a cobbled together sort of…I’m not quite sure how to describe it. Some advanced tech I stole from the latest Stark phone, theoretical connective wiring, and Molly basically looking at it going, ‘Wait, I know how to fix this!’” Clint trailed off, then shrugged with a half-grin. “So mostly it was Molly pulling out all her Asgardian tech info and making magic happen.”
The building excitement in the room was all well and appropriate, but Namor, still standing, squinted skeptically at the three in front of him.
"Ahem," Namor interjected before any more of the engineering details could get in the way of things more important, "I have graciously allowed this to be recorded in the interests of science. I have every expectation that Clint will add needed notation to the team files. But first..."
The once-prince left his statement hanging as he searched the few items on the tables for a remote. A click and a press was enough to trigger the recording equipment already set up in the room. He schooled his features and began his tale.
"I was born in what the people of today call an age of legend to both inherit the crown and power of the wave and hold the title of King of Atlantis, Ruler of the City at the Edge of the World. Yet, there was still... a prophecy."
The rumbling base of the log's refrain seemed to crescendo like waves as Namor paused dramatically.
"The heir to the throne of Neptune,
Heir to all the ancestor’s boons and winged with glory, Will sit as king in the water that is under the water, He shall rule time beyond time, once and future, Else all the arches of Bensaylum shall fall.
It shall come, and overflow, and pass through: The king of the sea shall be moved with bile, Sand on his face, under the water, on his face, And be called forth to fight after the flames. He shall set forth with nothing, lose everything, but the multitude shall be given unto his hand."
He took a deep breath, his blue-gray eyes drifting down to the log. "My people did have our own Seers, and portents of the future were not uncommon. What is important here is that the self-same prophecy was what the shades summoned in my wrath had echoed."
The contemplative look on his face faded as he once again met the eyes of the people in the room, replaced with a prideful stare. "This is a recording device. What your people would call a 'black box.' What you hear now is the same message over and over: it calls for an heir of the seas to unlock its history. However, what it requires as a key is..."
Namor reached without looking, deftly retrieving the other item on the table with a practice that suggested this was, also, staged. There was a blur of motion as he unsheathed a knife and brought it perilously over his own hand.
"Royal blood."
The wonder stayed as Alani listened to the message, turning it over in her head to try and find meaning but aside from the words' simple meanings nothing jumped out to her. With the presentation that it was the equivalent of a plane's black box, a question had started. Then there was a knife, and she shot up to her feet in an instant. "Namor!" It was incredulous, eyes widening as she turned to look to Meggan, uncertain if the king was serious but not appreciating the joke if he wasn't.
Meggan found the whole thing fascinating, just the way the seers had done everything, and provided this ‘black box’ for him. When she saw the knife come out, she wasn’t particularly happy about it, but she could tell that he was definitely serious about his intentions. She would never be entirely comfortable with things that needed blood in order to work.
Knowing this part had been coming all along, Clint still wasn’t exactly thrilled with the knowledge that Namor was going to slice some part of himself open so he could bleed all over the tech he’d worked so hard with Molly to fix. Also, it didn’t seem fair that, after everything else Namor had endured, he now had to literally bleed just to get some of the answers he’d been looking to for so long.
Voice activation alone would be niftier and far less worrying, but she supposed that seers couldn’t anticipate voice patterns from ages ago. Having already left her seat at approximately the same moment as Alani, she stepped forward with understandable concern in her eyes. “You’re sure that it’s necessary?”
"Imperius Rex," was Namor's only reply before he cut deep enough to draw blood. There was no flinch, no falter, as he let it drip down and onto the log.
The effect was immediate.
The first and most noticeable change was that the log burst into a glowing series of runic symbols that began to twist and circle over the surface of the artifact. Twisting, turning, old corroded metal unfolding like an origami flower to reveal the intricate spell and technological mechanisms within. The next came twofold: the bass chanting swelled, bursting into a muddled chorus of both captured emotion and a new song that was part symphony, part whalesong, and all in what must have been Ancient Atlantean.
Namor stared down, disbelieving. "It is garbled, but they sing the end of Atlantis."
The mechanism then stopped moving as it unfurled as far as it could. The glowing sphere inside was dotted with patterns like constellations, and its purpose was immediately clear as it projected a holographic model of Atlantis in miniature. All seven arches, each harbor and district all arrayed in a series of four concentric circles that made a floating city surrounded on all sides by impossibly tall walls of water. Bensaylum. And as they watched, the city began to burn.
The music played on, unveiling its story.
"On the night of the last prince's coronation, the royal family was deposed. Krang the Conqueror declared himself the true ruler of the waves, but his boasts could not save the failing city. He did not hold the will of Neptune."
