Chapter 128: A Ruined Birthday
Kross: Define what you mean by MHA plotline. If you mean when we will return to UA, I will say possibly three chapters. Maybe four. If you mean when we will return to things like the Forest Camp or the Stain Arc, we won't.
You know, a few things weren't adding up for Uraraka. The more she thought about the mission, the more questions she ended up having. For one, the MSF had an oddly large presence in Nigeria. They had bombers nearby on speed dial. They had an entire swarm of helicopters flying in, ready to fight. They had far too many men in Nigeria, plain and simple. The nearby FOB justified some of their presence… but it still left so many questions.
Why were Russia, China, and South Africa so focused on attacking Nigeria? Why did Za-Ku-Na seem so advanced? Who was Luan Igwe? And why did Midoriya seem to know more than he seemed? All she had were questions. Questions that felt oddly terrifying to answer. So through all the regret, terror, and worry, Uraraka elected to focus on a different question. One, she felt kinda bad about thinking of.
Which is why when she glanced toward Midoriya and sat up in her bed, she couldn't help but look guilty.
"I know now might not be the best time to ask, but with the mission done… we're still getting paid, right?" Uraraka asked, feeling guilty for even uttering the words. However, that was the entire reason she was out here. All of this was for money for her parents. It just felt wrong to worry about though, especially after nearly getting a man killed. Sitting up in his bed, Midoriya held the same, if not more guilty look she did.
Which, to her, made some sense. Pequod was one of his family's pilots. Actually, no, that did him a disservice. Pequod was family. So Midoriya believed he'd almost killed his family.
"We should be… well, no, you should be," Midoriya eventually replied, as he glumly looked at the wall, "You signed a contract with Dad. I don't think he can legally keep the money from you."
That… that was somewhat comforting to hear. Her mistakes wouldn't deny her family the money.
"I hope it's enough," Uraraka commented, pondering over just how much she'd made. Midoriya, though, took her words as more of a question and then pulled out an Idroid from a desk next to his bed. Switching to a calculator, the teen turned toward Uraraka.
"Well… let's see. Our client was paying us forty thousand dollars for all ten rhinos, and forty thousand dollars for any other animal we could find… along with an up-front payment of about eighty million dollars to cover fuel, aircraft maintenance, food, equipment, transport to the US, and personnel costs," Midoriya began to say, immediately gaining Uraraka's attention. Looking over his Idroid, Uraraka's eyes quickly widened as she saw the full cost of everything. It was all so much money; her parents barely even made a fraction of it.
"The MSF gets a sixty percent cut to pay for everything, and the remaining forty percent gets split up amongst the participating personnel. So along with us were three C-17s, each with three people, all to handle the animals we caught, and then there was the crew for the livestock carrier. They had about twenty people," Midoriya continued to say, before Uraraka became confused.
"What about the Intel people watching us?" Uraraka asked. The MSF did have people on drones, not to mention FOXHOUND's whole intervention. Wouldn't they be getting paid? Midoriya simply shook his head in response.
"Nah, they were just assigned to keep watch of us. They were already getting paid by dad and weren't participating in the contract," Midoriya explained, giving Uraraka some relief.
"Oh, ok," she replied calmly, while Midoriya returned to his Idroid. He slapped a few numbers into the calculator, then, scrolling by as he added and multiplied the necessary items.
"Now, since we were the only ones out capturing the animals, we get a bit more money than the others. Likely four percent more… in the end, you should be making… four million yen," Midoriya replied, a slight smile forming on his face. And the number made Uraraka pause for a moment.
"Oh…" Uraraka commented, a little surprised.
"Is something wrong?" Midoriya asked, confused, with Uraraka shaking her head rapidly.
"No, no, it's… It's great," Uraraka replied with a nervous smile, "It's a lot of money… just surprised, is all. Four million yen."
It was truly great. She could get her parents a new car with that amount of money. At this point, literally any extra cash would help immensely. But… it did feel a bit low. After all that effort, all the bullets, bloodshed, sweat, tears, and so many animals, she was being paid about twenty-five thousand dollars. Don't get her wrong, it was a lot of money, and she wouldn't complain about what she got. It was just a bit surprising, is all. Ah well. Money was money. She'd just take another contract, and make a bit more… assuming Snake would let her… oh, who was she kidding?
They weren't going to let her or Midoriya do this again. Uraraka would have to find some other job. Of course, as she thought this, Midoriya continued to look at her, confused.
"Four million… yen?" Midoriya muttered, his eyes moving back to his Idroid. He looked it over for a few seconds, scrolled through some of his calculations, and his eyes shot wide open.
"Oh! Wait, no, I misspoke! Sorry!" Midoriya rapidly told her, the teen moving to go over his math.
"Let me just check over everything again," Midoriya told her, with an embarrassed smile, "Yeah, no, sorry. I thought I converted it to yen, but I missed that step there. We didn't make four million yen, we made about four million… dollars."
Four million… dollars… Uraraka felt as if her heart stopped. Her eyes went as wide as Midoriya's, the ramifications hitting her fully.
"S-so… how much are we talking about?" Uraraka asked nervously, the girl quietly pleading that she wasn't getting her hopes up. Midoriya checked his math a few more times, just to be sure he wasn't mixing anything up. Once he was sure, he held the Idroid in front of him, giving Uraraka a better view.
"I believe this much," Midoriya replied. Anxiously, Uraraka looked at the hologram, her eyes not believing the number she was seeing. In total, she made ¥616,650,000. Uraraka was frozen stiff as she stared at the hologram. She'd gone deathly quiet the longer she stared at it. Without a word, tears began to form in her eyes. Quietly, Uraraka cried, much to Midoriya's worry.
"Uraraka?" Midoriya asked, concerned. Quickly, he hopped out of his bed and landed on his bad leg.
"Ow," he groaned, while grabbing onto his IV stand for stability. Hobbling toward her, he looked at Uraraka, worried.
"I'm fine, it's fine," Uraraka told him, the girl quickly wiping her tears away, "I just…"
Six hundred million yen. It was enough to fund her family's company for years. Not decades, but they could fund all their employees, buy some new equipment, and afford materials for… for three years! Uraraka smiled widely and cried tears of joy.
"We did it," Uraraka muttered tearfully, before she reached out and pulled Midoriya into a hug, "We did it!"
She laughed loudly and excitedly, her arms wrapped around Midoriya tightly. Midoriya couldn't help but laugh as well. They'd done it.
