When Emerald awoke, it was to a sore throat, a headache... and a deep irritation.

She could feel a sort-of emptiness in her throat; someone had emptied out her glands, probably with a syringe, to pull out the fuel for her firey breath. That emptiness always felt strange, irritating; her body could pull certain amounts of flammable elements from even normal food, so it only normally felt this way after she'd truly gone to town and burned down quite a bit... something she very rarely had call to do.

That would be bad enough. But even worse? She'd been stripped down to her underwear and left on the bed she'd occupied as a teenager; a few posters, what limited exposure she'd had to the outside world on display with her obsession with an old-school band which had a song called 'DragonForce'. She had a computer; with no internet. Books; all in traditional japanese, most of them almost as old as her great-grandmother.

Barred windows to keep her from breaking out. An armored door, and walls of solid, ancient stone. More than enough to keep her prisoner.

Over a decade ago. Over the years, she'd developed a lean, wiry strength; one that had only grown more intense after her time with Eyeball. Her claws were dangerously sharp, her grip strength far better than any normal human... and their attempt to imprison her was doomed to failure.

She walked up to the door, pressing her claw against the keyhole; and shoved. The outer titanium shell, thin and rigid, snapped; and her claw dug into the softer inner brass. She aimed it at just the right spot, and twisted; the lock snapping, and... she simply turned the handle, opening the door.

The Dragon Fortress; great-grandmother had to name -everything- after dragons, the silly obsessed old woman... was laid out in a series of squares; the outer wall had its cameras and turrets, protecting it from the outside. Then each square, almost like a ring, was just a bit smaller than the one outside, containing bedrooms, until it reached the central chamber; where everyone ate in a ceremonial fashion, with the Empress on her throne watching over them, and giving out her pronouncements after meals.

When she was a child, she was told that someday she would be Empress; and her quarters would be in the heart of the fortress. But from here... she could see a long hallway, a left turn... and two guards, both mostly human in appearance; each armed with an ornate spear with a long curved blade; both beautiful and functional; as well as a side-arm. So far, they hadn't noticed her; focusing on the door to the outside.

She returned to her dresser; finding, to her surprise, that they had updated her wardrobe; not to her new style, but at least giving her Kimonos of her actual size; and quietly slid on a simple black and red garment before quietly moving out into the hallway; wings folded back, pretending as if she were simply going about her business.

Of course, it didn't last long. One of the guards immediately noticed her once she was walking down the carpet; and called out. "Halt! What are you doing out of your room!?" She waved at him as she kept going, as if she were too important to be bothered; but he charged after her... catching up to her right as she reached her objective. Her mother's room.

"I must insist that you return to your room immediately, princess. My fellow guard has already notified Salamander, and if you do not return, we will be forced to make you return."

Emerald glanced at the man; mid-30s, a faint hint of scales around the eyes and throat... probably another of her relatives. So many of them. Probably another hundred of them by now. "Don't worry. We don't need Uncle Sal. I just need to get something really fast, then I'm headed off to see the Empress." She simply smashed the man in the face; his helmet caving in, definitely giving him a concussion, possibly killing him as he dropped limply to the ground; and she reached forward, jamming her claw into the lock, twisting... and popped the door open.

Inside... a room she hadn't seen much of since she was old enough to walk. She could barely remember her times in this place... but she could remember the cabinet along the wall. Her mother's custom blend of spirits; toxic to most people. Horrific in flavor. But containing just the right blend to turn her firey breath into napalm.

Emerald stepped up, grabbing two bottles; and broke the lid off of one; forcing herself to gulp down the vile-tasting, syrupy liquid as she returned to the door; and the second guard was there, handgun raised... clearly uncertain what to do. He was forbidden from shooting or stabbing her. At best, he could try to physically restrain her, or tell her to go back to her room...

She grimaced at the sudden heartburn, the terrible sensations, as her body sorted out the chemical blend. She could feel the glands refilling as she shattered the first bottle on the floor, and turned to the guard. "I'm heading to the throne. You can get in my way and meet the fate of your friend there, or you can follow. Or just stand there."

She took a deep breath as she turned down the hallway.. and started to gulp down the second bottle as she resumed walking. More guards had appeared, watching as she approached.. and when she entered the main throne-room, she could see... hundreds of people. Almost her entire extended family, most with some form of scales, or wings. A variety of powerful, capable, intelligent people. A strange lack of children; some were present, but there'd always been more when she'd been a child. Absolutely no way she could fight all of them at once.

Only a Titan could handle this sort of battle and come out alive.

She leapt, spreading her wings... and with a few quick flaps, landed at the throne, a few feet above her great-grandmother, her beautiful, ornate dress covering every inch of her body as she knelt there at her food; and turned to look at Emerald; only her face visible as she glowered. "Child. You are not to be here. Your meal will be delivered to your room. Go. Now."

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Figures started to rise; her mother, visibly glowing with heat and anger. Her father remained in his seat, seemingly smiling. She had moments before dozens of people strong enough to, all together, easily subdue her converged on the throne.

She reached down, grabbing Hiroshima; an ornate, beautiful, golden hilt... attached to what couldn't be called a Katana. It could barely even be called a sword; clearly roughly forged from molten scrap. It gave off a red, malevolent glow as she raised it into the air; and even her mother hesitated. She'd seen what the blade could do; how terrible it was to die from its wounds. The only person who'd ever been able to prevent someone from dying to those wounds had been the Empress herself; otherwise, even the slightest cut would lead to someone's body slowly dissolving from the inside out.

