Hello everyone, well, I have returned and with a new chapter for World Fury. It took me a moment to actually piece it together and, believe it or not, I actually got some of it done by listening to some music my cousin had found for me.
Anyway, for those of you who are familiar with American football, did you know that the Alabama Crimson Tide's theme of 'Roll, Alabama, Roll Tide' was not originally used for college football but was originally a post-Civil War ballad to the Confederate raider CSS Alabama.
For those of you who are curious, you can actually find it on Youtube. Just go to Youtube, type in 'Number 292' (Roll, Alabama, Roll) and it should appear.
But I'm going off topic again, sorry, now then, onto the disclaimer.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING OR ANYONE IN THE SPYRO UNIVERSE. ONLY MY OCS.
Chapter 66: Unnerving Revelations
8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-*_*_*_*_*_*-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8
"I don't get why he named his bomber that. I mean, the name is supposed to be implicative of something. Yet that bomber is definately not a modern art masterpiece. It looks like a cheap setting for an even cheaper horror movie. Those colors don't match at all." Dieter finally got sick of Brunswick's remarks and turned switched frequencies to the Tellanian radio.
"This is Ritter to Polaris. How are you boys doing?" The radio crackled a bit but the reply came through strong enough.
"This is Polaris One. We're doing fine Colonel. Just enjoying the view." At that moment, Dieter's son Kaleb came over the radio.
"The view? C'mon, it's the same damn sky everywhere you look. I'll admit, blue skies and white fluffy clouds are preferable to dark skies and storm clouds but it's the same everywhere." The Tellanian pilot laughed.
"You have very good sense of humor Squire. I know skies are same but there is different. By my maps, we are almost in Tellanian airspace. A few more miles and we will be in the skies of our native motherland again."
"Yeah, well don't go singing that national anthem again or else I'll reach through this radio and strangle you with it." Dieter caught himself about to laugh as a bomber radioman came over the conversation. Polaris' voice dripped with fake indignation.
"What is wrong with national anthem? It is good song."
"Yeah well, it gets kinda old on the seventh rendition. If I wanted to hear the same song over and over, I'd switch the radio to Joe Melvin's aircraft. Guy brought a record player with all his 'greatest hits' on board with him. I know cause the damn crew's ready to crown him with it for playing the Same. Damn. Song. Over and over and over and over and over, again and again and again and again." There was laughter on the other end.
"Yeah well, Ol' Joe's got rank. He's a Major, which is a high rank, which has certain perks. At least he's playing his ragtime hits and not those disco flops." There was a scoff.
"You wanna bet? His damn bombadier just radioed requesting a transfer to another bomber. He even suggested opening the door and wing-walking to the nearest aircraft. It ain't ragtime he's playing, it's that damn disco." Dieter sighed.
"Well, if he'll have any sense, he'll stop playing it when we reach Union City otherwise this'll always be the day that disco died at forty-thousand feet." There was another chuckle.
"Gee Colonel, you think we'll be that lucky?" It was another of Dieter's nuggets, kid named Rykter. Dieter chuckled.
"Well intel says that the enemy is basically cut off from all supplies. They're out of the heavy stuff and down to small arms weapons. No double-A or triple-A, no heavy weapons, no explosives, and nearly no food or water. This raid is just the big knockout punch. Send us in to land the KO while the infantry bypass it and continue on to the front. Speaking of which, I have our orders." Dieter took a moment to pull the letter from his flak jacket and started reading.
"Upon completion of bombing run, all bombers and fighters to report to Steele Valley Air Force Base just outside of Vladioska. There we are to rearm, refuel, and then join the 7712th and 8491st United Assault Group as they push on towards Lenninosk." At that a Tellanian came on.
"Hey, Lenninosk, I'm from there. Any chance the city is still standing?" Dieter grimaced.
"From what reports we have a fair amount of the city was burned by the Tellanian Resistance to prevent it's capture but all it's done is play hell with our advance forces. Collapsed buildings are making a haven for snipers. We estimate remaining force there to be at least one-hundred but they're mostly snipers and have pinned down the entire Allied force in that area. No civilians remaining so we have clearance to level the entire city."
