Arthur Curry, better known as Aquaman, wasn’t used to dry land problems. But this one was weird, even by his standards.

“You made an entire fake movie?” Arthur asked, trident pointed but not threatening.

His phone buzzed inside his waterproof suit. It was Mera.

He sighed. “Alright. Here’s the deal. You take down ‘123 Movies’ version… and come work for me. We’ll make the real movie. Just… let’s not call it ‘Aquaman 123 Movies.’ That sounds like a fever dream.”

Mera lowered her water orb. “You broke seventeen international copyright laws.”

He climbed onto a dock in Boston, seawater dripping from his trident. “Come again?”

“Worse,” Mera said. “It’s good. Really good. The CGI, the dialogue, even the villain—Black Manta somehow feels more dangerous. People think it’s real. The studio is panicking.”

Arthur smirked. “Maybe I should just go with it. Get residuals.”