Cold Comfort, Part VI: Blood and Dragons

Webster's Dictionary:

cold comfort

quite limited sympathy, consolation, or encouragement

blood

the fluid that circulates in the heart, arteries, capillaries, and veins of a vertebrate animal carrying nourishment and oxygen to and bringing away waste products from all parts of the body; the shedding of blood; the taking of life; relationship by descent from a common ancestor : kinship; blood regarded as the seat of the emotions

dragon

a mythical animal usually represented as a monstrous winged and scaly serpent or saurian with a crested head and enormous claws; a violent, combative, or very strict person; something or someone formidable or baneful


15 years old

The tall, thin figure stepped into the alley and crossed quietly to a door about midway along the brick wall. If there had been more light, it would be easy to see the smirk twist his full lips as he looked at the bars on the door. The man paused a moment, listening, and then he took a breath and walked through the bars and the door into the back room of the shop. His eyes had already adjusted to the dark so he scanned the room carefully while picking his way through the boxes and crowded shelves on the way through. A door marked "Office" was obviously his destination as he didn't even pause at it but phased right through to the other side.

After a moment's perusal, the man stepped around the desk and bent over it, pushing the chair out of the way gently. There might not be anyone around but there was also no reason in taking chances. A small shaft of light fell across one side of his face, highlighting sharp cheekbones, a rather long nose and thick, black lashes framing almond-shaped eyes that gave him an exotic look. The artificial light shining through the window cast an eerie glow on his skin. He tried to open one of the drawers but found it was locked. A small frown crossed his face, then a brief look of impatience. He closed his eyes and reached his hand through the drawer, feeling around for something. A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth as he phased a set of keys through the drawer front. He looked around, checking for security cameras but, apparently seeing nothing, shrugged it off, turning to an old wood table.

A thick layer of dust covered the top of some surveillance equipment. A video screen showed the inside of a pawn shop. The camera slowly scanned the room from the entrance up front to the back cage where the employee would sit and then back again. The man stared at the screen with a look of concentration on his face, following the camera's progress. The most valuable items for sale (jewelry, antiques, rare books) would be kept in the cage. They stuck with the less obvious jewelry–gold chains, watches, simple rings–nothing too fancy, gaudy or obviously expensive because it was harder to resale. Antiques and rare books were only of interest when someone paid them to be interested. Tonight, they were interested in a rare medical book, probably worth a mint on the market, but for them it was worth another week's rent and food. As the camera panned to the back of the shop again, he could see a barrister against the back wall inside the cage.

To the cage, then. The thin man stood up and pressed the power button on the video recorder, another smirk playing on his lips. Apparently the pawn shop owner was too cheap to put surveillance around the whole shop, having faith in bars and locks to keep out thieves. He turned from the table and walked to the opposite wall where a small safe sat. Slipping the backpack off, he unzipped it and then unhesitatingly reached through the safe door, pulling out stacks of bills and dropping them in the backpack. When he was done, he zipped the backpack up, stood and slipped it back on. Starting toward the door, a glint of something metal caught his eye. On the corner of the desk was a Zippo lighter, an expensive one from the look of it, with a unique shark wraparound design. After a moment's hesitation, the man palmed the lighter and then crossed the room quickly, walking through the wall right beside the door.

On the underside of the surveillance table, a small red light, recently activated, flashed silently.

*******************************

John stood in the shadowed doorway, intently watching the building across the street. Peeling paint on the large window in front announce "Sal's Gold 'N Pawn" and the red blinking sign on the bar next door glinted rhythmically off the glass behind the bars on the windows and door.

Ivy shifted impatiently beside him and sighed quietly.

"I hate this part," she said.

John glanced at her, lifting an eyebrow. "C'mon," he said, tilting his head, "What could be more fun than standing around in a shitty part of town, freezing our asses off while your brother shops?"

Ivy snorted then stared at the window of the pawn shop, her eyes narrowing.

"See anything, shrimp?" John asked, fingering the bic lighter in his jacket pocket. A fire would be nice right about now. He hated the cold and the dark. Resisting the temptation, John turned to look at Ivy as she watched the pawn shop, her enhanced vision allowing her to see inside. He was still amazed sometimes that they'd taken him in at all, let alone treated him like a brother. He hadn't been the friendliest sort when they met, having been on his own for a year in a city not known for it's hospitality. His mind wandered, thinking about the past. Meeting the Chens and becoming part of their family. The various odd jobs they took and worked together, or separately–stealing high-dollar antiques for clients, the very occasional scam operation enticing some mark in with the promise of great reward only to trick him out of everything they could before disappearing. And when things got really rough, they'd resort to the traditional pickpocketing and breaking and entering. Sometimes he felt a pang of guilt, wondering what Norman and Mrs. Grueber would think if they knew but he felt, for some reason, that Norman would understand even if Mrs. Grueber were disappointed with it. Besides, he thought bitterly, what did it matter? He'd never heard from or seen Norman again after that night....

"Pyro? John!" Ivy said urgently.

