#acab for atlanteans i guess xD

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Part 8

Hope you enjoy <3 comment and tell me what u liked about it :D it gives me liiiife

masterposst

Of course, getting into the town would be the first issue. Considering how coldly the guards had treated him earlier, attempting to casually paddle into the settlement would probably end up in disaster.

Thankfully, he wasn’t trained by Batman for nothing.

Damian stalked along the seafloor, flattening his sail and trying his best to avoid looking flashy. He kept a close eye for any patrols or wandering farmers, but the field was empty except for crops. They had likely turned in for the day, which worked out just fine for him.

Floral smells blanketed the field in a deep haze. It was oddly familiar with how vegetables smelled on land: verdant and pastoral, comforting. If he wanted to, he could probably pluck the greens growing on the edge of the field and bring them back to Phantom.

But there was likely even better food in the town proper, and medical supplies, and weapons.

So Damian pushed on. He absentmindedly nibbled some produce on the way, replenishing the energy he had squandered in his attempts to hunt. The crops were tall enough to completely obscure his body even if he were upright.

By the time Damian had crossed the fields, it was fully night time, and the field was cast with pitch black darkness, the moon obscured by cloud cover. The only light came from tiny windows out of the Atlanteans’ homes. Excellent. The cover of night was the best time to perform illicit activities.

Damian watched as the guards from earlier exited what was likely their barracks, alongside other guards. The building stood about three stories tall, with reinforced mud and stone lining its outer walls. The men and women filed out of the of barracks, armour half-undone and spears loosely gripped, laughing amongst themselves.

“The sirens trade to make another play at us. Some scrappy kid demanding shit. Could you believe it?” The man from earlier said. A chorus of laughter erupted. Damian turned his nose up at them from the rooftop he was perched upon.

Good thing about being underwater is that you didn’t need any grappling hooks to get up onto tall places. The locals didn’t either, which is why Damian kept a finger on the pulse of his lateral line, letting it warn him if anything came near.

Damian mentally noted its location, and continued. Most of the night patrols seemed to focus on covering the outskirts of the town, while Damian was already inside and in little danger of being discovered. After another brief search along the rim, carefully flitting between shadow to shadow, Damian found the jackpot. The storehouse.

It was a small mound dug into the rock with two large wooden doors and a lock. His nose picked up the same scent heavy in the area as out in the field, meaning that was likely where they stored their food.

Damian sensed no other people in the area, so he went to work. Unsheathing his claws, Damian set to work on the lock. He’d never picked an Atlantean lock before, but he was trained by Batman, so it posed little threat to him. With a click, the lock came open, and he pushed the storehouse doors just enough for him to slip inside, before closing it behind him.

Immediately he was assaulted by fragrancies and delicate flavours from every direction. Off to one side piles of crops were stacked up in neat rows. On the other side, hooks suspended the carcasses of fish.

Suddenly, Damian was made very aware of his lack of pockets.

Right, time to reroute, then.

Damian’s spine tingled. He dashed to the top of the storehouse, just as the door swung open and a pale blue light shined in.

“Hello? Anyone in here?” The soldier asked. He was a different one from the pair he had encountered earlier. This one was a bit older, a bit deeper in the voice. His posture was surprisingly relaxed, given the circumstances.

Damian could practically trace his gaze moving upward. Blast. Humans usually neglected to consider the verticality of their environment, and he could not afford to be discovered.

Damian descended up on the man. He gave a brief yelp, before Damian brought the Anti-Creep Stick upon his head. In swift fashion, the Atlantean crumpled up on the floor, still.

Maybe there was such a use for a blunt weapon anyway.

Dragging the Atlantean and tying him up in the corner, Damian set about on his task. Checking for any other interlopers, he quietly snuck out of the storehouse. It took him no time at all to trace his steps (his fin-strokes?) back to the barracks.

Careful to stay to the shadows, Damian landed on top of the barracks. The windows were small enough that a regular Atlantean could not squeeze through, but Damian’s meagre size could. Through the window, he took a peek. The room was empty. It seemed like an office of some kind, full of cabinets and paperwork.

Stalking the perimeter of the building yielded similar results. Of course the armory would be a little more secure than out in the open next to a window. There were about two guards in the entire building, which was perfectly fine by him. He’d broken into much more guarded places.

Tucking his fins flat against his scales, Damian squeezed through the window into an unoccupied hallway. The doors on the far right and far left, he had already seen. There were three more doors in the middle.

