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Chapter 9: All or None

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Spud was snoring. It wouldn't be a big deal, if it weren't for the midterm.

Jake elbowed him, again.

He shook awake, dragging the beanie further back on his head. Glazed eyes drifted upward as the professor, patrolling up and down the quiet auditorium, stopped and scowled at him. Ire radiated from the man's folded arms and tapping shoe - apparently having a student noisily sleep through his exam for the sixth time was something of an insult. Spud, oblivious, yawned and returned to the test packet.

Jake gave the balding lecturer a sympathetic shrug. Only this morning had he learned that Spud was even enrolled in the same class as him. Jake didn't want to imagine the professor's frustration with the sudden appearance of his drowsy, drooling, disheveled friend.

A clock ticked away at the front of the hall. Only a few minutes remained, but Jake was nearly finished. The first part of their test was all definitions, easy enough. Then there were a couple pages of multiple-choice questions. Last were the short response questions. Jake dreaded these the most. Coming up with intelligent, well thought out, concise arguments on the fly was definitely not one of his talents, particularly if those arguments were about grammatical theory and logical fallacies.

If only he could punch the test for a grade, or incinerate it.

Desks and chairs creaked as the other students rose en masse. Jake finished his last paragraph and reread it. Award-winning it wasn't, but he also wasn't itching to throw it in the trash. That was a pleasant surprise. Mimicking his classmates, he stowed his pencils and stood from his desk. Traffic flowed to the front of the room where the professor accepted papers at his podium. Jake handed his over and waited for Spud to follow suit. Shambling behind with an open backpack dragging behind him, the boy handed over his wrinkled and spit-stained packet.

The professor took it like a used tissue.

"You alright, Spud?" Jake held the door outside open for him. "You're lookin'...a little down."

Spud yawned in the daylight, the stream of students parting around them. "No worries bud. I'm good. These midterms are just killer. Actually finding these classes, cramming every night, telling the prof's I'm sick so I can make time for all the tests, really kills the college mood."

"And you're still sticking with all of these classes?"

"Well yeah!" he said, baggy eyes wide. "It's not like I can just magically pick which ones to drop. What if I miss out on some awesome, life-changing class? Then I'll end up getting some empty degree, landing in a meaningless career path, and before you know it - BAM! I'm just another boring cog in some indifferent, soulless, corporate machine."

"Dude." Jake put a hand on his shoulder. "I know you said you were gonna help with calls today. Don't. Take the day off."

Spud broke free of his dramatic pose and squeezed Jake in a one-armed hug. "Thanks man, you're the best. Besides, I wasn't coming in anyway."

"Oh…thanks for the heads-up?"

"No problem."

They turned a corner on the path, avoiding the shade. Between the overly air-conditioned lecture halls and the arrival of Fall, every bit of warm sunlight was a gift. "Just make sure you catch plenty of Z's back at the Crest," said Jake. "No offense, but you look like you could use it."

"Maybe later. There's a meeting I've gotta catch first."

"What meeting?"

"With Nigel. We've been talking about applying some of the magic-tech-gizmos that FUSS has for the human market. You know, like that super conductor material he used to help us move here?"

"The amplifying thread?"

"Super conductor. It could have tons of applications for technology, but because of those lame rules about not endangering human lives with magic-"

"A good policy, in general."

"-they need to do research on it first. The engineering department here on campus won the contract from Pandarus, and me and Nigel are acting as specialist consultants."

Jake guided Spud to the side of the path and paused. "Yo, Spud," he whispered. "You sure about this? You know what Pandarus is like - manipulative, sleezy, bad news. Having you so close to him sounds like something bad just waiting to happen."

"Relax," said Spud, eyes struggling to stay open. "I've got it under control. No way I'll let Goldilocks pull one over on me. Besides," he leaned in uncomfortably close and whispered, "this way I can be our spy."

"Spud-"

"Student by day, super-secret double agent…also by day. I'll be there right under their noses, watching everything they do and digging up all their psycho schemes. Great idea, right?"

As much as Jake disagreed, his friend's delirium didn't seem receptive to argumentation. Plus, there was some small, miniscule, microscopic merit to the idea. Waiting for Pandarus's next move had gone from a tense vigil to a month-long test of endurance. If it was part of the wizard's strategy, then it was a brilliant move. The more time passed, the more Jake's attention waned and the greater the stakes became for the Dragon Order - and great they had become.

Five dragons were up for the taking, a sixth just around the corner. Their souls could be claimed at any moment and the magical world be that much less protected.

Sleep-deprived Spud it was. Jake sighed, "Sure. Great idea."

"I know, I'm a genius. You can thank me later." His joints popped and cracked as he stretched in the midday sun. "If something smells fishy, you and the rest of the DMC are on speed dial. Speaking of, you should probably hurry over. Fu gets cranky when he has to cover calls by himself."

