Steel Dragon

by Kevin McLaughlin

  “Yes, I’m afraid I’m quite familiar with that part of your story. But what about before that? Don’t you have any clues as to your origins?”

  “My origins? You mean like Spiderman?”

  “Pardon me.” He hoped he could recover. That sounded much too specific. “I simply meant that you cannot be born of the man and woman who raised you, for then you would not be a dragon.”

  “Are you sure about that?” She waggled her eyebrows.

  “Yes. Absolutely. Human women cannot birth a dragon, not without crushing the egg.”

  “Oh. You hatched then?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Well, I guess I did too.” She shrugged and spilled her drink. He gestured for another. “Well, you probably heard what I told the media. Some lady dropped me on their doorstep when I was born. My mom had fertility problems so they saw it as a blessing. My folks pretended I’d been born overseas. I guess that’s maybe illegal or whatever, but I have my driver’s license so too late now.”

  “And this woman who abandoned you—do you have any idea who she is?”

  That question seemed to sober her. “No. No, I really don’t. Why? Is that important?”

  He shrugged and assumed a wry smile. “I don’t know about important, but interesting? Certainly.”

  Kristen frowned more deeply at that.

  Perhaps she wasn’t as drunk as he’d thought. He would have to end this conversation soon, but he thought he could still recover. “You’re a steel dragon, something no one has seen before. That old drunk Ironclaw was the closest thing anyone has to your powers, and he earned that relic in a fight he lost to a mage. On top of your unique powers, you’re the media’s darling because you’re human, so therefore relatable. Plus, your powers manifesting must make many people think they might be a dormant dragon. Right now, you’re the most interesting in the world.”

  “Well, thank you Sir…uh…Shadowstorm, right?”

  “Yes, that is correct, but please, call me Sebastian. Or do you prefer I call you Lady Hall?”

  “God no!” She laughed.

  One of her little friends chose that moment to interrupt their chat.

  “There you are, Kristen.” It was the large one, he noted.

  “Hey, Butters. I was talking to Sebastian here,” she said.

  “Do pardon me, sir,” the man said and bowed. At least this one knew proper deference to his superiors.

  “Please, the apologies are all mine. I’ve basked in your friend’s attention instead of letting her enjoy the party. I really should be going, though. No rest for the wicked and all that.” He stood, nodded his head slightly at Butters—a gesture of acknowledgment that fit his higher station in life—and made his exit.

  With his back to them, he didn’t have to hide his scowl when he heard the man begin to yammer about the other human trash who had attended the party.

  “Beanpole got Hernandez’s shoes back from the pixie. I think he bet three pixies that he was taller than them combined, but Keith puked all over the shoes. Hernandez wants to go, and we should probably get Keith out of here.”

  “Ugh.” Kristen groaned in response. “Can we get burgers?”

  Sebastian shook his head as he transformed into his dragon form and leapt from the side of the building. Clouds of shadow enveloped him as he fell and obscured his body until a fully formed dragon burst from the clouds. Much like their appearance, each dragon’s transformation looked a little different. His clouds of blackness were anything but common. Once transformed, his scales were as black as coal, his claws like obsidian, and his eyes the color of molten lava.

  With a single pump of his wings, he rose above the skyline of Detroit. Those below him would see nothing but shadow and feel nothing but a touch of dread as he soared overhead on wings as silent as clouds.

  The girl had seemed genuine. He very much doubted that she was a dragon who had somehow created the deception. Instead, he believed she had actually been raised by humans—poor thing—and had only now come into her powers. And what powers they were.

  In his hands, he could transform her into the most powerful weapon the world had ever seen. There had to be limits to her abilities, of course, but if she could withstand a rocket blast as a human, once she had unlocked her dragon form, she would be truly formidable.

  Or a true threat.

