King of the Seven Seas (EMH) Chapter 16: The Black Manta Attacks (2)

[Third Person POV]

Mera hauled herself up the last ledge and planted her boots firmly onto the rooftop. All around her, Mantamen—Black Manta’s loyal henchmen—closed in. They were clad in jet-black suits that mimicked their master’s infamous armor, though bulkier, less refined. Each carried high-tech water powered rifles humming with energy, and blades tucked along their sides, ready for close combat.

Some were stationed on the same rooftop, forming a semicircle around her, their rifles aimed steady and unwavering. Others hovered in the air, their jetpacks roaring with mechanical growls as the fiery exhaust painted the sky with orange streaks. The combined sound was like a swarm of wasps circling their prey.

Mera’s face hardened, her jaw tightening as her emerald eyes swept across the circle.

“Why are you all focusing on me?” she demanded, her voice sharp. “Shouldn’t you be helping your boss with Arthur?”

One of them stepped forward, his voice metallic and cruel as it reverberated through his modulated face mask helping most of them breath above water. “The Black Manta requires no assistance. The half-breed will fall beneath his blade. Our orders are to remove you from the board.”

The rooftop filled with the mechanical clicks of rifles being armed. They didn’t hesitate. Not one of them waited for another order.

Mera raised her hands slowly, her fingers twitching before she snapped them together with a sharp crack. Her lips curled into a warning smile. “Don’t underestimate Arthur too much,” she said, her tone dripping with certainty. “You’re going to regret it.”

Instantly, the thin layer of water that clung to her arms burst outward, exploding into dozens of glittering droplets. Suspended in the air around her, they shimmered like a halo of diamonds in the light. Mera’s hands traced sharp, precise movements, and the droplets obeyed, whipping into deadly streams.

The first Mantaman charged, his jetpack hissing as he surged forward with a blade raised high. Mera vaulted over him with the grace of a dancer, twisting midair as the man’s sword slashed harmlessly beneath her. She flicked her wrist, and a dozen droplets cut across his armor like razors, leaving glowing scars etched into the black plating.

The rooftop erupted into chaos. Laser fire scorched the tiles around her, scorching lines across the roof as Mantamen unleashed. Mera twisted, spun, and rolled across the surface, flipping between blasts. She pointed a single finger, and the droplets streaked through the air in rapid zigzags, leaving behind blue trails of light. One target was singled out—then shredded as the droplets hammered into his armor like machine-gun fire, staggering him back before his rifle clattered uselessly to the floor.

Another soldier lunged at her. Mera leapt above her shoulders, wrapping one arm around the woman’s throat while her free hand ripped the rifle from her grasp. Spinning, she unleashed a storm of bullets and pressurized water streams, the combined attack forcing several Mantamen to dive for cover, as she used the woman as a protective shield.

At the same time, she wove her fingers close to woman’s neck, manipulating the scattered droplets into spinning shields. Hard-water disks materialized, orbiting around her like protective satellites. Each blast of energy from her enemies sizzled against them, sparks and steam erupting as they held firm.

A roar behind her made her pivot. Another Mantaman descended, sword raised. Mera spun and thrust her hand backward. A spear of water erupted from her palm, drilling through his mask and head with terrifying precision. His body crumpled midair, falling lifelessly to the rooftop.

She dropped the woman she was holding, shattering rooftop tiles, and blasted one final hole to her head.

She didn’t stop moving. Mera dropped low, pivoted on her heel, and fired a shot directly into the head of another Mantaman, his mask exploding in a shower of water.

A sudden flash—a dagger cut through the air toward her face. She raised the stolen rifle just in time, the blade splitting it in half. Instead of defeat, Mera turned it into an opportunity. Water from the broken weapon burst free. She twisted her hand, grabbed her attacker’s wrist, and wrenched it until bones cracked. The dagger fell, spinning through the air. Mera caught it mid-flight and, with a snap of her arm, sent it whistling into the mask of a charging Mantaman. He collapsed instantly.

The man whose arm she had twisted screamed as she flung him bodily into the sky, smashing him into another jetpack soldier. Both tumbled like ragdolls before crashing into the side of a building, sparks and glass raining onto the streets below.

A gauntlet lit up behind her, pulsing a white color. It slammed into her back like a sledgehammer, blasting the air from her lungs. Mera cried out as the impact launched her across the rooftop. She rolled violently, clay tiles snapping and tumbling with her until she nearly slid off the edge.

Gritting her teeth, she caught the ledge with her fingers and dragged herself back up. But no sooner had her boots touched the rooftop than another figure—female, armored—tackled her with brutal force. They both went hurtling downward, diving through the air before slamming into the wide-open street below. The shockwave cracked the pavement and sent nearby civilians screaming in terror.

Pinned beneath her, Mera took blow after blow as fists crashed into her face. Her lips split, blood running hot down her chin, her nose snapping under the barrage. The female Mantaman reared back, her gauntlet unfolding to reveal a hidden blade that shot forward like a viper.

Mera caught the weapon inches from her face, her arms trembling against the strength pressing down. Her eyes blazed brighter than ever, glowing with fury. Her blood—dripping from her wounds—suddenly defied gravity, lifting into the air and spiraling rapidly.

“Enough,” she whispered.

The blood condensed, spinning into a drill of crimson energy before firing forward like a sniper’s shot. It pierced straight through the woman’s mask, burrowing through her eye socket and out the back of her skull. Her body went limp instantly, collapsing on top of Mera before tossing her aside.

Breathing heavily, Mera braced herself on the ground and somersault backwards. Her face bloodied but her resolve sharper than steel. A sword stabbed into the ground where she had stood just seconds before, a near miss.

All around, civilians screamed, either fleeing into the alleys or retreating into buildings, peeking out windows in horror at the battle unfolding in their streets. Whispers carried through the morning as more Mantamen regrouped, weapons trained on her.

Mera wiped her nose with the back of her hand, crimson staining her pale skin. She tossed her soaked hair back over her shoulders and glared at them, her voice steady despite her wounds.

“You fools chose the wrong person to place on the throne,” she warned coldly. “Whatever happens next is on you.”

One of them sneered from behind his mask.

“Better him than some cross-mix species.”

At his signal, the rest surged forward.