"S'all good, Trixie said she'd help. And look at that," said Jake, reaching into his pocket for the phone that had just begun to vibrate. He answered, "What's up Trix? How's the DMC lookin'?"

A voice that wasn't human and definitely not female growled, "Like a burning cauldron of hag pus! Trix was a no-show kid and the phones are ringing off the hook. You better get down here quick, it's gonna be a long day!" After a pause, Fu's voice returned sounding more distant. "Yeah, yeah, I know Marge! So help me if you pull out another one of those rotary things, I'm gonna-"

The connection died. Jake slid the phone back in his pocket, the fatigue of a week's worth of long, sleepless nights redoubling within him. "Gotta split, Spud. Time for the daily dose of damage control."

"Trixie ditched again?" the boy guessed. He nodded with Jake's sigh. "Bummer, man. You know she's busy with classes, lab stuff, midterms…"

"For sure, no one's trippin'," agreed Jake. "Just seems like it's getting harder and harder to keep up."

"What about Rose?" said Spud. "She could do way more than Trix and me. Actually, she could probably do your job better than you. Like that one time-"

"You know we can't, Spud. Remember what happened when we called her a few weeks ago?" Spud's face was a stubborn slate of emptiness. Jake quickly lost the contest of patience. "Two words - emergencies only. That's all she said. So unless you wanna be the one to track her down and get your butt handed to you, we're better off taking care of it ourselves."

Spud continued to stare at him. Jake waited for some reaction before giving him a gentle shove. His friend rocked backwards, shook his head and announced, "I'M GOOD! I'm good! What test are we taking?"

Jake turned him back onto the walking path and guided him in the direction of the dormitories. Trusting him to find the Crest on his own was a worrying thought, so he'd get him at least halfway there. There was only so much time free to waste, however. Another afternoon of work as the American Dragon wasn't going anywhere, and before that Jake had one more stop to make.

A long-awaited package was ready for him at the Underdown DMC.


"Mic check, mic check, one, two - is this thing on? Hey kid, you hear me?"

Jake held a small black disc beside his maw. He shouted over the wind whistling in his pointed ears, "Like you're flying right next to me, Fu! All the way up here too, this puppy's got some sick range!" A coiling plastic cord wound back to a ring wrapped around his right ear. He adjusted it, the gel-like speaker attached to it fitting snugly in his skull. "How's it on your end? All good?"

"Catchin' a bit of static but nothin' huge. Ugh, just listening to all that wind makes me wanna hurl. Hrgfhr-"

"Hey, hey, hey, puke in my office and you're getting demoted to the front desk, you got that?"

"If it means not having to put up with you then - oh - oh no."

The retching that followed made Jake regret the earpiece's impressive clarity. If it weren't for his fear of losing the small device to the sky below, he'd have ripped it free from his ear. Instead he tried distracting himself from the hacking and splashing of Fu's gastric upset, focusing on the cityscape beneath him.

Growing up in New York had instilled a certain sense of city planning in Jake. Streets should meet at sharp angles on a grid. Residential, commercial, and industrial sectors should all be clearly defined and separate from each other. Most people should be taking public transportation, and streets were usually clean and orderly. Okay, that last bit was more of a pipedream than reality.

Either way, Los Angeles cared little for those New England sensibilities. The landscape wasn't flat but rolled and curved, broken occasionally with jutting hills and crevices. From block to block you could pass a factory, an office building, and several apartments, then back to warehouses. It seemed like there were more freeways than surface streets, both of which were chronically congested with strings of rumbling, break-lit cars. Even the skyscrapers couldn't agree on where to strike at the sky. Sure, there was a main financial district, but travel ten or so miles and you'd run into another clump of the towering things, and another, and another.

All of this made Jake's increasingly demanding need to navigate the metropolis fairly difficult, which was why they'd ordered the earpiece radios in the first place. Cringing at his Shar Pei's volatile vomiting was just an unfortunate side effect.

The retching subsided. Jake listened for a moment longer as Fu panted wearily. "You, uh, good there Fu?"

"Oh yeah…huff…" Fu cleared a rasping throat. "I, uh, I'm starting to think I maybe shouldn't have tried that new kelpie joint down on the sixth tier. Tried telling myself something about that kraken stew felt fishy, but do I listen?"

"Dawg, you seriously gotta watch what you're putting in that mouth of yours!" Jake passed over another lumpy hill and found more sprawling suburbia on the other side. A few apartment complexes in particular caught his eye. "I think I'm getting close to the first call. Can you double check?"

The sound of claws clacking away over a keyboard came through the earpiece. "Let's see," hummed Fu. "Almost…got it. The tracker in your vest says you've got about a mile to go, due North. Should be a ten-floor complex, pretty old, tiny balconies and peeling white paint. Total eyesore, can't miss it. How's the vest working out, by the way?"

