Dawson and Dragons

As it sped out of the harbor, the ambulance's sirens wailed throughout town. Bloated corpses lined the railing of the Cargo ship as it was slowly drawn onto the beach by local police. A rather strange ship calamity had just occurred. While completely dry, 25 crewmembers appeared to have drowned. Most people forgot about it after a few days, but some others would stress over it for years, wponderinghow it could have happened. Some speculated that the tragedy was caused by a mass murderer, government weapons, mermaids, and so forth. But, no matter what hypotheses they developed, the public would never learn the reality, which was hidden between the lines. The ship was intended for 23 men instead of 25. There were two people who were not on the crew.Those two were now being transported in bodybags in the same ambulance. The bags were inspected by the doctor in the ambulance's back seat. He must have thought it was just his imagination earlier, but now he saw that there were green shards on both bags. He slowly lowered to grab one of the shards, but somehow the body sat up and gave the poor man a brutal headbutt, sending his glasses rattling to the ground as he crumpled. Then both bodybags unzipped, revealing two haggard men, or so it appeared, but as the shards slid off the bags, their appearance shifted. They no longer appeared as complex men, but as simple boys, no older than 13 or so. One of them was tall, and the other was short and lanky.

"You know you've really done it now, Canadian?" The tall one snarled, his voice barely audible over the siren's roar.

"Well, this would never have happened if we had just gone straight to the academy instead of trying to stop a crime that isn't even a MAT."
The short one retorted.

"I know our specialty is dealing with demons, Dawson, but all those people were arms dealers who needed to be stopped, and I'd say this crime is undisputedly related to magic." The tall boy reached into his pocket and took out a single bullet, which he waved around. A sloshing noise could be heard as he did so. Dawson's stomach trembled when he realized what it was. Nonetheless, he maintained his anger, for he still wanted to argue.

"If you believed that dealing with those arms dealers was essential, Alec, why did you have such a problem with their deaths?" Dawson responded.


"I had a problem with that because crooks should be punished by the law, not by sadistic magic!" Alec reacted with a response of his own. Dawson tried to say something, but he couldn't get anything out. Over the shaking of the truck, the two glared at each other until Dawson suddenly dropped his head in defeat. Alec had finally noticed the doctor, or rather, that the man was convulsing. The two moved into action without discussing anything. Alec knelt to the man's body and listened to the his heartbeat, while Dawson grasped his knees to keep him from flailing too much. He was clearly suffering from a heart attack of some sort.

"We haven't made it to the academy yet." "Dawson, you should get out of here and find the academy," Alec said between chest compressions. "I've gotta stay to help this guy out and fix the whole, two missing bodies problem once I'm at the hospital."

"Are you certain you'll be okay?" Dawson questioned, his voice solemn. Alec nodded and smiled. As Dawson walked out of the rushing vehicle, the pair parted ways without even exchanging goodbyes. He turned around to see the ambulance race down a slope and vanish into the darkness. Before commencing his long walk towards the academy, Dawson took a few box-breathing exercises to calm his mind for the eventual bloodbath that would occur. throughout the 9-hour walk, he was pondering how he was going to blend into the academy. He could pretend to be a student but he could be noticed. Same issue with being a teacher. He could handle pretending to be a janitor, but he'd have to find the original one first to make an illusion out of him. Dawson had the ideal plan when he eventually arrived at the boarding school. Under the cover of a father, he would enter the Saint Helens boarding school. He could assign his fictitious child a common name, and it would almost certainly appear in their records. through some well executed illusions with his water magic, Dawson successfully scared off all security guards, and eventually enter the school after doing so. Now he could focus on the mission's goals: determining how the demonic infestation began, destroying it before it spread, and summarily executing those responsible for its inception. They were objectives he had fulfilled four times previously, but in a group context. With this mission he just had one partner, but now he was fully alone. To add to Dawson's sense of dread, his nose was assailed by the scent of sulfur from all directions the moment he entered the building, with sulfur being the smell of demons. The stench was so strong that it brought the seasoned agent to his knees, coughing profusely! A woman snarled, "You look like you need some help." She extended a hand to Dawson, who instantly took it and pushed himself to his feet, still bewildered. Dawson got a good look at her once he was awake. The woman was a natural brunette with a relaxed expression on her face, dressed in a purple dress and leggings. She appeared to be in her early twenties, which was unusual. as her tone was that of someone twice her assumed age.