The holographic city's rings began to crumble under their own weight as it sank, and the walls surrounding the city began to fail.
"Sensing the end, the people of Bensaylum abandoned their sinking city to seek refuge in colonies amongst the land dwellers. Atlantis was abandoned." It was there that Namor's stoic tone faltered, but, as if in concert, so did the projection. It... glitched. And reset.
The once-heir blinked, shocked out of his trance by a new, pressing confusion. "They," and his voice broke a little, "They don't know what became of the city. Contact was lost."
Horror had turned to confusion before it turned out that Namor had been correct — she shouldn't have been surprised — and Alani had been watching the mechanism with rapt attention since its activation. She hadn't even thought to sit back down as she watched the miniature of the city appear, move, and finally collapse. It was when Namor stopped speaking that she seemed to remember herself. She doubted that any attempt to console him would be successful, or accepted, so she focused on the lights that the device was giving off, taking a centering breath.
Funny looking lights, all things considered, because they reminded her of something she couldn’t quite place but seemed right on the edge of her mind. Like something she was taught in grade school then forgot. ‘The mitochondria are the powerhouse of the cell’ like. She tilted her head up to stare at a point that itched at her memories. “It reminds me of a map,” she finally sighed.
Oh.
“It is a map! Namor, it’s like a star line map!” She felt like she was fumbling, but kept talking, trying to keep her pace slow to not run it all together. “Like wayfinding, you use the positions of stars on the celestial sphere to navigate. This would probably be better in a curved room — or Atlantis was under water right? If we mimic the projection environments we should be able to see the points clearer. Hypothetically.”
“Taking into consideration the planet’s orbital shifting and the positioning of the stars at the time this was recorded…” Clint trailed off, head falling back so he, too, could look at the holographic map. “Yeah, hypothetically.”
It took a second for the Atlantean to register Alani's words. He sat there stunned, eyes hard with a long shimmered rage boiling under the surface. At least his hand wasn't bleeding anymore — or else he was gripping it so white knuckled that he'd allow no more to fall without purpose.
That, however.
He blinked hard and seemed to shake himself from his memories.
"Extinguish the lights," he commanded.
Without hesitation, Meggan moved forward to do just that As she turned back from the switch, a shiver went through her. She was picking up a fragment of what she had felt before, when they had unearthed the device in the first place. It wasn’t like it had been, but it was still bright and tangible and there for her. It was still throbbing steadily like a pulse, with whatever emotion was housed within its tiny log form.
It was like it really wanted to say ‘hey, over here!’ to a bizarre degree with all the feelings it could muster, when she had assumed they had already scratched whatever surface there was for the answers. She tilted her head, not sure what else it could have told them from the surviving recording, until she saw the projections shifting and aligning themselves within the room, coming to rest upon the various surfaces.
It was amazing. Even so, she couldn’t ever forget that nudge, and had to mention it. “There’s still something to it,” she said in awe. “It’s acting up again, like it did earlier. It’s just rippling outward continually.” It was an amalgam of everything in bursts. It was tough to pick apart all the fragmented emotion that it contained.
The darkened room immediately illuminated exactly what Alani had considered — smaller projections, smaller cities. Outposts. Atlantis, as it had been back in the ancient age, was not simply one city. And as it fell, the stars around it grew brighter.
“They were not all lost,” Namor openly wondered. “This is a message for me.”
Clint couldn’t begin to imagine what Namor must be feeling, but he reached out to his friend and sat a hand on the Atlantean’s shoulder. He didn’t know what else to do in the moment, but he knew he and the rest of eXcalibur were going to do whatever it took to make sure Namor got his answers. Clint just hoped those answers weren’t just more tragedy.
It was dark, but not pitch.
The lab was that way when they all entered, and full blackness was only cut by dim overhead lighting and the wavy blue light that would occasionally pulsate from what had been the only salvage from their vacation to Florida. The glow was a new development and, ostensibly, the reason for this meeting. Its glow was accompanied by an incessant chorus at the very edge of human hearing — a low, bassy thrum that wasn't quite human and almost formed words. It pulsed with low whistles and calls. Almost whale song.
"We are pleased that you all have, once again, accepted our invitation."
This was, much like the moody lighting, delivered in a tone that was almost theatrical in its severity by the figure who stood in the center of the tableau. Namor, dark featured and dark mooded, leaned forward toward those gathered, draped in all seriousness and what looked to be a ceremonial wrap matched with linen pants.
"Our scientists have managed to solve the mystery at the center of the outpost," the Atlantean continued, "You have suffered the most at the brunt of my actions. As those closest to its discovery, I wish for you first to learn of this device's secrets."
He let that phrase hang.
