As they reached the submarine, Jack assessed the dragon with a strategic eye. "Can you handle the pressure of the depths?" he inquired, his voice carrying the undertone of command.

The dragon's response was a simple nod, an acceptance of the task at hand.

Mounting the dragon's head, Jack signaled his readiness. His physique, sculpted by a lifetime of conflict and survival, was more than capable of withstanding the crushing depths of the sea. His lungs, trained to hold breath in the most dire of circumstances, would serve him well in the journey beneath the waves.

The children watched, a spectrum of emotions crossing their faces—from awe at the sight of the dragon to the subtle anticipation of a new chapter of freedom. As the ropes were secured and the dragon positioned, Jack took one last look at the island. This place, once a cage for these innocents, would now be a footnote in their tale of liberation.

With a silent command, the dragon lunged forward, pulling the submarine into the embrace of the ocean. The water enveloped them, a cool sanctuary from the world above, as they embarked on the clandestine path to safety.

As Kizaru's boots met the hard ground of Punk Hazard, his arrival was marked by a casual gait, betraying none of the urgency that the situation warranted. Lysander stood by the entrance of the underground labyrinth, his posture betraying none of the tension that lingered in the air.

Kizaru, known for his speed and piercing light, approached with a sluggishness that was almost comical. He was a Marine Vice-Admiral of incredible power, yet his demeanor was that of a man without a care in the world.

"Where are the enemy?" Kizaru asked, his tone carrying the lightness of someone inquiring about the weather rather than the aftermath of a tumultuous skirmish.

Lysander shook his head, the reality of the situation heavy on his shoulders. "Got away," he admitted, his words as clipped as his military haircut.

Kizaru turned his gaze toward Vegapunk, whose expression was a complex tapestry of regret and resignation. "He was too strong," Vegapunk said simply, confirming what Lysander had just conveyed.

Rubbing his head in apparent annoyance, Kizaru let out a sigh that seemed to draw the frustration from the air around them. "This is going to be troublesome," he muttered. His distaste for complications was as well-known as the lazy drawl of his speech.

"Well, nothing I can do about it now," Kizaru concluded, the resignation in his voice not quite reaching his eyes, which still held a flicker of interest. With that, he lowered himself to sit on the cracked earth, his white Marine coat billowing slightly as he made himself comfortable amid the chaos.

"How are you, Vegapunk-san?" Kizaru asked, shifting the topic as if they were old friends catching up after a long absence. There was a history there, a shared past that was not evident in their words but in the ease with which Kizaru addressed the leading scientific mind of the Marines.

Vegapunk offered a nod, his usual stoicism not quite masking the weariness that clung to him. "I've been better," he responded, the statement laden with the weight of unspoken trials and tribulations.

"I imagine so," Kizaru said, the sunlight reflecting off his shades. "This whole fiasco with Caesar... it must have been a shock."

Vegapunk’s lips twitched in what might have been the beginning of a wry smile. "Predictable, yet disappointing. Caesar's ambition outgrew his station. Such is often the case with those who cannot see beyond the horizon of their own hubris."

Kizaru chuckled, a sound that seemed too light for the gravity of their conversation. "You always did have a way with words, Vegapunk-san. It’s no wonder the higher-ups keep you around."

"The same could be said for you, Kizaru," Vegapunk retorted, a glint of humor in his eyes. "Your... unique approach has its own merits, apparently."

Their conversation continued, a dance of words that skirted around the central issue: the escape of Jack and the children. Lysander, observing them, couldn't help but feel the underlying tension. He knew the importance of what had transpired here and the consequences that might follow. The Marines would not take kindly to the defiance of their authority, and Kizaru's presence was a stark reminder of that power.

However, Lysander's own conscience was clear. He had made his choice, a choice that prioritized humanity over orders, and he would live with whatever came of it. As he looked out over the expanse of Punk Hazard, the shadows cast by the setting sun seemed less ominous, knowing that somewhere beneath the waves, Jack and the children were making their way to safety.

For Kizaru and Vegapunk, the conversation drifted to other matters, the debacle of the day slowly receding as the immediate crisis had been averted. Yet both men knew that this was not the end. The ripples of today's events would be felt far and wide, and there would be repercussions.

Kizaru rose to his feet, his movements deliberate as he paced towards the desolate Marine base, his voice carrying clearly through the charred air. "Kong-san has given his orders: to collect all of Caesar's possessions, that includes his research and all test subjects. Is that going to be a problem?" His eyes, hidden behind the reflective surface of his shades, swept over Lysander and Vegapunk.

Neither man protested; their earlier actions of aiding in the escape of Caesar and the children had already set their course. "No," Lysander replied, his voice steady. "No problems here."

Vegapunk nodded in agreement, his face unreadable behind his own glasses. They both knew their hands were tied; the decision had been made, and they had to navigate the consequences as best they could.

Kizaru's gaze lingered on them for a moment longer before he turned away, seemingly satisfied. As he walked, he picked up a fallen clipboard, scanning its contents with a passive interest. The base was in disarray, the result of the earlier conflict, but for a Marine of Kizaru's rank, such chaos was just another day at the office.

Lysander's eyes followed Kizaru's form as he moved among the debris, taking note of how his presence seemed to settle the anxious energy of the remaining Marines. Kizaru had that effect, an unspoken authority that came with his reputation and power.