I'm baaack! And I've got stories.
Shout out to Phoebe Miller for beta reading!
Fact #121: "The vast majority of people toss around the term 'feral' without really understanding what it means when it applies to dragons. A feral dragon is not the same as a feral dog, yet it is similar enough to cause confusion. Do I know what it means? No. As far as I've traveled and as many people as I've seen, I still haven't the foggiest of a solid definition of what it means to be feral. However, I will say that I met a man in Japan whose face had weathered with the passing of years, voice had softened and faded, eyes had gone milky with blindness, who told me that to witness a dragon go feral was a mesmerizing sight."
Woodward, J. (2007) The Minds of Dragons. London: Penguin.
Two days ago….
Duncan had never been in the military. His grandfather Jack had been in the Sky Devils Squadron, flying where planes could not and smuggling spies. He'd never wanted his kids to be in the same service. Duncan's father had instead worked as a chemist for a car company, and Duncan himself had followed in his steps.
As that was the case, he had never been on an active battlefield, but he would hazard a guess it was close to this right here.
Smoke hung thick in the air. A few patches glowed with fire as it chewed through what it could. The majority of the building was concrete and steel, leaving little for it to consume, yet it spread with vigor, leaping from beam to beam, shattering windows, terrorizing trapped inmates.
There was panic. Oh so much panic.
Guards yelled, dragons roared, people screamed, shots fired, the building groaned.
Chaos.
His heart thudded in his ribcage. The clear nictitating membrane slid over his eyes, shielding them from the ash and smoke in his cell. He sensed the heat more than felt it through his dense and fireproof scales.
The fire suppression systems were off. Sabotaged. A casual observer may see this as a catastrophic failure of safety precautions, but an arsonist could see it for what it was: a jailbreak.
An accelerant had fed the fire and encouraged it to spread, and not only had the foam failed to dispense and quell the flames, but the doors to the Birdcage had never released. In the event of a fire of this size, all the cell doors were to open in order to allow the inmates to escape into the Birdcage. The fact that both systems had failed told him there was a purpose in it. Or an unfortunate accident by an idiot. The guards should have manually sprung the doors, yet they were either overwhelmed by the smoke, the invaders, or were dead.
Except for Michael Charles.
Duncan spotted him through the haze on the other side of the glass. Of course, the calm and never rattled man would be one of the only guards to perform his duty.
The gate behind him lifted a third of the way before grinding to a halt.
Michael ran in front of the glass panels, yelling, "Go, go! Into the Birdcage!"
Vaguely, Duncan wondered if he had the blood of dragons in his veins. To withstand this heat and smoke would require extraordinary strength.
The ridge of scales on his back scraped the gate when he pulled himself under it. Flames licked around the entrance to the Birdcage, dancing and curling around him as he passed through them without pause.
A city on fire. Glowing in the early black hours of dawn. Surrounded by the intensity he used to create. By the havoc he used to thrive on. He was at home.
There were few other dragons in the Birdcage with him. A couple Amphibians, a handful of Arboreals, a single Serpent, two Drakes, a few still in human form. Another Wyvern.
His neighbor.
Pale green and glossy with streaks of black throughout his scales. Quadruple sets of horns. Bright yellow eyes. Two fully functioning wings.
"Not so smug and cocky now, are you? Where're your stupid poems and riddles now, huh?" he yelled at him.
Duncan narrowed his eyes at the younger Wyvern. They'd never been allowed in the Birdcage together for good reason. They didn't get along. At all. The younger was a violent and spiteful guy destined to be alone during exercise time, while Duncan had played his cards more carefully. He'd gotten to know some of the inmates. Earned more time in the Birdcage. Held his emotions at bay, kept the beast from causing a scene.
A beam of light shined down on them.
Above the crackle of the flames, the distant wail of approaching firetrucks, the crack of guns trying to keep loose dragons from escaping through the front doors, there was the whumpa-tink of a helicopter.
Turning his eye to the topmost of the Birdcage, he spotted the gap that had been cut. Perhaps the younger Wyvern's nonstop ranting about having a following wasn't all hot air, after all.