While Midoriya and Uraraka's punishment was to be enforced by Snake and All Might, they weren't the only two responsible for their mission's… shall we say, extravagant end. No, there was a third participant. However, when it came to dealing with Victoria, that job fell to only one person. The mother of AIs. And for Strangelove, she'd… honestly found it a bit difficult. How exactly does one punish an AI? You can't force them into physical training, money doesn't have any real value to them outside of their own realm, and more importantly, you can't exactly force the AI into completing their punishment.
That said, Strangelove believed she found a decent solution. Which is why, as she angrily looked at her digital daughter, she couldn't help but fume.
"I expected this kind of thing from Texas, Marston, Martha, even Dell, but never you," Strangelove told her tiredly, "What you did was wholly irresponsible, Victoria."
"Y-yes, mother," Victoria replied, her avatar crossing her arms behind her back and looking down at the floor, ashamed. Strangelove knew she'd already heard the words a million times, but in this case, she felt she should hear them a million times more.
"It is a miracle that everyone survived that endeavor. Honestly, what were you thinking?" Strangelove questioned, watching as Victoria's avatar shrank back. Shaking her head, Strangelove came to a stop in the R lab. Finding the lone computer she'd set up for Victoria's punishment, Strangelove plugged her Idroid into the machine.
"You are going to make up for your actions, understood?" Strangelove told her, and Victoria's avatar then nodded.
"Yes, mother. I will do whatever is required," Victoria replied, making Strangelove sigh. She didn't like punishing her, but what else was she supposed to do? She actively jammed MSF satellites. She aided Midoriya in evading the MSF. To think any of this would even happen. No matter, Strangelove thought. Looking down at the computer she set up, Strangelove began switching it on.
"Good, you can start by organizing some data," Strangelove told her, the computer loading up the necessary data, "You can stop when I tell you to."
"That… doesn't seem too bad," Victoria replied, confused, with Strangelove quietly disagreeing. It didn't seem that bad because she assumed there was a purpose to this punishment. In actuality, Strangelove decided to take a page out of Snake's book. The data Victoria would be organizing was entirely gibberish. There was nothing important about it. It was all just random bits of info created from a random number generator. And said generator would not stop creating data until Strangelove switched it off.
In other words, Victoria would be organizing a never-ending pile of digital trash that would only stop coming when Strangelove decided it was enough. Though with that said, Strangelove had said she can start with organizing data.
"That is only the beginning of your punishment," Strangelove explained, while clasping her hands together. Leaning forward on the computer's desk… she felt a bit like one of those anime characters Hal liked so much. The ones where their faces were obscured, and all they had were a pair of glowing glasses. Strangelove couldn't remember exact character names, though… best to add them to her ever-growing watch list.
Regardless, there was something else Strangelove wanted from Victoria. Something her sly smirk couldn't hide.
"For the rest of it… I want the photos you took of Izuku and that Uraraka girl," Strangelove told her. If she could see Victoria, Strangelove was sure the AI would be smiling maliciously.
"Oh, ok," Victoria replied, with an unseen cheeky grin. Seconds later, Strangelove found dozens of files being uploaded onto the computer.
"Atta girl," Strangelove commented, before quickly looking through the first file. Victoria, having decided to only show the important stuff, had organized everything exactly how Strangelove would. Which meant the teen's first date was what Strangelove found immediately. Her heart melted when she saw the photos of her nephew and Uraraka sitting together having breakfast.
"Aww," Strangelove cooed, watching as the two hugged each other. And then they shared the same chair for the rest of the meal! They didn't want to let each other go! It's adorable, Strangelove thought to herself. Just then, she glanced up from her computer and spotted Paz walking by the lab. Standing up, she quickly waved her over.
"Paz, come in here for a moment. I believe you should see this," Strangelove told her, the ex-spy turning toward her, confused.
"See what?" Paz asked while walking into the support lab. She shuffled past a few engineers, carefully ensuring she didn't run into anyone. When she got close enough, Paz saw Strangelove smiling.
"It appears Izuku has fallen in love," Strangelove explained, making Paz go wide-eyed.
"Noooo," Paz stated, as she walked around to face Strangelove's computer. Looking at the computer, Paz laughed and smiled.
"Her! I knew there was something between them!" Paz exclaimed, gaining the attention of more people.
"Knew what?" Chico was heard asking the man peeking his head around the doorway. Amanda and Cecile followed behind him as they all stepped into the room.
"Izuku's got a girlfriend," Paz replied bluntly, while scrolling through more files.
"No way!" Chico laughed, rushing toward the computer. Soon, everybody was around the machine, going over every photo Victoria had brought. When they found the audio recording of the two's first night, they all had a good laugh.
"Seems he found his petit chou-fleur," Cecile laughed while wiping a tear from her eye, "Good for him."
"It did explain why he was so comfortable showing her around Mother Base," Amanda noted, while crossing her arms together. Her words got a few nods from everyone. It made sense in hindsight. Midoriya didn't need to show her the place. He didn't need to introduce her to everyone. Hell, he washed out his hair dye and his makeup. If that wasn't trust, Strangelove didn't know what was.
Yet through all this laughter, Strangelove spotted Chico rubbing his chin. He looked at the photos contemplatively, a question forming on his lips.
"So Cecile… strange question… but you did give Izuku protection, right?" Chico asked, making Strangelove and Paz sputter in shock.
"Chico!" Amanda exclaimed, while Chico held up his hands defensively.
"What I'm just saying! The two of them were all alone for basically a week!" Chico explained, "And may I remind you they are teens!"
"Izuku isn't the kind of person to do that," Cecile argued, with Strangelove cautiously nodding in agreement. Why cautiously? Well… she was a damn good computer scientist. She's seen Midoriya's search history. And it was the search history of a teenage boy. A boy who got flustered by girls standing close to him, but a teenage boy nonetheless. Still, Strangelove doubted Midoriya would do that kind of thing. Of course, Chico had a worryingly good counter.
"Well, they were sleeping together," Chico pointed out, making Amanda shake her head.
"Because they only had one sleeping bag. They bought a new one when they went into town," Amanda countered, only for it to be Chico's turn to shake his head.
"No, they didn't," Chico replied, making Paz raise a suspicious brow.
"Yes, they did," Paz stated, Chico again shaking his head.
"They didn't. Go through the footage again," Chico told them. Not believing a word Chico said, Strangelove did just that. She scrolled through Midoriya and Uraraka's date, arrived at the point they entered the general store, and… they walked out with no sleeping bag. Maybe it was just a fluke. Strangelove opened the next file, and they still didn't have a sleeping bag. They didn't buy a second one. They were sleeping together for a week straight.
"I'm… sure it'll be fine," Cecile stated nervously, while Strangelove brought a hand to her face.
"It better be. I'm not old enough to be a great Aunt," Strangelove muttered tiredly, causing the others to laugh.