John jerked back to the present, looking at Ivy in surprise.

"Where were you?" she asked, giving him a quizzical look before heading across the street to slip through the now unlocked pawn shop door. John followed right behind her, his eyes only needing a moment to adjust before he was scanning the room looking for all available exits while simultaneously checking for things that would prove useful as barter or easily sold.

He didn't like that the only exits appeared to be the front door and, probably, the back alley door that Nikki phased through. The potential for being trapped made him feel a little uncomfortable but Nikki seemed to be at ease and they weren't planning on being there long, anyway. Get in, get the book, grab whatever else they might be able to resale and get out. Besides, he knew that Nikki would've already checked out the store security and done whatever he needed to so they wouldn't get caught.

The uneasy feeling persisted but he ignored it in favor of looking through the video games and portable game players in a glass case near the front of the shop. Ivy was checking through the cds and players a few shelves in. Probably looking for her favorite bands first, John thought with a little smirk. Nikki was inside the cage, door open, looking through a bookshelf against the wall. The antique book must've been there.

John had snapped up three games and two Game Boy Advances that looked good enough to hawk. They usually did pretty good at their regular spot on St. Mark's when they had a nice selection of personal electronics and music. Fourteenth St was better when NYU had just started a new semester–most of the freshmen were easy marks, especially with the game systems and cds.

Nikki stepped out of the cage with his backpack in hand, unzipped. He was carrying a large tome, apparently the rare book wanted by their client. He was looking down at it, as he walked through the cage door, shaking his head as he read the title.

"Check this out," he said, holding the book up for John and Ivy to see. "Of Men and Monsters: A Study of Strange Maladies and Physical Aberrations Presenting in Adolescents and Young Adults in the Past Century with Special Focus on Current Instances by J H Jackson." He recited for them.

Ivy wrinkled her nose. "When was that written?" she asked curiously. John was only half-listening. Ivy loved history and all that old crap. John found most of it boring as hell. He ignored the voice in his head calling him a liar–a dusty, old book could never compare to how Norman told a story. He shook his head in frustration. Memories of that year with Norman had been haunting him regularly the past couple of days. It was distracting and irritating.

"1887." Nikki replied, shaking his head again as he slipped the book into his backpack.

"Do you suppose it's about mutants?" Ivy continued. Nikki just shrugged, looking at the pile of cd's and the cd players she'd picked out.

"Oh!" Nikki paused, reaching into his pocket, then tossed something to John. "Now you can get rid of that crappy Bic you've been carrying."

John reached out and caught the item, looking down curiously. He felt a stab in his chest as he looked at the lighter. It was a Zippo with what must have been a hand-painted design on it–a shark head that wrapped around one side of it. It reminded him of the model plane that Mrs. Grueber had given him for his birthday. The one that Norman had helped him...He ground his teeth in frustration. Move on, John!

"Nikkiiiii...," he said, "You didn't steal this, did you?" he asked in feigned disapproval. Ivy rolled her eyes but Nikki just chuckled, slipping the cds and players into the backpack. It would be a pretty good haul with everything they'd picked up that night.

"I'm keepin' the Bic, though. It never hurts to have a backup or two," John said, slipping the shark Zippo into his jacket pocket and tucking the Bic into his left back pocket. He already had one extra Bic in his right sock. He'd learned the hard way not to get caught without any way of making fire. He hated not being able to create the fire on his own but every attempt he'd made had failed and he'd stopped believing he could do it since that day in the hospital, anyway.

John tossed the games to Nikki, who caught them deftly and dropped them into the almost-full backpack as Ivy walked over near John to see what games she might want for herself.

Then, for the third time in his life, John's world came crashing down on him.

Nikki had his back to the cage, looking expectantly at John for the Game Boys, when a man burst through the cage door aiming a shotgun at them. Ivy turned in surprise, squealed and raised her hands, flickering into the background for a moment. John stared wide-eyed at the man, holding a Game Boy in each hand and wondering if he could risk dropping one to get to his lighter. He cursed himself for putting the Zippo into his primary pocket since he hadn't even checked it to see if it was full and usable.

Nikki turned toward the cage, holding his arms out waist high with the backpack in his right hand. He phased out briefly in fear and then solidified quickly, hoping the man was too nervous to notice that he and his sister had both defied normal human abilities. Unfortunately, their changes had been noticed by the man, who's eyes began to look wild and a bit panicked.

"What the hell do you freaks want from me!" the man yelled, waving his rifle a bit too erratically for comfort.

John turned his head slightly. The sound of sirens became clearer in the distance. "Police," he whispered urgently, wanting to kick himself for ignoring his unease earlier about their lack of escape routes. If the police got here too soon, they'd be stuck for sure. John had no interest in dealing with police again, ever.

Nikki nodded slightly, gently lowering the backpack to set it on the ground. He lifted his hands back up to his waist and debated how he was going to phase out and take this guy down without anyone getting hurt.

"What are you doing, freak! Why are you doing that!" the man asked with increasing hysteria in his voice. "Don't come any closer!"

