Ripper stared at the crowd hustling onto the cramped fishing boat. This was ridiculous. There was no way they could possibly expect to get away with this. The doctors were leading some of the lobotomized women out towards the docks, Infernal was tossing children aboard as some of the guards were helping load... He shook his head. "Boss, these idiots don't just have children who don't belong to them. They've got some of the surrogates as well. They're rushing the load, I'd recommend getting out here immediately. I've already got a tracker on their boat, but god knows where these lunatics plan on heading."
He stepped towards the boat, considering how best to just sabotage it on the spot, make sure it couldn't get anywhere... when he heard a sudden sharp 'crack' sound. Another. Was that shooting?
He looked back at the Fortress... a building well over a century old, though one which had various add-ons and changes over the decades since its founding. The whole thing was falling apart; he could see a wall caving in, collapsing onto the room inside, as people were screaming, running away from the structure; and an enormous cloud of dust and smoke rose from the building, as the Clan gathered around, already working to move rubble, drag people out.
His radio had gone silent. Eyeball never responded to his message about the evacuation. As Salamander emerged from the dust, enormous dark-scaled head down, running, as many of the unpowered people were, away from the collapse, he turned towards the boat... which was already starting to take off.
Ripper cursed... and ran a few steps behind Salamander. When his uncle leapt onto the boat, Ripper ran behind; and latched onto the side, his palms and toes adhering to the metal more firmly than most could grip a solid ladder. He turned back to look at the building... Hell. Emerald would be fine, right? She was with Eyeball, and Butcher. Between the two of them, they could take care of anything. Ugh. Alright.
As the boat started to move out under power, he reached through his grenades, grabbed an EMP, and climbed across the side til he reached the engine; not finding any good places to wedge the object in place, he grimaced, held it out at arm's length, and pulled the pin.
An audible pop. A faint smell of burning flesh from his hand as he dropped the red-hot chunk of metal in the ocean, and he absently stuck the two burned fingers in his mouth as he heard the engine grinding to a halt. He glanced back to the shore. Not even a quarter mile out. Should he swim back? No... these old diesel engines could very well be revived; most likely whatever he'd just killed likely wasn't absolutely necessary for it to keep running.
He needed to get inside and stuff a frag grenade or something in the engine room... somewhere it wouldn't kill any of the kids. Or the surrogates. He sighed, as he carefully moved up the side of the ship, alighting on the deck... a deck absolutely crammed with women, guards, and an extremely irate-looking Infernal.
He hopped from the side of the boat to a nearby crate, shaking it in a way he hoped no-one noticed.. and managed to land directly behind Infernal as she opened the door and started heading down. He brushed her tail, just barely, but she didn't seem to notice; likely assuming it was one of the various mob assembled on-deck.
Heading down the stairs, he timed his steps to line up with hers; someone up top slamming the door behind him. Fortunately, Infernal seemed to be headed down to the engine; likely to talk to whoever maintained it. Probably to complain, or try to strong-arm him into working faster.
When the engine room door creaked open, this time it slammed right behind her; he stopped, grimacing as he studied the area. Only one way in? Check One extremely noisy way in? Check. And if he started a fire in there, it might well kill the kids that were on the boat. He needed to directly damage the motor itself, without being spotted.
...Or maybe he could be spotted? If he set off a couple of fragmentation grenades inside the engine room, he'd damage the engine, kill the repairmen... and probably seriously piss off Infernal. Hopefully he could get off the boat and swim for shore before she realized what was going on.
He took a deep breath, lifting two of his three frag grenades; the baseball-sized projectiles smoothly fitting each palm, as he got ready, setting his hand on the door.
Suddenly, it shoved open; slamming him against the wall, and sending the two grenades scattering off in either direction. Infernal looked down for a moment, in confusion. Ripper stared down at the grenades... dropping the pins, as Infernal shut the door, reaching down to grab one, clearly wondering just what it was.. and both went off within fractions of a second, sending hundreds of bits of superheated shrapnel flying down the hallway with a pair of rapid-fire bangs.
***
Being able to see a few seconds into the future is amazing for avoiding an incoming bullet, arrow, or even possibly an artillery shell. When it comes to the roof collapsing on top of you... it lets you panic for an extra few seconds, grab your loved ones.. and get crushed in the darkness anyway. Eyeball saw it coming; he heard the first loud crack, and caught a faint, acrid scent in the air; his helmet notified him of a strange chemical, the filter activating.
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Then... he saw the roof shove the outermost wall down and crush him beneath it. He had time to grab Emerald and move for a spot where there'd be at least some gap... but ended up in the doorway, crushed against it by a slab of stone, with Emerald confused and crushed up against his side. Everything was darkness; what little air he could breathe was filled with dust and smoke as his helmet cracked, the seal broken.
He could feel pain, sweat, and fear... and for a moment, it seemed likely that he and Emerald were both going to die there in darkness; he coughed, but his chest couldn't expand; just a soft chuff sound as his body tried and failed to expel some of the dust he'd inhaled. Emerald looked up at him, straining against the rock; only for her muscles to give out, compressing the two together.
