Thread: Surface Time Who: Namor McKenzie and OPEN NPCs: -- When: 4/2/13 at dawn Where: Avenger's Mansion, NYC What: The Avenging Son returns to the surface to invite himself to the Avengers and make his opinion on the inferiority of humans well known. Rating: PG-13
It had been a long time. Years. Namor hadn't been to see his friends in America since civil war had erupted in Atlantis. He had taken small opportunities away, on the surface, usually in and around Antarctica, sometimes Greenland, and once in the islands outside the Bermuda Triangle, all to keep his blood oxygen levels on par with his ability to remain in calm control of his emotions. It had worked for a time. It had worked and sustained him long enough to calm the rebellion, execute those responsible, and initiate martial law in Atlantis until his people were once again a peaceful self respecting race not bent on the genocide of their own kind.
But Namor knew he couldn't remain under water for much longer without a prolonged exposure to the surface and its oxygen rich air. He missed parts about it, too, secretly down in his hidden royal soul. He missed his friends, yes. He missed Charles Xavier's brilliant wit and his constant ability to surprise the King of the Sea. He missed the X-Men. He missed the adventures they had on the surface. And he missed his blood brother, proven competent on the battlefield, strategic genius and ever true to his purpose (as small and unworthy a purpose it seemed to Namor), Steven Rogers.
It had been decided and Namor set off after leaving his Kingdom in the hands of the Council. His course took him directly to the United State's coast line, New York where he chose to bypass Westchester for now and land himself on the front lawn of the Avenger's Mansion. Home base of Captain America. The Atlantean armor he wore was black sharkskin leather with green rare jade fish accents that hugged every bit of his body securely and ensured optimal swimming and flying hydro and aerial dynamics. The cuffs circling his both wrists and made of solid gold and etched by Atlantean artisans were not only a symbol of his royal heritage, in lieu of a crown these cuffs identified him as ruler of Atlantis and Lord of the Seven Seas.
With reluctance and not a small amount of disgust, Namor set winged bare feet down upon the steps of the mansion, light as a feather, and pounded his fist against the door twice, hard enough to rattle it on its hinges. It irked him that he should knock at all. It was just a reminder that he had left behind his domain and entered the domain of man. Human, that is. He would have to endure for a season until his oxygen levels were up to par. Until then...
"Steven Rogers!" Namor's voice bellowed from his chest. "Captain of America! King Namor of Atlantis demands your presence promptly! Do not keep us waiting!" Arms crossed, Namor glared at the door, the royal "us" hanging in the air.