Chapter 56 - Retaliation
The Albatross: (*A Little While Earlier*)

"Da, what's going on?" Armand asked, rubbing his eyes as he woke up. Robur realised his hastened manner was starting to scare the boy somewhat. Armand wasn't used to seeing him like this.
"I have to go, son. Turner is going to stay here with you until I get back," Robur answered, closing the curtains to the cabin windows. "When I leave here do not make a sound and by no means leave here. Wait until someone comes to get you."

"Why? Da, please, what's going on?"
Robur turned to face him. In a cool and collected tone, he explained "The League are here. I need you to stay hidden, do you understand?"
"And what about you?" Armand asked, sitting up in his bed.
Robur chose not to reply straight away, he didn't need to. Armand already understood.

"No… No, please, you can't fight them. It's too dangerous!"
"I said do you understand?" Robur asked again, stronger in voice though not enough to be considered a shout.
Armand nodded, looking down in defeat. There was no point in him trying to argue but the anxiousness in his features was too much for Robur to ignore.
He sighed and sat at the edge of the bed. He lifted his son's chin up, encouraging him to look up at him.

"I'm sorry, but I have no choice-"
"There's always a choice. There's always a way- you taught me that," Armand argued, his voice cracked as he grew more desperate to sway his father from his decision.
"That's for engineering, my lad. There's no way to repair this damage. We have to fight. The important thing is now that you stay safe."
"But what about you?! Da, I need you. What if-" Armand stopped and looked away with tears trying to form in his eyes,
"Armand," Robur said. "I have every intention of coming back alive. Keep cool, my boy. Now of all times I need you to trust me."

Armand shuffled over and wrapped his arms around his father, fearful it would be for the last time. Robur held him gently, stroking his hair.
"I love you," Armand whispered.
Robur found his grip tightening on his only son.
"I love you too, my boy, more than you could know," he answered softly. Robur looked up to see Turner heading over to the cabin through the window.

Robur let go of his son and smiled beneath his bushy grey goatee. "You just have to trust me."
He ruffled Armand's hair and stood up to leave with a reassuring smile. Briskly heading to the doorway, Robur forced himself not to look back to his son as Turner took his place.

"There's a revolver in the bedside drawer should you need it. Lock the door after me. Keep the door locked and stay quiet," the captain instructed.
"Aye, sir."
Robur then leaned forward and whispered in his first mate's ear "If anything happens to me, will you look after him?"
"Of course, Mr Robur. You know I will."

Robur nodded and left without another word. He glanced back at his son with a soft smile. They all hoped it would not be for the last time.

Turner sighed and sat down beside the boy.
"Chin up, lad. He'll be fine," he said, hoping to sound optimistic. "Your father is a strong man."
Armand didn't feel reassured, especially when Turner went into the bedside drawer to collect the gun his father had mentioned. Armand hoped that they wouldn't need it. All that could be left to do was listen to the dreadful ticking of a clock in silence.

The Albatross: *Present Time*

When the sounds of battle finally made it to Armand and Turner's ears, they both looked at each other in worry.
"What's going on out there, Turner?" Armand wondered out loud.
"Keep your voice down, lad. We have to stay quiet. The League's about," Turner whispered.

Suddenly, there were heavy footsteps above them, followed by the stinging clashes of metal. Nemo and Robur were above them, fighting. Turner put a finger to his lips, though he seemed to hold onto the gun tighter. Armand swallowed hard, biting his lip to the point where it hurt. He absent-mindedly crossed his fingers.

A sudden clatter and more footsteps stopped. A shout caught their attention, it sounded like Robur. Armand swallowed hard, trying not to rush to dreaded conclusions. He hated being forced to wait powerlessly whilst his father fought for him.

Curiosity seemed to get the better of Turner and he, gun in hand, dared to move the curtain slightly.
"Allo, what's going on here?" he muttered.
Armand watched as Turner's expression changed rapidly turning into shock and then despair.

"Armand, lie down, pretend you're asleep. Quickly, lad! We've got a mutiny on our hands. Lie down."
"What about you? Turner, what's happening?"
Armand was beginning to get sick of asking people the same question without getting an answer.
"No time. Pretend you're asleep, alright?"

Armand decided to do as he was asked and shuffled down, facing Turner and consequently the door. He closed his eyes tight but soon realised that wasn't how he slept. He relaxed his body, making a very convincing act. A few seconds later someone tried to open the door.

