The Drago, Marco Escapes: A New Nosferatu Emerges

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Marco, once the Drago, sat in the cell of the ship. He had been hauled into a Corvette ship, which was escorted by two speed boats. The purpose? To keep the Drago constantly mobile and prevent rescue efforts from reaching him. "The hell's with the weather today? It's being storming a lot in this part of the country for no reason these last few days." They were along the costal region of southern Isla Dracon, and they had been caught in a storm for almost three days now, forcing them to anchor off shore, but still close enough to shore they could quickly reach it if they were forced to abandon the ship. "I know right. Well it should clear soon enough. Storms can't last forever." The men walked off past the cell.

Meanwhile on deck the soliders were huddled either under any sort of protection from the rain, or in the control cabin. The storm clouds seemed to black out the sky now, as if they were trying to destroy the ship. "Falco Maxime. This is the convoy come in." Static, the storm interfering with the signal. Slamming his hand against the control board the captain muttered under his breath, swearing like the sailor he was. A crack of lightning struck close to the boats, the waves swelling for a moment from the force. "Captain something's on the radar. It looks like a...a jet" coming over to the radar the captain looked over the man's shoulder. "I'll be damned it is. Maybe they sent some supplies. It's moving quickly so let's radio it while we can." Clicking on the radio they sent a message, "fighter jet, what's your designation? Over." waiting a few moments for a response they clicked it on again "Fighter jet what's your designation? Over." This time the whole ship seemed to shake as they heard a voice, filling the cabin. "My designation, is your death." The voice cackled cruelly and the captain started shouting orders at the crew. "Get to your battle stations, now!" Now the jet flew in under the storm, it's blazing engine speeding it along as it's guns spun up, ready to rip through the ship's hull. As this happened the ship's main cannon took aim and fired, scoring a direct hit on the cockpit. As the ship burst into flame it moved unhindered, blasting into the ships cannon and control deck. No one notice a figure leapt from the jet now as they tried to fight the ensuing fire. Walking the figure slipped into the below decks and went for his target. "Still alive Drago?" Looking up Marco froze. "Your alive?!" He shot to his feet. Nodding you tossed aside the metal door as if it were paper, treating his chains in similar manner. "Come on fly boy. We have a ship to commandeer."

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