"Fits like a glove! Peace, Fu. I'll holla when I'm ready for the next one!"

Jake slipped the black microphone disc onto a clasp attached to the shoulder of the black suede vest he wore. The garment was close-fitting and comfortable, resting over his shoulders, around his back, and zipped shut at the front. It extended just to the top of his underbelly with pockets on the sides to hold his phone and whatever else he needed. The lack of sleeves gave him perfect mobility, and slits in the back for his wings were left open - maximum flexibility without the infuriating Velcro of his suit. He'd been adamant about that last detail.

And most importantly - it was downright, objectively badass. The earpiece was functional, but the vest was fresh. It was the little things that kept Jake going these days.

The job certainly wasn't helping.


"Tenets having been puking for weeks on the tenth floor - the tenth floor!"

"Then tell them not to live so far off the ground! Don't blame me if they get air-sick!"

"Air-sick?! Try 'oozing-pus-and-reeking-garbage-on-a-hot-humid-summer-day' sick! And don't even get me started on the water damage! Either your disgusting smell goes, or you do!"

"You see?" gurgled the creature, a tangled mass of vines, brambles, and moss roughly amassed into a bipedal shape. Noxious vapors wafted around her form from the open door behind her, visibly distorting the hallway air. She gesticulated a vegetated limb toward the exasperated landlord. "Discrimination, prejudice, whatever you want to call it. They just want to get rid of me because I'm not a human like them!"

The landlord's eyes were two bulging, sweating orbs. "You're a swamp monster," he hissed, "and this isn't a swamp!"

"Debatable," she hummed.

"Please," begged the man to Jake. Red lines marked his cheeks where tears had streaked for days. "I'm losing tenets. This entire floor had to be evacuated just a week ago. I tried being open minded to this arrangement, but I can't maintain a property like this. You have to do something!"

They watched the American Dragon expectantly, who no doubt appeared deep in thought with his eyes shut tight and a hand clamped around his maw. And in truth, he was. Jake hadn't breathed since they'd entered the floor and his lungs burned fiercely. By his thorough mental estimations, he had about six words left with which to pass judgement.

His eyes snapped open, meeting a sting like chlorinated onions. "Get stench charms," he barked at the swamp monster, "or get out-"

Gasping coughs overtook Jake as he hurdled down the hall and dove for the stairwell.


A sentient column of rock trudged across a construction site. Stone ground against stone as he moved and the ground shook with each of his steps. Jake felt like he was watching a small mountain slide over the ground as the towering creature effortlessly carried a steel girder over each of its sturdy shoulders.

"We don't have anything against him," a construction worker told Jake. The workers were all grouped around him at one end of the yard, gowned in orange vests and hardhats. Together they watched the golem move about his work.

"Yeah, he's actually kinda nice," said another of the workers. "Maybe a little slow, and I'm not talking about his mile time, but still nice. Never gets upset, picks up any shift-"

"So what's the problem?" asked Jake, adjusting the hardhat they'd made him wear and which clearly would never fit.

"Three guys got laid off last week, and word is more layoffs are right around the corner."

"We ain't dumb," piped up another grizzled worker. "That thing can do the work of ten of us, but you know what the worst part is? He ain't part of the union, and the higher-ups don't even have to pay it! We tried talking to him about it, but the thing can barely hold a conversation. How can we compete with that?"

The ground trembled beneath them as the golem set down his two girders next to the metal framework of a building-to-be. The beast slowly stood erect, turned with the creaking inevitability of a glacier, and lumbered back across the yard.

One of the workers cursed under their breath. "Heads-up."

"Hey, hey, hey, what's all this about?"

Jake turned to see a similarly dressed woman approaching their group. He raised a hand and waved. "Hey there, I'm the American Dragon-"

"Like anyone doesn't know who you are," she snapped, turning to the rest of the group. "Break was over ten minutes ago, people. Hurry up, back to it!"

The workers slunk away, careful not to grumble too loudly. Jake waited until the two of them were alone before continuing, "I'm guessing you're the boss around here?"

"You got it. And I'm guessing you're here about Kurt?" The woman jerked a thumb at the golem, who had reached the stack of girders and was loading another two on his shoulders. "Best thing that ever happened to our company. If you're here to take him, get ready for a fight."

Jake looked her up and down, curious exactly how she intended to stop him. "Easy, take it down a notch. I'm just lookin' out for him is all. For starters, you know all magical creatures working for humans have to get the same benefits and protections as human workers, right? Things like overtime, holidays, minimum wage-"

"Please, we treat him great. AIN'T THAT RIGHT KURT?!" she bellowed in the direction of the golem. "Keep it up and you'll get another bonus!"