"It's already locked," a voice grumbled. Armand didn't recognise it as one of the League. It sounded more like one of Fantômas's men.
"Check it, we need to make sure everything is secure," another said, much harsher but quieter.
"Turn over, lad," Turner whispered.
Armand did so, just in time for the sound of the key turning in the lock.

Armand listened as the chair legs scraped against the floor as Turner stood up. The door opened.
"What are you doing here?" Turner demanded.
The two men seemed to be taken aback with Turner's being there. "Sorry, sir, we were asked to check you're alright,"
"Wrong answer. What-"

Turner never finished the sentence. There was a grunt and a thud as the first mate hit the floor. Armand flinched but tried to make it more natural- snoring very softly.
"Come on, you idiot. Fantômas wants us off the ship as soon as he's made those two hop the twig. The lad can't go anywhere. Everything has already been set in here."
As quickly as they came; fearful of their blunder the two men left and locked the door.

Armand waited a moment, trying to understand everything. It didn't take long for him to put two and two together. He turned over in bed and leaned over the edge to see what was wrong with Turner. He lay in a heap, unconscious, but the boy could see his chest moving strongly. He sighed in relief. He was alive at least. Carefully, the boy climbed out of bed and picked up his crutch. He was able to get to the window, where he opened the curtain a touch. There was no sign of the two men. What he saw instead was worse.

Robur was holding onto the edge of the ship; Nemo was stalking him like a predator.

"Da!" he exclaimed. Armand looked around for some sort of weapon. He wasn't going to let Nemo kill him- he wouldn't!

The gun was nowhere in sight. The men must have taken it. His eyes fell upon the table, where a few medical supplies were waiting to be used. One of which was a pair of scissors. Reluctantly, he picked them up. He thought about what Zenith had told him several times beforehand. He had to channel out that fear, saving his father had to take priority. He was more frightened of losing him than anything else.

Armand limped over to Turner and tried to wake him up. There was no chance of that anytime soon. The syringe on the floor made it clear as to why. It was up to him. Armand reached into Turner's coat until he found what he was looking for: keys. He made it to the door and fumbled for the correct one. As he did so, there seemed to be a great struggle from the outside. Armand took a few breaths to steady himself as he carefully opened the door.

He slipped outside silently. Using his crutch to swiftly bring him to the end of the cabin. He hid behind the cabin as he heard Fantômas suddenly begin to speak. "Yes, you idiot. Nyctalope is as innocent as they come."

Armand struggled to force himself not to make a noise. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He gripped the scissors tightly, turning to look around the corner. His father was still clinging to the railing for dear life. Armand knew he had to act. He abandoned his crutch, laying it on the floor near his cabin and began to crawl up the stairs. His leg was sore enough to slow him down, but he could still move. It was all down to him staying quiet. He had to stay quiet.

"Robur never killed anyone, Captain," Fantômas continued in Nemo's ear. "It was me."

Armand could tell Nemo had moments left by the time he made it to the top of the stairs. Robur was running out of time just as quickly. With one quick swoop, Armand pushed off on his good leg and rammed the scissors into Fantômas' thigh, closing his eyes as he did so. It was a disgusting thing to even think about, let alone carry out.
"Armand!" Robur cried, trying once more to get up, but his strength was starting to fail him.
The assassin howled in pain and dropped Nemo onto the floor. Nemo didn't try to get up, Armand couldn't even see his chest moving.

Knowing he had to back away, Armand began to scamper backwards on his hands and feet, never taking his eyes away from the assassin.
"You little brat!" he seethed, carefully but swiftly removing the scissors from his leg. Fantômas used his foot to shove Nemo off the ship. Robur grabbed him by the arm before he could fall to his certain death. Robur could hardly hold onto the rail.

Armand shuffled as fast as he could, back down the stairs and towards the cabin. Maybe he could lock himself inside, or Turner was awake. No, the hobble he had caused Fantômas didn't slow him down enough. He was onto him, with scissors raised high in the air. Fantômas was going to kill him.

"Fantômas!" someone bellowed. Armand turned his head. It was Zenith! Armand's face fell when he saw that he was injured. His breathing was more laboured than what it should have been and he was leaning forward a bit.
"Zenith, I thought you'd be dead by now," Fantômas sneered.
"If you knew anything about me, Fantômas, you'd know I don't aim to please," he replied coldly, drawing his sword. "You would also know how much I despise traitors!"