For a time, he thought this was it. That after a long career of stupid decisions leading to terrible injuries, it wouldn't be a mistake that led to his death... but a building collapse. He didn't want to be crushed to death. Suffocating in darkness, barely able to move. He definitely didn't want Emerald to die that way. He pushed against the rock. Moving it was impossible. But he had to try. He couldn't just....
Suddenly... a massive grinding sound. The crunching of rock, the squealing of something metal being subject to truly insane forces and forced to give until it twisted and broke.
Light. He still couldn't breathe, crushed between two rocks, but the roof was just... gone. Butcher stood there, his black armor scratched and dusty, a rock the size of a house held over his head; which he looked around for a moment to find a safe place to toss before settling on hurling it off towards the ocean.
When the giant teenager grabbed hold of one of the rocks pinning the couple and casually pulled it aside; the rock actually breaking apart under the enormous pressure exerted against it, shards flying into the air over his shoulder; the breath Eyeball took was... incredible. The gift of life itself, as he struggled to pull himself up from the pile of gravel and fist-sized stones that he and Emerald were buried in.
He and Emerald were settled atop the rock, coughing; Eyeball looked at Butcher, giving a thumbs-up sign, unable to speak for the moment, before the boy nodded and turned to the rest; bodily grabbing any rock he came across and hurling it off into the ocean.
When Eyeball finally caught his breath, he turned to Emerald; at a quick glance, she was mostly okay.... but her wings were definitely broken. He grimaced as he looked at them; the beautiful, delicate bone structure supporting the surprisingly powerful muscles was shattered, twisted, and bent at the wrong angles; he could actually see a bit of protruding bone through the scaly skin.
She was barely holding it together; visibly restraining herself from reaching back to touch those wings, as Eyeball studied them for a moment, and knelt beside her. "Sweetheart. We can recover. We can find out who did this, and stop them. But we need to get out of here so they can clear rubble... and we need help. I'm going to call the mercs I hired. May I call the Japanese? I suspect Minister Kono can arrange something."
Emerald glanced at him. She'd always considered herself Japanese. All this about being bastard royalty was just a contrivance of her great-grandmother's, anyway. "...Yes. If they'll help, I'd be glad to take it. People are dying right now."
***
Hundreds of miles away, sitting on a simple stone bench overlooking a pond covered with blossoms floating gently in the breeze, His Majesty sat, sipping a cup of tea, considering the information he'd been given recently. The sins of his family, the mistakes of the past, and the vagaries of fate.
The image the Minister had sent did have distinctively Draconic traits, of course. Granted, the images in the paintings here in the palace didn't generally show wings; but rather a snake-like form that flew through the air without any power but magic. The story, as told him by his father, had been simple; the Empire had known for centuries that people were, rarely, born with strange powers, and that magic was a real thing. There had been a group dedicated to dealing with them for centuries; and after the second world war, that group now mostly had magic or powers itself.
Some scaly girl had claimed to be a dragon; something which, at the time, was considered a myth, but a plausible one; monsters and magic, while rare, were real, after all. Seduced one of his great-uncles, and had a child. Girl and child were banished, and generally all knowledge of the event was concealed. But... they were still family. And... that was a flying dragon, as well as one of his blood relatives. A fire-breathing flying dragon. The stories of his great-uncle made no mention of wings, or firey breath.
The ancient myths of dragons had to have been based on something. Was this woman a century ago telling the truth, a member of some ancient, dying, dragon clan seeking to revitalize itself by joining with his? Unlikely. But, considering the things that had emerged over the years, not impossible.
He glanced up. Minister Kono was waiting at the door, and one of his servants was kneeling a few meters away, waiting. The Emperor was no longer the ruler of Japan. It was not an Empire; but... he did have a great deal of influence. If he truly wished to turn it back into an Empire, it would not be beyond him. He made a gesture.
Minister Kono stepped forward, and bowed. "Emperor. The woman of which we spoke has called, requesting assistance. The Dragon has taken over her clan from her great-grandmother with her passing, and rebels against her rule have caused significant damage before fleeing; and either took their doctors with them or killed them on the way out. She is requesting assistance digging survivors from the rubble, and medical aid. She will deal with the rebels herself, but would like assistance minimizing the loss of life."
His Majesty gave a small smile. Appropriate. What she was requesting would fit neatly within the agreement her clan had with the Emperor of old. "Have doctors, construction equipment, and emergency supplies delivered at once. If the Prime Minister disagrees, use my personal funding for the project and inform me. Have a naval vessel and soldiers on station as well. I will be visiting in person."
"Of course, Emperor. The individual known as 'Eyeball' is also present and is the Dragon's betrothed. I am not certain we can supply sufficient protection to secure your personal safety. Considering the past exploits of this group, at best we could hope to remove them after they had done irreparable harm."
"Then perhaps we'd best ensure they remain allies, yes?"