  She obviously had some sense of justice and was loyal to her human friends—a feeling he had always been careful to not cultivate for others, and especially not humans. Many a dragon had met their end after caring about a human and letting their emotions make their decisions for them. It was far too late to teach her such caution. Better to remember that she had a vulnerable family and use her emotions against her if it became necessary.

  And it might. If Kristen unlocked her dragon form and was somehow capable of flight while in her steel skin, she would be close to unstoppable.

  Still, he was excited at the prospect of finding out more about her and bringing her into his careful machinations that she’d ruined so completely once already.

  The question was how best to obtain a hold over her so she could be manipulated. If he could somehow position himself as a mentor while simultaneously testing her abilities, that should serve his purposes. It would be difficult, but Sebastian Shadowstorm did so love a challenge.

  He alighted in the back of an old car lot. It hadn’t been entirely a lie when he’d told Kristen he had work to do, but it would be far earlier in the morning than dawn.

  Alone in the darkness, he transformed into his hulking human form. Size was one thing dragons couldn’t change about their human bodies but fortunately, clothes were. Rather than a tuxedo, he created a simple black suit with a red shirt. He retained his black gloves—how he hated getting his hands dirty. That was one thing he and his alias, Mr Black, had in common.

  He looked around the lot but saw no one and checked his watch. It indicated that he was five minutes late, which meant the damn mercenaries had better be here.

  “Put your hands up,” a man in black tactical gear and night vision goggles said, rolled out from behind a car, landed in a crouch, and trained an assault rifle on the disguised dragon.

  “I told you I wanted to see what you were capable of. I’m hardly impressed.” He cracked his knuckles, his tone bored.

  “Go.” The man said dispassionately from behind his night vision goggles. A bullet struck the ground a few inches from Mr Black’s left shoe. Another struck a few inches from his right, although it came from the opposite direction.

  He immediately looked up—dragons could see in the dark, so he didn’t need night vision to see the snipers—and located one.

  “Your man is in the cab of that semi-truck. I could end him before he drew another breath. The other—”

  “Has orders to shoot you if you turn to try to identify him. We know your kind can see in the dark. That’s why you hired us.”

  “I’m slightly more impressed. But surely you know I can transform in the blink of an eye, and bullets…well, they haven’t changed the balance much, have they?”

  “Not lead bullets, no,” the man said. His smirk was the only visible part of his face under his night vision goggles. “But like I said, that’s not why you hired professionals with our reputation.”

  “Indeed.” Sebastian smiled. “Very well. You will have to do. It’s not like your target will expect anything anyway.”

  “Do you want to accelerate the plan, then?”

  “Not at all. Continue as we discussed. The targets I chose for you should make it look like some kind of a hostile real estate takeover for anyone who pays close attention. I have other agents buying that land up. Together, this should create quite a stir in the ranks of those who own these communities.”

  “Very good sir,” the mercenary said and finally lowered his weapon. “And the news is correct about her?”

  “As far as I can tell, it is. She’s yet to activate her full potential, but she might quite soon. Either
way, you need to operate on the understanding that SWAT has a dragon and that successfully encountering that dragon will determine the size of your bonuses.”

  “Oh yes, sir. I’d like to thank you for the opportunity. We can’t wait to meet her.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The next Monday, a new recruit arrived at the station—a replacement for Jonesy, Kristen thought bitterly. Their team Rookie quickly tried to brand the guy with the moniker before he arrived but no one was interested in calling anyone but Keith that.

  She was in the lounge, arguing with Butters over who could eat the last jelly-filled donut when Drew walked in with the new guy at his heels.

  “Everyone, this is the new guy. New guy, this is Butters and Hernandez. That’s Kristen, of course, although I’m sure you’ve seen pictures of the Lost Dragon or whatever on TV.”

  “Hi there. My name’s Jim—Jim Washington.” He was on the shorter side, African American, and looked fit, although he didn’t have Drew’s gym-sculpted muscles. He stuck his hand out.

