34. Prelude to Rain

Dynamo didn't need another warning before ending his meeting. They needed to lay low. Patrick, one of the leads in the port disease research team went missing. If either flew or took shortcuts as usual many unsavory types would notice them. Instead, Lena held her skate augmentations out and held on to dear life with Dynamo the same. He rocketed towards their destination in the most legal manner he could imagine. Crowds were startled by the two jetting across the streets leaving trails in the roads.

Dynamo gripped the lamposts and jerked their entire bodies for turns; it was a miracle neither they nor Lena cracked under the pressure, "His schedule says he should've been there last night- ah" Lena struggled to keep arms around the rogue unit. Her leg cramped at the next turn, both straightened out banged against a person and trashcan. "Can we slow down just a little!?"

"No chance," Dynamo was too far gone to regard his own safety, "Just bare it a bit," he became more careful in his turns; ends of his heels supported their combined weight behind every pivot. Elias' Medical Foundation came closer by the second, its stout build just in reach. The final stretch. Funny enough, neither noted any PD unit coming after them for the obvious violations, "Gotta thank Carnel for that one later…." if things came to the worse they would need the knight.

Both entered through the main entrance. A brown tiled floor matched with the marble walls and countertops; everything in the visiting area was the shared shade. Over the countertop they went, right under the stairwell to the resident nurse for assistance. She was dressed for action in the restricted zone if so required. Patrick Fischer, last year of his medical studies was tasked with research with virology as his major. He was already knowledgeable in his field, however, he hasn't turned up for shifts since the night before yesterday. Nobody had batted an eye in the facility until more information was brought. For now, the fact remained. Patrick Fischer has gone missing.

Lena's heart paced faster than an engine. These days that rate became the norm, "So….what do you have planned now?" she turned to Dynamo, sitting right outside the foundation with legs stretched against the pillars. She was beside him, his finger tapped the side of his cranium with each call. Carnel was on the line.

"Alright, I've sent the sentinels your 'identification' and 'credentials' as you'd like to call them, go ahead to the location," sarcasm and air quotes were felt across the airways. "I'll be in the perimeter if you need backup."

"Alright thanks, also tell Lucki the shirts she got were nice it's a cute color," Dynamo lurched to his feet, ready for their second sprint. "Follow along, if he did get kidnapped then there's only one place I can think of right now….the most obvious spot."

"Hmm?"

Before she knew it Lena was swept away to a particular location, "Ummm," she researched this location before. Out of the city and as far east they could go before the sea blocked their path. In the most northern reach of Mandalay's eastern coast was a cliffside. The bluffs were victim to years of abuse from the sea, pushing its sandy hide deeper into the beach leaving a wave-cut platform exposed. Border walls in the sea were long built to prevent erosion of the land, meaning the secrets of the cliff would stay hidden, "There's nothing here…" Lena was increasingly annoyed with sand sticking to the soles of her shoes.

She looked at the natural arches in the distance, almost the same as arches formed on the sides of the cliffs, winding all the way down. Layers of dark and white stones checkered together; each stack witnessed by an age of mankind one couldn't hope to fathom. Dynamo walked past her to the arches on the sides of the cliffs. Right before the giant circular opening, his arm stopped Lena from stepping forward. "Shhhh, look at those,"

Lena focused on where he pointed. Even with her optical augmentations, it was a strain to focus on the two black dots in the darker segments with a shine in them. Cameras. They followed Dynamo's path the instance he walked forward and cleared his throat, "Registration number CC0-0000 Dynamo Legbuster!" he declared to the wall, "I am on active duty under the rule of Alexander Dyson and by conjunction, fishing queen Lucki Dyson for the glory of Gottenfall," his case stated to the ghost. "I have been given access by word of the Red Knight Carnel, upon these claims I demand you reveal yourself."

Nothing happened. For a whole minute Lena was left wondering what was going on. Dynamo stood with a stoic expression wondering if this was the correct cliff or not. There was a clack and a crack. Along the wall a split occurred. A diagonal parting through the arches to show a layer of steel behind it. It was withered and oxidized with rust covering the hull. One half slid into the side and the other sunk below. Someone awaited them on the other end.

Lights sprung to the master's call and before them bowed another. Two mech soldiers armed with plasma rifles stood awaiting inside next to the mechanism that controlled the door. A simple panel, "Aw fellas, that Carnel kept you in here for a while huh?" Dynamo strolled along past the unreceptive duo, by now his partner learned to not question these sorts of things and go in. "Anyways our stay might be long I dunno, doing some investigating."

New air filled the ancient tomb's lungs for the light of ages shone within the withered halls. Beyond the model guards, Dynamo's steps ceased. Destria's seaside route used to be sealed for another reason, "Daimons called this route home," he whispered, "Now you can hear a pinfall" memories of tragedy he never witness plagued the inner walls of his brain. Fake tears would never do this tomb justice. Only one thing would make the final resting place of thousands be at peace...but the world rather not provide such a gory expense. "Keep a bit of distance from me, okay?"

