Humans rule the land, but Atlanteans reign over the seas.
Their technology surpasses that of surface-dwellers, and their average citizen far exceeds the typical human in capability. Their drawback? Without advanced tech or magic, they can't operate on land for long.
Historically, Atlanteans dealt with the fallout of human conflicts, pollution, wars, that harmed the oceans. Now, they faced a graver issue: Xenomorphs, rapidly breeding and expanding in the seas.
Anyone with a shred of foresight could see the oceans were a paradise for Xenomorphs, teeming with countless fish and depths reaching thousands, even tens of thousands, of meters. A few Queens dropped into the vast blue could let the species run rampant.
But the bolder the Xenomorphs grew, the less Atlanteans could tolerate them. Reports of sightings flooded Atlantis, their escalating activity and surging numbers directly challenging Atlantean dominion over the seas.
If Xenomorphs merely hunted and bred modestly, it'd be manageable. But anyone with half a brain knew that once their numbers crossed a critical threshold, Atlantis would face an existential threat.
"In the past two weeks, our people have directly observed over twenty Xenomorph incidents. We can't even estimate their total population in the oceans. Their stronghold is on land, territory we can't easily access." An Atlantean reported.
"We can't keep waiting. We must strike now and purge these Xenomorphs! If they breach the population limit, they'll grow exponentially, seizing the oceans and annihilating all life. We know what follows: once they claim the seas, the land falls, and Earth becomes their planet." Another urged.
In Atlantis' royal palace, a grim assembly of Atlantean elites convened, the atmosphere heavy. Don't assume these tech- and magic-wielding people held high moral standards, quite the opposite. They harbored deep resentment toward humans.
And Namor, the Sea King of Atlantis, was a notorious wildcard across the multiverse, infamous for his erratic schemes. Yet, he was the undisputed leader of the oceans, commanding seven-tenths of Earth's surface, an undeniable force, even a founding Illuminati member in some realities.
Hot-tempered and decisive, Namor couldn't stomach an invasion of his domain.
"I've restrained myself amid humanity's endless squabbles." Namor declared, clutching his trident, which could command the seas, as he loomed over the Atlantean council from his throne.
"Humans pollute the environment, ravage the oceans, encroach on our space, and ruin our home. Their actions drag us, the innocent, into their messes. Look at them, on the brink of civil war, humans versus mutants." Namor said, eyeing his council.
Yet, he withheld the order for a full assault. Against S.H.I.E.L.D. or mutants daring to challenge Atlantis' authority, Namor would've mobilized without hesitation, delivering a oceanic shock-and-awe. Just as Atlantis perpetually clashed with Wakanda, once even plotting to flood the kingdom, their sworn enemy.
But not this time. Even Namor, volatile as he was, knew what Xenomorphs represented, not just the creatures, but the man ruling them and his cadre of renowned champions. Especially the top-tier ones. Even if Namor held back, those few could inflict catastrophic losses on Atlantis.
Chief among his fears was Reynolds, and the likely nascent Laufey-Xenomorph. Though never seen in battle, anyone familiar with Adam knew he'd spare no expense to parasitize Laufey. A quick internet search, easy for tech-savvy Namor, confirmed much. Those two human-Xenomorphs alone kept him on edge, to say nothing of Adam, the pyramid's apex, inspiring dread.
Did he dare lead Atlantis into a protracted war against the Xenomorph species?
"Hey, Namor, Your Majesty, you're scared, aren't you? Terrified of them." A voice taunted.
A towering Atlantean in golden armor, Attuma, strode to the hall's center, his gaze icy, devoid of respect for the Sea King. If he could, he'd have knocked Namor out and claimed the throne long ago.
Ruling Atlantis wasn't his endgame, drowning the entire surface world was.
Attuma, the Warlord, was even more radical than Namor, boasting strength rivaling a baseline Hulk.
Namor suppressed his fury. "While we're at war with Wakanda, you want to spark another with the Xenomorphs? Two-front warfare is a massive burden."
"Burden or not, it beats doing nothing. You know halting Xenomorph expansion in the oceans is non-negotiable. Otherwise, Atlantis ceases to exist. Two millennia of progress, gone." Attuma said coldly. "Twenty thousand years ago, when Deviants and Eternals clashed, our ancestors sank with Atlantis into the seas. When Celestials purged Earth, we stood apart, watching the ages shift. We didn't endure to be catalysts for a species barely a few years old!"
