Chapter 19
By midnight, seven restored boats were filled with troops. There were the three hundred men from the original army and two hundred militia troops. Marcus was pleased with their quick work and was thankful that the workers found such good troops. Most of them were hunters or ex-criminals; they were used to being up this late. Marcus took flight as the boats left the shoreline of an old yacht club and started to make their way to the enemy island.
Marcus took flight and flew around the soldiers until they were within three miles of the shoreline. Marcus flew toward the enemy encampment and breathed in until he glowed a light red. He looked at his reflection in the water and saw that he looked much larger, his scales stuck out like some angered beast, and fire came out of his eyes and nostrils. He continued to look at himself in wonder and breathed in again. He was much more terrifying as he changed to a bright orange-red. His scales started to emit flames and he had a constant trail of smoke and fire follow him like a shadow. Marcus became a being of fire, a scorcher of everything he saw fit. The island was the only thing he wanted, but he remembered promising not to kill their commander. So much for promises.
Marcus turned to the eastern shore and set his eyes upon a refurbished artillery cannon. Marcus recognized it as one of the 88mm cannons from world war two. He only had time to blink as it fired a single massive slug at his chest. It did not harm him, but it threw him into the water. His fire died out, but the water around him turned to steam and he flooded the island into a sea of fog. Marcus swam to the shoreline and set their boats ablaze. Hundreds of men started to scramble around; they were easy prey for his flame.
The beast lit himself once again and illuminated the fog in a sea of red. It must have been hell for the soldiers under him; it was joyous slaughter to him. Marcus was hit by the 88s again, but this time, the blast knocked him into a building Marcus could tell was a munitions warehouse. The explosion was a beautiful mix of reds and yellows. Marcus turned away from the beauty and saw that the cannon, which sat on the top of the island, had turned to the south west. Marcus took flight and set it ablaze.
The flame caused the cannon to shoot, but the inferno illuminated the boats and Marcus could see that they were already on the shoreline. He took flight and went back to work. He lifted himself a hundred feet into the air and set down a single massive flame that consumed the area for three hundred yards around as if it were made of oil.
When the army he called his friends made it to the wrecked artillery gun, they launched three flares into the air and Marcus took it as a sign to leave. As soon as he was out of the area, half of the island exploded in mortar fire. Hundreds of men and women started to charge the enemy lines. Marcus saw a hole in the ground that many of the enemy soldiers were retreating into; he set a flame into it that killed everyone within.
Marcus turned off toward Alcatraz, where his friends were being held captive and the enemy commander would doubtless be hiding. He flew the distance from Angle Island to Alcatraz in under a minute; he was eager to be reunited with his colleagues. Marcus flew around the island several times, but there were no chains, no soldiers, and no large doorways to confirm an underground operation. All he saw was a small light illuminate a single cell in the prison. Marcus landed on a small strip of empty space next to the cell’s window. He looked through the window, but he could only make out thin shadows. He smelled two humans, but he could only identify one; Thomas.
Marcus took flight and flew around the soldiers until they were within three miles of the shoreline. Marcus flew toward the enemy encampment and breathed in until he glowed a light red. He looked at his reflection in the water and saw that he looked much larger, his scales stuck out like some angered beast, and fire came out of his eyes and nostrils. He continued to look at himself in wonder and breathed in again. He was much more terrifying as he changed to a bright orange-red. His scales started to emit flames and he had a constant trail of smoke and fire follow him like a shadow. Marcus became a being of fire, a scorcher of everything he saw fit. The island was the only thing he wanted, but he remembered promising not to kill their commander. So much for promises.
Marcus turned to the eastern shore and set his eyes upon a refurbished artillery cannon. Marcus recognized it as one of the 88mm cannons from world war two. He only had time to blink as it fired a single massive slug at his chest. It did not harm him, but it threw him into the water. His fire died out, but the water around him turned to steam and he flooded the island into a sea of fog. Marcus swam to the shoreline and set their boats ablaze. Hundreds of men started to scramble around; they were easy prey for his flame.
The beast lit himself once again and illuminated the fog in a sea of red. It must have been hell for the soldiers under him; it was joyous slaughter to him. Marcus was hit by the 88s again, but this time, the blast knocked him into a building Marcus could tell was a munitions warehouse. The explosion was a beautiful mix of reds and yellows. Marcus turned away from the beauty and saw that the cannon, which sat on the top of the island, had turned to the south west. Marcus took flight and set it ablaze.
The flame caused the cannon to shoot, but the inferno illuminated the boats and Marcus could see that they were already on the shoreline. He took flight and went back to work. He lifted himself a hundred feet into the air and set down a single massive flame that consumed the area for three hundred yards around as if it were made of oil.
When the army he called his friends made it to the wrecked artillery gun, they launched three flares into the air and Marcus took it as a sign to leave. As soon as he was out of the area, half of the island exploded in mortar fire. Hundreds of men and women started to charge the enemy lines. Marcus saw a hole in the ground that many of the enemy soldiers were retreating into; he set a flame into it that killed everyone within.
Marcus turned off toward Alcatraz, where his friends were being held captive and the enemy commander would doubtless be hiding. He flew the distance from Angle Island to Alcatraz in under a minute; he was eager to be reunited with his colleagues. Marcus flew around the island several times, but there were no chains, no soldiers, and no large doorways to confirm an underground operation. All he saw was a small light illuminate a single cell in the prison. Marcus landed on a small strip of empty space next to the cell’s window. He looked through the window, but he could only make out thin shadows. He smelled two humans, but he could only identify one; Thomas.