"It was getting heavy. I just wanted to set it down," Nikki responded quietly, sounding amazingly calm to John's ears. John slowly moved his arms back and set the Game Boys on the counter behind him quietly while the maniac was occupied with Nikki. He suddenly wondered if he should cause some kind of distraction–Nikki must be planning to jump the guy somehow, so it might be better to get him to look toward John instead. Except that meant he'd be aiming toward Ivy, too, which was the last thing John wanted.

Before John could decide, Nikki tried to edge slightly toward the man who seemed to lose all reason and started shouting at Nikki to stop trying to melt his brain or something incoherent like that. Nikki calmly tried to explain that he wasn't a telepath. Ivy had covered her ears with her hands, crying, begging them to stop and staring wide-eyed between Nikki and the shotgun. John looked briefly at Ivy and started towards her when the sound of the shotgun roared in his ears causing him to grab Ivy and swing her around with him to duck behind a low shelf of stereos and speakers.

The silence was deafening for a moment before the wailing sirens reached John's ears again. He couldn't hear any movement inside the shop, just the sound of heavy breathing. He pulled the Zippo out of his pocket with a shaking hand and flicked the lid open before peeking around the corner of the shelf. Nikki was still standing at the glass case but his hands were no longer visible. The maniac with the gun was just standing in front of the cage with the shotgun slightly lowered, staring in shock at Nikki.

John glanced back at Ivy who was crouched on the floor, rocking gently, with her eyes closed and her hands still covering her ears. He stepped quietly out from behind the shelf and stood up as Nikki turned toward him, his hands covering his stomach with blood seeping out between his fingers. John felt a numbness sweep over him as he stared at Nikki's stomach, at Nikki's life slipping out of him in rivulets of blood. He raised his eyes to see Nikki looking at him with disbelief and shock.

"Ivy...," Nikki whispered before falling to his knees and then face first onto the floor. John stood rooted to the spot, stunned and shaking, staring at Nikki's unmoving form. The sirens were outside, lights flashing red and blue, bathing the shop in a kaleidoscope of colored light. The darkness and rage he'd kept at bay while he was with Nikki and Ivy surfaced and his face hardened as he looked at the shop owner over the glass counter now smeared with blood.

"He was attacking me," the shop owner said, desperately, looking at the young man lying on the floor and still clinging to the drooping shotgun. They were mutants, no doubt, but they were all so young–the one he'd killed couldn't be more than 19.

The shaken man looked up at the kid standing across the room and felt a stab of fear. The hatred and anger clouding the teenager's face was frightening. He didn't know what this kid could do but he didn't think he wanted to know. He raised his gun at the same time the boy raised his hand and flicked his lighter. A second before he could pull the trigger, a blast of heat and flame struck him full force and threw him back against the cage, screaming in terror and pain.

The police came through the front door just then, guns drawn and aimed at John, yelling for him to get down on the floor. John froze, indecision etched on his face, his lighter still gripped in one hand and a flame dancing on the palm of the other. There were three policemen standing in front of him, two more coming through the front door and he could hear noises in the back room indicating the likelihood of more police coming from the back. He was completely surrounded and totally fucked.

Take care of Ivy, John thought scornfully. Nikki should've known better than that...he couldn't even take care of himself. The best he could do was keep them distracted so Ivy could get away. He slipped the lighter in his pocket as he formed the flame into a dragon shape, slowly increasing its size as its wing spread out and neck arched. It was fearsome to see and the policemen seemed unsure of whether he had conjured up some sentient fire dragon to fight them. If the creature could think, it might not be happy about them shooting the mutant.

The five police in position in front of John, were joined by at least three more from behind him. He could hear the shuffling of feet and click of metal from their guns and it made his back itch but he continued manipulating the dragon, making it lift off and rise above him in a display of fiery anger as he stretched his arms wide.

"I don't want to have to kill you, boy," came a quiet voice and he could feel the presence of one of the cops directly behind him. He imagined the gun must be aimed directly at his head. He didn't really want to die but he owed Nikki and Ivy his life and he wasn't about to let Ivy get caught. The dragon figure reared back as if preparing to throw flames at the officers in front of John. Then he saw the front door to the shop open slightly, just enough for a small teenage girl to fit through. He dropped his arms, allowing the flaming dragon to die out as a feeling of relief washed over him.

It didn't last long. The police were on him in a heartbeat, forcing him to the ground, taking his lighter and putting handcuffs on him. John hoped Ivy would be alright by herself but wasn't comforted by his own experiences. He promised himself he would find her as soon as he could but didn't hold much hope on that happening, either. He didn't expect he'd ever be set free again. Jail, prison, mental institute. Dark and cold, every one of them. His mind shied away from the last one, still haunted by memories of his other experience in the psych ward.

He shivered at the thought as the police dragged him to his feet and took him to the waiting cars outside.


A/N: Thanks once again to trovia for providing editing suggestions, a good sense of humor and distracting stories from a different fandom. Hope everyone had good holidays.