A blast of fire caught him across the face.
The other Wyvern spat fireballs at a few of the other dragons that had huddled together in the middle of the yard away from the burning walls. One of the Amphibians squealed in pain and two of the inmates still in human form hurriedly smacked the fire away from her fins.
"You claim you want justice for your kind, you want to liberate them," Duncan called at the younger one, drawing his attention off the less armored dragons. He'd been waiting for this. "And yet all I see is a coward. A moron spitting drivel."
"At least I'm not a worthless one-winged bastard that got thrown in prison for setting a few fires! At least I have a purpose!"
The Wyvern leapt onto the bars of the Birdcage, hurling a parting shot down at Duncan.
The magmatic heat that had flooded his veins in the woods all those years ago filled him now. A beast panting in the heat of its own destruction, digging its claws into the armor of others, its mind alight with a furnace fueled by all he had lost and the anger at what he had become.
What he'd allowed himself to become. A heart replaced by magma and fury, one that had been tamed by drugs while incarcerated. This time, he had his mind while the monster took over.
He scaled the wall quickly.
The younger Wyvern spread his wings and jumped off into the air.
Duncan pushed off the wall, twisting midair so his hind talons could hit first. He collided with the younger one full on, icepick talons gripping his neck and one wing shoulder. They hit the opposite side of the Birdcage in a tangle of limbs.
He held onto the bars with the talons on his single wing. Muscles that had been built up with lots of use bulged in effort to keep both of them off the ground. Claws raked his underside, glancing off the protective belly and chest plates.
"You know nothing of monsters. You know nothing of the worst humanity has to offer. You know nothing of me," Duncan said, his deep and refined voice eerily collected and low.
The younger one kicked at him, his yellow eyes glaring and his jaws parting to spray more fire. "You know what, fu–"
Duncan exhaled a perfectly aimed torrent of fire directly into the Wyvern's open mouth. The raging dragon went limp before his glands ever ran out.
He dropped the body and angled his head to the waiting helicopter.
My dearest love I'm not done yet.
Today….
Having a reserve Navy SEAL as a boss was a pain most of the time. Sure, there was always the assurance he would come for you with his whole leave no man behind policy, but his shoot first, ask later policy was more troublesome.
However, having a guy who knew how to read topographical maps and plot the best course of action to take was a blessing at the moment.
The motel room they were set up in was a bit cramped and definitely not as roomy as their bullpen back on the island, Chin and Kono having to work at the same table, Cath and Steve having spread out the maps on the bed, and Danny pacing and writing as he tried to gather more intelligence. It had been nonstop since they'd picked the other three up from the airport in Denver and continued northward.
"Hey, I've finally got the Warden on the phone," he said. He hadn't been able to get a hold of him all morning.
The others gathered around the bed as he put his phone on speaker and set it down in the middle of the maps.
"Go ahead, Warden. You've got McGarrett on the line now," he said.
"You and your team picked a good time to come to the mainland, McGarrett."
"Depends on who you ask, Sir," Steve said. "What can you tell us?"
There was a bone deep sigh. "We're keeping the whole incident quiet. If people knew we were hunting for escaped dragons there'd be mayhem."
"How many inmates are in the wind?" Cath asked.
"Considering how many inmates were locked up, not many. Our count is six, not including the two we already caught up with. We lost three to the fire and have a few more with burns and smoke inhalation. All things considered, it could have been worse."
"Except for the fact that Hughes is loose. What kind of resources do you have out in the field? Helicopters, ground teams, blood hounds?" Danny asked, scratching the back of his neck and looking at the maps. There was a lot of area for their guy to have escaped into. All of Montana and Wyoming.
"Currently, all our resources are devoted to tracking down the others. That's why we called you."
"Are you kidding me? You know that guy's a serial arsonist, right? He went on a spree on Oahu, did a lot of fire damage, and killed several people. Why are you not hunting for him?" Danny questioned.