"Attention all aircraft, this is the 545th Bomber Force, we are coming up on your left wings. We are accompanied by the 546th, 547th, 548th, and the 601st Bomber Wings. We also have the 1305th and 1306th Fighter Escort Groups. General Hartwig, I believe we bring the number under your command to just under 750 bombers and 420 fighters." There was a whistle from Hartwig's bomber and then the radio came on again.
"This is General Hartwig, glad to have you boys with us. Just to let you know we are almost at our full number. We just have to meet up with the bombers from Gyladon and Snowbank Plateau." Dieter gave a silent breath at the numbers involved and keyed the radio.
"General, this is Ritter, just how many aircraft are we supposed to have for this raid?"
"Somewhere in the neighborhood of 1,580 bombers and 840 fighter escorts. And we are all to drop our payloads over Union City before continueing on to our next objective." Dieter gasped.
"Well, at least the enemies in Union City don't have any anti-air weapons or radar. There's no way in the Abyss we'd be able to hide the signature of all these aircraft." There was a laugh.
"Well then, good thing we ain't hiding. Alright everyone. Mechanos' forces think that without our King, we are disheartened. Let's show them otherwise. God Save the King!"
The last was echoed by the rest of the Syllian bombers and even Dieter keyed his radio and repeated it.
8-8-8-8-8-8-8-88-*_*_*_*_*_*_8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-*_*_*_*_*_*_*-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8
(Black Sand Island, off west coast of Rotiart, 75 miles from Shadowfell)
As the formation of Syllian bombers were forming up in midair, a lone Rotarian transport with a small fighter escort was approaching an island. James glanced from his window and remained stoic despite the ominous sight before him.
Black Sand Island was known as such because the large mountain in the middle of the island was actually a lond dead volcano. Whereas a beach should have had perfect white sands, the island's beaches were choked with black volcanic sand. The beaches were not pristine though. There were several structures all over the island and all were connected by roads and long, reinforced iron walkways that wove a spiderweb across the island. All the buildings were dominated by a large tower that rose from the ground near the peak and towered over the rest of the structures. As he watched, the transport slowly yawed to the right and he heard the sound of the landing gear dropping and the radio coming on.
"This is Serpent, requesting permission to land."
"This is BSI Control, clearance granted. Report immediately upon landing to Building 6. The Emperor wishes to meet your 'guest' personally."
"Serpent copies. Beginning landing." James gave a glance to Stiger who was still beside him and he gave a nod.
"BSI, Black Sand Island. As part of the security, and because the volcanic sand plays hell with plane engines, the airport is actually underground. Only the control tower and the runways are on the surface. From there, there's an underground road that runs from the airport to the housing building where the staff, soldiers, and scientists are all housed. From there, you will be taken to Mechanos' Tower, Building 6." James nodded and then gazed at several other buildings.
"I think I see one of those buildings you were speaking about. The... CCC? Has a cable running up the side of the volcano." Stiger nodded.
"Yeah and, like I said, they are Top Secret. There is also another, smaller, building almost right beside Mechanos' Tower that only Mechanos himself has access to. The guards at the building are a strange bunch, never leaving their posts, never showing up at the barracks to eat, drink, or rest. And they have orders to shoot to kill anyone other than Mechanos who approaches Building 7." Stiger looked back to the cockpit but then glanced back to James.
"By the way, just so you know, do NOT shift into your dragon form here. Mechanos has over three hundred dread griffons here on this island and they act as the security force in the event of a Level 5 Code Red. And a dragon appearing in the middle of the island would certainly warrant an alert." James nodded as the transport dropped lower and then touched down on the runway on the island.
As the engines slowed down, James suddenly felt a lurch and saw the ground rising up and realized the transport was on a lift that was going down into the ground. Almost instantly, the transport was bathed in artificial light as the lift slowly lowered the aircraft into the subterranean hangar. An alarm horn echoed around them as the lift slowed and then stopped with a sudden jerk. James looked around and saw Marks rise from his seat and come back to the body, a look of relief evident on his face.