Dynamo remained cautious. A deep breath fueled fluoride into his uranium reserved. Concentration was key to controlling the molecules from not swaying too far from his frame, neither contacting him directly, "Gotcha," his partner spotted the change in the air. Lena let him walk a few meters ahead, past the debris. The walls were coated think in rust, so was the cracked floor that fell in with an unstable step. Fresh air or not the dubious smell pronounced itself for you, noxious enough to strip paint. Evident by the walls. "Say, you know this route too...right?"

Dynamo nodded, "Of course I do," he was brunt, "This was Ciel Destria's bestiary. Scuta's old home," Ciel Destria was a man to behold, a father of war machine technology with a soft spot to the cave daimons and they reciprocated his feeling. This district ladened in glass walls were their homes. Against the domains deep within where giant chambers where inhabiting beasts once roamed and hunt. Most were similar with dim lightning, pools of water, and hanging stalactites. "In case of the worse, the Destrias held routes in their pools that lead to the ocean- they were commonly used by the daimon who wished to stretch their legs nonetheless."

After the battles and their containment breached they multiplied rapidly, though these in particular never provoked the Astarama in any manner. Rote allowed Scuta life to rule over these….but he was in the Western ends of the laboratories. Why didn't he see it back then? Why Scuta prevented him access from the depths in the first place. "Sorry if I'm not the most talkative right now."

"It's alright," Lena waved off, "Seeing the reason why we're here in the first place…." a childhood friend was stuck on her mind. A bit of the same in the case of her partner. It was clear from his unusually gentle steps and reactive gaze. Hand dragged against the rust revealing the old coat.

"A bit funny, is it not?" Dynamo laughed to himself, "Destrias, a legendary name just as influential as the Dysons of this age- Rote held them in his courtroom before the Contemporary war where they were the main victims," his tone tremored from past pains. Memories of the mad inventors..."Well, one Destria remains alive….but we all know how he turned out."

The final Destria called Skylandria maximum his home. Sunlight turned their back on him. People expected him to be another genius rather than one of the worst criminals Doubhain witnessed. But his name was but another name for a ballad yet to come. Dynamo got too comfortable. The echoed drips of the pool encapsulated them too much.

Something else was in these ruins. No words of warning before he pulled Lena into the closest menagerie chamber. Glass crumbled under his foot once concealed against the door frame. A hushed finger signaled Lena opposite to him. Bow drawn with a laser's, the steps outside ceased. Engines roared to life to end another.

...

"You've grown mannish, if I may say, Wildcard," Dynamo struck. The entirety of his weight flung with his leg. Straight through the rusted wall and to the torso of the figure that now held him. A chest so tough that he couldn't hope to crack the first layer of scales. Lena's heart pounded at the man so tall she couldn't witness their face. A dragon gripped Dynamo by the head. "To what do I owe the pleasure, my dear Legbuster?"

Durigon, the continent that nested the worst of the worst. Men grew strong where the soil was coarse for they were far from the top from the food chain. No, the very pinnacle of any, even beyond the command of gods were these beasts. Dragons. Lords of greed and tyranny now ran thin over the centuries. Their forms were constricted by arts of their last tribe, but Dragnoks still embodied the shameless hunger of their ancestors. So did this man, the truest and purest of an age. Draglion, head of the Dragnoks. His horns scratched the ceiling and wings poked the walls at full spread. "Ah, sorry about that boss."

Dynamo laughed off the murderous blow. The dragon dropped him to his feet; Dynamo wasn't even half his height, "Huh? What are you doing here, Legbuster?" another roar alerted Lena behind the dragon. This was….she froze in place. Another Dyson had poked their head from behind the beast. At first, they were confused why the warden of Skylandria would be here. But his mannerisms weren't as refined, not to mention Grant wouldn't allow his mane to grow so untidy.

"Oh hey, what are you up to," Dynamo questioned the mining foreman Daedra. Mines brought only bad thoughts to the pyromaniac's mind.

"I'm the one asking the questions here, Wildcard," Draglion announced. "It would be best for both ends to explain."

Under the watchful eye of a ruthless judge, the parties disclosed their parts to each other. News exchanged of the inner situations in Mandaly along with possibly treachery in the miner's hell.

"I see….this is quite alarming," Draglion scratched the back of his head, "One of the leads gone missing….and you say you haven't seen any daimon en route?"

"Not one," Dynamo sat between the foreman and Dragnok leader. Lena however, remained flustered and distant from them. Dysons and Dragnoks…..who else would this unit know!? The Fu-jinn of Seigen? What about the Midnight Masqueraders of Vanta's courtroom? No, it would be a stretch to think he was that influential….

