Hey everyone, sorry for the delay of the previous chapter. Apart from the pandemic, me searching for another job, taking care of my Mom, and generally trying to avoid the plague like, well a plague, I haven't had much time on the computer.
On the upside, it's given me plenty of time to think about in what direction I want to take my current projects in and how to finish out World Fury. I did also kinda drop a spoiler that a sequal to World Fury is in the works but as of yet it's just concept upon concept, nothing concrete yet.
Bit of a history lesson, the bombs dropped by the Japanese on US Battleships at Pearl Harbor on December 7th were not conventional bombs. They were actually shells from the main guns of the superbattleship Yamato repurposed to be dropped from aircraft and designed to pierce the thick armor on US battleships which were famous for adopting an 'all or nothing' approach with armor.
Yamato was armed with the largest cannons ever fitted to a naval warship: 18.1in.
In perspective, at the time the American standard naval gun caliber was 14in. The standard armor on American battleships (most of which were circa or post WWI (in accordance with the Washington Naval Treaty of 1921)) was 13.5in.
Plus, late in the war, as American forces drew closer to Japan, the Imperial Navy dispatched either the Yamoto or her sister ship Musashi on a final mission to sail to where US forces were landing, open the bilge tanks, flood the ship and turn the colossal ship into a static fortification. However, aircraft from the US Carrier Fleet intercepted and sank the battleship before they could reach their destination.
Anyway, that's enough out of me, here's the disclaimer.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING OR ANYONE IN THE SPYRO UNIVERSE. ONLY MY OCS.
Chapter 74: Checkmate, Part 3
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A thunderclap shattered the stillness around the island. The fog barrier that the CCC kept in place shrouding the island began to thin and then finally fade away, revealing the island to the clear blue skies above. On the surface, there wan't much activity, but underneath, all hell had broken loose.
The corpse of Rayxor, reanimated through the dark crystal embedded in its chest, struggled against the chains holding it in the CCC chamber. It snarled and hissed with fury while the scientists shrunk back with fright. In the room with them was James de Launces, King of Syllia and master Mechanist. He was watching the remains of the dragon who, two decades ago, had tried to assassinate his eldest daughter and son in law on the orders of the traitor Silverus.
As was the dragon custom for dealing with traitors, Rayxor's body, after his execution, had been flown north to an area of Northumbria known as the Black Ravine, a large fissure where it is said the blood of the traitors of old had seeped into the ground, staining the surrounding ice and snow an eternal shade of reddish-black, and was unceremoniously cast into the ravine.
With Rayxor's body the obvious proof, James wondered how in the blazes Mechanos had managed to enter the ravine, known territory of Syllia's ice dragons, undetected, and extract the body without alerting the guards who stood watch over the ravine. He also began to worry as the implications sank in. If Mechanos' CCC uses storm dragons to control the weather, then wouldn't the other four facilities also each have a storm dragon chained up within?
And if so, what was held in the CCC central command facility that only Mechanos could enter?
These implications surfacing in his mind, James cast a worried glance to his comrades and then looked to Stiger who was still frozen in fear of the undead Rayxor.
"Stiger, snap out of it! I need you to get the scientists out of here. You have your escape plan." Stiger looked to him in shock.
"James, what are you saying?" James pointed to Rayxor and then to the CCC control panel.
"If Mechanos is using storm dragons to alter the weather, it's possible that the other facilities of the CCC could have live or undead dragons held within." One of the scientists shook his head.
"Impossible, the dread griffons living on the island are like living dragon detectors. If there was a live dragon anywhere on the island they would be raising all manner of hell." James gave the man a flat look.
"I may not look it but I am technically a dragon." The scientist shrugged.
"There's always exceptions to any situation." James shook his head and then pointed to the door.
"Stiger, you have your orders, get our friends out of here and get off this island. I'll have to stay behind and unravel this." Stiger looked to the corpse and then to James.
"Why? I don't know much about Syllia but I do know that the dragon here was a traitor. Why concern yourself over a traitor's corpse?"
"Because, traitor or not, no one deserves this." James took a steadying breath and started his shift. His eyes were the first to change and he gave all those assembled a good look, his voice distorting and deepening as the shift began.