"We've arrived. Lieutenant, take His Majesty here and deliver him to Building 6. The Emperor wishes to see him." Stiger nodded and then walked to James, giving him an apologetic look before roughly pulling him up and shoving his sidearm into James' side.
"Let's go. Colonel, I assume that transport is awaiting outside?" Marks nodded.
"Pulled up just as the lift shut off. Well, Your Majesty, I can certainly say you are the first, and most important, piece of cargo I've ever had to drag across a continent. Hopefully, I'll be back in a fighter, and never have to pilot one of these ever again." James blinked his eyes groggily which made Marks look to Stiger.
"He looks almost comatose, what the hell did you give him and how much?" Stiger rolled his eyes.
"Had to adjust the dose and readminister the drug mid-flight. Damn dragon-in-human-body bullshit. He looks human but he's got a dragon's metabolism. Damn drug worked it's way through his system quicker than normal." Marks growled.
"Damn dragons. What I can't understand is how the hell can dragons live amongst us without us even realizing it?" Stiger shrugged.
"How the hell can a dragon become King of a human nation unopposed? Any true human would be ready to storm the gates and slay a reptile trying to dominate humankind." Marks nodded.
"Yeah. Damn dragon-loving Syllians... Right, well as long as he isn't too out of it to hold a decent conversation with the Emperor I guess there's no harm done. Let's go."
James was guided to the door of the plane. He hated having to act out of it but it was neccessary in order to avert suspicion. As he left the plane, he saw a vehicle that looked similar to a Syllian Multi-Purpose Vehicle. Stiger got in on the passenger-rear side, beside him, Marks got in the front, and the driver, a corporal, started the engine and started off. As they crossed the hangar bay and drove towards what looked like a large steel door was, the corporal flipped a switch.
"Colonel Alfred Marks, Lieutenant Derrick Stiger, and Prisoner. Operation Serpent, authorization code: Delta-Sigma-Echo-Nine-Two-Alpha-Eight."
The sound of metal locks echoed and the doors slowly opened as the vehicle approached. When the doors fully opened, James was stunned by what he saw. A truly massive underground tunnel. The driver accelerated through the entrance and immediately moved over into one of the four lanes marked on the ground. As they sped by, James could see multiple vehicles, soldiers, and other pieces of military equipment. There were also checkpoints that, ordinarily, stopped vehicles, but for this vehicle, they didn't stop it.
The ride was uneventful until they approached a turn off with a marker listed as Facility No. 10: Eastern CCC/ Facility No. 3: Asset Housing. The driver slowed the vehicle down and turned right, coming to another checkpoint which, for the first time, stopped them. The officer produced a clipboard and glanced to the driver.
"Vehicle DSE92A8? Move to the Blue Line, continue past Checkpoint F10, and proceed to Area F3. Be advised, General Abernathy will be coming through with an inspection party to check the CCC Facilities and Captain Davies is still in the midst of tunnel inspections. Also, we've been getting some shocks which has the eggheads at the Research Center a little on edge." The driver nodded and the officer let the vehicle pass.
James took care to memorize everything he saw. To be honest, his mind was actually curious despite himself how the Rotarians, no Mechanos, had been able to do this. Syllia had tunnels that cut through mountains to alow for vehicles and trains to pass but nothing on this large or grand a scale. He wanted to ask Stiger if he knew how long the tunnels were but knew that, for the moment, he should remain silent.
The vehicle continued on for about three minutes until the driver pulled over near what looked to be a large foundation for a building and killed the engine. Marks gazed back to Stiger and James.
"At last check, the Emperor was in his tower, in the study. He is likely still waiting. We'll take the lift here up to the fifth floor of the building, then cross the catwalk to Facility 1, and from the we cross to the Tower." Stiger nodded and helped James out of the vehicle who roughly shook his shoulder at Stiger's grasp which made Marks smile.
"So, His Majesty has finally joined us? Allow me to intruduce myself, I am-" James lifted a hand and scowled.