"So the hole we found in our mines leads to Mandaly huh…..interesting," Daedra whispered words to silent ears, "We'll need to search into that later then, but for now," he snapped his fingers. Soon the titan of a human made his way to the odd one of the group," You didn't introduce yourself to me," a gesture of courtesy with hand extended outwards. "It's clear you know who I am, but who the devil are you?"

Lena gulped. Her hand wavering as the grip was sealed in a tight shake, "Lena…." the title struck a chord with the Dyson.

"Ah yes...Buakham in that case?" it wasn't a surprise he knew her title, "Yes I remember the scuffle my twin and mother had over you after your pyromania episode- quite a lovely bit," scorn riddled his tone in the most obvious way. He retracted his grip and shook off his hand, "I've heard from my dear sister you two are antiquated as well," he muttered more under his breath. Disdain was the only thing he felt for this woman, but it wasn't a new reaction the pyromaniac had. After all, who in their right mind would freely associate with a person like her?

"Yep, that's me aha…" it was more important to focus on the case at hand. A tunnel of monsters went silent and an entryway now penetrated the mines miles away. Terrorists ran in these newly powered routes. What was most concerning was the reaction Daedra had from whatever Dynamo whispered. As he sat the rogue unit made his way to his ear; his lips didn't move. Daedra nodded with every order delivered.

"Alright, but don't get on my case for that, old man," Daedra held little respect for the eldest in the group. The foreman didn't have the eyes of an angry man, his were forged by a deeper form of distastes. Distaste towards Dynamo. The rogue unit saw this; he backed away. Something snapped in the Dyson. "Why do I have to respect some-"

"Quiet child," Draglion grew exhausted of this insolence. Fingers pinched Daedra's mouth shut, "I was to be at my home now, yet courtesy brought me to this journey. Courtesy for your bloodline is the reason why you still have a head to speak such nonsense," his demands forced submission. "Have you forgotten who you speak to? Or should I remind you?"

"Draglion, that's enough," Dynamo protected the boy, "He has his reasons- isn't that right?"

"Hmm-" Draglion winced.

Something silenced the dragon. Caught between his fangs was a pellet that stained his teeth. Eyes forward he eyed the one who lunged. A platoon. Zenith marked across their chins. Where did they come from?" Maybe eight units stood around the corner with wooden cargo boxes. Feet wrapped in skate augmentations and silencers. A thinner body supported the calmness of their movements. Hulls the color of ivory with padding the texture of rust. Palms were replaced with weapons similar to the devices Zaltras employed. One addition was their elbows, cracked back to reveal rockets with laser targeting.

"Hmm? A fresh lot of dummies to release pent-up anger on?" Draglion's saliva seeped off his discolored jowls. Drops sizzled the steel upon contact. No eyes stalked him. Nobody here would report if he went loose. Talons cracked the floor when his fingers touched them; even crouched down he was taller than some of his comrades. Another bullet exploded. Draglion's bicep moved to absorb the shock before Lena. "You three...move."

You'd be a fool to turn down the demand of a beast, let alone king of foreign soils. Daedra held the other two by the collar, yanking them into the closest menagerie enclosure. More bullets fired. Eyes inched around the corner to see the mayhem.

The moment Zenith introduced themselves the one-sided war had been decided. Eight stood in two lines. Six behind with two leads. Their barrels ripped off to make way for plasma blades held in place by laminar flow. Both emulated Draglion's stance. He sprung and so did they. A dragon whose domain was heaven had superior reach.

Plasma gave his scales warmth. He gave them a heavy hand in return. Metal-coated claws cleaved through their shells like butter. Their optical units were his first target; similar to what they thought, "Oh...not smart," more bullets fired. The remaining six slowly backed away, an attempt to blind the beast was met with futility.

"Most old dragons got this second eye-lid to keep out debris, younger ones don't have it," Dynamo added commentary to the brutality. With another blow of savageness a second terrorist fell. "Might wanna duck..."

Their cue was Draglion's swollen neck. He outstretched and aimed his mouth towards the beasts. Pockets of green bile filled on the sides and gushed from the corners of his mouth. The next thing the Zenith knew, the putrid contents of the beast's stomach covered their skin. Click. Sparks emanated from their fangs. Bright blue was the streams. Not enough to melt kosmik surely, but distractions didn't need to do much harm.

"It…..what…" Lena was terrified; looking at this hunched figure reminded you of his origins. Not a minute went by and a spectacle of explosions trapped in barrels and pellets of light was brought to an end. Zenith fought on, trying to remain sturdy on their feet despite the beating. Formation was torn in moments with wooden crates spilling over. For once their cargo wasn't other machines, but glass canisters.

Canisters marked Silverization.