Today was a day for celebration. That was the only thought going through Razak's mind as the man watched hundreds of servants rapidly scamper around the enormous ballroom. They brought in the largest godrogodro, mofo gasy, and génoise cakes he'd ever seen. Accompanying them were entire tables worth of koba, flan au coco, banana fritters, bobon cocos, bonbon voanjo, éclairs, mille-feuille, fruit tarts, choux cream pastries, macrons, ice cream, and likely a hundred other desserts.
At the same time, dozens of people hung decorations all over the ballroom. Balloons, streamers, banners, flags, and lights were placed everywhere. Enough to make the room look like an extravagant pink and gold mess. But then again, the room was already quite pompous-looking, it being akin to a larger Palace of Versailles. Finally, who could forget the presents? Dozens of them littered the room, some stacked so tall that it looked like they had put a Christmas tree in the room. The stack just kept getting taller as more guests arrived.
And there were a lot of guests. It was a day of celebration after all. So… why the hell was Razak so worried? He was the Emperor of the single strongest naval power on the African continent. He was the smug, confident, calculating bastard who continually gave Luan Igwe anyuerisms. Worry was the last thing he should have been feeling. The very emotion clashed with his appearance.
His black hair was mostly slicked back, bar a few curls drooping down his head. He wore a more military-esque attire, consisting of a dark green long coat, white dress pants, and black boots, all embroidered with various tassels, epaulets, and a few medals he'd earned years ago. And when it came to his face, his skin tone was a chocolate brown, and he possessed a strong jawline with a faint five o'clock shadow. Everything had been tailored to what Razak viewed as perfection.
Yet as he took a moment to move a chair, which he found to be just an inch off center, his appearance did little to hide his worry. Which was entirely noticeable to everyone around him.
"My lord, wouldn't it be best to leave this to the party planners?" a voice next to him asked, "I do believe they know what they're doing."
Glancing back at the man, Razak found the voice belonged to one of the palace's Royal Corsairs, one of the many guards littering the palace. They were an organization founded in Madagascar long before they united with Mozambique. They were the elite bodyguards of the Madagascar crown, along with being some elite special forces. When both warlords combined their empires, they agreed to keep the Corsairs due to their skill.
Now this guard specifically was dressed in the Royal Corsair's ceremonial dress, that being an old navy blue seventeenth-century naval coat, with finely pressed trousers, shined black boots, and a slouch hat with far too many feathers. There was also a sheath by his side, holding a French cutlass that all corsairs were required to carry for ceremonial purposes. During more normal military matters, the Corsairs were primarily equipped with stolen French uniforms and equipment.
Stepping away from the chair, Razak calmly nodded and clasped his hands together.
"No, no, you're right. I wouldn't have hired them if they didn't… the cake should have been a centimeter taller," Razak said, before quietly muttering to himself. His eyes hovered over the illogically tall ten-layer cake. He measured it earlier out of sheer paranoia and found it to be smaller than he requested. This, of course, surprised the guard, who raised a brow.
"Do you believe she would notice a centimeter difference?" the guard inquired, dumbfounded, causing Razak to grumble.
"No, but I do," Razak argued, the man beginning to tap his foot quickly. Everything had to be perfect. Not a single mistake or flaw could be allowed. Wordlessly, his gaze moved from the cake and out toward a nearby window. In an attempt to distract his thoughts, Razak looked out at the city outside. Even at night, he could make out the city of Toamasina as clear as day. It was the designated capital of the empire for the next two years, before it would switch back to Quelimane for another two years. Dozens of massive buildings littered the area, filled with hotels, casinos, shopping, and all manner of tourist attractions.
With the palace having been built so tall, Razak could even see the Port of Toamasina. The repurposed naval yard was in perfect view, with its hundreds of ships all sitting docked. Battleships, carriers, heavy cruisers, light cruisers, destroyers, and submarines all sat together. Two ships in particular stuck out to Razak. One was the IMS Suprématie, the single largest battleship ever constructed. A 298-meter-long, 40-meter-wide behemoth with three triple 18-inch guns as its primary weapon.
Along with six twin AK-130mm secondary guns, eight twin S-60 57mm anti-air guns, eight V-11 twin 37mm anti-air guns, six octuple and six twin ZU-23-2 23mm anti-air guns, twelve quadruple ZPU 14.5 millimeter anti-air guns, and two quad box P-800 Oniks anti-ship missiles. The incredibly varied choice of anti-aircraft guns was mainly due to the engineers slapping on whatever guns they could.
Like South Africa, Mozambique didn't have a very prominent naval history. Madagascar did, to some unofficial extent, but that was long before the age of the battleship. So most Malagasy-Mozambican vessels were derived from French and Russian designs. Of course, that wasn't to say they all were. Because there was the second ship Razak had spotted, the Fortune's Await.
It was a decently large cargo ship that had been repurposed into an aircraft carrier decades ago. All the way back in 2200. An old band of pirates had stolen the ship and brought it back to Madagascar. It ended up serving the local warlord for years, assisting pirates all across the Indian Ocean. The planes it had weren't modern fighter jets, as its flight deck was too small to field them, and back then, Madagascar didn't have nearly the same industrial might it has now.
Instead, it had a fleet of F4F Wildcats, TBF Avengers, and SBD Dauntlesses that would fly around scouting for targets and then strafe ships into submission. And after years of service, it was now a museum ship, having gotten too old and expensive to maintain. Over the years, the Fortune and its aircraft had become a popular tourist destination for the people of Madagascar, becoming something of a cultural heritage. Overall, the ships were a small, pleasant sight for Razak, though they did little to ease his worry.
Eventually, Razak heard the sound of footsteps approaching behind him. Turning around, he found a new Royal Corsair walking towards him. Swiftly, the man placed an arm over his chest and bowed.
"My lord," the guard greeted, before raising back up.
"Captain Levy," Razak replied calmly, "Is everything in order?"
The guard nodded back, his hand resting on the hilt of his cutlass. Stepping to the side, Levy allowed Razak to see the ballroom's entrance more clearly.
"All guests are being vetted as we speak," Levy replied, the guard now also looking at the entrance. There was a line looping from outside the palace. Not the ballroom, the palace. A palace that was utterly massive, sitting at ninety thousand square meters. Though compared to the rest of the palace grounds, it was comparatively small. For reference, the total palace grounds were fifteen square kilometers in size.
It was a city inside a city, complete with all manner of government buildings, entirely separated from Toamasina. The entire place had the military's command building, buildings for all the Empire's ministries, the treasury, several art galleries, the headquarters of the Royal Corsairs, the royal archives, its own airfield, guard barracks, imperial gardens, smaller housing, a slew of small businesses allowed to operate on palace grounds, and much, much more.
