The scene unfolded before Lucian Hayes with grim intensity, a tableau of impending disaster that weighed heavily upon his soul. Arriving just moments ago, he couldn't help but marvel at how deeply this conflict had spiraled—a chaos threatening extinction itself.
Below him stretched rows of Navy Blue ships, stern and resolute, facing off against an opposing fleet of smaller, manta ray-shaped vessels, their pale greenish-white hulls glinting ominously under the overcast sky. The entire ocean seemed to hold its breath, as if the very waters recognized the historic gravity of what was unfolding.
Amid this militarized tension, the Justice League hovered above the ocean on a sleek jet, seven members locked in a fragile attempt at diplomacy. They faced a formidable figure standing at the ocean's edge: Aquaman, newly crowned king of Atlantis, clad in his distinct yellow and green armor, wielding his mighty trident—a symbol of his sovereignty and power. His presence was regal, a striking blend of the charismatic actor from the films and the blonde-haired hero from the classic JLA, yet imbued with a majestic gravitas befitting a monarch. By his side, a woman with fiery red hair held her chin defiantly, eyes blazing with fierce loyalty and pride.
Superman's voice cut through the tension, measured and firm but calm. "The submarine entered your territory by mistake. They had no knowledge that Atlantis existed. Yes, it was a human error, but we cannot allow a nuclear-powered vessel to remain in your waters." His words sought reason, attempting to bridge the gulf of mistrust.
Batman stood nearby, his sharp gaze adding weight to the negotiations with a quiet but unyielding resolve. He spoke with measured clarity on humanity's behalf, the voice of calculated pragmatism amid the emotionally charged standoff.
Yet, across from them, the Atlanteans stood rigid, weapons at the ready, their expressions taut with barely concealed fury. The Navy, too, refused to back down, naval commanders and soldiers prepared to fight for their right to protect their seas. The air was thick with the promise of imminent violence.
Above it all, Lucian hovered, feeling the crushing weight of exhaustion settle deep in his bones. He observed the scene with weary eyes. What on earth could he contribute here? Why summon him, of all people? Surely Batman did not expect him to mediate these delicate talks. Still, he let gravity pull him down toward the assembly. The Justice League's members showed visible relief to see him—a comrade from past battles, a familiar force in this storm of uncertain fate.
Diana was absent from the jet but stood on the submarine that had just surfaced, her sword gleaming in her fierce grip. Her face was a mask of anger and frustration. Without hesitation, Lucian soared over to her, his presence steadying.
"What happened?" he inquired quietly, standing beside her.
Diana recounted the incident succinctly, her tone sharp but controlled. Batman and Hal Jordan added their perspectives, painting a clear but troubling picture: The submarine had been sent on a routine border patrol among allied nations. Unexpectedly, it ventured into Atlantean territory. Startled and afraid of the vessel and its human occupants, the Atlanteans reacted defensively, attacking the submarine. The entire issue seemed so trivial, so juvenile, to Lucian's weary mind—but these were grown beings on the brink of war.
He descended again toward Superman and the rest, stepping into the circle of tension, and fixed a piercing gaze on Aquaman.
"You seem eager to seize the land-dwellers' weapons," Lucian said, his voice low but sharp. "And you want to claim that submarine as compensation for a mistake where no blood was shed?" His words cut through the charged atmosphere like a blade.
Aquaman, unshaken, looked Lucian over coolly. "And who might you be?" he asked—though his glance barely concealed respect mixed with suspicion, especially as he noticed the amassed fleets behind Lucian.
Mera, standing near Aquaman, reddened with anger. "How dare you speak to our king with such disrespect! You dishonor us all!" she declared, her voice trembling with righteous fury.
Lucian's outward calm barely masked the storm inside. He was studying the whole tangled web of this story—knowing what lay at its heart. If he allowed the Atlanteans to claim the submarine, Aquaman's brother would likely steal it later, turning its plutonium power into a weapon against the land dwellers. Such an act would spark an uprising only the Justice League could quash—but at great cost.
The charade drained him. Aquaman had once been a loyal League member in the original timeline. Now, Lucian's patience was thinning. He could obliterate the enemy fleet with a mere blast from his Rei-Gun—his spirit gun—without a second thought. He recalled the Kamehameha—the legendary beam of cataclysmic force he wielded but never wished to use. That power had saved worlds before, its full destructive potential only partially glimpsed. To wield it recklessly against these beings, who were far beneath that scale, seemed almost cruel.
They were not Darkseid, And the Kamehameha was too destructive a force that if it detoured the world itself would implode.
Aquaman would pose a greater challenge, but Lucian's growing bloodlust shocked even himself. The thin line between protector and destroyer wavered dangerously.