  Hernandez took it and promptly tried to crush it in her grip but was ultimately unsuccessful. “Welcome,” she said enigmatically. Kristen wondered if she was already thinking about playing against him in an airsoft battle.

  Jim reached for her hand next, but it was covered in powdered sugar. She wiped it hastily on the leg of her uniform, then tried to shake but he didn’t look too pleased with the prospect.

  “So you’re her, huh?” He studied her with open curiosity. “I gotta say, even though I’ve seen your picture, this isn’t quite what I expected.”

  She wiped her hand more vigorously on her pants. Maybe he avoided shaking because of powdered sugar, although she was sure she’d removed it all.

  “I’ve heard of you too. Wonderkid, right?” Butters interjected before she could ask what exactly this wonderkid had meant by not shaking her hand. Had it only been the sticky fingers?

  Jim grinned. “Apparently, twenty-four years of age don’t count for much, even though I spent four years in the marines and another two working for Detroit PD. They still call me the kid.”

  “It sounds like you’ve been in a few hostile situations before,” Drew commented.

  “Oh, yes, sir. I spent some time in the Middle East fighting someone else’s war. I’m glad to be here where I can actually make a difference.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Hernandez said. She’d lost a brother in Iraq.

  “Well, quite frankly, our international system would be much simpler if someone besides the most powerful was in command.” His gaze drifted to Kristen as he said this and barely managed to contain a sneer.

  “Do you think I have something to do with terrorists attacking our country because I’m a dragon?” she asked, not liking the hostility in his eyes at all.

  “Not you, no, but your kind? Yes. If the ruling dragon class wasn’t so damn ostentatious with their wealth and power, maybe the common man wouldn’t be screwed so damn often.”

  “You’re saying war is all the dragon’s fault?” Hernandez raised an eyebrow.

  He shrugged. Kristen had the sense the gesture was extremely calculated. “I’m saying people in this country profit from war. Sure, some of those are regular people, I guess, but most of those at the top don’t care about regular folk. They’d as soon eat the poor.”

  “Are you worried I’ll eat you?” She smiled and flashed her teeth.

  “I’m saying if you try, I’ll be ready,” he replied.

  Drew cut in. “That’s enough politics. Jim’s on the team because he was the best nominee for selection. You have big shoes to fill, Wonderkid, but your record says you should be able to fill them.”

  “I certainly plan to.” Jim still didn’t take his gaze off Kristen.

  “Well, all right then. Wonderkid, have a donut. We’ll go through some paperwork in a minute. I gotta talk to Captain Hansen.” The team leader left Butters, Hernandez, and Kristen alone with the newcomer.

  “So, you said dragons started our latest foreign engagement, yet we have humans in congress who authorized the war. Discuss.” Hernandez smiled, obviously pleased with herself for tossing a lit match into a tank of gasoline.

  “Look, all I’m saying is that I’ve seen what it looks like when the rich and powerful try to take wealth that doesn’t belong to them.” He raised his hands as if to show he had merely stated the obvious. “Most of the time, they get it and most of the time, regular people are shot in the process.”

  “Except by the rich and powerful, you really mean dragons.” Kristen placed her hands on her hips.

  “Well, for starters, every damn dragon I’ve ever heard of is rich and powerful. They’ve manipulated regular folk for all of history simply because they’re more powerful and think that makes it right to ignore regular humans.”

  “Do you think I’m rich and powerful?” she snapped.

  “Not yet,” he retorted. “But I also heard you made it on SWAT directly out of the police academy.”

  “That was before anyone knew I was a dragon.”

  “I read on the Internet that Dragon SWAT intervened in that promotion, though,” he retorted smartly. He’d obviously been sitting on that one.

  “And if you read it on the Internet, it's true?” Butters asked incredulously. “Not exactly the most reputable of sources, the Internet.”

  “It’s not true, then?” Jim asked her pointedly.

  She shrugged.