Needless to say, there were possibly thousands of guests all coming in, from every corner of the empire. And more seemed to be arriving by the second. For good reason, Razak thought to himself.
"And Mirana?" he then questioned, causing Levy to look down at his watch.
"The Empress is on her way now. They should arrive in twenty minutes," Levy replied, giving Razak both a sigh of relief and, rather counterproductively, more worry.
"Good, good," Razak commented, his eyes again going over the crowd of guests. Some were dressed rather extravagantly, wearing fancy suits, gowns, military uniforms, or even ceremonial outfits similar to the Royal Corsairs. The servants themselves were dressed as one would expect, all clean and tidy with finely pressed uniforms. Then there were the people dressed in the nicest clothes they could afford.
They were outfits one would more expect at a job interview or at work than at such an extravagant party. Commoner clothes, Razak thought to himself. And here, those with keen eyes would have noticed something off. Because at the moment, things in the Malagasy-Mozambican Empire seemed… too nice. If someone compared it to the self-proclaimed South African Confederacy, it would be like comparing night and day.
To begin, one must look at the average life of a citizen in the empire. A citizen of SAC lived a life almost entirely directed by the state. In the MME, the average citizen could pretty much do whatever they pleased. They weren't enslaved; they weren't being held at gunpoint to work in a factory, nothing. If they wanted to work in a bakery or start making their own movies, then they could do just that.
There was no population quota or constant surveillance. There was a secret police, but they were nothing compared to SACs. The average citizen in the empire could own their own home, their own land, and their own business. What's more, they had access to consumer goods of their choosing. Now, foreign goods were somewhat limited, both due to infrastructure needs, not having replacement parts, and shipping times, but the average citizen could own them when they were in stock.
And if they weren't, well, the MME's industrial might was comparable to that of SACs, capable of building all manner of goods from the 1980s. Rather, well-off citizens could even get something like a Porsche 944. And I mean well-off citizens. For the average person, this kind of vehicle was expensive, but not impossible to get. How was all of this possible? Compared to SAC and almost every other warlord on the continent, the MME had something that only Outer Heaven and one other warlord state had.
That was social mobility. The chance to move up in the world. Now the underlying question is how? The answer to that is rather simple. Pirates. This, of course, deserves some context, so we must look at the two halves of the empire: Mozambique and Madagascar. Mozambique was the industrial powerhouse, the force that built up one of the largest armies on the continent. They churned out tanks, guns, artillery, planes, and helicopters, along with consumer goods. If there was a product made in the empire, it was made in the Mozambique half. That wasn't to say Madagascar made nothing, though; they did have factories.
However, Madagascar was the naval powerhouse. They were the shipbuilders, the sailors, the offshore oil drillers, and so on. But they were also the economic hotspot of the empire. They had lots of tourism for wealthy people all over the globe, along with all the empire's financial managers. There was also the true money maker of the empire, that being piracy. The Malagasy-Maritime Empire was a kingdom founded by pirates.
For decades, their ships raided the Indian Ocean unabated. Along with the Fortune, they had a whole mess of captured Coast Guard cutters and military patrol boats. They were a major plague that no one could actually stop without full military intervention, which, for obvious reasons, never happened. The kingdom raided cargo ships, oil tankers, cruise liners, drilling platforms, and whatever else they could.
And of course, this had a rather odd effect when it came to social mobility. If you wanted to move up in the kingdom, then all you needed to do was grab some of your buddies, get an AK or two, some kind of boat, and start raiding ships for the kingdom. If you brought in a giant cargo ship loaded with cars, and dedicated that ship and its goods to the empire, then you were rewarded beyond belief.
Because those cars would be sold off to the citizens of the empire, disassembled for materials, repurposed for new uses, or ransomed off to foreigners. It was all government-supported piracy. And that system didn't go away when the Malagasy-Mozambican Empire was formed. In fact, it was expanded. The empire would get a cut of all stolen goods brought to them, as a form of tax. The people who then brought those goods could legally sell them or do whatever else they wanted with them.
They were an empire acting as a fence and issued letters of marque to its loyal band of pirates. That was why their citizens had access to foreign goods, because their pirates had stolen a container of flat screen TVs. And it didn't end at piracy. Because nowadays, if you wanted to make it on top, you could become a smuggler, a gun runner, a drug manufacturer, a slaver, a counterfeiter, or a scam artist. They were a nation of criminals.
These jobs had become so common, working at a meth lab was like working any other nine-to-five. It even had paid time off benefits. The ironic part was that the empire did have its own laws. You couldn't just go around murdering people, not to mention that free speech was very limited. Rape, kidnapping, assault, theft, and other crimes against citizens were all illegal. And you would still need a business license. And may the lord have mercy on those who don't pay their taxes.
But the message was simple. The average person in the empire could easily rise through the ranks. A man stuck at the bottom could become the captain of his own ship. That didn't mean everyone was doing well, though. The keyword throughout all of this was that citizens were thriving. Those who were not citizens were entirely free game. They were the slaves, the targets to be raided, or the foreigners to be ransomed off.
The average citizen of the empire lived a good life because they were actively screwing over everyone outside of the empire. But did they care? No. They lived good lives under their beloved Emperor and Empress. They were some of the only warlords actually loved by their people. And Razak… Razak loved his people. He could not care less about those outside the empire. The outside world was just loot to be pillaged or lands to be conquered, but those inside it were his subjects.
Be they from Mozambique, Madagascar, Malawi, Zimbabwe, Eswatini, Comoros, Mauritius, or Seychelles, the Muchinga, Isoka, or Mafinga districts, or the Eastern Province of Zambia, they were all his people. As such, even commoners, against the Royal Corsair's wishes, were allowed to attend this celebration. Speaking of the celebration, Razak found the servants beginning to scramble faster now.
The party planners began stepping forward, tapping on a microphone to ensure it worked.
"Places, everyone! Places!" a party planner announced, making Razak's eyes go wide. It was time then. Rapidly, everyone booked it around the room. The entrance to the ballroom was cleared out, and everyone formed a semi-circle around the door. Someone closed it shut, and everyone turned off the lights. Then everyone went silent. The only noise Razak could hear was his own breathing. After a few seconds, he noticed the door begin to swing open.
Light from the outside leaked into the room, displaying a short figure standing in the doorway. Instantly, someone flicked the light switch, allowing Razak to see his nine-year-old daughter, Aveline. Her skin was a caramel hue like her mother's, if a tad darker due to Razak's own complexion. Her hair was black like Razak's, while being long and wavy like Mirana's. The girl's eyes were a dark green, and her face looked somewhat soft and slightly pudgy. She also had dimples when she smiled.