Kurt looked to her at his tectonic pace, the stones of his face grinding into what Jake guessed was a smile. "More…pebbles…for…Kurt?" he boomed.

Jake stared at the golem, then slowly turned to the foreman. His hardhat slid off. "Lady, you gotta know rocks don't count as a wage."

The golem grumbled in the distance, "But…Kurt…like…pebbles…"


Not ten seconds had passed since Jake had landed, and already he was wearily climbing back into the sky. Two teenage girls with twigs taped to their arms and tied in their hair shrunk away below him as he flew.

"A druidic circle threatened by land developers!" shouted Jake into the microphone in his paw. "You call those druids, Fu?! C'mon dawg, I thought we were screening these people!"

"Oh I screened 'em alright," came Fu's barking chuckle. "Thought you could use a little pick-me-up. C'mon, did they at least have clothes made of leaves? Fake pen tattoos? No wait, I bet there were flowers in their hair, or they reeked of-"

Jake ripped the earpiece out and flew on.


"Humans first! Humans only!"

"What do we want? Human protection! When do we want it? Yesterday!"

"One, two, three, four, we don't want no micks no more!"

Jake watched the display from the carved steps of UCLA's main library, scaled arms folded in front of him. He was surprised at the rage the last chant sparked in him. Maintaining his air of indifference was a challenge. "Wow."

One of the university's higher-ups, a dean of some kind, stood next to him in business attire. "I trust you can see the problem."

"The problem?" scoffed Jake, waving a paw at the lone student marching back and forth in front of the library with a picket sign over his shoulder. The word 'MICKS' was scrawled, and proudly crossed out, in red paint. Passing students gave the verbose boy a healthy berth.

Again, Jake felt himself bubbling at the sign. "That right there," said Jake, "is a train wreck of problems. Why's he chanting a bunch of different things? Just pick one - which isn't easy since they all kinda suck. And that last one - was that three negatives in a row? I mean, I hope he didn't stay up all night coming up with that one."

"He could stand to benefit from a marketing course," the dean agreed. "However, we're more concerned with the subject of his protest. UCLA prides itself on diversity and inclusivity, and we've had some complaints regarding this…" the dean chewed on her words for a moment, "…peaceful demonstration."

"MLK over there, what's his damage anyway? Why all the hate?"

The dean demonstrated the classic trifecta of exasperation - she shook her head, sighed loudly, and profoundly rolled her eyes. "As far as I'm aware, nothing tangible. His grievances are of a more philosophical nature, arguing that magical students could be using their abilities to cheat or disadvantage others."

"The only advantage I have," sang a voice behind them, "is a mean kick for rude boys like him."

They turned just in time for a satyress to jump and embrace Jake in a giggling hug. "Merida!" he said, surprised.

"About time, American Dragon!" she laughed. Today she wore a bright pink top with her usual jean shorts and unabashed hooves. "I've been waiting forever to see you! You know," she let go and poked him in the vest over his ribs, "like this."

Relief came over the dean. "Merida, right on time. Thank you so much for coming."

More students followed down the steps behind her, all leaving from the library. They moved with the exhausted stress of midterms that Jake knew all too well, but several brightened at the sight of their group and began to congregate on the library steps. Phones were pulled out and he could see their collective courage building to ask the dragon for a picture. A couple in the back even carried suspiciously expensive-looking video cameras. Spontaneous photo-ops had become something of a regular occurrence for him over the past month, but if this was a coincidence then Jake was an iguana.

"Don't feel too bad," he said to the dean. "Even idiots can get into college. Believe me, I know. But as fun as it would be for me to whoop on that kid down there, something tells me you've got a different kind of publicity in mind."

She shrugged. "If some of our students want to demonstrate their positivity and open-mindedness with the American Dragon and their magical classmates, who are we to stop them?"

"And it was all my idea," interjected Merida. "Blame me if you're upset, not the school. I thought it might be a nice way to make the campus more welcoming for all students, but we understand if you don't want to."

Jake leaned in closer. "Don't want to? Yo, y'all shoulda just been straight with me from the start. The Am-Drag's always down for a photo-op. How else is the world gonna get some of this fine hunk of dragon?" He waggled his scaled brows and stood tall over the encroaching crowd. "What's up y'all? The American Dragon is in the house! Who wants a pic?"

They accepted his invitation promptly. The moments that followed were a blitz of poses, smiles, handshakes, and at one point lifting a cheerleader into the air (to the dean's extremely reluctant agreement). As drained as Jake felt, even the worst of his days couldn't keep him from enjoying times like these. They were incomparably thrilling. He hoped that never changed.

At some point he met the glare of the protesting student below and winked, earning a scowl in response.

The protester's voice returned, redoubled, "Hey-hey! Ho-ho! Every mick has got to go! Hey-hey! Ho-ho!"


