Atlantis: Black

Fiction

Atlantis: Black

by Elijah McCausland

        "I just don't see how it could work."
        Flicker. "You don't have to see it. I do. That's all that matters."
        "So why do you want me to be a part of it?"
        "Why wouldn't I? You're smart, a good fighter, you've got good instincts, aside from the occasional moment of idiotic heroism. But that's exactly what I need. What the Iron Throne needs. The Pirate Alliance was only a small part of the Iron Throne - this is much, much bigger. We all need you."
        "You're actually saying that you need me?"
        "No, I'm saying the world needs you. The world needs this."
        Flicker. "Who are you to say what the world needs?"
        "You're right, I'm a nobody. Reputation isn't everything."
        "To you, maybe. Nobody knows who you are. I'm not even sure I do. And you having two different identities doesn't help much, either."
        "You've known me for nearly as long as you've been here. I've told you more about myself and who I am than I've told anyone, ever. But I suppose you'll have to take my word on that one."
        "I always have to take your word. The fact is, I don't even trust you as far as I can throw you."
        "Then why are you here?"
        Flicker.
        "Well?"
        Flicker. "Somebody needs to fix that light."
        "I knew you'd come around."
        "I hate you. You know that, right? I hate you."
        "And you'll hate me forever. We'll talk more later. I'll get the tip."
        "Deremus, I swear..."
        "No, you don't, Daniel, and that's what I like about you. You've got morals."
        "Oh, will you just shut up?"
        "Gladly."
        Flicker. "...bloody heck."
        "See what I mean? Have a nice day, Danny boy."
        As Deremus walked away from the table, Daniel Xavier Allister slumped in his chair and sighed, running a hand tiredly through his jet-black hair. The waning flourescent bulbs above his head kept flickering, casting a dim light at random intervals on the heavy layer of smoke in the air. Deremus Weil. Esprit D'amour. I hate it when people go all split-personality secret agent on me, thought Daniel. He sighed again, stood up, shrugged into his black leather jacket, and walked out the door.
        Outside, if it could be called that, was significantly brighter and cleaner than the cloudy, almost filthy environment of The Dive. It was said that "you either love the place, or you hate it and go there anyway." The fact of the matter was that it was the only place to go to get away from your troubles and drown them in alcohol - and that sort of comfort was needed, when you lived undersea in the year 2115. Atlantis had originally been built as a research station, but soon had become a peaceful haven for those who survived the nuclear apocalypse on the surface, less than one hundred years earlier. Or so was the intent of the white lab-coated Board of Regents, who actually owned the now-sprawling metropolis. Instead, it became another warzone between what remained of the Capitalist Alliance - the United States, United Nations, and United Kingdom had all long since been dissolved - and the Totalitarian Regime, which consisted of the remnants of the People's Republic of China and the failed attempt at rebirthing the Soviet Union.
        Daniel stepped onto the moving walkway in front of him, feeling a little numb as the walkway carried him north into the heart of CapTown, the almost uniformly blue Capitalist-owned east side of Atlantis. He was thinking about everything and nothing at all, ice-blue eyes staring into space, as he stepped off the walkway a few minutes later and wandered into the blue-streamered Liberty Inn. He stepped into his hotel room and shut the door, then slumped back against it.
        "The Iron Throne. The Pirate Alliance. Whatever it is. I just made myself part of the biggest conspiracy known to man. Next thing I know, Deremus is going to make me an honorary member of the Illuminati," Daniel muttered to himself. "This is crazy. I'm crazy, I'm talking to myself." And I just agreed to be a part of a secret organization bent on uniting the warring factions against a common enemy, by using terrorism. To make ourselves the enemy.
        And yet.
        Daniel picked his pistol up off the top of his dresser and flicked the safety on and off, thinking. He knew Deremus was right. He knew it, deep down. This was the only way. And he was the only one who could pull it off. He, Deremus, and the rest of the Iron Throne. This was the start of something big. And the beginning of the end of all things. Long ago, he had learned not to fear death. Right now, death was staring him in the face, and he was about to shake hands with it.
        He smiled grimly to himself, tucked the pistol into his jacket pocket, and walked outside into the bright artificial "daylight" of Atlantis. He looked up to the shield dome overhead and to the nearly endless sea beyond it. His gaze trailed down the towering metal structures that reached almost to the top of the dome and spoke of a glorious mechanical utopia. A cold, unfeeling utopia, fraught with discontent and chaos. Finally, his eyes dropped to the people milling around on the walkways above and below him. Never forget what you're fighting for. For the old red, white, and blue, he thought as he stepped onto one of the walkways and was carried toward the docks.
        Even if the flag you're flying is black.