Currently, she was wearing a small, flowing pink dress that Razak had full confidence she had chosen herself.
"Surprise!" a hundred voices yelled out, "Happy Birthday!"
Aveline looked out at the crowd, dumbstruck for a moment, as her mother walked up behind her. The surprise rapidly turned to delight, though, as Aveline's smile seemed to light up the room. Razak blinked, and the girl had already run up to the closest guest she could find.
"Hi!" she loudly exclaimed, the girl excitedly turning toward the next guest, "Hello!"
Razak couldn't help but chuckle as Aveline took it upon herself to greet every single person present. That was not hyperbole. And every guest, both old and young, seemed just as ecstatic to meet her. This was not all that surprising to Razak. If he and Mirana were the beloved Emperor and Empress, then Aveline was the adored Crown Princess. The little munchkin, Razak thought fondly, had grabbed the empire's very heartstrings.
It all started years ago, when she was four. He didn't know how, but she'd snuck into the government-run news station. Aveline had apparently been looking for a camera and remembered the station had one after a tour. With one of the news station's cameras, she sent a live broadcast to every TV in the empire. As a result, the empire got an hour-long livestream of the four-year-old, doing four-year-old things.
The results spoke for themselves. Her public visits also helped her image a lot, Aveline always being a kind and curious child. There was always some amount of wonder and cheer in her eyes, no matter where she went. Eventually, Aveline had gotten through half of the guests before she spotted Razak standing in the far back. With a gasp, she ran past the next guest she was going to greet.
"Dad!" Aveline cried out, giggling, with Razak carefully crouching down. With his arms wide open, he felt Aveline crash into him and laughed. Mostly to hide the groan of pain, before he wrapped his arms around her.
"Hiya, princess, did you like your surprise?" Razak asked, smiling as he hugged Aveline. When he let go, he saw Aveline somehow smiling wider. She moved in place frantically, having far too much energy.
"Yeah!" Aveline happily replied, "It's awesome! There's so much food and- and presents! And Nia's here too!"
The mention of Nia instantly made Aveline pause. Again, she gasped before running off to greet her friend. The sight made Razak laugh as he slowly stood up. The moment he did, he found Mirana stepping up next to him. A small smile lined her face, while Razak dusted himself off.
"Honey," Razak greeted with his own smile.
"I see everything went well," Mirana noted, causing Razak to shrug.
"I believe so," Razak replied. He was still miffed about that cake situation. But the party had already started. Aveline was happy, so things were going perfectly. With that thought, he looked over at his wife. If Razak were asked to describe Mirana in one word, it would be stunning. Her long, wavy, chocolate colored hair draped over her shoulders, mixing with her caramel skin.
She stood at 5'10, a few inches shorter than Razak, who stood at 6'2. She was adorned in an elegant strapless navy blue gown that Razak could not take his eyes off of. But furthermore, she was built. Razak himself was no slouch; he worked out often enough. But Mirana was a totally different story. She had biceps bigger than his, thighs that could crush boulders, and abs you could grate cheese on. Were she and Star and Stripe to stand side by side, Mirana would be shorter, but bigger. And Razak… well, how should he put this… he loved a strong woman. And he doubted anyone could be stronger than Mirana.
She was the daughter of a pirate king. Mirana was a woman who, when she was sixteen, would drag Razak out onto a boat to go and raid cargo ships. She was the kind of woman who smiled gleefully as bullets shot past her face while driving the previously said boat at Mach fuck. The kind of person who charged headfirst into danger, performing MMA moves on militants. For her fifteenth birthday, she stole a ship, sailed out to the Mariana Trench, dove into it, and sat at the bottom for a quote, fun workout. That was the kind of woman she was. And Razak loved it all. She was his beloved beef cake.
He'd been quiet for a while, though, and Mirana raised a brow the longer he stared.
"What?" Mirana questioned, snapping Razak out of his thoughts.
"Nothing. Just overwhelmed by your beauty as always," he grinned, bringing a hand to her face to wipe a strand from her eye. The very action and the words he said made her laugh. Shaking her head playfully, she stepped in closer and wrapped her hand around his. Pulling him in close, Mirana gave him a quiet kiss on the cheek. Right as Captain Levy coughed next to him.
"My lord," Levy stated, as Razak turned toward him, "There's a call for you."
"It'll have to wait. Tell whoever it is I'm busy," Razak replied calmly, his eyes watching as Aveline began grabbing treats with her friends.
"It's from Luan, sir," Levy revealed, disdain clear in his tone. For a second, Razak's eyes went wide before he began glaring at the memory of the South African.
"Of course, it is," Razak grumbled, as he brought a hand to his face, "Again, just tell him I'm busy."
The last thing he wanted to deal with was that man. The white South African did nothing but get on Razak's nerves on the best of times. He was not going to let Luan ruin the night's mood. Yet, he already had.
"Sire… he used the emergency hotline," Levy explained, making Razak freeze. The emergency line was an outdated set of telephone lines that both sides had connected. With the MSF being technologically superior and more than capable of jamming radio transmissions, communications were difficult to fully organize. So they had an emergency line set up, using old physical cables. It was the same technique some drones used, operating with long lines of cable rather than wireless signals.
If Luan was calling him on that line… Razak didn't like what the meaning implied. With a groan, he looked back at Mirana, who nodded knowingly.
"I'll distract her," Mirana replied, as Razak quickly kissed her.
"This should only take a moment," Razak told her when he finally pulled away. With a brisk pace, he walked out of the ballroom's entrance and toward his main office. It took some time to reach, far longer than Razak liked. Walking through the room's wide oak double doors, he surveilled the bookshelves lining every wall before he found the old phone. It had already been answered, likely by Levy, and had been set off to the side rather than on its cradle.
Taking a deep breath, Razak picked the phone up.
"Luan. Terrible timing as always," Razak commented with a dry tone.
"Oh? Am I ruining your evening?" Luan asked from the other end.
"I'd certainly say so," Razak replied, before scratching his face.
"Good," Luan stated, making Razak roll his eyes.
"Since tonight can't get much worse, how about you tell me what you want?" Razak demanded, while boredly looking around his office again. It looked more like a library than anything, bar the dartboard on the wall with a photo of Big Boss and Luan.
"Port Elizabeth was attacked yesterday," Luan replied, as Razak yawned.
"How worrisome," Razak commented tiredly. It wasn't all too surprising. Several warlords had attacked Port Elizabeth in the past. Razak should know; some of the warlords who'd attacked the city were his proxies. In all likelihood, this was one of their doing. Then again, one could hope for it to be rebels. Instead, Razak had the very notion shattered.