"I'm curious to see how you will deal with one," Fantômas retorted, throwing the scissors away. He found Nemo's sword on the floor and picked it up. Blood dripped from his fingers, and so Armand hoped Zenith could use that to his advantage.

Armand took that as his chance to back well away, he made it back to his cabin, tucking himself in the doorway but didn't open the door. He watched in horror as Zenith, twisted in anger, began to fight the assassin. Zenith was fast and managed to catch Fantômas on the arm within a few seconds. Even though he had no skill in sword fighting himself, Armand could still tell that Zenith's movements were too sluggish. Fantômas wouldn't get caught out again. Yet Zenith continued fighting, injured as he was, risking his life, purely to buy time. Armand grabbed his crutch, trying to see if he could get to his feet.

Zenith was able to disarm Fantômas quickly, but even with no weapon, it didn't seem to matter to him at all. As Zenith lunged forward again, Fantômas only just managed to twist to the left. He avoided the blade and grabbed onto Zenith's right forearm. The one that already carried an ugly cut. Zenith tried to grab the sword with his other hand, but Fantômas knocked it to the floor with a clatter.

Fantômas remained unmoving as he suddenly began to squeeze Zenith's arm without a shred of mercy. Zenith roared in pain as he was driven down to one knee. Gritting his teeth as sweat sprang to his brow, Zenith tried to hit Fantômas with his other hand. He was only able to hit him in the back, which did little.

Armand knew he had to do something, he couldn't fight Fantômas in hand to hand combat, that would result in nothing but his death. What else?! Pressure seemed to lean against Armand's chest as he struggled not to panic. He was running out of time. The boy struggled to his feet and, using the only thing in his hand, launched his crutch at the assassin like a harpoon. In throwing his body weight forwards, Armand staggered to the ground, landing hard on his sore leg. He yelped, curling into a ball as he held onto the old wound.

The crutch hit Fantômas hard and accurately enough for him to let go. Zenith held onto his arm, wheezing as he tried to control the pain. He staggered to his feet, ready for more fighting. Fantômas struck him in the throat as he rose. It was hard enough for Zenith to fall backwards, hitting the ground again. Pain clearly ricocheted across his shoulders and down his arms.

Fantômas scooped up the sword whilst his opponent gasped for air. With a swift, unhesitating strike, he drove it down into Zenith's chest, his heart. Zenith tried to sit up as the blade hit him, he opened his mouth in shock.

"No!" Armand screamed.

Fantômas removed the blade and threw it well out of the way.
"You should have let the vampire finish you," Fantômas muttered.
"And I hope Hyde gets you," Zenith snarled weakly, coughing, trying to relax.

Fantomas stared hard at the boy, debating on killing him. Armand didn't care- he just stared at Zenith in horror, trying to keep the tears out of his eyes. He was still alive but looked pained. How long did he Have? Armand could see him shivering. Armand had failed. Fantômas scoffed. Casually, the assassin consulted his pocket watch and noted the time. He inclined his head towards Armand and appeared to be contemplating killing him. Without another word, he finally left the boy alone.

Armand picked up the scissors again and hurried over to Zenith, limping violently with all the pain moving had caused him. He dropped down beside Zenith, expecting the worst.
"Zenith?" he whimpered.
"I'm fine, Armand. I'm fine," he stammered, trying to sit up. A deep wince cut him off.
"He stabbed you-"
"He tried," Zenith answered. "I'm sorry if I scared you. I realised that wasn't a fight I could easily win..." Zenith slowly went into his pocket and took out his cigarette case, which now bore a harsh scrape and a deep graze on his side. Zenith's acting meant Fantomas hadn't noticed it had slid off.

"Luck seems to be on my side. Though whilst I have my case at my disposal, I could really do with a cigarette-"
"No," Armand said, taking the case out of his hand.
"Why not?" Zenith grumbled, watching as Armand put the case in his trouser pocket.
"You're still hurt, Zenith. Smoking isn't going to help."
"It helps enough," Zenith muttered, grimacing in pain.