        Smoke rose from underneath a pair of heavy black combat boots as Daniel ground his heels into the ash he was standing on, the remains of where he had stood exactly one year earlier when he had decided to see this through to the end. He gritted his teeth, trying to concentrate. Beads of sweat dripped down his entire body, making his grip on the sword he carried more than a little slippery. The blade writhed with lightning, like an angry storm that was unleashed whenever it came in contact with armor or flesh. Guns had never been his style anyway.
        A twitch alerted him, and he twisted aside as a beam of light shot through where his hip had been an instant before. He took the opportunity to duck in toward his opponent and slash quickly. The room erupted in blinding white light and a crackle of thunder. His enemy dropped, unconscious. Daniel took a deep breath and turned away - and suddenly the cold barrel of a gun was pressed to his forehead. He knew the short, honey-haired, brown-eyed woman behind it, and the two Russian men who stood behind her in red uniforms, with particle beam rifles levelled at him.
        "I find it very sad," Lilia Saratov said softly, "how often it happens that you think you know someone, someone you love dearly, then come to find out they are nothing but a criminal. A... a pirate," she spat as the gun dug harder into Daniel's forehead.
        "Yo-ho," Daniel offered quietly, giving her a good-natured smile.
        "It is time to die, for the good of the people," Lilia murmured, her accent giving her words even more of an edge.
        Daniel glanced quickly once again at the two men standing behind her, then looked her in the eyes. "I tried to tell you. You were even a part of it, once, but you left the Iron Throne, because you found out it had started with the Pirate Alliance. You left it. You left us. You..." the words choked in his throat as memories returned. "...You left me." He took a deep breath, and continued. "Once I'm gone, you'll see what we worked for. And you'll be the one that will lead them. All of them. I just wish I could be there with you."
        The gun shook as Lilia's eyes welled up with tears. "Drop your sword, Daniel," she pleaded, softly now.
        He dropped it. Lightning exploded from where the blade touched the ground. The thunderclap made them all flinch away for a split second. That was all he needed.
        Daniel's hand snapped upward, impacting with cold steel. The force of the blow tore the pistol out of Lilia's hand as he sidestepped into her, shouldering her aside. His other hand caught the gun and as he fell, he shot. The whole room seemed a cacophony of light and sound as gunfire erupted, particle beams lancing holes through the air. He and Lilia hit the floor together, landing in a cloud of black.
        The smell of death and burnt flesh filled the air when Lilia became conscious again. She was alive. Her companions were not. Neither was Daniel. Shaking and crying, she placed a kiss upon his lips. She stood slowly, and walked away, leaving him lying on a bed of ashes. She shivered as she treaded through the blackened desolation that was the result of many terrorist attacks by the Iron Throne. Attacks which, she realized, had killed no one, but had inspired the Defense Council and the PolitBuro to join forces, had inspired the Totalitarian Regime and the Capitalist Alliance to unite against a common foe. And in a sudden vision, she saw Atlantis rebuilt, even more glorious than before, and the two factions once separated by war were now at peace one with another, standing with the Board of Regents underneath a new flag. A flag that flew as a tribute to those who sacrificed to achieve that reality. A flag of red, white, blue...
        And black.