""Thank you," he grumbled, "Ms... What is your full name?"

"You Cana and what is your name?"
With a hoarse cough, he said, "John," and his mind raced with Cana thoughts. Is she a Lazarus agent, is she linked to the infection, can he trust her? There's only one way of discovering the truth. "T-tell me, Cana, how do you deal with all that sulfur; I can't imagine that would be safe for the pupils; ya know, my son is in this school, and he has a bit of a nicotine issue, so this is going to kill him no dou-!"
"Oh my god, you're one of them!" Cana interjected, her face twisting into one of sheer delight. Dawson had no idea that his disguise had been blown before Cana grabbed his hand with the speed of a cobra launching at its prey, and sprinted off, carrying him like he weighed less than a feather. Cana's little run to her unknown destination, gave Dawson the time to silently observer more of the school. The many students all had their own peculiarities.

There were some first- and second-year students who appeared uneasy and suspicious, and who avoided crowds.

Then there were the third and fourth years, who were quite bold as they roamed the halls with synchronized parkour skills, trying to stay as close to the ceiling as possible at all times, the fifth and sixth years, who were focused on seclusion, hiding themselves in chandeliers and even the walls to elude suspicion, and the seventh and eighth years simply sat and stared at clocks, as if they were waiting for something.

Dawson's eyes welled up with emotions as he watched the students shift and alter. If a demon could do this to these children, there's no way he could save them. Cana finally screeched to a halt when she reached a library, which was luckily empty, and hurled the false man into the library counter, which crunched loudly. Dawson wailed as he collapsed to the ground, and footsteps from around the corner could be heard as he did so.
"Oh, you're not an earth mage, are you?" Cana chuckled, "They're typically the most durable, aren't they? And, if you're not an earth mage, what type are you, and are you here to assist us with our problem, as I sincerely hope?"

Dawson was so overcome by the pain and the questions that he didn't even hear the footsteps, so it was a rude awakening when he raised his head to answer and saw the figure before him. Drake Shill was leaning against a bookshelf in front of the Lazarus agent. Drake was one of the few adults that were welcomed into Lazarus. He was a magician who excelled in soul alteration. His hair was brown, much like Cana's. He was suited up in a beige suit, and despite his cane, weathered eyes, thin skin, and damaged glasses, he was still a massive threat. Dawson's heart pounded like a piston as he shuddered. Drake smiled, revealing his cracked teeth, before speaking.

"Can you tell me whether he's the one?" Drake inquired, his eyes darting to Cana as he spoke in a frantic tone.
"Yes, he detected the odor of sulfur. He's unmistakably a magician."

"He's not simply a magician; hhe's an agent, and is probably here to deal with our minor issue yes?"

"What the hell is going on here?" "What are you talking about, I'm just looking for my kid, why are you talking about mages?" Dawson screamed, desperately trying to maintain his father persona. Drake smirked as Cana grimaced at the response. "Are you human, then?" He inquired, his hand delving into his pocket. Dawson nodded, his gaze fixed on Drake's pocket. Drake kept his hand in his pocket for what seemed like years before bringing out a 9-inch vial partially filled with a lovely yellow liquid, purposefully building up the suspense as he did so. As soon as she noticed the liquid, Cana tensed up and moved out of the way and Drake strided forward. Dawson recognized the liquid right away, but he tried to keep his calm.
"Can you tell me what's in that thing?" Dawson asked, as he carefully turned his hands to the floor, readying himself for what might happen next.

Let me demonstrate."

Drake answered by tearing the vial's lid off.

"I'm confident the end outcome will be...enjoyable."

As Drake walked closer to him, Dawson leaned back slightly.

Finally, when Drake got within 6 feet of Dawson, he waved the vial at his feet, causing the yellow liquid to shoot out.

All logic and reason had faded from Dawson's mind, leaving him with only the will to survive as he channeled his power throughout his body.

And rocketed torrents of water from his palms to the floor, sending him flying a few feet in the air as the liquid splattered harmlessly across the floor where he formerly stood. Dawson cursed internally as he revealed his magical abilities.