Armand bit his lip as he thought. There was no way he'd be able to stand to get help, his leg hurt too much, burning with so much pain it took his breath away. He struggled to keep quiet. He'd have to help Zenith himself. He quickly removed his shirt, showing his dainty torso which was covered in goosebumps with the cold.
"What are you doing?" Zenith managed. He was quickly getting worse.
Armand wiped the scissors clean on his trouser leg and then cut his shirt in two horizontally. He tied the top half around Zenith's bleeding arm, using the sleeves to tie it around. He shivered as the cold caught him, but he was sure to keep working. He folded the other section up into a square.

"Lie down please," Armand said.
Intrigued, Zenith did so, shuffling as best he could. Armand made him stay down, once he had the material in position over his shoulder. Zenith hissed in pain but managed to stay still.

Armand tried to get up, but his leg was hurting far too much. He couldn't focus. "I have to help my father-"
"You've done more than enough. The League will help him, they're on our side now- look, they're already there-"
A wave of pain overwhelmed him, and Armand had to keep him still as he tried to sit up. He knew he had to stay with Zenith. His wounds were taking their toll. Armand looked up to Mina and what looked like the invisible man trying to help Robur up. He only hoped one of the League would be able to help Zenith.

"Hold on, Monsieur."

(*A Few Minutes Earlier*)

Skinner had to hurry past Zenith and Fantômas, who were fighting like there was no tomorrow. Zenith wouldn't be able to last long. Not with the state he was in. Knowing he had to help the others first, Skinner went straight to Robur. At first, he couldn't see Nemo and feared the worst, but he noticed Robur was only holding on with one arm. That was when he found Robur was holding onto their captain. The gunshots had stopped. Fantômas must have finally run out of gunmen. Skinner took Robur by the arm and began to heave him up as best he could.

Robur was in great pain as he tried to keep both himself and Nemo up. Even with his strength, he wouldn't be able to hold on for long.
"Skinner, wh-" he exclaimed, knowing exactly who was trying to pull him up.
"I'm getting tired of explaining things. Just hang on," Skinner said through gritted teeth.

"If you can lift me enough so that I can wrap my arm around the post then I'll be able to last longer." Robur groaned in pain. He really didn't have much grip left.
It would take all of Skinner's strength but lifting him up a few inches was achievable. He grunted as he used both hands to drag Robur up somewhat, giving him a much better grip.
"Can you reach Nemo?" Robur asked quickly, his face was bright red with the strain. Skinner tried as best he could but it was impossible.
"It's too far. I'll need help."

As if right on cue, Mina flew up to meet them and landed on the deck. She was cleaning her bloodied face but she seemed to be mostly herself again, especially with the blood gone.
"Skinner?" she called.
"I'm here, Mina, I can't lift them both."
"I'll hold onto Nemo until you can lift Robur up."

Mina didn't give him any time to consider. She lay on her belly underneath the fence and began to slide down headfirst. Skinner thought she was going to fall until she twisted her ankles together around a post, locking her in place.
"Good thing you're wearing trousers," Skinner muttered.
"Lift him higher," Mina instructed.
Straining himself and his injuries, Robur managed to lift Nemo up that tiny bit more with a roar of pain.

Mina grabbed onto Nemo's wrist, giving Robur a spare arm to pull himself up with. With Skinner's help, Robur managed to climb and roll to safety. He lay on his back in agony, panting for breath. Skinner left him for now and went to help Mina up, but she suddenly released her grip. She dropped.

Skinner dived forward.
"Mina!"

He couldn't catch her, he could only stare with wide eyes. He gulped, hoping this was part of some plan. She could fly- couldn't she? As she fell there was a snarl. She had transformed. Skinner fell backwards as she rocketed back up in the air. She growled like a big cat as she lowered Nemo down to the ground, returning herself to her normal form.

"Will you please stop scaring the hell out of me!?" Skinner exclaimed.
"It was the fastest way. Nemo needs help."
All attention fell to Nemo. He wasn't moving. Mina felt on his neck for a pulse. She readjusted her hand, once, twice. Her body tensed but finally, after what felt like an age, she relaxed.
"He's still with us. Fantômas must have released him in the nick of time," she breathed, gently moving Nemo's head. He groaned, opening his eyes a crack.

"That was too bloody close," Skinner murmured.
Mina helped Nemo to sit up, rubbing his back as he took shaky breaths.
"Slowly, Nemo. It's alright."

Robur dragged himself up to his feet, barely able to hold himself. "Where's Armand?" he rasped. "Where's my son-"

A shot rang out, slashing across the air like a whip.