"Colonel Alfred Marks, Commander of the 666th Air Wing. Yes, I know who you are. I made it a point to study the man who has tried to kill my youngest son on several occasions." Marks gazed at James and then sneered.
"I'm flattered. So, what do you know?" James gave a sneer that unnerved Marks despite his calm outward appearance.
"I. Know. Everything. Born Alphonse Edward Leeds on the Thirty-First day of Hallow, 1902, you were the youngest of eight children and despite being the baby of the family, your penchant for getting yourself and your older siblings into trouble frayed on both your parents."
"On your tenth birthday, you were purposefully left behind where you were found by a military officer who, once he learned of your family and their refusal to take you back, he adopted you, changed your name to Albert Jacob Daniels and enlisted you into the military academy where he taught."
Marks looked as if he had been slapped by a mermaid. Stiger meanwhile found it difficult to hold in the laughter that was trying to burst forth. Seeing his intended target squirming, James's smile broadened and he continued.
"While at the academy, you met a beautiful lass by the name of Monica Daniels who was the only daughter of the base commander, your adopted father's older brother, so, your adopted cousin. The two of you immediately realized that you shared the same birthday, had the same penchant for pranks, and on your sixteenth birthday's things went a step further. Albeit, unintentionally."
Marks face was turning, to James' eye, a wonderful hybrid shade of embarrassed and furious. Marks' emotions didn't know whether to about face and storm off indignantly or cock back a fist and try to knock James' block off in anger. James didn't give him a moment to think, and gave him the other barrel of his intelligence 'shotgun'. Stiger managed to keep a straight face but inside he had gone slackjawed in shock.
"Word got around, as gossip always does, and before you could count your stars, your adopted father had you transferred to another academy and resigned his post in the face of his furious older brother." Marks spluttered in indignation and James nodded to him.
"Turns out, by the way, you did get your 'cousin' pregnant but she had a miscarriage and died in childbirth, it was a girl. In an effort to evade her wrathful father, who had swore to kill you should he see you again, you changed your name again to Alphonse Jacob Marx, at least until you heard about the Marx Murders of 1925 and then, out of fear, changed it yet again to the current Alfred Lee Marks."
Marks was struggling to maintain his composure. James had just blown the door off of Marks' closet and started yanking the skeletons out one by one. All the while, James had slowly shifted small things, his eyes, his teeth, his senses, so that Marks couldn't help but realize what he had standing before him. A dragon. A creature that, if he so willed it, could shift forms in the blink of an eye, rip him apart with no trouble, and then return to his original form just as quickly.
A creature that Mechanos had said was not to be harmed under any circumstances no matter what he said or did. Given Mechanos' current 'cold' feelings towards Marks and other 'failed' aces like him, James could have shifted, gutted Marks, and still been invited to join Mechanos for whatever the hell the Emperor had planned to discuss with him. Of course Mechanos would have been fretful, after all, it would have been Marks' blood that was staining James de Launces hands.
The Emperor wouldn't want his 'prize' to arrive irritable and soiled by the blood of an incompetant, glory-seeking bastard like Marks. James allowed his eyes to flash dangerously before giving Marks a wave of his hand.
"I could go on, to be honest, but what's the point? Up until your assignment to Dieter Muntz's squadron your life and career was negligible. You were practically destined to live out your life in complete anonymity, passing from this life to the next without leaving so much as a whisper or an echo of yourself. That, I believe, was your greatest fear." James gave a glance to Marks' shoulders and huffed.
"Now, here you are, a Colonel. Yet, a Colonel without a force to command. Your benefactor ready to hand your ass and head to you on a silver platter. If you were to drop dead right here and now, who would miss you? Who would mourn you?" James returned his features to normal and dropped his voice to a very low pitch and sneered.
"Absolutely no one."
Stiger coughed once and got James' attention before facing Marks.
"We should get going before Mechanos wonders what's taking us so long..." Marks gave him a venomous glance but nodded all the same.
"Fine. I want to be rid of our package and back to the airport before dark."
