As Clone examined the perimeter sensors.. while also testing out the gear being prepped for the upcoming assault, and a thousand other things at dozens of locations.. he noticed... a boat sliding up ashore. A familiar boat; he'd sold it to its current owner himself, at the end of a job a while back. He set the sensor in place with a gentle twist, and turned to face the craft as it scraped to a halt.
The dark-skinned man walking ashore gave Clone a nod; before pulling a dark hood over his head and stepping closer. "Hello, my Russian friend. Are you working for the Titanslayer in this job, or the Dragon?"
He studied the man for a moment. The dark robed look made him look more like a cultist of some sort, or a supervillain; and the latter, at least, was true. "Both, really. And I consider them friends. I'll introduce you to the Titanslayer if you like, but the Dragon lacks protection from your kind, so I'd need to warn her in advance."
"Which is more important... your long-term goals, or your friendship?"
Clone rolled his eyes. "My long-term goals, of course. You know full well that when the time comes, you, the Titanslayer, and all of my other employers will either need to join up or go down. But until Ragnarok has come and gone, any attempt on your part to move forward will be met with extreme violence."
He sighed. "Why are you so convinced this Ragnarok thing is real? The Jotun came, they were defeated by our Titans, they fled. So long as a Titan remains, there's no reason for them to return. The number it would take to defeat Valkyrie is more than exist."
"Why are you so convinced that one of these other nations is going to invade your homeland again? Russia came and was forced to withdraw. The United States spent decades there and did the same. Obviously your people have not lost the will to fight; so why would they be foolish enough to return?"
"...You assign human motivations to aliens."
Clone chuckled. "Aziz... those aliens might have six limbs, and more resemblance to a crab than a human. But they still have weapons, and make war. Some motivations are likely universal. Besides. I don't believe they are gods, but Odin and Apollo... they are convincing. And, well. I'm immortal. Whats a few more years? When the Jotun are defeated will likely be the best time to make my move."
"Fine. Warn the Dragon. I wish to speak with her alone."
"Already have. One of my brothers is bringing her a shield as we speak."
***
Emerald sat back on her throne; her wings still bandaged and wired to aid in their healing, but otherwise in much better condition; the rapid pace of construction meant that this simple tent sat beside a structure that already had walls, a ceiling, a basement... they were even wiring up the electricity as she sat. By tomorrow, they'd have the first permanent structure in place of the new build; for now, it would be the home of her people. In the future, it would serve as a barracks for soldiers.
Her usual garb of an elegant silk black kimono was augmented by a very strange headpiece; a series of small, glowing blue orbs mounted to a crown-like net around her skull. She grimaced as the man entered. There was a smell about him... something distinctly unpleasant. She would keep this meeting as short as possible.
"So. Clone tells me you're a powerful telepath, a terrorist, and one of his best-paying clients. And that I should use an active shield, not just a faraday cage, because you're the strongest one he knows."
The hooded figure gave a nod. "Of course. This is the first he's told you of me?"
Emerald shrugged. "He still hasn't told me your name; and also said that, if you hadn't come here to meet me, he'd never have told me that much. He also recommended that I not meet you alone, but I can handle myself. If you turn out to be an enemy... you'll be a properly cooked enemy in seconds."
"Good. I am not here to be your enemy. I am here with a business proposal... and an unfortunate warning."
Emerald sat up, staring at the man with concern. "..and what would that be?"
"I would like to buy something from you. A boat. An old, sunken Japanese ship, appropriately named the Flying Dragon, as it was the last vessel the Japanese Navy kept on assignment to protect this island. Its final resting place is directly off of your shores, and there were some unique adjustments made to it by a metahuman of the era one of my engineers feels would still be useful today, if they are intact. I can pay you well for it, of course."
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Emerald chuckled. "If its sunken, I see no reason to interfere with your salvage operation, if the money is good. Make me a reasonable offer and it should be fine. And the warning?"
Aziz lifted off his hood, and smiled. While his face was scarred and cracked, and he appeared to be an extremely well-worn 30 or 40-year-old, his look was a strange cross of happiness and a grim anger. "For every defensive technology man can create, there will always be a way to defeat it. Go ahead and remove the crown. We have much to discuss."
Emerald blinked... gently detaching the device tightly affixed to her head. The gentle pressure of the crown; designed so that it would not fall off even if the wearer dangled upside down with it on, squeezing onto her skull; eased; and she set it down. A bit confused as to why she went along with it so easily.
"Perfect. I won't have long before one of your friends comes in to check on you. Minutes, at most. So we must work quickly. I understand you can introduce me to the Emperor."