Clint nodded solemnly, gesturing for everyone to walk a little closer to the device.
Alani cocked her head, her curiosity had gotten the best of her but Namor’s ‘invitation’ had hammered home her urge to see whatever it was the man had wanted to share. Did she understand all of the science behind any of this? No. But did she know that sound? Yes, again the barely audible sound from her vision was present, just like when they had been in the ruins. For a moment she forgot to breathe, blinking suddenly at the realization that she’d been staring at the log and inhaling like a gasp as she reminded her body to do what it was programmed to.
“You made it work?” She asked, doing nothing to hide her awe.
The very idea that he might have sent a thrill through Meggan, and she almost repeated that very question. Everything he had shown them earlier had been magnificent. “That’s amazing if you have!” Amazing wasn’t the right word, but she didn’t know what was if this much had survived.
While she had worried that the recording might have eroded after all this time, and that he would be left disappointed by random noises, she had still metaphorically crossed her fingers with all her might and hoped for something—anything—because everyone needed a miracle.
“Mostly it’s a cobbled together sort of…I’m not quite sure how to describe it. Some advanced tech I stole from the latest Stark phone, theoretical connective wiring, and Molly basically looking at it going, ‘Wait, I know how to fix this!’” Clint trailed off, then shrugged with a half-grin. “So mostly it was Molly pulling out all her Asgardian tech info and making magic happen.”
The building excitement in the room was all well and appropriate, but Namor, still standing, squinted skeptically at the three in front of him.
"Ahem," Namor interjected before any more of the engineering details could get in the way of things more important, "I have graciously allowed this to be recorded in the interests of science. I have every expectation that Clint will add needed notation to the team files. But first..."
The once-prince left his statement hanging as he searched the few items on the tables for a remote. A click and a press was enough to trigger the recording equipment already set up in the room. He schooled his features and began his tale.
"I was born in what the people of today call an age of legend to both inherit the crown and power of the wave and hold the title of King of Atlantis, Ruler of the City at the Edge of the World. Yet, there was still... a prophecy."
The rumbling base of the log's refrain seemed to crescendo like waves as Namor paused dramatically.
"The heir to the throne of Neptune,
Heir to all the ancestor’s boons and winged with glory, Will sit as king in the water that is under the water, He shall rule time beyond time, once and future, Else all the arches of Bensaylum shall fall.
It shall come, and overflow, and pass through: The king of the sea shall be moved with bile, Sand on his face, under the water, on his face, And be called forth to fight after the flames. He shall set forth with nothing, lose everything, but the multitude shall be given unto his hand."
He took a deep breath, his blue-gray eyes drifting down to the log. "My people did have our own Seers, and portents of the future were not uncommon. What is important here is that the self-same prophecy was what the shades summoned in my wrath had echoed."
The contemplative look on his face faded as he once again met the eyes of the people in the room, replaced with a prideful stare. "This is a recording device. What your people would call a 'black box.' What you hear now is the same message over and over: it calls for an heir of the seas to unlock its history. However, what it requires as a key is..."
Namor reached without looking, deftly retrieving the other item on the table with a practice that suggested this was, also, staged. There was a blur of motion as he unsheathed a knife and brought it perilously over his own hand.
"Royal blood."
The wonder stayed as Alani listened to the message, turning it over in her head to try and find meaning but aside from the words' simple meanings nothing jumped out to her. With the presentation that it was the equivalent of a plane's black box, a question had started. Then there was a knife, and she shot up to her feet in an instant. "Namor!" It was incredulous, eyes widening as she turned to look to Meggan, uncertain if the king was serious but not appreciating the joke if he wasn't.
Meggan found the whole thing fascinating, just the way the seers had done everything, and provided this ‘black box’ for him. When she saw the knife come out, she wasn’t particularly happy about it, but she could tell that he was definitely serious about his intentions. She would never be entirely comfortable with things that needed blood in order to work.
Knowing this part had been coming all along, Clint still wasn’t exactly thrilled with the knowledge that Namor was going to slice some part of himself open so he could bleed all over the tech he’d worked so hard with Molly to fix. Also, it didn’t seem fair that, after everything else Namor had endured, he now had to literally bleed just to get some of the answers he’d been looking to for so long.
Voice activation alone would be niftier and far less worrying, but she supposed that seers couldn’t anticipate voice patterns from ages ago. Having already left her seat at approximately the same moment as Alani, she stepped forward with understandable concern in her eyes. “You’re sure that it’s necessary?”
"Imperius Rex," was Namor's only reply before he cut deep enough to draw blood. There was no flinch, no falter, as he let it drip down and onto the log.
The effect was immediate.