"I'm very well aware of his history, but Hughes was a model prisoner from the first day his ass was dumped at the Ranch. Took his meds, played nice with other inmates, didn't attempt to set his cell ablaze or take a chunk out of a guard. We have more concerning matters trying to track down two of our more dangerous inmates who used the fire as an excuse to murder a guard and make a run for it. Carson Briggs and Santina Morales, a rapist and a cannibal, fall much higher on the priority list. Your boy is a one-winged fire starter that had no incidents up until two days ago."
Danny rubbed his hands together, nodding to himself. Preferably, he'd like all the prisoners captured and returned to their cells, but he had to admit that the Warden had a point. Going after the most violent offenders first wasn't something they could compromise on.
"Warden, you told me before that an inmate had planned the escape," Chin prompted. Since Steve and he had been out of cell range for a while, Chin had become the default leader for people to contact and dump their problems on.
"The inmate next door to Hughes. Drayden Cook. He came in a couple months ago, had been arrested and sentenced for vandalism and assault. Constantly droned on about a dragon revolution and how humans were lower than dragons and yada yada yada. Basically, he was a narcissistic cult leader with a small following. A very resourceful following, the bastards, but small."
Steve frowned, his crossed arms twitching. "Where's Cook now? You have tabs on him?"
"I know exactly where he is. In the morgue. You know how I said your boy hadn't had any incidents up until the fire?"
"Let me guess, Hughes found the chink in Cook's armor?" Danny asked.
"According to one of the other inmates that was in the Birdcage with them at the time, Cook tried to set some of them on fire before hitching a ride on the helicopter piloted by some of his followers. From what we can tell, they'd cut a hole at the top of the structure for him to escape and set the fire as a distraction."
"Is that how the inmates escaped?" Kono asked. "Crawled out through a hole in the roof?"
Danny thought it would take an incredibly brave or desperate person to attempt that kind of climb. He remembered the Birdcage. It was no small jungle gym. The top of the cage was easily six or seven stories off the ground.
"Briggs and Morales went out through the front doors, the others went out through the cage."
"And where does Hughes' record turn not-so-stellar?" Danny asked.
"Those two haven't had a positive relationship since Cook arrived, so I don't know if this was the culmination of that or if Cook attacked him. The other inmate said that before Cook could get into the air, Hughes tackled and pinned him down. Blasted a jet of flame directly down his throat. Pretty much cooked him from the inside out."
Danny blanched. He really shouldn't be surprised. Hughes had used thermite to literally melt several people into asphalt. He was no stranger to creatively killing someone.
"The inmate said he went through the hole in the cage and disappeared. From there, our sources tell us there's a good chance he hijacked Cook's helicopter."
Danny brushed his hands over his hair and flipped one out at the currently not present Warden. "Any idea where that is, or is tracking it our job, too?"
"Cut the snark, Williams. With all the chaos we just barely got the data on it. I've already forwarded it to you. Looks like it went down somewhere near Absaroka County in Wyoming."
He glanced at the map where Steve was highlighting a section. "Great. Going on a manhunt in all that open country should be a piece of cake."
"Keep me updated, if you can. Cell reception is spotty in that area. If you actually find Hughes and need more resources, get in touch with local law enforcement in Durant."
"Thank you for the help, Sir," Steve said.
"Just catch him, McGarrett. Oh, and if you decide to go poking around there without local law enforcement, like I have a sneaking suspicion you might, be careful about whose land you're on. The Cheyenne don't care for unwelcome outsiders stomping around their reservation."
"We'll keep that in mind," Steve said and ended the call.
Danny snatched his phone up and held it in his hand, picking at the durable cover while eyeing the large highlighted section on the map.
"So, what's the plan, Boss?" Kono set her hands on her hips and perked a brow at him.
Out of his peripheral, Danny saw the look Steve gave him, one of knowing that he wouldn't like what he was about to say, but he was the leader and he was going to have the final say in whatever their plan was. Danny didn't even bother trying to cut him off before he spoke.
"We're going to go poke around."
A day ago….
Unlike Hawaii during the summer, Wyoming's air was dry. The lack of humidity almost made it feel empty, devoid of moisture, life, and sound. The sky stretched out so big overhead that it threatened to swallow up everything. Even the mountain peaks at his back seemed dwarfed by the vastness of the endless pale blue.