	Fiction Atlantis: Black by Elijah McCausland "I just don't see how it could work." Flicker. "You don't have to see it. I do. That's all that matters." "So why do you want me to be a part of it?" "Why wouldn't I? You're smart, a good fighter, you've got good instincts, aside from the occasional moment of idiotic heroism. But that's exactly what I need. What the Iron Throne needs. The Pirate Alliance was only a small part of the Iron Throne - this is much, much bigger. We all need you." "You're actually saying that you need me?" "No, I'm saying the world needs you. The world needs this." Flicker. "Who are you to say what the world needs?" "You're right, I'm a nobody. Reputation isn't everything." "To you, maybe. Nobody knows who you are. I'm not even sure I do. And you having two different identities doesn't help much, either." "You've known me for nearly as long as you've been here. I've told you more about myself and who I am than I've told anyone, ever. But I suppose you'll have to take my word on that one." "I always have to take your word. The fact is, I don't even trust you as far as I can throw you." "Then why are you here?" Flicker. "Well?" Flicker. "Somebody needs to fix that light." "I knew you'd come around." "I hate you. You know that, right? I hate you." "And you'll hate me forever. We'll talk more later. I'll get the tip." "Deremus, I swear..." "No, you don't, Daniel, and that's what I like about you. You've got morals." "Oh, will you just shut up?" "Gladly." Flicker. "...bloody heck." "See what I mean? Have a nice day, Danny boy." As Deremus walked away from the table, Daniel Xavier Allister slumped in his chair and sighed, running a hand tiredly through his jet-black hair. The waning flourescent bulbs above his head kept flickering, casting a dim light at random intervals on the heavy layer of smoke in the air. Deremus Weil. Esprit D'amour. I hate it when people go all split-personality secret agent on me, thought Daniel. He sighed again, stood up, shrugged into his black leather jacket, and walked out the door. Outside, if it could be called that, was significantly brighter and cleaner than the cloudy, almost filthy environment of The Dive. It was said that "you either love the place, or you hate it and go there anyway." The fact of the matter was that it was the only place to go to get away from your troubles and drown them in alcohol - and that sort of comfort was needed, when you lived undersea in the year 2115. Atlantis had originally been built as a research station, but soon had become a peaceful haven for those who survived the nuclear apocalypse on the surface, less than one hundred years earlier. Or so was the intent of the white lab-coated Board of Regents, who actually owned the now-sprawling metropolis. Instead, it became another warzone between what remained of the Capitalist Alliance - the United States, United Nations, and United Kingdom had all long since been dissolved - and the Totalitarian Regime, which consisted of the remnants of the People's Republic of China and the failed attempt at rebirthing the Soviet Union. Daniel stepped onto the moving walkway in front of him, feeling a little numb as the walkway carried him north into the heart of CapTown, the almost uniformly blue Capitalist-owned east side of Atlantis. He was thinking about everything and nothing at all, ice-blue eyes staring into space, as he stepped off the walkway a few minutes later and wandered into the blue-streamered Liberty Inn. He stepped into his hotel room and shut the door, then slumped back against it. "The Iron Throne. The Pirate Alliance. Whatever it is. I just made myself part of the biggest conspiracy known to man. Next thing I know, Deremus is going to make me an honorary member of the Illuminati," Daniel muttered to himself. "This is crazy. I'm crazy, I'm talking to myself." And I just agreed to be a part of a secret organization bent on uniting the warring factions against a common enemy, by using terrorism. To make ourselves the enemy. And yet. Daniel picked his pistol up off the top of his dresser and flicked the safety on and off, thinking. He knew Deremus was right. He knew it, deep down. This was the only way. And he was the only one who could pull it off. He, Deremus, and the rest of the Iron Throne. This was the start of something big. And the beginning of the end of all things. Long ago, he had learned not to fear death. Right now, death was staring him in the face, and he was about to shake hands with it. He smiled grimly to himself, tucked the pistol into his jacket pocket, and walked outside into the bright artificial "daylight" of Atlantis. He looked up to the shield dome overhead and to the nearly endless sea beyond it. His gaze trailed down the towering metal structures that reached almost to the top of the dome and spoke of a glorious mechanical utopia. A cold, unfeeling utopia, fraught with discontent and chaos. Finally, his eyes dropped to the people milling around on the walkways above and below him. Never forget what you're fighting for. For the old red, white, and blue, he thought as he stepped onto one of the walkways and was carried toward the docks. Even if the flag you're flying is black. Smoke rose from underneath a pair of heavy black combat boots as Daniel ground his heels into the ash he was standing on, the remains of where he had stood exactly one year earlier when he had decided to see this through to the end. He gritted his teeth, trying to concentrate. Beads of sweat dripped down his entire body, making his grip on the sword he carried more than a little slippery. The blade writhed with lightning, like an angry storm that was unleashed whenever it came in contact with armor or flesh. Guns had never been his style anyway. A twitch alerted him, and he twisted aside as a beam of light shot through where his hip had been an instant before. He took the opportunity to duck in toward his opponent and slash quickly. The room erupted in blinding white light and a crackle of thunder. His enemy dropped, unconscious. Daniel took a deep breath and turned away - and suddenly the cold barrel of a gun was pressed to his forehead. He knew the short, honey-haired, brown-eyed woman behind it, and the two Russian men who stood behind her in red uniforms, with particle beam rifles levelled at him. "I find it very sad," Lilia Saratov said softly, "how often it happens that you think you know someone, someone you love dearly, then come to find out they are nothing but a criminal. A... a pirate," she spat as the gun dug harder into Daniel's forehead. "Yo-ho," Daniel offered quietly, giving her a good-natured smile. "It is time to die, for the good of the people," Lilia murmured, her accent giving her words even more of an edge. Daniel glanced quickly once again at the two men standing behind her, then looked her in the eyes. "I tried to tell you. You were even a part of it, once, but you left the Iron Throne, because you found out it had started with the Pirate Alliance. You left it. You left us. You..." the words choked in his throat as memories returned. "...You left me." He took a deep breath, and continued. "Once I'm gone, you'll see what we worked for. And you'll be the one that will lead them. All of them. I just wish I could be there with you." The gun shook as Lilia's eyes welled up with tears. "Drop your sword, Daniel," she pleaded, softly now. He dropped it. Lightning exploded from where the blade touched the ground. The thunderclap made them all flinch away for a split second. That was all he needed. Daniel's hand snapped upward, impacting with cold steel. The force of the blow tore the pistol out of Lilia's hand as he sidestepped into her, shouldering her aside. His other hand caught the gun and as he fell, he shot. The whole room seemed a cacophony of light and sound as gunfire erupted, particle beams lancing holes through the air. He and Lilia hit the floor together, landing in a cloud of black. The smell of death and burnt flesh filled the air when Lilia became conscious again. She was alive. Her companions were not. Neither was Daniel. Shaking and crying, she placed a kiss upon his lips. She stood slowly, and walked away, leaving him lying on a bed of ashes. She shivered as she treaded through the blackened desolation that was the result of many terrorist attacks by the Iron Throne. Attacks which, she realized, had killed no one, but had inspired the Defense Council and the PolitBuro to join forces, had inspired the Totalitarian Regime and the Capitalist Alliance to unite against a common foe. And in a sudden vision, she saw Atlantis rebuilt, even more glorious than before, and the two factions once separated by war were now at peace one with another, standing with the Board of Regents underneath a new flag. A flag that flew as a tribute to those who sacrificed to achieve that reality. A flag of red, white, blue... And black.