The first and most noticeable change was that the log burst into a glowing series of runic symbols that began to twist and circle over the surface of the artifact. Twisting, turning, old corroded metal unfolding like an origami flower to reveal the intricate spell and technological mechanisms within. The next came twofold: the bass chanting swelled, bursting into a muddled chorus of both captured emotion and a new song that was part symphony, part whalesong, and all in what must have been Ancient Atlantean.
Namor stared down, disbelieving. "It is garbled, but they sing the end of Atlantis."
The mechanism then stopped moving as it unfurled as far as it could. The glowing sphere inside was dotted with patterns like constellations, and its purpose was immediately clear as it projected a holographic model of Atlantis in miniature. All seven arches, each harbor and district all arrayed in a series of four concentric circles that made a floating city surrounded on all sides by impossibly tall walls of water. Bensaylum. And as they watched, the city began to burn.
The music played on, unveiling its story.
"On the night of the last prince's coronation, the royal family was deposed. Krang the Conqueror declared himself the true ruler of the waves, but his boasts could not save the failing city. He did not hold the will of Neptune."
The holographic city's rings began to crumble under their own weight as it sank, and the walls surrounding the city began to fail.
"Sensing the end, the people of Bensaylum abandoned their sinking city to seek refuge in colonies amongst the land dwellers. Atlantis was abandoned." It was there that Namor's stoic tone faltered, but, as if in concert, so did the projection. It... glitched. And reset.
The once-heir blinked, shocked out of his trance by a new, pressing confusion. "They," and his voice broke a little, "They don't know what became of the city. Contact was lost."
Horror had turned to confusion before it turned out that Namor had been correct — she shouldn't have been surprised — and Alani had been watching the mechanism with rapt attention since its activation. She hadn't even thought to sit back down as she watched the miniature of the city appear, move, and finally collapse. It was when Namor stopped speaking that she seemed to remember herself. She doubted that any attempt to console him would be successful, or accepted, so she focused on the lights that the device was giving off, taking a centering breath.
Funny looking lights, all things considered, because they reminded her of something she couldn’t quite place but seemed right on the edge of her mind. Like something she was taught in grade school then forgot. ‘The mitochondria are the powerhouse of the cell’ like. She tilted her head up to stare at a point that itched at her memories. “It reminds me of a map,” she finally sighed.
Oh.
“It is a map! Namor, it’s like a star line map!” She felt like she was fumbling, but kept talking, trying to keep her pace slow to not run it all together. “Like wayfinding, you use the positions of stars on the celestial sphere to navigate. This would probably be better in a curved room — or Atlantis was under water right? If we mimic the projection environments we should be able to see the points clearer. Hypothetically.”
“Taking into consideration the planet’s orbital shifting and the positioning of the stars at the time this was recorded…” Clint trailed off, head falling back so he, too, could look at the holographic map. “Yeah, hypothetically.”
It took a second for the Atlantean to register Alani's words. He sat there stunned, eyes hard with a long shimmered rage boiling under the surface. At least his hand wasn't bleeding anymore — or else he was gripping it so white knuckled that he'd allow no more to fall without purpose.
That, however.
He blinked hard and seemed to shake himself from his memories.
"Extinguish the lights," he commanded.
Without hesitation, Meggan moved forward to do just that As she turned back from the switch, a shiver went through her. She was picking up a fragment of what she had felt before, when they had unearthed the device in the first place. It wasn’t like it had been, but it was still bright and tangible and there for her. It was still throbbing steadily like a pulse, with whatever emotion was housed within its tiny log form.
It was like it really wanted to say ‘hey, over here!’ to a bizarre degree with all the feelings it could muster, when she had assumed they had already scratched whatever surface there was for the answers. She tilted her head, not sure what else it could have told them from the surviving recording, until she saw the projections shifting and aligning themselves within the room, coming to rest upon the various surfaces.
It was amazing. Even so, she couldn’t ever forget that nudge, and had to mention it. “There’s still something to it,” she said in awe. “It’s acting up again, like it did earlier. It’s just rippling outward continually.” It was an amalgam of everything in bursts. It was tough to pick apart all the fragmented emotion that it contained.
The darkened room immediately illuminated exactly what Alani had considered — smaller projections, smaller cities. Outposts. Atlantis, as it had been back in the ancient age, was not simply one city. And as it fell, the stars around it grew brighter.
“They were not all lost,” Namor openly wondered. “This is a message for me.”
Clint couldn’t begin to imagine what Namor must be feeling, but he reached out to his friend and sat a hand on the Atlantean’s shoulder. He didn’t know what else to do in the moment, but he knew he and the rest of eXcalibur were going to do whatever it took to make sure Namor got his answers. Clint just hoped those answers weren’t just more tragedy.