"Most days it's like I don't have any free time," Jake narrated to the ceiling. "It just goes classes, work, back home, straight to bed, and back to classes again! Day after day, and then I spend every weekend just catching up on all the crud I couldn't get to! It's a miracle if I get any time to study, and me-time is straight up out of the question."

"Uh-huh…"

"Seriously, I've never been so tired in my life, and that's saying something! The way gramps used to train me was killer, but lookin' back it was easy compared to this. They tell you it's hard, you know? Being on your own and trying to keep up with college and life at the same time. But this is way more than just hard."

"Yeah…"

A brief pause, punctuated by the sound of turning pages and a scribbling pen. Jake looked to the side at the heavy, wooden desk beside him. "You're not listening, are you?"

"Hmm?"

"What I was saying?" said Jake. He lounged sideways in a leather chair, his back bent across the arms, wings splayed, and extremities dangling. Spread out like this, he took up about a third of Secretary Carson's office. The detective didn't mind, though. At least if she did she wasn't saying anything, engrossed as she was in the stack of documents and files she had yet to turn away from. "You didn't hear any of it, did you?" repeated Jake.

"You're feeling overwhelmed," she said, pen still gliding over paper. "And unprepared. Your obligations are leaving you with little personal time and it's taking a toll on your wellbeing." She looked up from her work and sipped from one of the multiple mugs beside her stationary. "Miss anything?"

Jake pointedly glanced back to the ceiling. "No," he mumbled.

"Multitasking is a skill, and I practice often." Carson set her pen down and rested her chin on clamped hands, observing him. "This isn't a therapy office. At the risk of sounding old, however, I will say this - welcome to adulthood. It's tiring, boring, constant, and often unpleasant." She sipped her coffee again. "You can't be comfortable."

"The dorms aren't that bad."

"I'm referring to the chair."

"You'd be surprised," said Jake, stretching in the seat. "It's all about the tail and wings, see. Most chairs there's nowhere to get them comfy, but chillin' like this ain't half bad."

"Perhaps some specially designed furniture for your Los Angeles office? Might help brighten things up for you." She nodded to Jake, eyes on his vest, and added, "A little comfort goes a long way."

"You're right about that," he agreed. "Thanks again for hooking me up with all the sweet new gear. And get this!" Jake stuck a paw in one of the slits of the vest and materialized a wrapped rectangle. One tear and the granola bar inside was free for him to devour in a single bite. He groaned with pleasure. "Snack pocket - genius. For real, this is a game changer. But that's not the problem. Actually, there really isn't a problem."

Jake rolled out of the chair. Joints popped and cracked as he stretched in front of Carson's crowded desk, a delicate task in the busy space. Before now he'd thought his own office was out of control. This, however, gave him perspective. Plump files filling wire baskets, towers of documents leaning precariously, scattered books opened to heavily annotated pages, all of which spilled onto orbiting side tables and chairs. The constellation of office work didn't stop there, however. Bulging filing cabinets slouched at the room's corners. Jake counted three trash bins, all of which overflowed with paper scraps. Bookcases lined her walls, the spines of their volumes bland and unattractive. In fact, only two spots on the office walls were free. The first was by the door and occupied by a calendar, blanketed entirely by overlapping notes and scribbles. The second was a window in the far wall, lighting the detective from behind in a bright glow.

Jake looked through the glass. Similar gray, stone buildings lined the streets of D.C., most housing some government department or another. People walked the streets, cars sputtered by, the Sun hung overhead like always.

"I'm great, everything's great," he said, tossing his wrapper into one of the bins. "That's the weird part. Even though there's all this studying, tests, work, all of that, I feel…happy? Hearing that a few years ago I would've called you nuts, but I kinda like doing all this work. And I wanna keep doing it because…it feels good, sorta."

Carson's expression shifted during his explanation, eyebrow arching and humor curling into her lips. "It sounds to me," she hummed, "like you're describing satisfaction."

"I thought that was more like taking a nap after stuffing your face, or beating the last level of Zorg Crusher 6?"

"A different word then," she said, returning to her forms. "Gratification, fulfillment. The point is you've found something that gives you purpose. Take it from me, that's rare. But purpose isn't everything. Ever heard the phrase 'do what you love and you'll never work a day'?"

Jake shrugged. "Sure, my pops used to say that all the-"

"It's bullshit." Carson flicked him an apologetic glance. "Pardon the French, but it's true. The real key to finding success is three things: what you love," she raised a finger, "what you're good at," then a second, "and what makes you money," then a third. The detective wiggled the three at Jake. "There's a catch though - you only get to pick two." Here she started lowering one finger at a time, alternating between the three. "That's the tough part, figuring out what you can and can't live without."

"You're pretty loose with the advice today."