After having been caged inside for a year and a half and having been on an island before that, Duncan felt small. And frustrated. His severed wing prevented him from flinging himself into that vast sea of blue that stretched from horizon to horizon.
He made do walking. Walking, walking, three-legged hopping through the stalks of golden grass and under the prickly boughs of pines. His impromptu escape hadn't carried him as far as he might have wished, but he was nothing if not resilient. Through the wide open spaces of Wyoming would take more time, but he'd eventually get to Denver.
To where it all started.
To his surprise, he crested a hill and spotted a river sluggishly moseying through the landscape. Wide, brown, quiet. Heading south. The direction he needed to go. Floating would be easier than walking. Cooler, too. His black scales sucked up the sunlight through the patches in the trees and even his natural heat venting system wasn't cooling him very effectively.
The water was warm. Unfortunately.
Duncan exhaled in disappointment, not quite a sigh nor a snort.
Slowly, he waded further in, his talons slipping on the smooth stones beneath the surface.
The bank dropped off abruptly. He plunged into water chest deep on him, water that was cooler than the shallows on the edge of the river. Pleased, he slithered the rest of the way into the middle of the river and let the current guide him downstream.
No map. No phone. No GPS. He didn't need any. The stars above had pointed him in the right direction last night and his innate homing sense led him onward. Through the trees, through halos of sunlight glittering on the water, past birds chirping, under clouds of gnats, he traveled. A monster in the water. A creature of the forest. Lost in his own thoughts.
Down, down the river he flowed. He kept his wing angled in such a way that the water pushed him forward without him needing to move a muscle. His head sat crocodilian like, his fiery orange eyes keeping a sharp look out for movement on the banks and the nostrils high on his snout taking in the dry, warm air. Beneath the surface he could hear the rocks tumbling against each other, hear his hindfeet dragging on them.
It calmed both man and beast.
That was, it calmed both man and beast until he heard a commotion up ahead. Humans yelling and a dog barking.
He was intrigued.
Today….
Being a crossbreed had its advantages. His height was one. His ability to both climb trees and hold his breath for a considerable amount of time, his ability to both glide and swim. It definitely had its perks.
And it had its drawbacks. First and foremost being that he lacked the more sensitive and finer tuned tasting skills on his tongue that full blooded Arboreals and Serpents possessed.
However, he still had been able to pick up a trail, relying on his SEAL training as well as what had lingered in the air. It had been mostly fuel and death.
"So, does our plan of attack boil down to storming off into unfamiliar territory on our own?" Danny questioned.
Steve grunted. "No."
Danny waved a hand at the pine trees standing around them. "Are you sure? Because that's what it sure looks like. Are you planning on bringing Hughes in with just the five of us?"
Steve glanced over his shoulder at the rest of his team.
They were indeed in unfamiliar territory. The tall pine forests differed greatly from the dense jungles of the islands, mostly brown and dry with branches not sprouting until well above their heads. He thought it differed for the better. There was less cover for perps to hide. Even the trees weren't dense enough to support a Wyvern in them.
"We can do it, Danny. We've got three dragons and two snipers," he said.
"We had three dragons and a sniper last time and still almost got barbequed. Are you forgetting those scars on your chest?" Danny said.
"This time we're ready for him," Steve said and patted his cargo pants pocket.
Chin and Kono had brought their rifles, barely getting permission for them to fly to the mainland with them. Unfortunately, their supply of Dragon Slayer Rounds for said rifles was low, and they didn't have more than three apiece for the handguns, the backup weapons Steve and Danny had brought on the prisoner transfer flight and had hoped to not need.
"Besides," Steve added, forging the trail down a needle covered slope to a slow moving river, "Hughes can't fly this time."
"Don't get cocky, Steven," Danny warned. "You heard what the Warden said. Hughes managed to kill an angry, fully functional Wyvern and escape on top of that."
"And he has a two day head start on us," Chin said.
Steve stopped.
He heard the others breathe a quiet sigh of relief as they caught their breath and hydrated.
Steve had tracked humans and dragons alike in the past as a SEAL and as leader of the Five-0 Taskforce. He could follow a man through an overgrown jungle without much pause or follow a Drake over rocky deserts in the Middle East without losing the trail.