Sniff sniff… No scent coming from the first door. His lateral line tingled briefly, but the signal was weak, so it was probably detecting the residents of the building on a different floor.

The door was unlocked, which only sank Damian’s already low opinion of these people, and revealed a storage room, full of cabinets, and more paperwork.

Rubbing his hands clean of the stench, Damian investigated the second and third doors. Still nothing. He’d forgotten how much he missed Oracle’s intel. When was the last time he’d gone into a building solely off his own info?

Damian wiggled out of the window he’d come in. Time to do this the hard way.

It had taken him an embarrassingly long time to find the armory. Atlantean floor planning conventions were completely different to anything he’d ever imagined. He had some close calls with the two guards, which was embarrassing because it was only because he was about ready to pull his hair out looking for the damn place.

Eventually, on the toop floor (because of course it was the top floor), Damian found his prize. In one room, medicine, painkillers, bandages and splints practically spilling out of shelves and drawers. In another, scores of swords, bows and arrows, spears, as well as more magical water-bearers lined the walls. More importantly, bags and satchels. Damian wasted no time slinging two bags over his back, carefully minding his sensitive sail, and one satchel around his waist, and helping himself to whatever supplies he could gather.

It was as Damian was securing the last of his loot that a shrill scream sent every fin on his body standing straight up like goosebumps.

“S-S-S-s-SIREEN!” A young man’s voice cried out. Damian whipped his head around to see one of the guards staring right at him, his body quivering in terror.

A piercing alarm rang out. Dammit.

Damian bared his teeth at the man. Almost immediately, the guard passed out. At least that’s one problem solved.

Squeezing out the windows was more difficult this encumbered, but Damian had to be quick, or else the heightened security would pin him down. He gave his surroundings a once over. Guards were beginning to pour into the entrance of the barracks, giving him a moment to pull the last of his ill-gotten gains through,

“Hey you, stop!” An Atlantean ordered from overhead. Damian charged the wrist ray and fired two shots at her. One hit her shoulder and knocked her back. With her line of sight broken, Damian dove for the shadows.

Ducking and weaving between buildings, Damian found the streets crawling with search parties. He was forced to turn different corners, squeeze into boxes, and jerk out of the way before search lights could fall upon him, all as soldiers shouted orders and call outs.

It was positively nerve-wracking. Finally, he returned to the food storehouse, now with two soldiers poking their heads in. That won’t do at all. There was no more time for stealth.

Damian rushed up to one of the guards, and bashed his head in. The other one cried out, and pulled out a conch shell, but Damian blasted it out of his hands before he could sound the alarm. The Atlantean thrust his spear with both hands, but Damian was much faster. The Anti-Creep Stick slammed into the man’s helmet. The helmet vibrated back and forth with a dizzying ring and the guard went down.

The small siren boy rushed into the storehouse and stuffed whatever he could find into his bags, and rushed out. Meat, vegetables, fruit, he cared not, for he had no time to.

Bright light briefly blinded him.. “There he is! Get him!” Five patrol guards. Too many. Time was up. The patrol guards alerted more with a conch shell. They held spears at the ready. “Surrender now and we won’t have to take this any further, siren!”

Hah! They underestimated his tenacity.

Damian’s tail, which had been carrying him for hours now, was so sore it felt like it was about to fall off, but adrenaline animated it with supernatural zeal. He fired the wrist ray at will. The guards were forced to scatter as Damian dashed for the bounds of the settlement. Spears shot out, one almost nicking him in the tailfin, but Damian learned from Phantom’s tactics and kept low, zig zagging to throw off their aim. Soldiers poured out of the streets, firing arrows and spears at the young boy. Soon Damian was outside the limits of town. He dove underneath the field of crops, hoping the lose the soldiers.

The guards scattered out above him. His lateral line went crazy, pinging every single soldier in close range and putting him on high alert.

“There, in the seagrass!”

A spear narrowly missed his sail.

Damian recalled Phantom’s tactics. He flipped himself and swam belly up. With a clear shot, he began to pelt the guards with continuous shots from the wrist ray. An arrow sailed right for him, but Damian saw it clearly. He knocked it away with a flick of his sword. Another guard cut him off in front. The man lunged for him with arms outstretched, but soon learnt how bad of an idea engaging him in stabbing range was.

Before long, Damian had exited the field, and was rapidly approaching the ravine. The guards came hot on his tail, but as Damian descended into the depths, the narrow passageways and foreboding darkness meant that he was alone.

All in a god day’s work for Robin.