Attuma laid bare his ambition: "What you won't do, I will. Who you won't kill, I'll slay. Unless every surface-dweller drowns, we have no future! Why toil under their insults and destruction when we could make Earth an ocean world? Including damned Wakanda!"
Attuma had fervent supporters, but even they hesitated briefly this time. Had they not known of Adam's feats, repelling Dormammu, conquering Jotunheim, they'd have followed Attuma without a second thought, flooding human cities in a blitz.
But knowing Adam's crew was ferociously formidable, and their survival was at stake, instinctual caution crept in.
"Attuma, listen to yourself. Mindless violence won't solve stronger violence." Namor snapped.
"Shut it, Namor. You know nothing. You have no idea the risks I've taken, the path I've carved for Atlantis! You just snarl from your throne. I won't share my achievements with you." Attuma retorted.
At those openly defiant words, murder flashed in Namor's eyes. Gripping his trident, he lunged. Attuma, sneering, met him head-on, and the two clashed ferociously. Each blow churned the seas, their fight triggering localized quakes.
Attuma ultimately escaped, Namor lacking the power to kill him quickly, especially with Attuma's loyal followers at his back.
"I've decided. We'll deploy to repel the Xenomorphs, restricting their range. If they agree, we won't attack. I won't ignite a full-scale war, not out of fear, but responsibility to my people." Namor declared.
Namor settled back onto his throne as if nothing had happened, gripping his trident tightly, his fierce gaze sweeping over the diminished Atlantean council. "You don't want to end up like the vampires, do you?"
Even Namor, volatile as he was, had to admit the Xenomorphs posed an unprecedented threat to their survival. Their overwhelming species strength, rapidly ballooning numbers, and dirt-cheap development costs left Atlantis in a precarious position.
Surface-dwellers couldn't survive long in the oceans, just as Atlanteans couldn't endure extended periods on land. But after extensive observation, Atlanteans confirmed these damned Xenomorphs not only thrived on land but darted through the seas like fish, exhibiting a genetic instinct for aquatic mastery. It was absurd.
Their only apparent weakness? Like whales, they periodically surfaced for air. But that was just standard Xenomorphs, capable of withstanding temperatures from minus 100 to plus 1500 degrees Celsius, easily enduring oceanic pressures and low-oxygen environments.
Vampire-Xenomorphs, one tier above, could operate in the seas for over a dozen hours, while relentlessly hunting or fighting. That duration might seem short, but consider: Attuma, a top-tier Atlantean, could manage just 20 minutes of full combat on land before needing to retreat to the water.
"Vampires are vampires. Strictly speaking, they're just a branch race created by our Atlantean ancestors. Humans couldn't wipe them out for centuries, yet Xenomorphs nearly exterminated them. That doesn't mean we'll share their fate." An Atlantean said indignantly, storming out with a few others to join Attuma, eager for his promised solution to the surface-dweller problem. Attuma wasn't one for empty boasts.
Namor swallowed his rage.
Twenty thousand years ago, Atlantis was a surface continent, its people land-dwellers. A sorcerer named Varna, wielding the Darkhold, became the first vampire. Centuries ago, weary of life, Varna lured a mortal named Dracula to drink his immortal blood, turning him into the second vampire before peacefully passing.
Namor suspected Dracula now languished in Adam's clutches. How else to explain the identical Vampire-Xenomorphs in Adam's army, clearly spawned from vampire hosts? Perhaps advanced cloning tech, capturing Dracula, cloning his genes, and using the clones to incubate Xenomorphs?
"I finally understand why these Xenomorphs can fight on other worlds or planets." Namor muttered, pressure mounting. What were Xenomorphs if not amphibious? Not just land-water, but land-ocean. All they lacked was flight.
Their hyper-adaptability, forged for war, stunned everyone.
Atlantis acted swiftly, deploying forces to intercept Xenomorphs across the seas. Fearless, the Xenomorphs charged, and skirmishes escalated into full-scale battles. Despite their magic and tech, Atlanteans couldn't emerge unscathed. As time passed, casualties mounted.
