We were just boarding the jet when the first reports came in—static-laced vids, shaky feeds from rescue drones, and one screaming transmission that got the message across better than the rest put together: “It’s eating us alive.”
I knew JJ was already at New Atlantis, handling pre-concert logistics. We had to get him out, of course.
I also knew we weren’t flying into that hell in a civilian aircraft.
Convincing the Indonesians to lend us a military VTOL wasn't too hard. I promised them good PR. They gave me a tilt-wing gunship and complimentary aerial refueling. Close enough.
Tag rigged into the gunship.
Vanya and I packed light—just drones, gear, and some very unpleasant hunches.
It was a long flight across the Pacific, flying across multiple time zones into the oncoming darkness—figuratively and literally. We arrived near nightfall, circling the dying arcology and watching the rescue efforts falter. Boats couldn't get to the wreck because of Atlacoatl's minions, and when one of the choppers fell out of the sky right before us... after that, no one else was coming.
So we jumped.
Wing suits make for a dramatic entrance.
Didn’t help with the smell.
New Atlantis was already half-sunken, burning in some places, flooded in others, and crawling with people who used to be of the human metatype. Now? Tails, gills, sharp teeth. Some kind of impromptu evolutionary festival. Vanya and I cut through the chaos, avoiding the worst of it, until we linked up with a woman trying to coordinate evac. Tough. Smart. Not dead. We brokered a deal—she helps us find survivors, we haul out everyone we can.
Meanwhile, Tag got to play drone commander. Her Ares anti-sub platforms carved through Atlacoatl’s minions like they were made of seaweed and bad ideas. Torpedoes, depth charges, the works. She was giggling the whole time. I’m not sure if that’s healthy.
Wizkid kept a commlink link to JJ alive, even as the Matrix flickered. JJ had taken refuge deep in the arcology, navigating bulkheads, breached halls, and collapsed corridors like a damn trooper. With some technomantic hacking—overriding emergency doors, activating repair drones—Wiz cleared the path. Hacked the comlinks of a couple—they may be monsters now, but they were humans a few hours prior, and most folk have comlinks—and sent them chasing ghosts. He even shocked a particularly obstinate one with a well-timed power surge. Just another Tuesday.
JJ finally made it to the surface, just as the Big One smashed into the platform again. Tag took that opportunity to deliver a full drone payload into its flank, torpedoes and all. She even rammed the drone into it for flair. The impact knocked Atlacoatl into the deep. Dead? Who knows. But he was gone, and that was enough.
New Atlantis was doomed. We got as many survivors aboard the tilt-wing as we could. JJ among them—except now he’s a damn t’skrang. Sinuous tail, snout, and rock-hard abs. Voice still the same, tho. And unlike many of the others he kept his cool and didn't go bat shit crazy. Is he a little freaked out? Sure. Did he try—and fail—to eat my face? No.
We debarked the human survivors on one of the shore-side emergency airstrips. The rest? The deep ones, the t'skrang? I called them patients. Vanya called them problems, but kept them unconscious as per my orders. The boss lady, now on station on the Lost Continent, called them an opportunity.
Tag shrugged and flew us out of there, low, with a dark transponder, then turned east, skirting along the northern edge of the Continent, towards Fiji. Zara’s people will take it from here.
And JJ? He stays with us.
###
Maybe we can hook him up with Dr. Velasquez once we pull that bitch out of the 4th World bush? I wanna see them kiss and make babies. For science, of course!
#lowkeycutelizardmommy #normalizemonsterlove #tailsandsnouts4all
@Wizthe1andonly
###
No comments:
Post a Comment