Emerald turned to the Empress, leveling the blade at her. "Your purpose is at an end; with my coming, it is fulfilled. I challenge you for the throne, and declare myself the first true Dragon Empress. You may submit, you may flee in terror, or, if you feel I am not yet worthy, you may face me." The blade felt... sickening. Uncomfortable. Even holding it in her hands, with no wounds to speak of, felt wrong.

The narrow sliver of dark-green face went through a mix of emotions. Irritation. Pride. Determination. The woman rose to her feet; stepping up the few steps to her throne; and gripped Nagasaki; the equally vile, poorly-shaped blade coming to life in her arms with its own grim malevolence. "You may be correct. It might be the time for me to step down."

She discarded the ornate helmet, the long, flowing robes; revealing a set of far sleeker, but still exquisitely made, red-green armor.. and a face that looked... disturbing. Emerald had heard the woman needed continuous surgeries to remove tumors. But she hadn't seen her great-grandmother's bare face for so long. Was this... skin cancer? Some sort of illness?

"Should I defeat you, my child, I will spare your life. You may yet be the Empress the clan needs someday in the years to come." She gave a bow; holding the monstrous weapon with far more respect than it deserved.

Emerald took a step back on the dais; the throne would be an obstacle on the small, circular platform. But the space was sufficient. Everyone in the clan could witness this, today, as she slew the madwoman who started it all.

***

Eyeball didn't expect to wake up on the jet. He wasn't completely certain he was going to wake up at all. Flying backwards through the air, feet off the ground, expecting that he might not wake up again, was... actually a familiar experience. Third time? Third time. The first two, he'd awoken in a military hospital. He shook himself, feeling out his body. Headache? Check. Bruises? Plenty. Nothing broken, though. Fortunate.

He pulled to his feet, looking out the window at the ocean flying by below; and then turned. One of his guards; technically Family, but not one of the Enforcers; was sleeping in his chair, with the Eyeball chrome helmet in his lap. He casually picked it up, looking at the cracks running down the back of it... and shook his head. Good thing he had spares.

That Telekinetic was their best, but there was at least one more. He might need to be ready for that. It didn't last -long-, but if he'd had his handgun on him, it would've lasted long enough. Probably. The range might be short enough that the man could've caught the bullet after it left the field. He certainly had caught the shrapnel from that frag grenade. The jet, of course, had a Fabricator in the back, loaded up; and as he altered the software in his replacement helmet, a new TK countermeasure started manufacturing itself.

Wait. Had he killed the guy? Sure, he put a knife in his throat, but he was still up and moving after that... he turned back into the main cabin, shaking the guard awake. "Hey. The grey-scaled idjit I stabbed. Did he survive?"

At first the man was startled, jerking and reaching for his weapon; but stopped at a firm hand on his wrist. "Ahh... No, sir. When the angel took Emerald away, he was dead. I checked myself, before the Japs took the corpse."

"Excellent. And we're headed north?"

"Of course, sir. Once I was sure you were alive, I loaded you up. We're headed for the staging area. Be landing in just a few minutes."

He nodded... and looked back out the window. "...They wouldn't kill her. Or even hurt her badly. But god knows what they might do. I know full well that they value her, at minimum, in the hopes of having more kids like her. She's probably perfectly fine. But somehow I still feel like everything's gone wrong."

***

The office seemed hot and sweaty as Jasmine stepped back and forth, suit having steadily grown more unkempt over the past eight hours, glaring at the most recent stack of print-outs. She should be using a tablet. Or a hologram. But no. Her AI access was cut-off while she was suspended.

She frowned as she studied the files. This... wasn't right. According to all of the information, hundreds or even thousands of women had all been delivered... to the same place. All sorts of oddities and bundles in the files, groups of people sent off for sale in some off-the-wall place, even a whole bundle of them sent off to Japan as a single lot, with the same sort of fertility drugs and equipment that the main one got.

But... this wasn't a shipment point, it was the end of the line. This one place seemed like it was being setup as a covert fertility clinic, thousands strong, for foreign women? Why would the Han do such a thing? She shook her head. Maybe she should do as Kin suggested. Go investigate in person. Or even go talk to the boss about the secrets around her family and Ragnarok. Or, hell. Actually take a vacation. Maybe it was all the fertility and childbearing talk speaking, but she could see if she could find a speedster that she could stand for more than a few minutes at a time and have some kids. Not like her dad, with all of his sleeping around, making a dozen babies to get paid by the government.

She blinked. And of course, thats what it is. The US used a carrot, dangled in front of all of its Mutant population; have tons of kids and we'll pay you handsomely. Most countries did something similar, or even mandated their mutant citizens either contributed eggs/semen, or have a set number of children; China being in that latter category. The simple reality, though, was that the majority of the first-generation mutants when the population really exploded had been in Allied nations, mostly because they moved there after world war 2; and right now, this meant that the European Union and United States had a distinct advantage in how many they carried.

The idea of abducting thousands of women, locking them up in a breeding camp, pumping them full of hormones and forcibly artificially inseminating them with metahuman semen? Sounded exactly like the sort of thing China would do. In fact, she'd be surprised if there weren't more than one camp.

Was she right? Maybe. She should definitely talk to her boss about it. Maybe.... maybe even her family would be interested enough to help, if she called them.