"It was by the MSF," Luan replied angrily, leaving Razak shocked. Because that couldn't have been true. For all five years of the war, the MSF had never struck this far south. They'd intercept weapon shipments, but never attacked the south. Not when there were dozens of other factories far closer to their home turf. Yet they did. It gave Razak questions he feared to answer. On Luan went, though, the man grumbling into the mic.
"I take no pleasure in telling you this, but they've effectively crippled my Eastern Fleet," Luan added angrily, "And if the reports I'm receiving are correct, then I'm not the only one who's been attacked."
The Eastern Fleet… they crippled the entire Eastern Fleet. Razak was quietly beginning to panic. Port Elizabeth, about eighteen hundred miles from Taomasina. If the MSF left immediately after striking South Africa, then they could reach Madagascar in… about two days. That was assuming they were coming to Taomasina. But that didn't feel entirely right to Razak. The MSF had struck South Africa's naval assets, not the city's political leaders.
Those were guarded by actual air-defense batteries, and not a bunch of antiquated anti-air guns. Which meant the MSF was striking at more vulnerable, but still devastating targets. There was some other info that Razak took note of. The MSF had struck other warlords, too. That…actually gave him some small amount of hope. With such a devastating attack, the MSF would have to resupply its ships before another strike. Which might give him an opportunity.
"Do you know who was hit?" Razak asked, quietly hoping for a good answer. Much of the MSF's Expeditionary Fleet was out dealing with Japan, so he doubted they'd be sent down to deal with the empire. The Southern Fleet had likely struck at South Africa, leaving it to need resupply. The Home Fleet was logically assigned to hit targets close to home, which left the Western Fleet. They'd have to cross thousands of miles to reach MME territory. It would take days… assuming they hadn't left earlier than Razak thought… damn it, there were just too many variables he didn't know about.
And Luan certainly wasn't helping matters.
"I do," Luan replied, the man not bothering to say much more. Razak waited for him to continue, to say who exactly was attacked, but the man said nothing. Groaning, Razak shook his head and brought a hand to his brow.
"I'm willing to bet this is because of Hammerhead," Razak grumbled tiredly.
"You'd likely be right," Luan said, in agreement, "They're coming for you now, assuming they haven't already."
As if I didn't know that already, Razak thought to himself.
"Any indication on where they'll strike?" Razak asked again, pleading for Luan to give him some form of answer.
"Maybe," Luan replied, before immediately hanging up. The action left Razak in quiet shock. Slowly, he pulled the phone from his ear and glared down at it as he heard the dial tone.
"Dick," Razak grumbled while putting the phone down. Shaking his head, he walked out of his office tiredly and found Levy outside waiting for him.
"Call up everyone you can. I want every base we have on alert and ready for anything," Razak ordered, with Levy giving him a quick salute.
"Yes, my lord," Levy replied, the captain soon running off to rally others. It left Razak to think over everything he'd learned. Li, Volkov, and Luan had all asked Mozambique to help with Operation Hammerhead. And for a time, Razak considered sending the Royal Corsairs. However, he decided to instead let things play out and see what would happen. After all, Razak wasn't going to risk his men if Luan was so willing to throw them away. Now he wondered if that was a mistake.
That said, thinking about it now wouldn't change things. Neither would thinking about this supposed attack heading his way. If they did or didn't attack, Razak wouldn't know. Not until the MSF actually struck. Having all his bases on alert was the most he could do at the moment. That way, they'd at least have some manner of defense ready to go. Returning to the party, he found his wife surrounded by Aveline and her friends.
In front of her floated several bubbles of water, which she began manipulating into all kinds of shapes. There were a few dogs, some cats, a monkey even a rabbit. Though most of the water was like a streamer and just twirled around in the air with the flick of Mirana's wrist. It was a neat little quirk, one that Razak admired greatly. Because it seemed weak, like it was just plain water manipulation. It wasn't.
Seeing him approach, Mirana soon had the water drift back into a bottle. She then said something to the kids, but what it was, Razak didn't hear; however, they all dispersed within seconds.
"So, what did that bastard want?" Mirana asked once Razak was close enough.
"The MSF attacked Port Elizabeth. He thinks they're coming for us next," Razak replied, before tiredly crossing his arms together. Looking around, he spotted Aveline playing a game of tag with some of her friends, now having a dozen children weaving in between guests and servants.
"I'm sure they are," Mirana muttered sarcastically. Razak merely hummed back quietly. This made Mirana pause, the woman slowly looking up at him with her brow raised.
"Don't tell me you believe him. Since when has that rat been honest with us?" Mirana questioned, with Razak shaking his head.
"Rarely ever. But he seemed more sincere today," Razak replied, somewhat unsure. Would he rule out Luan lying? No. The man had said he and others had been attacked, and then sent no other information. It sounded like a giant red flag. Yet at the same time, Luan was a dick, plain and simple. He was a paranoid fascist who only did something helpful when it benefited himself.
That said, ensuring Razak didn't get bombed would, to a certain extent, help Luan.
"As sincere as Luan Igwe could be, that is," Razak muttered, still not fully convincing Mirana. He didn't fully blame her, though.
"What I'd give for that man to meet my blade," Mirana said with a huff, "I could kill him with one strike."
"And you'd look amazing while doing it," Razak told her, again making her laugh. In all honesty, she could probably kill Luan just by breathing on him. And Razak desperately wanted to see that happen.
"Ever the flirt, Razi," Mirana commented with a chuckle. Hours passed, and the party went on. Aveline opened her presents, had her cake, and played all manner of games with her friends. Much to her parents' satisfaction. Truly, everything was going perfectly. Eventually, they both heard the ballroom's speakers switch songs. From rather loud party music, it changed to some long, slow orchestral waltz. It was a song that Razak could not remember the name of.
But Aveline had always had an odd fascination with classical music. The song played for only a few seconds before he felt Mirana's hand grab his. Looking toward her, he found a small smile gracing her face.
"Care to dance?" she asked, making Razak chuckle.
"I believe I should be asking you that," Razak replied, while carefully taking her other hand, "I'll lead, though."
"Is that so?" Mirana questioned with a playful smile, "I thought you liked how I took charge?"
That elicited another chuckle from Razak, the man then shaking his head.
"Oh, alright. Together then, Mira?" Razak inquired.
"Let's," Mirana replied. Without another word, the two carefully walked out, hand in hand. Gracefully, the two moved about the floor, following each other as the music played. Other parents soon joined, the children becoming bored with the song choice. Except for Aveline, who was spinning around, dancing on her own with a wide smile. The sight made Razak smile in return. His gaze flipped from his daughter to his wife, and back again.