"Clear the room. I intend to end Rayxor's suffering and this room isn't big enough for two dragons plus spectators." Stiger audibly gulped and nodded and ushered the scientists out of the room as James' body began to shift.
As James opened his eyes as the shift finished, his heightened senses honed in on Rayxor. The normal vibrant spark of life, a soul, seemed absent yet for some reason James sensed that there was something there. As he approached the seething, rabid dragon, James calmly nodded.
"I know what you did for Silverus you did out of loyalty to him as your commanding officer. I've had twenty years to get over any rage or indignation I felt towards you and him. Seeing you like this now, I cannot help but feel as if there could have been another way. You sought to bring the storm dragons out of the shadows, establish yourselves as an independant species with your own unique abilities and skills." The corpse stilled and stared at James with glazed over eyes, still missing any spark of a soul. It then began pulling at the chains again and thrashing to try and free itself.
"I think it is only fair to inform you that your baby sister, Squall, has been working tirelessly to find evidence to clear your name and exonerate you. Thanks to her her efforts and the efforts of others, the storm dragons are now accepted members of society."
To James surprise, the corpse stilled again for a moment, as if listening. Then, within the glazed eyes, a small spark appeared, a dim glow, surrounded by darkness, and it slowly grew brighter. James took heart, realizing what was happening and pushed further.
"Squall's efforts have bore fruit after exhaustive investigation. Recent evidence came to light that you had no knowledge of Silverus' other actions and homicides. You were found guilty of treason merely by assosiation with Silverus alone and were likewise given a traitor's death." The glow flickered for a moment and James nodded again.
"Rayxor of the Storm Dragon Clan, with this new evidence in mind, I, as King of Syllia, do hereby pardon you of any association with Silverus' criminal acts. While that does not exonerate you for attempting harm to my daughter and her mate, it does drastically reduce your crime. Had the evidence come to light around the time of your trial, you would have been imprisoned for a time, rather than executed."
The glow grew stronger, the darkness in Rayxor's eyes receded, revealing the violet and blue hued eyes unique to the storm dragons. James smiled, realizing the dark crystal, which fed off the host's negative emotions, was growing weaker. Rayxor's soul, which had been ripped from the afterlife by the dark crystal, was fighting back. It was fighting for freedom. James rallied again, hoping to give Rayxor the last push needed.
"You've been held here, scorned and cursed for so long. Rayxor, leave your vengeance against Mechanos to me. Go to your ancestors, watch over your sister and her children. Know what it means to finally be at peace." The corpse seemingly cracked a smile as James reached for the crystal embedded in Rayxor's chest and yanked it free.
Immediately, the light faded from Rayxor's eyes and the corpse slumped, supported only by the chains and pipes. James frowned at the crystal and crushed it with his claws before gazing west towards Mechanos' tower.
"I have a feeling that putting Rayxor at peace was the easy part. The rest of the CCC won't be as simple."
Channeling his power, James breathed white-silver flames upon the body of the fallen storm dragon. The chains and tubes melted, the body slowly collapsed in on itself as the purifying flames incinerated the corpse. Reverting to human form, James left the CCC, weapon in hand, and prepared to fight his next objective.
At that moment, the first rumbles of explosions echoed throughout the facility as the bombers coming from the east dropped their payloads.
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(over Black Sand Island)
Hartwig swore he had never seen a more beautiful sight. The fog was gone, the skies were clear, with the exception of the occasional burst of flak from the concealed AAA positions. Spread out before him was a gigantic dormant volcano, dark grey and black, surrounded by roughly one and a half miles of volcanic black sand in all directions, and the light grey of concrete fortifications all over the volcano, stood out in contrast against the bright blue of the ocean.
Hartwig switched his radio to full squadron broadcast and keyed the mic.
"All bombers this is Flight Lead, arm your bombs, we're over the target!" The replies were immediate and numerous.
"Finally!"
"About damn time!"
"Let's get 'em!"
"Tally-ho!"
"We sure we're in the right place?"
"What're you saying?! Of course we're in the right place!"
"The General may have a bad sense of style but not a bad sense of direction."
"General Hartwig says we're here, we're here."
"Have a little faith in your CO, kid!"
Hartwig ignored the last ones and listened to his own plane's intercom as the bombadier went into the bomb bay and started pulling the pins on their special cargo.
