Mission Five: Waterworld Domination

"Gross!" Scott commented. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing!" I quickly replied. "I mean, I'm just researching...Atlanteans, for the challenge." Unfortunately, my research seemed to be a waste of time. All three minutes and forty-two seconds of it. I didn't discover anything about Atlanteans that I didn't already know. They're humany and live underwater. No big secrets there.

"Learn anything useful?" Scott asked.

I answered, "Oh, yeah. Loads."

"Good. Let's get going."

We squeezed into the one-man transport.

Xavier wasn't kidding when he said it would be a tight fit. The camera was right up in our faces the entire way to Atlantis. I was extremely uncomfortable, but Scott seemed to not mind it.


As soon as we docked at the oxygen decompression chamber, I quickly shoved Scott out of the transport.

After drinking the green liquid that would allow us to breath underwater, we went to the throne room to meet with this so-called Sub-Mariner.

"Oh, my God! It's really him!" Scott squealed as we were introduced to Namor. "I'm like your biggest fan ever."

"Thanks, you stupid air-breather," Namor responded casually.

"And I've heard of you," I added.

Namor unenthusiastically presented us with the two detour options.

"Games are a lot of fun," Scott said. "And I bet they'd play naked, like the original Olympics."

While the thought of underwater nude sports was mildly enticing, I decided to go with Maim. "I'm a brilliant strategist," I explained. "Coming up with a plan to conquer the surface-dwellers would be easy. They're all a bunch of morons."

Scott and I quickly discussed possible plans of attack. "Let's poison the water supply!" Scott offered.

"You fool," one of the war ministers replied, "We Alanteans live in water. That would indirectly kill us all too!"

"Oh," he said. "Would that not count as victory then?"

Eventually, we settled on a few plans to present to Namor.

Our first plan was a good one. I was sure he'd like it. "As luck would have it, a terrorist is currently running for the office of President of the United States," I explained. "We suggest you gather up many Atlanteans and have them work the phones for his campaign. Convince the voters to elect this secret Muslim, and once he brings about the destruction of America there will be no one willing to stop your invasion!"

Namor sat thoughtfully for a moment and then said, "How exactly is this secret Muslim planning to destroy America?"

"Well, you see," I continued, "he refuses to wear a flag pin. Can you imagine what would happen if the President of the US didn't wear a flag pin?"

He didn't seem impressed. "Got anything else?" he asked.

"Yeah," Scott answered. "There's also this old guy you could support for President. He wears a flag pin, though."

"I see," Namor said, "and how would his election help me conquer the surface?"

I answered, "Well, he'll destroy America through incompetence and failed political policies, rather than unpatriotic gestures."

"What about the other nations?" he asked.

"Oh, they're all pacifists," I answered. "Once America falls, anyone can take over any country they want and nobody will lift a finger to stop them."

I could tell we almost had him on that plan, but he said that he didn't believe in voting and preferred a less democratic approach.

So, Scott and I moved on to other plans.

Buy nukes from Iran. Too expensive.

Help spread AIDS. Too messy.

Raise the undead. Too smelly.

None of our plans so far impressed him. Scott even suggested poisoning the water supply, after I had told him to forget it. Unsurprisingly, Namor didn't like that one either.

But I had one last plan. "This plan," I began, "will definitely succeed."

Namor yawned.

"All you have to do is wait 300 years."

"Wait 300 years?" Namor repeated. "I don't understand, yet I'm intrigued. Go on."

I quickly set up my presentation materials and began explaining the plan.


"As you can see by my map, the Earth is getting warmer and the seas are rising. What lives in the seas?" I asked rhetorically.

Scott answered, "Fish!"

"You guys," I continued, pointing at Namor. "If we simply allow the surface-dwellers to continue to pollute the planet, the entire world will be covered with water, just like that Kevin Costner movie that I forget the name of."

"Dances with wolves," said Scott.

"I like the sound of that," Namor said. "All water. Interesting. But your presentation was....lacking."

"Can I have another shot?" I asked. "We'll definitely wow you."

"Go on."

"Alright, give me one minute," I said.

I raced to the nearest bar where I found an overweight and bearded Al Gore drinking double shots of tequila. "Come with me, Al," I commanded. As I shaved the former VP, I explained our situation. "You have to convince him Global Warming isn't a complete farce."

"It's not a farce," he said. "It's an inconvenient truth."

I laughed and said, "Yeah, sure." Then, I pushed him into the throne room saying, "Go do your thing."



After Al Gore's presentation, I took the floor. "As you can see," I said, "the surface will soon be completely flooded."

Scott held up my next visual aid.


I continued, "Once that happens, all you have to do is poke us with your pitchfork thingies and you'll win!"

"Good!" Namor clapped. "I look forward to the effects of Global Warming. You may now return to the throne room, the Pit Stop for this leg of the race."

"Isn't that where we are?" Scott asked.

"Yes, so hurry before the other teams beat you there."

"There? You mean, here?"

"Yes."