It never fully left the two. And Razak didn't believe anything could ruin this moment… oh… Razak's smile soured. He tried to pretend everything was fine, continuing to dance with Mirana quietly. Unfortunately, she noticed the ever-so-slight shift in his mood.
"Something on your mind?" Mirana asked and slowly looked up at him.
"No, nothing," Razak lied, his gaze returning to Aveline. Mirana's eyes then followed his, and when she saw their daughter, it only made her concerned.
"Come on, tell me," Mirana said calmly, pulling Razak closer. Their dancing evolved into more of a wobbly hug. The two swayed back and forth, Mirana's arms wrapping around him.
"...I'm a good father, right? You'd tell me if I was doing something wrong. If I were… like him," Razak spat, his eyes moving back to the source of his anger. That being a lone portrait sitting high up in the ballroom. In fact, sitting all around the higher levels of the room were portraits, yet only this one drew Razak's ire. It was, after all, a portrait of his father, Emperor Jabari Langa. He looked a lot like Razak, though with more wrinkles, a large, greying beard, and a bald head.
Razak held no love for the man. But that was to be expected. He was the quirkless son of a man who valued nothing more than power. Jabari's quirk was a rather powerful one; the old Emperor was able to manifest plasma attacks of all kinds. They could coat every part of his body and provide him with perfect close combat prowess. If concentrated together, he could shoot out beams of plasma like a kamehameha, and would often melt tanks. Actually, that wasn't quite right; he would vaporize tanks.
He'd turn mountains to glass and make rivers boil with a touch. And he used that power to build up forces around his banner. So imagine his surprise when Razak was born. Razak was the runt of the litter, the youngest of three brothers who all possessed quirks. The only reason Razak was even kept alive was because of his mother's love. That didn't mean Jabari liked him. For years, he told Razak just how pathetic he was, how he would amount to nothing, how he was a living disgrace to the empire.
Jabari also did everything possible to try and shape Razak into something worthwhile. He had him go through military exercises, spend weeks out alone in the wilderness, or would lock him out of the Mozambique palace for weeks. Yet for all his supposed "help", Jabari was always disappointed when Razak would inevitably return home. It got to a point Jabari considered that maybe Razak wasn't quirkless, and that he just needed something to awaken his power.
He could still remember the scorching heat of his father's quirk. Even at the lowest temperature, the plasma burnt and scarred his back. Now he couldn't feel anything there, his nerves having been scorched off. Razak wasn't even supposed to be Emperor. His supposedly superior brothers died fighting South Africa, leaving the runt as the sole heir. What's more, Mirana wasn't even supposed to be his wife.
Before the union with Madagascar, it was planned that Mirana would marry not Razak, but his twenty-year-old brother. Then he died, and Jabari wasn't about to throw the alliance away for nothing. So he elected to use Razak for "something useful for once". This caused… let's say complications in his first meeting with Mirana. The then eleven-year-old hated her with every fiber of his being. Mirana was just another tool being used to hurt him.
Of course, that thankfully changed. Jabari was trying to awaken Razak's "quirk" again, while Mirana was in the room. She splashed water on the Emperor, attempting to put out the plasma on his hands. When that didn't work and instead enraged Jabari, the nine-year-old Mirana punted him across the room. Jabari was in a full-body cast for months. It was Razak's second favorite memory, placed under Aveline's birth.
Which… did worry Razak. Both he and Mirana had Aveline somewhat late in life. Razak was thirty-six at the time, and Mirana was thirty-four. Now they were forty-five and forty-three. They were busy working for the empire, so they weren't really planning on a child. Then Aveline just… kinda happened. And it… It terrified Razak. He vowed that he would be better than Jabari. Razak would pamper and love Aveline more than his father did with him. The lingering thought that he was failing… It worried him a lot.
The very question made Mirana pull him closer.
"Razi, if you were, I'd have punched you," Mirana bluntly told him, making Razak chuckle. Looking her in the eye, he raised a brow and smiled playfully.
"In the face?" he asked, Mirana then bringing a hand to his face.
"Well, maybe not there," she replied with a laugh, "The point is that you're doing fine. No matter how many times you ask me, the answer will always be the same."
Razak still found that hard to believe. Especially with his father's portrait looking down on him. It felt like his eyes were burning into the back of his head. The very thought made Razak frown.
"...I should have burned that portrait," Razak muttered, Mirana slowly nodding in agreement.
"You probably should have," Mirana told him. It was something he'd always wanted to do, but never had, as the old man would doubtlessly throw a fit over such an action. Jabari was, after all, not dead. He stepped down as Emperor some twenty years ago, citing health issues, and moved into a mansion in Mozambique. Every so often, he'd pop into court, much to Razak's chagrin.
And let's just say that whenever he did show up, Razak elected to have Aveline on the complete opposite side of the empire. Speaking of his daughter, both he and Mirana soon heard footsteps approaching. Looking down, they saw Aveline standing next to them, the girl soon tugging on Mirana's dress.
"Mom, it's my turn to dance with Dad!" Aveline excitedly said, making them both laugh.
"Oh, of course, my little princess. He's all yours," Mirana replied, while letting go of Razak. Seeing her step to the side, Razak smirked and chuckled. At the same time, Aveline quickly rushed forward and grabbed his hands.
"Yes!" she then exclaimed, pulling Razak along with her. There, he decided to follow her lead. Aveline danced without a care, having Razak spin her a few times. She giggled every time it happened, and Razak found it adorable. For a few minutes, that was all the two did, up until Razak heard a popping noise in the distance. A splash of colors would then shine into the room, fading and appearing periodically.
"Hey, the fireworks are starting!" one guest would loudly call out, drawing everyone's attention to the windows. Turning toward them, Razak spotted the sky being lit up in a stunning display. All manner of shapes and colors formed in the air as fireworks exploded. Looking back down, he saw Aveline trying to get a better view, the guests having swarmed the windows. Seeing her struggle, Razak wasted no time and hoisted her up.
She sat on his shoulders, looking over the crowd while he kept her stable. Razak couldn't see it, but Aveline's eyes went wide with joy.
"Whoa," Aveline said, and stretched out the o in shock.
"You like them?" Razak asked, looking out the window as well. Just then, one firework blew up, filling the sky with a bright bluish teal ball.
"They're amazing!" Aveline yelled out while leaning down to face him, making Razak laugh.