"For someone who claims to be natural, you certainly appear supernatural." Drake snorted and slurped up the yellow liquid, bowing to it. Dawson was so taken aback that he forgot to use his magic and fell to the ground, landing flat on his back. Dawson stood to his feet, his body cloaked in bewilderment, after a brief pause while the two exchanged glances. Drake reached inside his pocket and took out another item. It was a packet this time. To be more specific, it was a mustard packet. When he waved it around a little, the packet made a sloshing sound, and Dawson's mind went from uncertainty to rage, directed solely at himself.

"Agent, please come now." Drake began by snatching the packet and placing it in his mouth with his teeth "Why would I use the infamous Lethal Liquid, a poison deadly to magical creatures, in a setting like this, surrounded by my hundreds of lovely creations? If you couldn't conclude anything so simple, I see the standards have slipped since my time at the agency! But that's enough for today; I assume you've come for the infestation, right?"

"I am," said Dawson, "but what do you mean by wonderful creations?" Dawson enquired. Drake raised his head, gestured for Dawson to follow him, and walked over to a bookcase. Intrigued, Dawson followed the man, carefully stepping over the remnants of what he once thought was lethal liquid, just in case. When Drake finally reached the bookcase, he grabbed onto the book "The 48 Laws of Power" by Robert Greene, and pulled it, just slightly. And as he did so, a clanking noise sounded about mere moments before the bookcase fell through the floor, revealing a three foot long twelve feet wide rectangular hole that was pitch black. Dawson knelt down and examined the hole. When a gentle kick to the back of his neck sent the poor boy barreling into the hole, he could barely make out the sound of beating wings! Dawson's thoughts raced with speculations about who or what may be responsible as the pounding of wings became louder. But he didn't have time to ponder that mystery, or even the fact that Drake had kicked him; he had to concentrate on avoiding smashing into the bookshelves below. The child palmed his hands and raised them to his ankles, unleashing a flood of tremendous magic. If he forced his way through the opening meant for the bookshelf, perhaps it could act as a makeshift plug, and he could fill the hole with water and halt his descent. If the previous blast of water Dawson used could be described as a jet, the blast of water he released now, was surely like that of a rocket. Pain rippled through Dawson's body as the water erupted from his hands. He felt like Samson clutching the pillars, only instead of his hands. It was every cell in the boy's body. But just when he felt like giving up, Dawson landed in a small pool of water with the most adorable splash known to man. His body sunk like a rock. Dawson took a deep breath, mentally at least. He had done it. He had survived. Dawson slowly swam further and further down, until he came to the bookcases, and upon feeling around he could sense that the bookcase had been practically torn in half from his water, so, being too weak to do anything else, he held onto it and waited for the water to carry him out the ruined bookcase. Dawson fell onto the cold metal floor, elbow first, sending waves of pain through his body. Just the act of using so much of his magic damaged the boy to such an extent, he would surely have to head back to the agency for repair, but when added to the pain of his elbow splintering like a tree struck by a missile, Dawson was now on borrowed time before he'd bleed out. Fast foot fleets echoed to his right. Dawson stared at his reflection in the water, and noticed that his illusion had worn off, for the face staring back at him was a mere boy. Dawson turned to see Caina and Drake walking down a cylindrical set of stairs that seemed to contrast with the darkness of the rest of the area, aside from the metal floor. Dawson locked eyes with Drake, and for a fleeting moment rage substituted his immense pain.
"Why'd you push me!" He yelled through tears, "I could've died, or worse, lose the mission!" Instead of answering, Drake walked to the bottom of the stairs and made a motion to Caina with his head. Caina took a deep breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, all human emotions and appearance vanished and was replaced by something else entirely. Caina opened her mouth, as snaps and crackles boomed from within. A natural red glow could be seen behind her cheeks, like a man's finger when upon a light. Her body seemed to shake and bend for what felt like hours, until she grew still, opened her eyes, and as if her body was a cannon fired a shell of flame and destruction from her very mouth! So intense was the flame it seemed to fully light up everything for a brief moment; allowing Dawson to see large bat wings flapping through the air, alongside forked tongues and yellow eyes. The flame showed no signs of slowing as it simply sped up and up in an diagonal position, before finally disappearing from view over what could only be described as a golden table, showering the area in darkness once more. There was a loud crack from above, and sparks showered from the table. Then, the entire room was drenched in a white light. Dawson screeched and shielded his eyes. Over the next 2 minutes, the light lessened to where it felt more like staring into a flashlight, rather than staring at the sun, and Dawson finally felt it was safe to look around. "That was a neat trick" he thought. "putting a clump of magnesium on that bolted down table just to show the accuracy of your assistants magic. I should keep that little trick of hers in mind." Dawson then turned to observer the room, and what the wounded boy saw shook him to his very soul. There were dozens of cages behind him, and each and every one was crafted from pure diamonds. And within each of those cages were creatures too dangerous to exist. There were dragons in the cages! Their eyes were a putrid tint of nasty yellows and oranges. Their wings, which were bent over onto their backs in cylindrical shapes, were clearly too huge for the cages. As their legs were bent, their claws dug into the tops of the cages. It was as if they were all conspiring together just to destroy him. Dawson trembled and stepped back from the cages. He suddenly remembered the beating of wings he'd heard earlier and turned up to see where they were coming from, only to be greeted by the most incredible sight of all. It was a shrunken-down B-52 bomber that moved in an odd manner.. Despite its wings being made of rigid metal, they flapped like those of a bird. Instead of a pilot, whirling flames filled the cockpit, and a clear vertical line flowed like a mouth across the plane's propeller section. It was just fantastic. It was really wonderful. It was enchanted. It turned out to be incorrect. This was a complete and utter mistake. Why, though, was it? Dawson sighed and struggled to recall what had happened. His memories, which had been as clear as glass before, began to cloud up. This didn't feel right. His thoughts were not becoming hazy on their own. Someone triggered this impact. no, that couldn't be. Dawson could tell something wasn't right. Something sparked this effect. Dawson stumbled away from the freaky sight above him, and turned back to the cages. He looked at the dragons, and the dragons looked at him. All of the creatures looked at him with malicious intent. All but one. A lone dragon stood out amongst the many in cages, and it was quite a sight. Whereas the legs of the other dragons were slim and lengthy, this dragon's legs were fat and stubby, protruding just slightly from its body. As its head stared at him, the dragon's scales were dark as shadow and flowed some purple substance. the dragon stared not with hatred. not in the name of love. But with a total lack of interest. As if he didn't exist whatsoever. Dawson's recollections flashed through his head as soon as he caught eyes with the monster, and the beast retreated with a howl.