She shifted a dirty mug to the front of the desk. "Tip jar's open."

"Well there's one of your two priorities," said Jake, folding his arms. "What about you? Does this place give you satisfaction?"

Chuckling, the detective turned a page and continued writing. "Do I seem like the type to be satisfied with carpal tunnel and cabin fever?"

"No kidding? You gotta give me some pointers on that poker face."

"Compartmentalizing - another skill worth practicing."

"Well you're obviously good at this," noted Jake. "Keeping up with all this business, putting together a whole new department in the government. Seriously, I would've lost it on day one. And there's no way your pay is that bad. So, I think," he pointed an accusing claw at her, "that you hate the job itself. This place must be making you miserable."

"I thought we were talking about your uncertainties?"

"C'mon detective, be real with me."

Carson flipped her folder closed and tossed it in an already teetering wire basket. "Real, huh?" She reached for another pile of papers. "Well for starters, I could tell you some stories if you think this is bad. President Danvers is more than willing to grant the department anything we ask for, the amount of influence I have right now is frankly alarming, and for once I get to be my own boss. On paper, this is my dream job. It's certainly more than I ever thought I'd achieve."

With the tip of his tail, Jake nudged the swaying pile back into alignment - for now. "But you aren't satisfied?"

She gave no reaction. Her pen just kept scribbling, her fingers turning the pages. "No," she eventually answered. "Not yet. There's more I could be doing."

"More?" Jake cocked his head. "Like what?"

Carson smiled in her thoughtful way, like she was wondering when Jake would reach the conclusion she'd left behind ages ago. And given her silence, she was content to wait for him to catch up.

The pile of papers, now thoroughly signed and completed, landed in another basket with a satisfying thump. "There," sighed Carson. She glanced at the watch on her wrist and made to stand. "And with ten minutes to spare. Should be enough time to have our talk before-"

What sounded like an angry, aristocratic squirrel squealed from the hallway, "Carson!"

The detective was halfway out of her seat. She paused, considered something deeply, and sat back down in resignation. Her glazed stare was haunting.

Shoes slapped over carpet outside, a sound that took Jake back. He could see it now, the scuffed Oxfords with knotted laces approaching, the muttered chattering of their owner now audible. His bowtie would be loose and tilted, his monocle held firm in the creases of his perpetual scowl, his fingers caked in dried ink and chalk. How strange that the thought brought him comfort.

"I know I am early but the thought of waiting a second longer was maddening!" The door to the office swung open and Rotwood strode in. He generously decided to knock on the open door. "So I didn't! There are many new projects for us to review, very exciting I think you'll agree - ah! And the American Dragon too," he said a little too loudly, looking very pleased with himself. "What a pleasant surprise, and fortunate timing I might add."

Jake held a paw out, eyes rolling. "Yo, what's up professor - whoa!"

Of Jake's many surprises, being dragged into an embrace by Rotwood was only the first. Never had he seen the man in such a state of bliss. Mania, sure, but this radiant enthusiasm was different. His jovial demeanor was just that and nothing more. No sneering, no glaring, not even his trademark mothball odor and clammy skin. This was a clone from a more confident and cheerful dimension.

Rotwood relinquished his hold on Jake. "Great things are 'what is upping'! Great things!" He lugged a plump leather briefcase onto Carson's desk and dropped it with a daunting THUD. One of the several wire baskets spilled sideways, ejecting folders and documents onto the floor. "You are ready for our meeting, yes? So many new projects to discuss - research, ecology, all very exciting, Heather, very exciting! Oh, my apologies, Madam Secretary."

Carson stared at her littered office floor. "We've been over this, professor. I hate it when you call me that. And Heather is worse. Carson is just fine."

One would think he'd been slapped, the way he gaped. "Nonsense, Madam Secretary! Titles are of the utmost importance. How else are we to know our professional hierarchy, to recognize our accomplishments in society?"

She blinked at the man. Then she tilted her head with a smile. "You're right professor, as always. And I am excited to review the many…" Carson glanced again at the briefcase, its seams threatening to burst at any moment, "…many proposals you've approved. Give me a moment to escort the American Dragon out and we can get right to it."

"An excellent suggestion," he agreed. "This will give me time to assemble the projector, yes? You will adore the presentation I have prepared!"

"That's great," Carson hissed through a clenched jaw. She stood and skirted around her cosmic system of paperwork to the hallway. "This way, American Dragon."

"Sure thing." Jake waved to Rotwood as he left, the man already digging through his case like a child on Christmas morning. "See ya' later prof."

Rotwood waved idly over his shoulder, "Oh yes, yes, we will be doing the 'catching up' I am sure!"