  Hernandez laughed. “You’d better fucking believe it’s true. She got here as green as her hair is red.”

  “I’ve put in my time—” she protested.

  “I’m sure you have, but not for six years,” Jim replied.

  “So, you didn’t go to college then?” Butters asked.

  “No, sir. But that doesn’t mean I’m stupid. I’ve seen something of the world when I was on tour. I chose to come back here to make my hometown better. I don’t want Detroit to become as bad as some of the places I saw when I served.”

  “There are dragons here, though,” Kristen said. “Isn’t that a problem for you?”

  “My job is to make sure dragons are not a problem.”

  They locked gazes, then, and she could feel her aura begin to bubble up. She wanted to make this man feel scared, to feel regret for how he had judged the Kristen Hall from news stories without even meeting her. Part of her wanted to make him feel terror for the woman who could walk through bullets, but the other part of her knew he was at least kind of right.

  When the gangs had teamed up and tried to take over Detroit, a dragon had been responsible. When she—a dragon—had put down their little rebellion by killing damn near all of them, the dragons who’d come to stop the incident hadn’t cared about the loss of human lives.

  But she wasn’t like that. She wasn’t raised by dragons but by people and had wept when Jonesy—a human, and a flawed one at that—had died. Despite what he thought, she wasn’t like the other dragons who cavorted and partied high above the city they ruled from the shadows.

  She took a deep breath and silenced her aura. Using her dragon powers on him after just barely meeting was not the way to achieve anything worthwhile. She wanted Jim to respect her, not fear her.

  “Look.” He shook his head to clear his mind of the aura she had unintentionally built and had deliberately silenced. “I’m from Detroit. I’m here to help the people of this city. So long as we’re all doing that, I don’t have a problem.”

  Her intention was to say something about her keeping an eye on him as well, but Drew hollered before she could.

  “We have a weird one,” he shouted down the hall. Footsteps indicated that Keith and Beanpole were out there too.

  “What seems to be the problem, officer?” Butters grinned.

  “Get this—we have a team of perps holed up in an abandoned building. There are no hostages and no demands, but apparently, they are heavily armed and Detroit PD has requested SWAT. I want everyone geared up and in the van in less t
han five minutes. That means you too, Wonderkid.”

  “Yes, sir.” The shouted response was unanimous, and Jim followed Kristen to the gear room. She wondered if he resented her for walking down the hallway before he did.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  They arrived to find an abandoned five-story building surrounded by police.

  “Bring us up to date, officer,” Drew said to the cop who walked up to meet them as they exited the van.

  “There hasn’t been any shooting for a while,” the officer said—Johnson, according to the name on his uniform. “We’ve maintained a respectable distance and kept our heads down. That’s what happened when we got too close.” He hooked his thumb at a cruiser behind him. The windshield was shattered and the hood of the vehicle was riddled with bullet holes. A few other cruisers had damaged windows as well.

  “They must be well-provisioned if they’re taking potshots at your windows,” Jim said like he’d been on SWAT for years instead of for all of thirty minutes.

  “Potshots? What the fuck are you talking about?” Johnson protested.

  “Instead of simply destroying the one cruiser, they demolished the windows on a couple. That shows they have ammunition to spare and the skill to only hit the targets they want. This looks like a message to me.”

  “Look, Wonderkid, just because you got promoted to SWAT doesn’t mean you get to act all high and mighty over your old force.” The man’s face said he’d had problems with Jim Washington for a long time.

  “Tell us what happened leading up to the stand-off,” Drew commanded and ended the argument.

  “Yeah, sure, but there ain’t much to tell. Someone noticed a B and E and we sent a cruiser in.” The man pointed again at the only cruiser with significant damage. “He took fire and called for backup. They tried again when there were three cruisers but were pushed back by gunfire. They tried again—despite orders not to—when there were six cruisers here, but with the same result. We pulled back, cordoned the building off to make sure those assholes stay inside, and called in SWAT.”