Disclaimers: I DO NOT OWN the HTTYD series, nor any of Sanders, DeBlois or anyone's inventions in the majestic team who have created such a spectacular world for all of the fandom.
Good. So I was watching HTTYD2 one day with a jet fighter model in hand (a Sukhoi Su-33 for those who know) and thought:
What if some random pilot had to fly not a machine, but a dragon?
Yep, I know it sounds weird. Along with some 'black' bits which, if not for Norwesterner, my hero, would sound utterly ridiculous. Just to spice things up, I added some personal projections of the international politics of the close future-sometime between 1 to 10 years later, so it shouldn't fright the lights out of you guys if you see something you heard on news(not unless you've never heard of them, but then you should be puzzled, not frightened...)Bah! What am I saying? Anyway, it felt better for me to stick to the realistic side. But then, as a teen, how much of the reality have I tasted? So , I give you a squeaky and awkward blend of the world and that of HTTYD.
(P.S.:Apart from the Su-33, the inspiration also came from Norwesterner's Taming a Heart:Legacy of Myth. Hats off and bows to his realistic, subtle yet fantastic fusion of the '90s and the dragons' world!)
Dawn of the Power: Fusing Worlds
Chapter 1: Awakening
'Shard-2!' the intercom radio cracked his ears. The helmet and oxygen mask wasn't helping his hearing, nor his comfort much. 'Jap Eagle-E at your two, five thousand feet!' The wave of retreating aircraft was wiped out-not this one. 'Shoot it!' Nose first, his J-15 Flying Shark fighter jet dived. 20 thousand feet, 15 thousand, 10…'Take it!' He depressed the trigger and fired the only remaining missile.
Only it didn't.
The Japanese F-15, sleek and reflecting the sunlight with its sky grey colours braked and gained advantage against the Russian-designed-Chinese-enhanced fighter. In a split second, 20mm cannon shells pierced, broke, and shattered the armour. Lights and buzzes whirled. Smoke and fragments blunted his senses. The canopy cracked and sparks were everywhere. Through the canopy he saw the ridiculously small islands charred with bodies, wrecks, sunken ships-'Eject-beep-eject-beep' All he knew, though, was that he would join the fallen 100 feet below.
XXX
Zhou Qiang gasped, blinked hard and jumped up with cold sweat. Stone-hard army bed. Officer quarters. 0345 AM, 29th March 2019. Fuj-no, he's at Beijing, not that hot and humid seaside of southern China. 'This damn war,' he sighed. Diaoyu islands had been counter-invaded and occupied by China after the financially broken militarist Japanese government attempted to annex them. And that was two years ago: US stayed neutral due to its difficult political position between an ally and a rising superpower as well as its ever-looming problem of debts while Japan was once again defeated and demilitarized; all of its arms were confiscated and indeed in a very Chinese manner, reverse-engineered.
'Back to reality ace. Diaoyu's long past, so is this "second cold-war" thing, Zhou. And about time you hop in for guard duty too.' His rather intimate superior/friend, air force major Li Yuan Ping knew him ever since he was enlisted into the Chinese air force, PLAAF. 'Don't think about the war too much. We won, that's it-your hair's going to turn grey!' Zhou chuckled heartily and started to don his Nomex flight suit and gear. His hair was of much joke at the canteen as his slightly red hair caused him trouble with recruitment until a friend working at Qinghua University showed it was some mere genetic nuisance. Thanks, he thought as he toyed with his own memories. Dubbed as the 'Double-2 ace' in propaganda from the People's Daily, CCTV…generally the national media after he scored 22 aircraft 'kills' and no crash or hit taken (Then why does his nightmare of being shot at never went away? He smiled bitterly.)during the Third Sino-Japanese Conflict-the only one China had managed to avenge. Of course, the Chinese did a thorough national propaganda and managed to scare the West, something the 1.4 billion population had halfheartedly dreamed for apart from worse consumer product quality and perputual suppression of civil rights activists. After the war ended, he was transferred to Beijing Xijiao Airbase, one of the few of the nation's capital airbases. Since then everything changed: From highly efficient crew service (it seemed to the officer that being extremely slightly incompetent was unacceptable to them. Once a serviceman even panicked in front of him for taking a bottle of water instead of a cup of it.), the gone and unneeded fear of being drowned to flying the best aircraft the geniuses at the 'warehouse' down at Chengdu had to offer: the J-10B.