Carson waited ahead in the hall for Jake. Together they walked in tandem, the relatively cramped confines forcing Jake to follow behind the detective. "Dude, I don't know what y'all did but I think you fixed Rotwood. I've never seen him so-"

"Demanding?"

"Nah, that's pretty normal for him."

"Suffocating?"

"You're coming up with these really fast."

"They're easy to come up with." They turned a corner, Jake dodging a cooler as Carson strode on. She sighed, "Sorry, I'm being pretty negative today. Truth is he's every boss's ideal employee. Hard working, driven, definitely passionate. He's so good at his job that it somehow creates more work for me to review. Is that ironic? I never know."

Jake snapped his fingers. "Sincere! That's what it is. Back in the day any time Rotwood was happy about something, you just knew it was 'cause someone was about to get in trouble, or he was just being sarcastic. This guy is totally different. There's no scheming or attitude. Like, he's just straight up lovin' life, you know?"

"Can't say I do."

They reached a flight of stairs and climbed downward, passing a few office workers busy about their day. Jake waved as they passed, earning some cheerful smiles and greetings. It was here he forced himself to remember how not normal this was. Big dragon, little halls, normal people, and no commotion? No chaos? A month of time and a few press appearances shouldn't have been enough to flip the world on its head. What a great thing to have been proved so conclusively wrong.

The room widened and traffic grew as they reached the main lobby. Passerby made room for them, not out of fear but politeness. Bright sunlight from the doors ahead invited Jake outside back into the sky. Eager to listen, he called over Carson's shoulder, "Kicking me out already? Am I that distracting?"

The detective led him to the side of the lobby and turned. "I couldn't kick you out if I wanted to," she said, turning to face him and folding her arms. "Forgot my taser at home. Besides, we still have to have our meeting. I'll be damned if I have to see Rotwood in the next," she glanced at her watch, "four-and-a-half minutes."

"Fair. Well I don't know if it'll take that long - things are pretty quiet in L.A. and nothing major's coming from Chicago, Manhattan, or Tampa. Just little things like work arguments, fights with landlords, some college punk getting off calling me a mick."

"Does save four syllables compared to 'magical creature'." At first pondering the term, Carson shook the expression and put a hand up at Jake's glare. "Efficiency is no excuse for being derogatory, of course."

"Thank you. What about on your end?"

"Same old same old. Unless you're interested in the mesmerizing details of editing legislation and navigating the political theater-"

"I am not."

"-then there's nothing worth boring you over." The detective fingered a curl of hair, rolling it back and forth. "All is quiet, American Dragon. No riots, no hate crimes, no upheaval of society. Just like last week, and the week before that, and the week before that. I tried saying as much over the phone, but you insisted on coming in person. Why was that?" She shrugged. "Out of curiosity."

Jake's hand drifted into his vest pocket and closed around a loop of thread therein. He mirrored her shrug, "We're one month in and for the first time it feels like the Dragon Order might be safe. Can you blame me for wanting to celebrate in person?"

The air around Carson shifted. Her fingers stopped rolling her hair and fell back to fold into her other arm. She leaned against the wall, casually. "The Order is safe? Not all magical creatures? What's the difference?"

Blinking, Jake opened his mouth and closed it again. A half-baked comment was working its way up his throat-

"Don't do it," she said, eyes narrowing. "You're thinking of a coverup, something to walk back what you said. I can see it." Then the detective heaved a breath and looked away. "It's fine. Secrets are part of life. Just don't lie to me."

"No, I…it's just…" Jake clamped his mouth shut and groaned. "Aw man. Yeah, okay. No lies. But…how about a trade?"

That perked Carson's eyebrow. "Trade?"

"A secret for a secret."

"Depends on the secret."

Jake found his toothy grin. He'd been wondering how to pop a certain question. Though the Council wouldn't be too happy with him sharing the Great Evanescence with a government official, this was an opportunity. Sometimes spontaneity was the only answer. "C'mon, you scared? Call it a gamble, then."

She glanced at passerby, clearly fighting an annoyed smile. The gears in her head were turning at a dizzying speed. "Fine," she eventually whispered. "But you first. Why was the Dragon Order in danger?"

"Well I can't say everything, and if you go spreading this around you're so dead, but we kinda have a trump card," muttered Jake. "Something to let magical creatures go back into hiding. Only catch is we dragons have to sacrifice ourselves to do it. And that's all you're gonna get," he insisted, seeing Carson's sudden burning curiosity. "That's why I'm so stoked. With the way things are lookin', I'm starting to think me and my friends might actually be safe. Now, your turn."

"But-"

"Your turn."

Her lips pursed so tight they disappeared. It took a moment for the detective to force herself back to her normal expression of stern disinterest. It wasn't very convincing. "Fine! Fine. What is it?"

Jake's fingers tightened around the cord in his pocket. "What's the deal with you and Hicks?"