"Well, I only accept the best for my princess," Razak told her, before booping her nose. She giggled at this and booped him back. And Razak couldn't let that go, so he booped her again. This went on for a few seconds more, with Aveline getting bored. Looking back at the fireworks, Razak soon lifted Aveline off his shoulders. Still holding her, Razak looked at her with a smile.
"Happy Birthday," he commented quietly, kissing her on the cheek.
"Thanks. Love you, Dad," Aveline replied, her arms then wrapping around him. Mirana then stepped up next to him, her right hand grabbing his left. It was always moments like these that Razak enjoyed. And he wished they would last forever. Razak knew, though wouldn't, so he just enjoyed the fireworks. Their ever constant bang, bang, bang.
"You know those fireworks are awfully small," one guest complained, causing Razak to roll his eyes. There was always something to complain about. Besides, he'd paid top dollar for everything… actually… Razak began to look up higher in the sky. There were a few bright dots that were far too small… why were they getting bigger? Some of the lights were getting bigger. Much bigger, as if they were getting closer- the "fireworks" dropped downward rapidly. Within the blink of an eye, they exploded, crashing into the ships in port.
Guests screamed in terror, the Corsairs rapidly scrambling around them. Missiles soared in from somewhere out of sight. The Imperial Navy quickly began manning their battle stations, a siren now echoing throughout Toamasina. Hundreds of tracers shot up into the sky, illuminating the night and hitting something. People ran from the window while Razak stared on in shock. Captain Levy eventually placed his hand on his shoulder, snapping Razak out of it.
"My Lords, this way!" the captain told him, the man's gaze going from Razak and Mirana. Razak didn't have to be told twice, and rapidly turned Aveline away from the window.
"Keep your head down, Aveline!" he told her, the girl burying her head into his shoulder. Glancing back, he spotted a dozen ships all set alight, their ammunition cooking off. Razak followed the captain toward the door, only to stop when he saw Mirana wasn't following.
"Mira!" he called out, spotting his wife still staring out the window. A dozen corsairs tried to pull her toward the door, yet she didn't budge. Instead, some water from nearby glasses drifted to her hand, and Mirana angrily formed a French cutlass. The blade made of water looked harmless, but Razak knew otherwise. It was difficult to see, but the water was moving. Imperceptible to the human eye, the water circled around at inhuman speeds, making the blade capable of cutting through concrete.
It was a pressure washer in sword form.
"Those bastards! They hit the Fortune!" Mirana yelled, drawing Razak's eyes to the smoking ship. The museum was on fire, burning and listing at the same time.
"My Empress-" one of the corsairs tried to say, only for Mirana to cut them off.
"Captain Levy, ready the Royal Guard! We will-" Mirana began to say, as the corsairs desperately tried to hold her back. Mirana didn't dare use her full strength, but continued to fight against them.
"Ma'am, we must get you to safety!" Levy told her, the captain now joining the other corsairs in trying to hold her back.
"Let go of me, Captain! They will taste my blade! I am going out there!" Mirana ordered while taking a few steps forward. She dragged every corsair with her, much to their chagrin.
"I have no doubt you will but-" Captain Levy began to say, right as another missile struck a ship. Still, Mirana tried to charge forward.
"Mirana, we have to go!" Razak then called out, seeing his wife's eyes meet his. He had no doubt she could take on whatever was out there. But now was not the time to prove it! Mirana looked back at him, unsure, and only relented when Aveline looked up from Razak's shoulder. Her water sword disappeared, the liquid dropping to the ground. The corsairs let go of her, and she followed after Razak.
"We will handle the situation, ma'am," the corsairs then told her, while Mirana continued to look at them.
"Give them hell! I expect no less from my corsairs!" Mirana swiftly ordered, while Razak booked it out of the ballroom. The last thing he heard from the men was a loud, "Yes, Empress!" echoing down the halls. Winding through the large palace, they made it to their bunker and locked it down. Safe inside, Razak set Aveline down on a large bed, while he leaned against a nearby wall.
Mirana, meanwhile, angrily paced around the room. She seemed ready to punch the wall, and Razak prayed that she wouldn't. And Aveline… Aveline began to cry. She shook violently, terror gripping every part of her. Tears stained the bedsheets as she cradled herself. When Mirana saw this, she quickly put up a calm face and sat next to her. It all made Razak furious. To think Luan of all people had been right. To think the MSF attacked here, of all places, out of the dozens of Imperial Facilities.
It hours seemed to pass by, and Razak simply stewed in his anger.
"Unbelievable," he would mutter to himself, while frowning at the bunker door. Just as he said it, the doorbell began to ring. Walking toward a computer next to the door, Razak checked the security feed. Outside, he found Captain Levy standing at the door.
"My lord," Captain Levy greeted, knowing the cameras were watching him, "It's over."
With a tired sigh, Razak opened the bunker door. Seeing the captain, he quietly walked out, but motioned for Mirana and Aveline to stay. If Levy was wrong, then better the most worthless of the three die. Walking forward, he followed the captain out of the bunker and out of the palace. They walked along the grounds and hopped onto one of the Corsair's Panhard VBLs.
Wordlessly, they drove, winding through the city's streets as people filtered out of their homes. Eyes were filled with terror, as Razak spotted the smoke still drifting into the… the morning sky… how long were they in that bunker? Razak hadn't slept at all, but he didn't think he had stayed up all night. No matter, he thought, shaking his head. The armored car came to a stop outside the Port of Toamasina.
Stepping outside, Razak was greeted with the flaming hulks of his fleet. The Suprématie, the pride of the navy, had been torn into three different chunks. Its main guns had been blown up and launched onto the shore. And the Fortune? It was now but a metal island. Its planes have fallen into the water and disappeared. Its hull was filled with holes, and there was more water than metal.
Angry and tired, Razak brought a hand to his brow.
"How many did we lose?" Razak asked Captain Levy, the man looking out somberly at a burning set of destroyers.
"We're still counting, but possibly thousands," Levy replied tiredly, as Razak noted the search and rescue boats circling the port. To think this could happen. Today of all days. Why today!? Mentally, Razak remembered Aveline's terrified face. The image infuriated him. Not only did the MSF attack the capital, not only did they blow up his fleet, not only did they kill thousands of his subjects, but they ruined his daughter's birthday.
"Get me Lieutenant Santos," Razak angrily ordered, causing Levy to look back surprised.
"Sir, are you sure that's wise? We both know-" Levy began to say, Razak then cutting him off.
"That he doesn't listen to me. Yes, I know. Just tell him Mirana's giving the order. We both know he won't deny the Empress's wishes," Razak grumbled, annoyed. All that mattered now was making the MSF pay. And Santos would be the one to do it. His orders would be simple. Break through the front line, and kill them all.