Zhou contemplated the delta-shaped jewel inside the half-buried concrete bunker that contained his assigned jet-the only brightly-illuminated place right now inside the airfield. With an integrated electronic suite, radar-absorbent material, composite-enhanced body, new and stronger radar devices and much more toys, most pilots could only imagine how flying the crown jewel of the Air Force felt. Not to Zhou. While he appreciated the elegance and the swiftness of the jet fighter, he missed the days when he would joke with the crew members, occasionally having a good meal after taking down one or a few more jets or simply doze off inside the aerodrome when he wasn't needed, unlike now where few would actually talk with him, or deny him a good smack while he was asleep on some staff's chair. In short, he felt alienated from everyone here. Stick to the job, he urged himself. He climbed up the ladder, cramped himself into the ejection seat and wore the comfy helmet.
Among the murdering screech of the WS-10 engine made, the J-10B, marked with low-visibility grey glided upon the runway junction accompanied by blinking lights of all sorts trapped in the dark mask of night. 'Guardian 1, you will take off at runway 3. Everything good?' 'Copy. Thrusters feel good…'The long checking sequence ended with the aircraft accelerating leading a dark purple flame, pushing Zhou with 135 kN of thrust and soaring into the dark early morning sky, seeking out any intruder which would never escape from the 23mm cannon or the missiles. With the eerie noise of electronics running and the whining of engines at a level so silent, he switched to cruise and reported nothing worth to report with.
XXX
'We'll be fine, bud. Everyone has their first time.' A black-clad figure took out a silenced G36C rifle in the frigid winters of Beijing. 'Stop and wait here. You see no flare after five minutes, blast that floor there.' A pair of green eyes flushing from black turned to the penthouse. Two at the pool, one at the balcony. All armed with Type 81 rifles. Good. A quick zip line crossing fifty metres ended with a blade thrust rupturing the guard's throat at the balcony. Two silenced gunshots took care of the rest. Thank gods they didn't fall into the pool. He placed numerous small rectangular blocks around the balcony and the wall. 'En route back, Nacht. Exfil at 10 seconds.'
Fireworks? What about them?
(2 minutes later)
'Guardian 1, a commercial building at Chaoyang area was just bombed. Six dead, no survivors. Check for any suspect targets.' The practice under terrorist attack was to call in military police to lock down the affected site, get PLA ready and the Snow Leopard assault team briefed while jets would scan the whole of Beijing. A small triangle appeared on the HUD target display. Since when do the separatists use air munitions as weapons? Zhou looked eagerly for it. Missiles unlocked, cannon ready. 'Where are you?' 400 feet dead ahead, Mach 1.5? It has to be some Soviet relic from the Cold War-cheap and sturdy enough for them to play with. Shoddy, though.'Yeah. Except you don't exist...or am I blind?' Did his radar go faulty? The triangle disappeared. 'To hell with counter-electronics.' It has to be a stealth jet. Just like the F-117 at Serbia, 1999. With the weapons at his disposal, whoever or whatever that represented itself on the sights would never get away.
'Command? Change of plan. A J-10B jet spotted us.' The pair of green eyes reduced to slits. The torso tensed. 'Nothing to fear. Trust me.'