"These are my beautiful creations, dear agent" Drake boomed, "Dragons, of all colors, shapes and sizes. I took interest in these beautiful creatures since I was young, you see. Most children are born tasting their mother's milk, but I was born tasting my mothers blood. She was ripped apart by streams of gunfire in what you call Bleeding Kansas...Then I fell from her corpse and into the loving embrace of Jackson Stonewall, who introduced me to just one of these beasts of legend, and taught me to ride it into battle. It laid seige to scores of Lincolnites until it exploded from barrage of artillery fire and my poor handling. but ill never forget that it died protecting me." Drake paused, briefly grasped his heart, and violently shuddered, before smoothly continuing.
"Seeing that my life and the only thing that gave it meaning were thrown away by Stonewall made me realize I was manipulated and I fell into a depression for years, before discovering my ability to manipulate souls and getting scooped up by Lazarus. There I discovered an amazing ability of mine. I could merge souls! I could bypass these fickle bodies of ours to live eternally. Hell! I even managed to fix my wife's tuberculosis by merging her soul with a dragon. But all of that joy in discovering such an ability washed away when Lazarus decided dragons were 'too dangerous and needed to be culled, and upon seeing the only thing to give my life some semblance of joy infuriated me, so I took the few I had with me to Britain. to lay low and prepare..." As the old man spoke, Dawson realized that his voice was practically oozing toxicity and ferocity, like the dragons he housed. In spite of his old age, Drake seemed very much like the dragons he kept, caged, but brimming with a raw and primal anger. So much rage seemed to exude from Drake that it Dawson forced himself to think about something else to not break his mind immediately. With fluttering eyes he noticed that one of Drake's hands was deep in his pocket, and grabbing something. He could not make out what exactly it was but could tell from its shape in the bulge that it was shaped somewhat like a sliced avocado, or perhaps even an arrow head. Drake seemed to notice this as he smiled and ripped the item from his pocket. The item in question was an orange rock that moved in drakes hand as if it was a ball of flesh.