Unlike the mutant Wyvern from that last fall, Hughes was no ghost. He made a trail. A faint one, but one someone who knew what they were doing could follow. His massive talons had overturned pockets of needles and dirt, and his odd tripod gait was distinctive.
Unfortunately, Chin was right. It was a day old and despite his injury, Hughes seemed to be moving quickly and with certainty.
"The trail goes into the river," he said to his resting team.
"Where is he going?" Cath asked. She shook her head at the seemingly endless stand of pines that continued on the other side of the river. "His trail hasn't double backed or crossed itself at all. It's almost like he knows this place."
Kono shrugged. "From what we could tell, he grew up in the Denver area. Maybe he's been hiking or camping back in these ranges."
"Or maybe he's on a one-track mind," Danny suggested. "I don't care what we were told, he wasn't right in the head with his whole 'chink in the armor' thing."
Steve wasn't sure what to think. To know his enemy would help him predict his next move, but there was a difference to know a man and to know a beast. Hughes seemed to ride the line.
"Danny and I will cross the river and see if we can pick up the trail on the other side. Chin, you guys head downstream on this side. He might have come out further down and swung around in an effort to throw us off," Steve said.
"He probably doesn't know we're following him," Danny said.
"Yeah, but he's probably expecting someone to come looking for him," Chin pointed out.
Using a fallen tree as a bridge, Steve and Danny crossed the sluggish river and followed the bank. The pebbly nature of it would make it harder to spot an exit point, so Steve watched for slide marks in the tufts of green grass close to the bank.
Each half of the team followed the banks in silence for some time. Deer hoofprints were the most common ones they saw, followed by tiny raccoon handprints. Dog footprints in the mud at one point told him that people must have been up here recently.
"Steve."
He looked up from the pawprints at Danny's nudge. He followed his line of sight.
Guns drawn, they jogged as quietly as they could to the campsite.
"This place is a mess," Danny commented under his breath.
Steve nodded.
Rocks and logs had been overturned, tents had been shredded, coolers had been ripped open, beer cans and bottles littered the ground. A dog chained to a tree barked fearfully at them.
A body lay sprawled next to the firepit.
"Think our boy had a conniption or do you think it was a bear?" Danny asked.
It looked like an animal attack. He couldn't see scorch marks or burns on the body to indicate a Wyvern was the culprit.
"If it was an animal, why leave the dog?" he asked.
"Poor mutt seems terrified," Danny said.
The blue heeler was frazzled with its eye whites showing and foam flecking its mouth from barking.
Steve signaled for the rest of the team to make their way across the river.
Danny watched them head further downstream. "See, they're smart. They're going to go use that bridge down there, unlike you who wanted to use a slippery tree."
"We would've had to have doubled back if we'd walked all the way to this bridge," Steve said.
He crouched by the body. Hughes killed with fire, but he had no doubt that his icepick talons would be able to efficiently take a life. Only, there didn't seem to be any charring or enough blood for either of those options.
What killed the man?
"Don't move. Hands above your heads. Slowly."
Steve raised his hands, minutely impressed that someone had managed to sneak up on him with all this dry underbrush.
"Turn around."
He pivoted on the balls of his feet.
A man with a hat and a pistol stood on the outer edge of the camp, a golden badge gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. Another man stood at another angle with a rifle.
"What's your business out here?" he asked.
Steve stood up slowly. "I'm Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett. My team and I are tracking someone."
"So am I. You folks from out of town?" he asked.
"Way out of town," Danny said.
The man lifted his chin at them. "Welcome to Absaroka County. I'm Sheriff Longmire."
To be continued...
Next week on "Dragons", Five-0 gets some help from Longmire and his deputies in tracking Hughes. A local criminal gets tangled up with the case, and they all come to see that even one-winged, a Wyvern is still a force of nature.
Thank you for reading! I've got some stuff planned, some characters to meet, possibly some whump to dole out. Please hit me with suggestions, thoughts, ideas, or questions if you have any! I'll take all the inspiration I can get. ;)