The walk through the barracks was just as uneventful as the drive there. It wan't until James was led into Facility 1 that things got interesting. The roar of generators and engines, the sound of steam-powered machines pounding on sheet metal, the familiar crackle of welders and the whir of air powered ratchets and wrenches got his attention and James stopped to overlook the factory floor.
On a wall nearby was a piece of metal that gave the floor number and what was being made on the floor. As James glanced, Marks chuckled.
"Impressive, isn't it? Emperor Mechanos spared no expense to copy your blueprints on how to build manufacturing areas. The fifth floor is only for infantry weapons, particularly the new 'assault rifles' he's been working on but you get the idea. Sorry you can't tour the whole building but there may be time for that later, unless Your Majesty doesn't really care about mingling with the common workers." James growled and actually considered making Marks have an unfortunate 'accident' here and now but a glance from Stiger made him hold back. Instead James sneered to him.
"Why don't you go take a long walk off a short pier? Or perhaps tie a weight around your feet and try to breathe underwater? Besides, I believe your duty was to simply escort me, I seriously have doubts that Mechanos would want you to report to him when it has been made abundantly clear that he wishes to speak to me, unless you wish to stick around and get yelled at for some unknown offense." Marks growled.
"Nice try but I do have to report to the Emperor." James gave a condecending nod of understanding which only served to infuriate Marks even more as they crossed the factory and the walkway to the next building: Mechanos' Tower.
Almost as soon as James saw the tower, he froze, flashbacks from the Dalon Conflict surfacing, unbidden, to his mind. The race to the top floor, the explosions as the floating fortress started to sink, the massive explosion that ripped the tower in half as he and Lysa barely escaped Dalon's last ditch trap. All of this he remembered as if it had happened yesterday.
Even though painstaking efforts had been made, James' eyes recognized burn marks from the flames of the explosion still visible on the tower under the hastily applied coats of paint. Areas where new steel plates were bolted, rivetted, and welded to the older structure were visible and had been hastily painted to seemingly give a sense of uniformity. On the fifteenth floor of the tower, where the explosion had split it open, there was a 'belt' of steel that was wrapped around the tower and fastened by numerous bolts and welds which in turn had been reinforced with numerous sheets of steel every ten feet or so around the diameter.
It didn't escape James that he was staring into a ghost of his past. Stiger had told him that Mechanos had salvaged the Poseidon and used pieces of it in his island citidel construction but he had failed to mention that Mechanos had actually rebuilt the central tower that had, at one point, been Dalon's seat of power.
As they entered the tower, James was struck by the quiet of the place. Compared to the last time he had stood in this tower, it was now as quiet as a tomb. aside from the groaning as the metal expanded and shrank as heat from the sun ebbed and flowed through it. Though the tower had been rebuilt, it appeared Mechanos hadn't actually thought of furnishing the structure. The floor they were on, the sixth floor, was simply an empty space. James remembered running up the tower as the fortress started sinking under them. As they reached the eighth floor though, James was struck by the fact that the stairway going up further was sealed off by a slab of steel. In the middle of the floor was a large elevator that must have been one of Mechanos' modifications. Marks saw James' expression and chuckled.
"One of the Emperor's many improvements. A single lift going straight up to his office. No stairs, no ladders, and you have to have a key to operate it. Only one way to get to him and, if he feels he is in danger, he has a kill switch that blows up the cable holding the elevator." James chuckled at that which took Marks off guard.
"A perfect defence. If one was a cornered rat. Yet, for this plan's merits, it does have flaws." Marks glanced to him.
"Such as?" James gave him an unsettling grin.
"As if I'd say what I was thinking. Then again, if I was given time I could probably come up with at least eighteen ways to circumvent these countermeasures." Marks grunted, assuming James was bluffing, and then produced the key needed to operate the lift. As it started, the elevator rose slowly, then picked up speed as it got higher. As they neared the top floop, the lift started slowing down and James chuckled.
"Last time I was in this tower I had to fight to the top floor." Marks sighed.
"Well the Emperor didn't see any reason to put in several dozen meaningless flights of stairs when he is the sole occupant of the tower. He's a genius but lately he's even more paranoid than usual." James chuckled.