Because James' intel informed them that the majority of the facilities were underground, Hartwig had made sure his bombers were equipped with the latest equipment available. That being the Mk.19c Ground Penetrating Bomb.
Basically, it was a 16in armor-piercing artillery shell from a battleship, fitted with an additional 1,000 lbs of high-explosive, and designed on a timer that would detonate the bomb fifteen seconds after initial impact. The new bombers could carry twenty of these new bombs.
Hartwig heard the report that the bombs were armed and silently prayed that this would be enough. He didn't want to think about the alternative that was waiting for the order to take off back at Shadowfell. It was another B-33 heavy bomber, named the 'Knockout Punch', that was only carrying one bomb on board.
The prototype Syllian Atomic Bomb. The final phase of the Thunderer Project.
The plan was a last ditch that if the carpet bombing failed, the alternative would take off, climb to maximum altitude, and drop the bomb over the volcano. A burst of static interrupted his thoughts.
"Bombadier to pilot, ready!" Hartwig nodded and flipped the switches next to him.
"Solid copy bombadier, bomb bay dorrs are open, she's all yours." Hartwig removed his hands from the flight controls and watched as they made minute adjustments based on the bombadier's precision bomb sight that also served as the auto-pilot.
"Target is confirmed as Black Sand Island (here's hoping we hit something important). Bombs away!"
The sound of releases clicking as the bombs fell away echoed in the bomber. The chronometer next to the bombsight began ticking down as the bombs fell. After arming the bombs, the bombadier had dialed in the information about the bombs into the bombsight which was adjusted for the size and weight of the bombs. It would then calculate the bomb's velocity and then calculate the time in which the first bombs would impact the ground.
It was essentially the first computer.
As the seconds ticked by, Hartwig found himself crossing his fingers. He glanced over and saw his copilot likewise fingers crossed and muttering a prayer under his breath.
For the bombadier, time seemed to slow to a crawl as the red 'marker' hand ticked down towards the black 'impact' hand.
tick...,
...,
tick...,
...,
tick...,
...,
tick...,
...,
The marker eclipsed the impact hand and instantly a cloud of black sand was seen billowing up from the island. Followed by another, and another, and another, again, and again, over and over. The bombadier smiled and flipped the controls back.
"Your plane General, it appears we have all good hits. Don't know if we hit anything vital but-"
That thought was interrupted as the sky suddenly turned bright red-orange and a massive shockwave from below collided with the bomber, actually lifting the aircraft by roughly sixty feet. Hartwig immediately keyed his radio.
"What the HELL did we hit?!" The radio operator stuck his head into the cockpit.
"General, all planes behind us are reporting a massive explosion just ripped a huge hole in the island. Looks like some sort of armory. Anyway, we seem to have blown the lid off one of Mechanos' facilities." He ducked back out for a moment and then ducked back in.
"Sir, report from the south. The fleet has reached bombardment range and is requesting any bombers with ordnance left to turn south and assist in clearing the way for the landing forces."
"Any takers?" The radioman nodded.
"Yes, sir. Yesterday's News and the remaining bombers in their squadron are turning away to assist. Looks like Mechanos forgot to order his remaining ships to sea, most of them are still at anchor but the real problem are those battleships."
"What about them?" Hartwig didn't like where this was going.
"Report says they appear to be sitting low in the water, almost like they were scuttled or-" Realization dawned on Hartwig and the copilot looked at him and grimaced.
"Or they were turned into static fortifications at the last minute. How many of them are Titan-class?" Hartwig banked left and glanced at the area that was supposed to be the harbor and his jaw dropped in both shock and disbelief.
Down below, at the mouth of the harbor, where the Navy was going to be bombarding and the troops were going to be coming ashore, twenty-two colossal battleships sat, broadside to the open ocean, lined up bow to stern, all guns pointing port side out to sea.
It was like a sea wall bristling with heavy and light artillery, anti-air, and small arms. Hartwig turned back level and glanced to his copilot who frowned when he saw the battle line.
"All of them."
Hartwig cursed and pulled the stick to turn the aircraft when several flak bursts exploded right in front of the plane. The sound of shattering plexiglass, explicit expletives, and the sudden sensation of the temperature of the aircraft dropping nearly fifty degrees reached Hartwig.
"What just happened?!" The reply was instant, and frantic.