***
They'd finished their tour via helicopter, and were at the lab, Eyeball and Butcher having examined the setup; the long rows of neatly labeled freezers filled with thousands of samples of DNA; every metahuman who worked for the Chinese government, in fact, and wasn't sterile; waiting for Zhou to arrange a meeting with his boss, pretending to be talking about the lab equipment; which, while Eyeball knew a few pieces of that Eyetech had similar loadouts on one floor, Butcher was completely oblivious to.
Eyeball stepped outside, with Butcher immediately behind him; and took out a cigar. Zhou followed along, noticed it, and watched with curiosity as Eyeball fit the cigar up to a port built into the helmet; one which appeared to be seamless with the chrome surface; and simply pressed it right through. "Well that's an interesting design feature."
Eyeball glanced at him. His helmet activated its satellite uplink, and started transferring information. The port snapped shut as he slid the cigar out. "Its good for straws, though if I drink straight from a glass, I have to either very carefully pour it into the right spot, or cover myself with the stuff. Are we talking about meeting later today, tomorrow?"
A message from Clone popped up on his HUD. They could have a boat at the coastal location within the hour, strike teams at Tibet and Xinjiang within two. Eyeball grimaced; the only children that stayed at the facility were the extremely young; apparently they adopted them out to good loyal homes as soon as possible. This meant that they would only be able to rescue a few hundred children by boat, all of whom would need to be carried; and that the program had already produced tens of thousands of metahumans who would, in due time, be joining the Chinese military. In about fifteen years, China would, even if this program ended today, abruptly have more metahumans than any several other nations on earth combined.
"He's actually eager to meet you and discuss plans. We'll be flying to Zhongnanhai within the hour."
Eyeball gave a nod. He would need to fight his way out of one of the most secure buildings on the planet after assassinating probably one of the top leaders of the Chinese government. They wouldn't be worried about this possibility because it was equal parts crazy and suicidal to contemplate. "Of course. Let me finish my cigar and we can go. Would be a shame to waste one. Care for one yourself?" He offered Zhou a cigar from a pocket in his body-armor. He wasn't even smoking it; just using it as a cover while he was talking, a good excuse to be outside and in line-of-sight with the sky.
As the general accepted the cigar, Eyeball looked at Clone's recommendations. Two smaller teams for the Tibet and Xinjiang locations; essentially just relying on several doses of neurotoxin to wipe out the facility with minimal resistance after using a few dozen Pale Gun shells to sow chaos in nearby areas.. an equally small team for the main lab... and everyone else coming in to the coastal facility.
Eyeball glanced at the general. "Ahh.. my apologies. Do you mind if I use the restroom here, before we move on to meet your boss? I get a bit anxious, heading off to meet such important people."
Zhou nodded. "Of course! Feel free. One of our guards will show you the way."
Eyeball turned to Butcher. "Stay here. Hold this for me, I'll be right back." He handed the kid the cigar, before turning back into the facility. He sent a command on the uplink just before entering the door; ignore the lab. He'd leave them a gift to handle things before he left. The facility had fields to disable drones that might try to sneak through, and would easily spot any attempt he might make to hack their software. But flushing explosives down the toilet alongside a waterproof timer? Assuming they adhered to the pipe properly, they would just think the place had a stopped-up toilet; right until it all went to hell.
As he headed into the facility, he smiled. It would be amusing if he'd done something like this at all of them, but that would make them suspicious. He glanced at his HUD, giving a few voice commands; sorting through the loadout in his handgun; which currently had a wide variety of objects, anything he could fit in smaller than a 40mm shell; including quite a few different varieties of explosives, toxins, and poisons. And of course, several hundred lithium batteries that would let it keep running for a few weeks between recharges.
As he reached the bathroom, he frowned, thinking.. he himself was a meta of fairly significant import, by their standards. They'd probably be trying to harvest some of his own DNA, likely the moment he boarded the chopper. He sighed... and went ahead to use the bathroom. When he finished washing and drying his hands, he noticed the bathroom had a couple of trash cans; one with a vivid red biohazard bag in it, attached to the wall, the other ordinary, on the floor. He quietly dropped a few explosives and a neurotoxin shell in between the liner and the metal bin; before hooking a line to the liner from one of the bombs. If the timer didn't set it off, it would go off when someone changed out the trash can.
He actually wasn't certain whether the neurotoxin would remain viable and spread with that much point-blank heat, but the bomb should do the job anyway.
When he reached the outer doors, and took the cigar from Butcher, he put it out, audibly lamenting the waste; and boarded the chopper alongside Butcher, Zhou, and a few guards; heading on what would be, hopefully, General Zhou's last flight.