"Ah, interested in this are you?" Drake asked, his voice growing raspy. "This was given to me by Lazarus for my good deeds. It bends monsters to the wills of its holder. its a bit flawed though. I need to constantly think about every single dragon I'm controlling, and even my immense intelligence has its limits." But we're not here for this idle but the Demonic infestation no?"
Dawson nodded.
"In that case please come, I've something...tragic to show you." With that Drake walked across the cages, and Dawson followed close behind, but not before he noticed Caina staring at the dragons with pure joy. Drake stopped upon stepping in some sort of liquid, and he sidestepped to let Dawson see what it was. It was blood. No doubt about it. The blood was clearly fresh as well.
Dawson followed the trail until he came to a body. It was clearly that of a man, and judging from his uniform Dawson could tell that he was a janitor of some kind.

"Thats Matvey Chekov." Drake stated. his voice echoing off the walls among the snarls from the beasts,
as he walked around the body. Drake continued. "His brother was decapitated in the great war, and he was so saddened with the Tsar's orders that he moved here. For quite a while hes been helping me with these dragons, but a few days ago, I noticed the smell of sulfur, and recognized it from my days in Lazarus. I spent a few days trying to find any demons, and I just couldn't, they were too evasive. Days passed and the students grew worse and worse. That's why they look so weird now. I had to control one of my dragons to form some sort of illusion over the entire school, to ensure that any human would not notice the sulfur or the strangeness of the children. I did this with this helpful little rock here, and that dragon from, earlier. It has a most wondrous ability. It can make illusions and alter one's mind. that's what it did to those security guards outside to make them fearless in anything practical. So when I heard they were scared off by something I knew a mage was here. "
Dawson's heart sank. How had he been so predictable? if he just snuck in with a simple distraction and ignored the sulfur as best he could this would have been avoided, and he could carry on his search without error.
Drake seemed to silently notice this displeasure in Dawson as he gave a toothy grin before speaking once again.
"This body you see before you is not what I had in mind for you to witness. In truth I had successfully captured a demon. just 4 hours ago with the help of Cana, I believe it was the type of demon you would call a Blood beast. It spewed its red filth all over the floor, and killed some of my dragons, even. I sent Matvey to guard its cage...but he's clearly failed. No bother though, I'm sure you won't let a little thing like death stop you from, your goals agent." Drake spoke some more But Dawson clouded him out and instead focused on the body. He crouched down and ran his fingers through the man's uniform, for anything that could give him a hint to the demon. He found very few wounds on his body aside from a few bruises on his chest and face, which cleared once and for all that the blood was not at all his

"But if that's the case, who killed you chekov?"Dawson whispered to himself. He got his answer in the form of something glinting over the man's uniform. He leaned down for a closer look, and what he saw what the object was, A sense of relief shot through him like a cannonball through flesh. It was a single green shard. Alec had been here, which means that the two missing bodies issue had been resolved, and there was at least an ally with him. Dawson's sigh, although deafened by the shrieks and howls of the dragons in the area, was ungodly loud within his own mind.
"Well this is lovely, my buddy's back" Dawson muttered under his breath, " "And since he's too much of a wimp to shed blood that must mean..." Dawson's voice trailed as Chekov's baby blue eyes snapped open, and he screamed! Dawson jumped back as Chekov exploded to his feet and stomped on the boy's liver, sending him sprawling to the ground. Through Dawson's hazy vision he saw a grinning Caina and a shocked Drake, still holding onto that stone for some reason. He tried to get up, but was immediately sent down again by another stomp. this one on his left hand. All of the experiences he had in such a little time span weakened Dawson to the point that he could only use a little magic, so he scratched Chekov's knee, drawing blood, fired a jet of water into the knee, and then froze it, causing permanent nerve damage, but not being fatal. In spite of the numbness quaking through his body, Chekov held his ground, as he withdrew something from his pocket. It was a pistol of some kind. Dawson recognized it immediately from his training. it was a 2mm Kolibri, the worst gun in the world. But that didn't matter, at this close of a range it was lethal. Dawson stared into the barrel with as much cold indifference as he could muster, as a last ditch effort to psych out his enemy. Unfortunately the effort was in Vain as Chekov didn't even flinch. Drake glared at Chekov and he crumpled to the ground, firing his gun as he did so, sending a harsh boom through the air that sent Dawson reeling. Dawson stiffly rose to his feet, and stared back at Chekov who was spasming for a bit till his Jerky movements suddenly ceased. "What did you do to him?" Dawson questioned through pained breaths.