"Considering how many times you and others like you have failed him, let his plans, his superweapons, all his gains all go to waste? Who could blame him? If I recall, you were present at how many failures? I believe the Whirlwind was the first real failure you allowed to happen, then of course the Hydra in Avalon, the silver griffon Princess Ayura, and most recently the loss of the Chimera at Launces. Heh, you must be on pretty thin ice." Marks growled angrily, a sound more akin to one a dragon would make rather than a human.
"Keep talking like that Your Majesty, and I will actually consider tossing you through the first window we come to." James chuckled.
"Then of course I will have to shift into dragon form and land safely on the ground and you'll have to go all the way down to the ground floor and bring me back up to Mechanos and explain the delay and the broken window." Marks fumed angrily as the elevator stopped and the doors slid open.
In stark contrast to the floors below, the top floor of the tower was richly decorated. Almost immedately upon leaving, James could smell the aroma of rich tobacco, cherry wood, paper, ink, whiskey, coffee, and then also the familiar smell of a medium-rare center cut sirloin steak, steamed vegetables, fresh spring rolls, and strawberry-pineapple upside down cake. As they advanced across the room, two guards dressed in class A uniforms opened the wood and glass doors to the inner room.
There, seated at the dining table against the far wall, was Emperor Otto Mechanos, patiently waiting, hands folded calmly, and eyeing his new arrivals with keen interest. His greying hair was combed neatly, his clothes formally pressed and decorated with numerous accolades and awards he likey had just pinned upon himself He even had a mockery of the Syllian Cross made of onyx and steel around his neck on a blood red ribbon. He gave a nod to the guards and motioned to the seat across from him.
"Your Majesty. It is a pleasure to meet you face to face at last. Please forgive me for not standing, a lifetime of bending over a drawing desk and seated behind one has given me a severe case of gout in my legs and they're acting up today. I do hope your trip was pleasant." James gave a polite nod and gazed around the room.
"I must say you have made an improvement to this room since the last time I was here. You've scrapped the old pipes and machinery and made the whole room seem much more livable." Mechanos gave a smile and nodded.
"Of course. This is my home away from home. Unlike Gregory Dalon, I have certain... comforts... that in my old age I cannot even contemplate living without. A large office with plenty of space for my workbench, my library, my designs and drawings. Almost everything I've every worked for in my long life is symbolized here in this office. Oh, forgive me, you must be famished from your trip, please, be seated, we can talk shop after you have had dinner."
James gave a cautious glance but then decided to be polite for the time being. After all, if Mechanos had wanted him dead, there had been plenty of opportunities to do so en route here. He doubted Mechanos would stoop so low as to poison the drink of a 'guest'. He took the seat and glanced at the servant who set a plate down before him and poured a glass of wine for him before doing the same for Mechanos. Mechanos glanced at the bottle and nodded.
"Chateau de Glorie 1870, a wonderful vintage. Tell me, Your Majesty, do you have a preference?" James nodded.
"Indeed. Normally I prefer the Riesling or perhaps an Grand Astor-Lindt 1880 vintage. But, the best wine I think I ever had was during my second anniversary to my wife. My daughter had just been born, and my wife and I enjoyed a wonderfully rare vintage found in a sealed off section of the castle's wine cellar, a Castille Braun Vintage 1720." Mechanos gave a sigh and his left hand went to his chest.
"Be still my beating heart. How I envy you. Few wines can match the color, the taste, and the sheer beauty of the Castille Braun vintages. I regret I have only tried one once before and that was in my youth. I wasn't as... experienced as I am now and sadly drank it as if it were a common table wine. To be honest, the fact that Castille Braun was destroyed during the War of 1810 was a travesty in and of itself." James chuckled and nodded.
"My former steward, Bertram Ross, would have agreed with you wholeheartedly, if he were still with us." Mechanos nodded.
"Indeed. Even in this far off place in the world, the knowledge that Bertram Ross possessed has been taught and retaught to many a starry-eyed schoolboy. I'd like to think that, if my son had lived long enough to pursue his dreams, he'd have made a wonderful doctor." James glanced at him.