As if sensing Atlantis' purge, Xenomorphs from elsewhere converged, amassing greater numbers and turning the tide, slaughtering Atlantean soldiers and civilians. Namor had only sought to curb their expansion, confining them to a manageable range. But Xenomorphs didn't negotiate. Drawn to war, they flooded conflict zones, and the war's scale spiraled beyond Namor's control.
Soon, the burgeoning oceanic conflict seized global attention. The seas, covering 70% of Earth with depths dwarfing land, hosted a war of unimaginable scope.
"Atlanteans? They tried to purge the Xenomorphs and got bitten back?" A surface-dweller scoffed.
"Haha! Besides vampires, aliens, and gods, there are underwater people? Atlantis isn't a myth? What else is on this planet, underground people?" Another laughed.
"Hmph, ocean folk? Die! Daring to oppose Xenomorphs? Don't they know our power? Even gods get their heads ripped off as Xenomorph hosts!" A cultist ranted.
The result? Civilians worldwide felt their eyes opened anew. Their planet teemed with bizarre species. Their perspective was still too narrow.
But species or race didn't matter, Xenomorphs fought all. Any living, fleshy being could be a host.
Once war began, it only grew, never shrank. More Queens spawned, parasitizing fish en masse, then leading rapidly matured Xenomorphs to assault oceanic cities. The global seas turned treacherous, unnatural waves surging and calming unpredictably.
Civilians didn't fret over the war's outcome, convinced Adam couldn't lose, even if he didn't win outright. With fearsome champions, mass-produced mid-tier Xenomorphs, and explosively growing grunts, how could such a species lose?
Only a star-shattering powerhouse, obliterating Earth or the entire solar system, could wipe out 99% of Xenomorphs. But the Ancient One and a few others knew that wouldn't suffice, Krug had scattered Xenomorphs across numerous planets, including Asgard, Jotunheim, and others within the Nine Realms.
Barring a universe-ending cataclysm, Adam's safety was assured.
The conflict drew more recruits to Adam's cause.
"I've got insider info, Atlanteans have been restless, meddling with human progress for years." One whispered.
"Rumor has it some tsunamis and typhoons are their doing." Another claimed.
"Now that war's on, with the world's oceans as the battlefield, doesn't it mean Adam needs more troops? Parasitize me! I'll guard cities, smashing any Atlantean invaders." A volunteer begged.
Weyland Tower was mobbed, impenetrable. Even businesspeople and officials needed Xenomorph escorts to navigate the crowds. "Adam." "Xenomorphs." And "ocean war" dominated global headlines.
In prior major events, thanks to Adam and his Xenomorphs' prominence, anxious people desperate for security flocked to join the Xenomorph ranks, a choice growing ever more popular.
The only concern? Whether Adam planned to recruit en masse, and what advantage parasitizing droves of talentless humans offered over animal-spawned Xenomorphs. If anything, perhaps unburst humans harbored more cunning?
New York City, Adam's stronghold, began facing tsunami assaults. Atlanteans, clad in high-tech gear, infiltrated the city, planting starfish-shaped deep-sea bombs for targeted detonations.
Xenomorphs, already dispersed throughout New York, ramped up patrols, swiftly pinpointing and capturing these aquatic intruders. Atlanteans' robust physiology, built to withstand deep-sea pressures, made them prime hosts, far surpassing vampires. One Atlantean host could outmatch several vampire hosts.
"Capture as many Atlanteans as possible. I don't care if they're Namor's or Attuma's faction, they're all the same." Adam ordered casually. Every Xenomorph and parasitized host on Earth received his directive: "Watch for attempts to sink New York into the sea. Intensify patrols along the continental shelf."
Reynolds and others mobilized, rendering Atlantean bombs, capable in theory of submerging the city, useless. This forced Atlanteans to unleash relentless tsunamis, hoping to cripple the Xenomorph stronghold.
But New York wasn't just home to Adam and his Xenomorphs. Other superheroes stepped up. Hulk dove into the ocean, churning through the water, slaughtering Atlantean soldiers. His savage punches triggered massive underwater shockwaves.
"Nice work, Hulk! First time I'm impressed. As long as you're not swinging at me like last time, you're a solid teammate." Tony Stark called out, relieved Hulk wasn't a liability. As for Hawkeye and others, they loosed thunder or ice arrows, barely clearing fodder.
