Wrong Turn

Fighting Fair

The captain flinched as an explosion tore through the city's lively night-time chatter. Light flashed in one of the outer districts, dangerously bright even so far away.

The dockworkers and sailors excitedly rushed to balconies and balustrades to stare at the large plume of smoke rising from a large, squat factory sitting right in the middle of some taller buildings.

Seconds later, the air rang with the sound of several more explosions, three poppers going off almost at the same time. A loud, wailing siren rose from the city below.

There's that siren.

Exclamations filled the air of the pier as its occupants watched several small skycraft, painted the blue-black of the City Guard, rise from the ground and converge on the areas. A worrying number of them converged on the Bank, a large building with ornately carved pillars and imposing statues.

"They're a little early." The captain grumbled, pulling a stopwatch from one of his flight suit pockets and glancing at its face. He turned to give a signal to Uriah, their pilot, where she perched in the cockpit. She gave him a thumbs up and turned on one of the external lights installed on the bow of the ship.

The light lit up a good portion of the docks, before turning off once more, and a moment later shouts and loud crashes rang out as his crewmates began popping out of the works. He could see little of the frantic motion occurring on the docks, but he knew his people would be violently disabling as many skycraft as they could, wreaking havoc then quickly vanishing, only to appear elsewhere again.

The fewer skyships were able to take to the skies in pursuit of them, the better.

Dockworkers, their superiors and the sailors on their ships struggled to understand what was going on, as hulls were ripped open to let the flight-gas out, and fire erupted sporadically in random spots.

Everything was going to plan, which meant everything was about to go to shit.

Right on cue, a group of soldiers shoved through the chaos, headed for the massive elevators at the center of one of the pier's massive supports. In their center, they escorted two men dressed in expensive garments, gold and black suits in a style foreign to the local region. One of them he recognized as the man from the sands earlier in the day, which meant the other was the ambassador.

The soldiers – Iron Fist soldiers – moved with experienced calm and confidence, eyes scanning all around for any threats, guns and blades drawn. They were clad in matte black metal armor that hugged their frames and gave them an air of deadly menace.

They didn't escort their charges so much as bundle them along, one of the soldiers dragging the ambassador along by the arm.

"Come on Keys." The captain muttered through gritted teeth. "Can't let the bad guys get into the elevator with the prize."

The group were passing along a catwalk and right by the Flying Squirrel when Keys did her thing.

A whole section of the catwalk gave way, heavy steel beams and trellises coming loose and falling towards the city below, along with a bunch of the soldiers they supported.

Hardened men or not, they screamed as they plummeted to their deaths. The captain winced. There was no way they would survive the fall, but his current problems ranked higher than those concerns and keeping his crew was what was most important.

The few remaining soldiers and the men in their custody stared at the scene stupidly, struggling to comprehend that their comrades were there, then suddenly not. One of them pushed the ambassador behind him, another getting on his belly to stretch a hand to panicking soldier who had managed to grab a strut before he fell, dangling in the high winds over the fatal drop.

Keys abused the hell out of their fortunate lack of coordination.

A large crane spun, the massive iron hook attached to the end of its metal chains swinging out of the dark. It slammed into the party and cleared several of remaining soldiers off the walkway with the crunch of buckling metal and breaking bones. They also screamed as they tumbled into oblivion.

Keys, who was operating the crane mechanism, had managed to avoid hitting the shellshocked ambassador they were meant to be rescuing, though that meant the soldier firmly grasping his arm was spared as well.

And he'd figured out Keys was the attacker, spotting her where she sat in the cab of the crane. He grabbed the ambassador and pulled him close to ensure she didn't try knocking him off the catwalk, raising his gun and aiming at her.

The captain let out a half-strangled yell, watching as she leapt out of the cab, barely managing to catch herself before she fell out entirely and plummeted to her death. The glass partition of the cab exploded inward a moment after the sound of the soldier's gun firing tore through the docks.

The soldier gave no outward reaction at the miss. He calmly adjusted his aim... and his second shot went wide as the ambassador's assistant shoved him from the side. The motion broke his hold on the ambassador as well as his aim. Both the ambassador and his assistant fell to the floor and the soldier swore loudly, turning to point his gun at the two.

Gotcha. The captain grinned.

His back turned, the soldier failed to spot the gantry's hook, which after taking down his comrades, swung back like the hand of a furious giant under the force of gravity. It hit him hard enough to send him flying into the night, and he didn't even get a chance to cry out.

The rest of the pier was still in mayhem, but momentary calm descended on their corner.

"That wasn't so hard." The captain murmured to himself, not holding back his smile. "Of course, could have something to do with the fact that it wasn't quite a fair fight, but who's counting?"

The ambassador's assistant pulled his superior to his feet, waving at Keys in acknowledgement. Showing common sense, he hurried the confused ambassador towards the gangway connecting the pier to the Flying Squirrel.

Once they were onboard, and he was sure his men had safely collected the valuable duo, the captain gave Uriah the signal to proceed the plan. She did the light flashing thing again.

Unnoticed in the chaos, smaller groups had hit the berths for the tugboats, hijacking them. Now, at the signal, they were unmoored in moments and steering towards the explosions in the city. Those would pick up their comrades on the ground and whatever they'd managed to rustle up.

At the same time, the troublemakers scattered across the pier disengaged and made for the skyship with all haste, rushing onboard. Most of the crew had been involved in the undertaking in one way or another, and they rushed to their posts, deckhands working to unmoor the ship and gunners manning their weapons.

Once they were free and he was sure everyone was aboard, the Flying Squirrel away from the pier, which was noted by the incompetent security defending the structure. They immediately began yelling demands that the mercenary ship turn themselves in and submit to the law.

Those demands quickly faded away on the wind as Uriahsteered the skyship towards the city walls. She quickly began to gain speed,engines complaining loudly as they headed in the direction of the disastrous sandstormthat was just minutes away.