"You had a son?" Mechanos nodded.
"Indeed. My wife, Birgette, poor woman, died in childbirth. My son, Lawrence, died just after his sixteenth birthday. He was out riding his horse when a snake startled it. The horse reared, fell backwards, and crushed him. He had long told me he wanted to go into medical school. I've had plenty of time to reflect on everything I did in my younger years. If I could turn back the hands of time, I would do a lot of things differently." James gave a nod.
"I know that feeling. Not a day goes by I don't miss my family, my parents and siblings. I know that their deaths are avenged and their souls are at peace but... I can't help but wonder my parent's reaction to their grandchildren, their great-grandchildren. I... I keep picturing my parents at the old summer home, trying to spoil those grandkids rotten." Mechanos chuckled.
"There is a pleasure I never could claim for myself. Nothing makes an old man feel young again than watching the young run around, play, enjoying life. These days though, I occupy my time with my drawings and my designs. Bah... One of the great sorrows of mankind. The greatest advances in human history come in the tempest of war." James nodded.
"Indeed. Speaking of war, may I ask, why did you precipitate this conflict?" Mechanos sighed.
"That, I'm afraid, is a question I am unable to answer at the present time. Oh, speaking of which, I have someone I'd like to introduce to you." Mechanos glanced to the guards who nodded and walked to another door and opened it.
A loud clanking noise was heard as the door opened, getting James' attention. He turned out of curiousity to see a man in a full suit of armor come in through the door. The armor was in and of itself a ghastly sight. Not so much as because the form of the man was mishapen, but for the fact that the man gave rattling breaths, the limbs, connected with hoses, pipes, and steel rods, moved with jerky, delayed motions. Mechanos motioned the man over and gave James a smile.
"Your Majesty, may I present my assistant, Mr. Sir." James glanced to the metal man with a frown.
"That's a rather strange name. Usually means that either your real name is something that is best left unsaid or that you don't really bother with it." The metal man grunted something James couldn't understand but Mechanos chuckled.
"I believe you hit the nail on the head, Your Majesty. He's actually shy." James huffed.
"Seriously? To be honest, the last time I saw a man looking like this, it was one of Dalon's automen." Mechanos gave him a grin.
"Is that so? Well then, I think an introduction is in order. Would you like to meet the man behind the mask, James de Launces?" The metal man suddenly grunted in shock.
"Sir, I would recommend against that. As you know, I only remove my faceplate for maintenance and during that process, I can't breathe properly." Mechanos chuckled.
"For a man who survived what you went through, you seem awefully timid. I don't think I've ever seen you so reluctant. Maybe because we have a bit of a crowd with us. Colonel Marks, I'll speak to you later. All of you are dismissed." The guards nodded and left the room, ushering out Stiger and Marks who was still confused as to the whole thing. James glanced at the departing group curiously and then back to Mechanos.
"I don't understand what the big deal is. I don't give a damn who he is. It's not like I've ever met him before." Mr. Sir stopped still for a moment and then gazed at James.
"Actually, that isn't entirely true. You have met me before. Of course, it has been a long time." James gave a puzzled glance at Mechanos who only smirked as Mr. Sir unfastened the clamps on his helmet and faceplate. The wheezing grew louder and James could hear the distinct sound of an artificial pump working in time with his breathing. As the faceplate came away, James went ramrod straight, eyes widening.
Mr. Sir had scars running across his face and scalp. He had no hair, no beard, no moustache, no eyebrows or eyelashes. He was also deathly pale and upon closer glance, the tube that enabled the breathing machine to work was grafted into his neck. Despite the scars, the lack of hair, and the horrifically disfigured man before him, one thing stood out.
His eyes: Dark green.
Mr. Sir gave a lopsided smile and spoke, his voice now unimpeded by the faceplate but still raspy thanks to the tube.
"It's has been too long, James de Launces."
James found himself struggling for breath. Mechanos' smile widened as he gazed at the two before him.
Standing before James, for the second time in his life, was Gregory Dalon.
...
...
Or rather, what was left of him.