"We're hit! We're hit! Flak just shattered the bombadier's position, the center engines on both the starboard and port wings are damaged, and the outer engine on starboard is fluctuating!" The copilot, hearing this, looked at the gauges and paled.
In perspective, this is what he saw:
Engine 1 (Port Turboprop): 115% Power, Turbochargers Engaged. Fuel Use UP.
Engine 2 (Starboard Turboprop): 115% Power, Turbochargers Engaged. Fuel Use UP.
Engine 3: (Center Port Engine): 35% Power, Oil Pressure Dropping, Severe Damage.
Engine 4: (Center Starboard Engine): 25% Power, Temperature Rising, Severe Damage.
Engine 5: (Outer Port Engine): 0% Power, Nonfunctional, Critical Damage.
Engine 6: (Outer Starboard Engine: 30% Power, Severe Damage. RPM Fluctuation 250-450 (this means the engine would go from 350 RPM (cruising speed), then periodically rev up to 450 RPM (flight speed), but then suddenly drop to 250 before coming back up to 350).
There was a high risk of Engine 6 catching fire and blowing the entire wing off if the fuel lines caught.
"General, we cannot keep formation with this level of damage. Suggest we return to base." Hartwig nodded and keyed his radio, simultaneously pulling the killswitch for the number 6 engine. There was a grinding noise as the propellor spun down, leaving the massive bomber aloft with only the two turboprops and two regular engines at less than half power.
"This is General Hartwig, we've taken critical damage and must return to base. Aces High, you're lead plane now. Good luck Colonel Leiner."
"The same to you sir. Should we have a few fighters escort you back?"
"Negative, keep what fighters you have. If you're going against that blockade, you'll need 'em."
Hartwig pulled on the controls and managed to turn the massive bomber around and started back towards the mainland. He watched as the rest of the formation turned and headed south to assist with the landings, silently hopeing that they came out of this alright. His copilot look to him.
"Didn't His Majesty design this plane to stay aloft with just the two turboprops?" Hartwing nodded.
"Yeah but check the fuel gauges. Those things are guzzling our reserves like crazy. They weren't meant for sustained flight, just long enough to make it out of hostile airspace and back to friendly skies. Besides, on just two engines this beast feels like she weighs a ton." The copilot nodded and then sighed.
"Just so long as we don't run into any fighters..." He then sneezed and Hartwig chuckled.
"Everyone bundle up. At this altitude and with the nose dome broken, the wind whistling through is gonna be cold."
With that, the Modern Art Masterpiece turned east and began a slow journey back to friendly skies.
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(Corridor F12S, en route to Southern CCC Facility)
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Alarms blared throughout the tunnel as smoke from the destroyed Ordnance Facility flooded the corridor. The blast doors had clamped down as soon as the fire alarm went off but debris from the facility was launched up by the blast and then rained down over the AA emplacements and the Housing Facility, collapsing the roof and setting fire to the living quarters. Some clever hydraulic 'malfunctions' allowed James to access the smoke-choked hallway that went past the Ordnance Facility and led straight to the Southern CCC.
The lack of guards didn't faze him. He figured that in the event of an emergency like this all personel would either be: 1.) Heading to protect Mechanos. 2.) Running for the nearest AA gun emplacement. 3.) Heading towards the supposed invasion site. 4.) Extinguishing the fires.
Thanks to the Air Force's carpet bombing, there was enough chaos in the underground facilities that no one was sparing a second glance at someone running by. James was glad he could use this to his advantage but was a little worried about his chances since he sent his group on to the hangar without him. Still, what was done was done. This was his course and he had to stick with it.
Rounding the corner to the next CCC facility, James stopped as he saw two dread griffons standing side by side with smug expressions. Behind them the sliding bunker door to the facility stood wide open, apparently knocked from its track in the initial attack. Two technicians were working frantically to repair the damaged door. One of the men pointed to him and said something to the dread griffons who nodded and began to advance on him. One of them spoke and his voice sent chills down James' spine.
"Well now little human king, you seem to have lost your way. Come now, transform into your other body so that we may at least have some amusement before the attack is repulsed." James didn't know whether to laugh at the dread griffon's assumption or sigh that they still thought Mechanos could win this war. Still, not seeing a way around it, he was preparing to shift when it happened.