Hulk roared, his oceanic rampage amplifying the brewing tsunami into a chaotic, unstoppable force, crashing toward New York in relentless waves.
"Jarvis, standard armor won't cut it against Atlanteans. Activate 'Rubber Duck,'" Tony decided, deploying a new suit post-Anti-Hulk armor. Ruthless, he'd worked tirelessly to upgrade his tech tree, crafting specialized suits for specific foes. Collaborating with S.H.I.E.L.D., he'd accessed extraterrestrial tech and witnessed a being he deemed beyond Earth's capacity to produce. Tony felt he'd evolved again.
"What? You named it what?" Natasha scoffed.
"Natasha, if you've got time to mock my naming, take out another enemy. Your efficiency's abysmal, barely above Cap's. If I were Nick Fury, you'd give me a stroke." Tony shot back.
A blocky metal crate dropped from the sky, and Tony donned the hulking golden armor. Raising his arms, he faced the oncoming tsunami. "Taste my new toy, energy shield!"
A beam shot from his arms, forming a transparent barrier from ground to sky, halting the endless seawater at New York's beaches, impregnable. Everyone marveled at Tony's display. His progress was staggering, generating a kilometers-wide shield today, perhaps a planet-wide one in a few years, rivaling the Ancient One's global mystic arrays.
Some wondered if Tony's next full effort might see him piloting an anti-god armor.
Adam nodded approvingly at Tony's performance, unsurprised. Tony was among Earth's brightest, his mortal frame limited only by time. Truthfully, if Adam hadn't relentlessly stirred chaos these past two years, aggressively expanding, taking bold risks, and triggering perilous events in a compressed span, Tony would've had years to develop, not the rushed, cornered urgency he faced now. For a mortal, unpreparedness was disastrous.
"It's not just Tony. Many heroes and villains are rapidly rising. Every crisis kills plenty, even culling unready heroes and villains, but it also forces survivors to grow faster." Adam mused, gazing from his window at the stormy sky and churning seas.
The Atlantean conflict escalating to war was a mere interlude. Xenomorphs thrived in war and sacrifice, especially in the host- and food-rich oceans. His species had never fought such a bountiful campaign, leagues beyond the resource-scarce Jotunheim war. If unchecked, Xenomorphs could overwhelm Atlantis through sheer numbers alone.
Trading a hundred Xenomorphs for one Atlantean life was a bargain for Adam. And such losses were unlikely, mid-tier Xenomorphs with unique powers led the grunt squads against Atlanteans.
Adam pondered, then summoned Reynolds. "Time for a full assault on Atlantis? About damn time. I'll lead the charge, nab that Sea King or Warlord, make 'em ours. Druid's been harping on it, I'm sick of hearing it." Reynolds said, grinning, relishing the chance to crush weaker foes. Bathed in golden light, he'd appear, unleash fists and heat vision, and devastate enemies. Against tougher foes, he'd swap out, blink, and they'd fall.
"Not that. Atlantis doesn't warrant a full assault, they struggle against Wakanda, who don't even have a Panther God. Keep this pressure; they'll collapse soon enough." Adam said, calling Reynolds for another purpose.
"I'm forming an elite team within our species, the first professional unit. I'm appointing you captain." Adam announced.
Reynolds blinked, confused. A professional team? Restructuring the Xenomorph legions? "I've named it the Superman Squad, simple, clear, catchy." Adam continued. "Don't worry about being a lone commander. I've scouted a fitting teammate and sent them an invite. Once they join, you'll have a powerful ally."
…
Sunspot was a spirited young man; Magik, a mysterious delinquent. When Sunspot needed her most, Magik coldly left him. Heartbroken after the breakup, and shaken by the brutal Xenomorph-Atlantean war, Sunspot, disillusioned, called home.
"Butler, I'm coming back to inherit the family fortune."
Butler: "Sir, we've got no fortune to speak of."
"What? I'm Roberto da Costa, my father's sole heir!"
"Indeed, you're the heir, but all you'd inherit now is debt." The butler said. "Hammer Industries' push into Brazil, gobbling up mining, has crippled the company. The ocean wars have disrupted shipping. We're on the brink of bankruptcy."
"?"
Sunspot stood dumbfounded.
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