"Oh I pulled his soul halfway out of his body which put him in a state of being dead and alive." Drake casually answered.
"Amazing!" Dawson thought aloud. Dawson turned to Drake to compliment him further when he saw something behind the old man. At first Dawson thought it was a shadow of one of the dragons in the cage, but as he focused on it more, he noticed what it really was. It was the dragon that ripped into his mind just moments ago, and it was heading for Drake. With a howl, the dragon launched forward, its claws just barely missing Drake as he rolled out of the way. Dawson fared slightly worse with the dragon shoving him to the ground. Clearly both of them weren't the true targets of the creature, it made that clear as its stood before Chekov's body, just as he rose to life. Chekov raised his low quality pistol to the dragon, his movements rigid and slow, for with each movement he executed he was met in return with waves of pain coursing through his very brain. But in spite of that, he still managed to focus his pistol dead center on the dragon's face. But right at that moment things went from bad to worse. For one moment his arm was focused as he held the gun, the only thing between life and death in the face of a creature that shouldn't exist. Then his arm became gnarled and twisted like some fleshy tree branch as his melted into his wrist. wisps of purple flame were peppered over his entire arm which was as charred as the dragon itself, and he didn't even seem to realize that, as his eyes were very trance-like. With heavy breathing, Chekov placed his head directly into the creatures mouth. Everyone in that room knew what was going to happen next. Dawson stared at the creature too scared to question how it had gotten out, when a skinny hand clasped over his eyes, and the instant it did, a wet crunch echoed through the room. It was over.
"God!" Caina cried, "No child nor man should have to see such horror"
"The boy is from Lazarus, daughter, he's seen more blood than a battalion of teenage girls." Drake replied, "Besides he was just attacked by my former companion, seeing him be reduced to a corpse would, if anything, please his vengeful mind." Something about Drake's usage of the word "vengeful" rung alarm bells in Dawson's mind before said bells were silenced, as his eyes grew hazy, just like Chekov's. So hazy in fact, was Dawson's mind, that he did not even notice Caina was carrying him up the stairs until his knees slammed into one of the steps. shock tore through his mind at the sudden pain, but he couldn't let it keep swelling through him. Dawson had already suffered enough pain before even seeing any demon, he needed to conserve what little strength he still had. Dawson's brain fired messages to his legs to lift themselves up, but there was some sort of blockage. like a traffic jam in his nervous system, and he had to constantly focus on his legs before they could lift up, bleeding profusely and even showing the glinting bones of his knees. Finally, he reached the top and was promptly thrown into a wet surface by Caina, with a booming splash. Dawson opened his eyes and waited as they adjusted to the sudden change in lighting from the dragon room, to the library, but once it did, he saw a most interesting sight. Near the corner of the front desk was a "caution, wet floor" sign right over the pool he had made earlier, evading what he thought was lethal liquid. A smile scratched its way across Dawson's face, as he realized who was responsible, and with nothing more than a breathy warning to Caina to go back downstairs, he ran through the library, and into the rest of the school. Shadows of the chandeliers above flickered across the floor as The chandeliers swayed, while students used them as means of transportation. And jumping from chandelier to chandelier was a man. A man Dawson had just seen die.

"Chekov!" he yelled from below.
The false custodian froze and looked down at him, his legs now on the much more stable upper floor than the dreadful chandelier. Blood oozed from under the man's fingernails as he collapsed, as older students merely walked past him, while younger students just stared at him. Dawson scrambled up the stairs and rushed to who appeared to be chekov. He grabbed onto the man and staunched the bleeding, only for the blood to redirect to his mouth, stopping him from screaming. There were green shards, in his left hand, just barely visible as it made a clenched fist. That confirmed it. This was Alec.
"Alec, tell me with your head, what happened?" Dawson gasped. He was far too overwhelmed to notice that students were staring at him, not with looks of fear or even shock but looks of hunger, like he was a smoked brisket and they hadn't eaten for weeks.