A deafening, single gunshot rang out. Blood burst from one of the dread griffon's chest as it fell dead. Turning back to face the shooter, James was surprised to see Stiger hefting a large rifle that Mechanos had to have ripped off from the Northumbrian Avalanche Rifle.
The remaining dread griffon screeched in rage and tore down the hallway in a full gallop, its wings unfolding out of reflex but then folding back as it couldn't take to the sky. James then shifted to full dragon form and with a foreclaw grabbed the evil griffon mid-stride around the neck, picked it up, and slammed it against the wall, breaking its neck and spine before letting it fall. He then turned back to look at the technicians who, seeing their guards fall so easily, went for their own guns when full automatic fire tore through the hallway, riddling them with holes.
James took the chance to charge through the open door and into the room, still in dragon form, and readied his flames. Just before he released them though, what he saw next stopped him cold.
There, in the center of the room, much like Rayxor, was a storm dragon. However, this one was much smaller. In fact, Rayxor and James for that matter were both the same size, roughly the size of a semi truck. This dragon was maybe the size of a small motorbike.
It was a child.
Stiger came in, wondering what had made James stop so suddenly and he himself uttered a startled curse and ran for the machine.
The child was obviously malnourished, dirty, and had been the subject of physical abuse by its, correction, her tormenters. James felt his rage building up, smoke visibly pouring from his maw and nostrils.
"Stiger, is she alive?" Stiger checked the machines and nodded.
"Barely. It looks like when you took Rayxor offline it caused a feedback loop which knocked her out cold. God almighty look at these injuries... How the Hell can Mechanos do something like this?" James huffed and shook his head to clear the smoke.
"Atrocities like this aren't anything new to Mechanos. The sooner we end him the better. Can we disconnect the child without doing any harm?" Stiger looked around and then nodded.
"Apparently Mechanos made a failsafe in case a dragon needed to be removed from the machine in case it became uncontrollable. I'm going to disconnect her, you catch her." James nodded and stood under the child as Stiger activated the failsafe.
There was a series of metallic 'pops' that echoed throughout the room as the chains holding the young dragoness were released. Unlike Rayxor, she didn't have any tubes running into her body so that was something at least. As she dropped, James caught her in his foreclaws and craddled the young one close to his chest as he dropped down to three legs. In his foreleg, he felt the child stir and start to open her eyes. When her eyes focused she went wide awake with alarm and tried to move but then cried out in pain.
"It's alright, you're safe now. My name is James, what's yours?" The young dragoness paused and then looked up at him.
"I-It's... Tyfa..." James nodded understandingly.
"How did you end up here Tyfa? Do you remember anything at all?" Tyfa nodded.
"The black armored creatures came into our territory. Dad and the other defenders tried to fight them off but there were too many... Mom told me to run but..." The child broke down into quiet sobs, her breath catching as if she didn't have the strength to cry. Paternal instincts taking over, James held the child close to him and nuzzled her head as a parent would. He then pulled a blue crystal from the pouch around his neck and poured mana into it.
"Stiger, guard the door for a moment."
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James closed his eyes and reopened them in the spirit plane, Malefor standing before him.
"Malefor... you saw everything, didn't you?" Malefor nodded.
"Yes, I did. I also know what you're going to ask me. I've been tracing mana trying to find out if the child's family still lives. The answer is no, both her parents are dead. James, the other CCC facilities, I'm not detecting any sort of mana or spirit from them. It is likely they contain reanimated corpses like Rayxor. This child, if you hadn't gotten to her when you did, would have died before the day was out." James nodded.
"Then there's no need to remain here. Best thing is to take Tyfa and evacuate." Malefor nodded.
"I've relayed what you've seen to Lysa. She's ordered the Thunderer into the air."
"What about the ground assault?"
"They're to hold off until after the Thunderer is dropped. After that, they're to don those radiation suits you designed after Lavonshire and proceed with checking the island." James frowned.
"That's a bad idea, but we can't leave it to chance that Mechanos could survive. Alright, I'm getting Tyfa to safety and then I'll be returning with the mop up crew." Malefor nodded and the vision faded.
When James came to, Tyfa was asleep in his arms and Stiger was standing by the door. James nodded to him and Stiger readied his weapon.
"Your orders, Your Majesty?"
"Let's get to the hangar and get the hell out of here."
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