Sharp dive. Zhou followed suit. 25 thousand feet. 23. 19. Right bank-what kind of jet has bat wings? Cannon linked. The finger touched the cold plastic trigger slightly, caressing its curvature. 'Tower I have target in sight. Permission to engage.'That was when Zhou was shocked: Li himself on the radio? 'Guardian 1 do not engage. I repeat do NOT engage. Return to base immediately.' The pilot flipped the weapons safety with an agitated clank. Damn! Who knew what got away! The pilot shook his head in frustration, banked left and climbed away.
XXX
'Sir,' Zhou sat forcefully as he ranted to his commander,'you broke me away from my task of intercepting all intruders, and now you're telling me-'Your tea Zhou. Calm down. Someone from high up called off this.' Zhou's nostrils very nearly flared. 'I mean what, armed guard at your room door, locked with upper authority? With all due respect sir, what the hell? Black project? Political incorrectness?' Zhou extended his arm in confusion before stroking his hair subconsciously.'601? 603? I don't know. It's above MY authority,' the commander whispered, 'it's the ministry of defense. Get to the briefing room now. Someone's waiting.' He gestured his subordinate to go.
The walk down the hallway was awful as Zhou couldn't stop wondering whether a silenced barrel was awaiting or some general would try to persuade him into another test flight(He hated it. More than a few times did he nearly had himself killed inside an unstable and shaking prototype.). The government itself, however efficient and disciplined, would not hesitate to wipe out any 'undesirable' targets. A quick rap followed by the opening of the door, when Zhou found himself standing straight in front of a suited man playing with a slightly crumpled paper plane. Along with neatly drawn PLA markings. 'Ah, the double-two ace. Good morning, officer. Take away your sidearm and ammunition as well as anything that might serve as a weapon.' The cold white lights furthered the frigid feeling Zhou gets every time he got inside the white-painted, bland room.
The pilot, dumbfounded with a total mystery sitting literally in front of him with a neat suit, exchanged his pistol and two clips for a plastic chair and a cup of coffee. 'Call me agent Hu. I am an agent of the national intelligence service, ergo authorizing me the power of interrogation and command over you for the moment. Report what you just saw.' Zhou frowned. He was under the command of the military, not some shady agency! 'Report, officer. I know your position. Consider I will give answers after you have done your part. Now, report.' The agent placed an unassuming portfolio case with a heavy 'poopf' on the table. It looked tempting. Like a good breakfast would do now, Zhou mused. 'Fine.' He sipped his coffee. 'At 0400 I took off in my J-10B serial number B-4077 circling Beijing at altitude 25000 feet, speed Mach 0.8. At 0430, an unknown target was detected by my radar just after an explosion occurred at a building at Chaoyang. I then carried out interception when I saw a pair of green-glowing objects, possibly jammers.(The agent choked his laughter bitterly.) I was then ordered to stand down and return to base.' The agent chuckled in a mysterious way-just like all Central Government leaders do: an expression which no one could tell whether it was a smile or rage or disappointment or neutrality. 'You did your part. Here's your answer.' He skidded the black unzipped fibre portfolio case across the table, which Zhou caught just in time and unzipped it slowly, as if treating the Pandora's box- his sense of danger and fear numbed by curiosity, only to shock himself.
This was out of his comprehension. Sixth generation drone? No problem. Silent transporters for black ops? Fine. But…
'They…what do you mean, they exist?' The pilot felt a cool drop running off his head.
'Yeah.' The agent shrugged as if he was choosing bread in a supermarket.
'Dragons?'
To Be Continued
Phew! For anyone who bore the boredom (no pun intended.) and disappointment( hmm. If no one's reading these feelings shouldn't exist, so why am I typing this?) I have no words to express my gratitude for your Samaritan hearts. So, did I mess up? Well I must have, but where? Please, do comment! We Chinese say,''當局者迷,旁觀者清', which means only the unattached observer, not those who are engaged in a situation know everything. Tell me my mistakes, and I won't (hopefully) make them again. I do promise on my good faith! Cheers to y'all!