The tension erupted when Lucian's bluntness clashed with Atlantean pride. The Justice League members exchanged uneasy glances. Batman's eyes caught Lucian's, silently appraising every muscle, every twitch of emotion, seeking the verdict he dreaded.
Lucian sighed, exhaling a weighty breath that seemed to carry the sorrow of countless battles. Diana stepped forward, her hand resting lightly but firmly on his shoulder—an unspoken reminder of the humanity he often walled away.
"I am Lucian Hayes," he began, his voice steady yet heavy with the echo of hard-won experience. "The one who defeated the avatar of the new god, Darkseid alongside them..." He gestured toward his comrades. "You know who Darkseid is, do you not?"
A hush fell. The Atlanteans visibly recoiled as if struck by a ghost from their worst nightmares. Darkseid—the harbinger of destruction who had brought the world to its knees, whose minions had been vanquished at terrible cost. The knowledge of such an adversary resonated deeply.
"I harbor no hatred for these events," Lucian continued, his tone shifting to quiet admonishment, "but your king's conduct has been... unbecoming. Raising arms to threaten war, when this entire quarrel calls for calm reflection, is nothing short of folly. Both the Navy and the Atlanteans share blame here."
His words landed with undeniable force. The Atlanteans' defiant posture wavered; the Justice League exhaled relief and a flicker of hope. Diana's smile was subtle but victorious—her eyes meeting Mera's in a silent rebuke of their earlier contempt.
Lucian's mind churned, disgusted by the posturing and childish postures, the bluffing masks that threatened to mask a fragile peace. If war erupted now, he could erase them all from existence with little effort. Yet, he held himself back, conscious of the fragile balance.
Diana locked eyes with him once more—her gaze soft yet resolute. It was her silent plea: *Let us handle this.*
Lucian chuckled softly, a rare sound piercing the heavy air. He reached out briefly, brushing a loose strand of her hair back behind her ear—a fleeting and tender gesture that did not escape her notice. "Perhaps I need to remember my humanity," he murmured, in his thoughts. "Killing is reserved for monsters—not kings and warriors lost in war games." Though he did not speak such words his gaze was plenty enough forever to understand what he thought .
Turning again to Aquaman, he spoke with renewed authority. "You say you seek the submarine because it holds weapons of mass destruction. But it is no threat to your people, and you are welcome to inspect it. Should you insist on war, understand this: you will face not mere men, but gods."
He pointed at Superman. "A being who can stand toe-to-toe with Darkseid himself."
Then to Green Lantern. "A protector of the universe."
To Wonder Woman, the Amazon princess, and beyond. "The Amazons themselves, should war engulf the world—as well as Shazam, granted powers by six gods; Cyborg, living technology capable of breaching your defenses; the Flash, the embodiment of lightning-fast justice; and Batman—the most dangerous man alive, according to my evaluation."
"Do you truly dare provoke such beings—and a goddess?" His voice sharpened, a challenge and a warning folded into one.
"Lucian, wait—no!" gasped a voice from the Justice League ranks, tension rippling through the group. They dreaded escalation, but Lucian's words hung heavy like thunderclouds above a parched earth. Hal Jordan's smirk faded to concern, while Diana remained a silent pillar beside him.
Lucian sighed again, a weary acceptance of the futility in diplomacy that had brought them here. The Atlanteans flinched visibly but readied themselves nonetheless, war flashing in their eyes.
Aquaman did not flinch—did not show a shadow of fear. He gripped his trident tighter, his gaze locked with Lucian's, challenging yet regal.
"And what of you?" Aquaman demanded.
Lucian smiled—a slow, rueful smile that spoke of long nights and burdens carried in silence.
"I am not one who seeks conflict, but nor will I hesitate to fight. I stood against Darkseid's avatar alongside these formidable allies." He gestured at the Justice League. "If pushed, I could annihilate this ocean with a single attack—but I refrain because the damage would spill over to the surface, touching innocent lives above."
He paused, then added with a wry tilt of his lips, "I am one of Earth's protectors—one of their colleagues...
I am— their Prince of Charming."
Hal Jordan's laugh broke the tension, a smirk pulling at his lips as confidence bloomed around their group. The others chuckled softly, finding strength in Lucian's bold declaration, though Superman and Batman exchanged grim looks—alert to the peril of escalation.
Lucian's gaze sharpened once more, the playful moniker falling away underneath his steel intent. "The name matters little. Tell me, King of Atlantis, what will you choose? War—an extinction-level calamity over a trivial mistake—or a peace treaty with the land dwellers? Your answer will shape the fate of not just your people, but the world."
The ocean seemed to hold its breath, awaiting the verdict of its king, the weight of nations pressing into the moment like the tides themselves.
***