It was like night and day. Carson's frustrated stare returned in spades, the rush of emotion instantaneous. "Where to start? She's bullheaded, self-righteous, condescending-"

"Sure, sure, sure, but literally what happened? To get you demoted, I mean."

"Does it matter?"

"Just checking on your references."

"You do that before you hire someone."

"C'mon, Carson." Jake leaned closer and lowered his voice. "You know everything about me. Like, everything everything. But to be honest I don't know jack about you. Most of the time, I make it a policy to get familiar with my long-term partners. Feel me?"

The detective chewed on her lip, staring at her feet. "It's not something I like talking about."

"Remember when you threatened my camp counselors?" jibed Jake. "Not that I'm keeping score or anything."

"Fair enough." She pushed off from the wall and locked eyes with Jake. "She caught me working on a case I wasn't assigned to, involving a suspect I knew."

"And? That's all it took to piss her off?"

"Oh no," said Carson. "That was typical - snooping on cases, I mean. What pissed her off was when I helped the perp escape."

Jake paused. "Oh."

"Turns out she didn't like me sticking a knife in her back. After that, I was under a microscope. Every mistake, every misstep, and I was another rung down the ladder. I could try justifying why I did it but it doesn't really matter in the end, does it?" She held her hands up and let them fall back to her sides. "There. Now you know me."

He watched her gaze, her breathing, her posture, looking for anything to hint at her honesty. It was a futile exercise. Catching and spreading lies were far from one of his strengths. "Right."

Carson glanced at her wrist again and found her old exhaustion. "Can't keep Rotwood waiting forever," she said. "Listen, American Dragon. You don't have to worry. Our mistakes are in the past. New ladder," she waved to the building around them, "new me. Safe travels."

With that she strode back to the stairs. It was now or never. Jake thought he'd decided, had known what he'd do regardless, but now he hesitated. Just as she was about to start her climb, he called out.

"Carson! Hold up!"

The detective turned at his approach and groaned, "No more secrets I hope?"

"The reason I came here," said Jake. "You wanted to know - actually, it was for this."

He pulled his hand from his pocket and held the trinket out for her. Curious, Carson accepted it and looked over the thread and quarter-sized medallion. She turned it over in her fingers. "A necklace? Do you always treat your bosses this nice?"

"Partner - and no, you're a special case. My gramps gave me this a while ago, and I wanted to pass it on." It was a good thing the detective was preoccupied with the necklace, otherwise she would have noticed Jake scratching at the back of his neck. "You don't have to wear it. Just think of it as a good luck charm, and my way of saying thanks. You know, for everything you've done since we met."

Carson smirked. "I'm not flashy. But this is special, and really it's me who owes you. So thank you - for this," she pocketed the necklace, "and for giving me a chance."

Jake nodded. He watched her climb the stairs, back straight, hair tightly bound, off to where Rotwood no doubt shook with excitement for her return. A sick, squirming feeling wormed its way through his gut as she ascended. It felt like a betrayal in itself, and part of him wanted to charge after her and take the trinket back. Yet another, stronger part kept him rooted, insisting it was only a precaution.

He hoped that proved true.

Claustrophobia was starting to press on him. Jake made for the doors and the open air beyond, an ominous itch burning between his wings.


Head back, eyes closed, laughing to himself, Jake was drinking in the moment. These times of carefree joy were rare. Now that midterms had come and gone that would hopefully change, but he reveled in it all the same.

"The rooms are the biggest on campus by square foot, even bigger than De Vire!"

"True."

"Some people even have single rooms. I mean I don't, you know, but some do."

"Pretty sick."

Liz leaned away from Jake and turned to look at him. Her half-open eyes glared at the coming comment. "But?"

"It's named after a fish."

She groaned loudly. "Like that has anything to do with anything! Most of the dorms have totally random names. What they don't have," she gestured to the room around them, "is this."

Liz had a point there. The two of them sat at the end of a dining hall at a table with cushioned booths. Styled as an Asian-themed restaurant, this was one of the more popular dining options for the students in the dormitories. There were a few others built into other dorms, each with their own themes and layouts, but it was widely understood that this was the best. The usual swell of students surrounding them at this very moment was proof enough of that. Best of all, it happened to live in the bottom of Liz's own dorm. There was only one glaring issue.

"Then there's the location," she persisted. "Right in the center of campus. It's the most convenient dorm to live in. That's not an opinion, it's geometry."

"Can't argue with that," agreed Jake. "But still-"

"Come on."

"Trout Hall, Liz. Just tell me this: how do you live with yourself?"

"The private shower and reasonable cost make it pretty easy."

Jake shrugged, glancing away between the several wall-mounted TV screens scattered around the room. "Hey, whatever helps you sleep at night, girl."

He felt her bemused eye roll more than he saw it. "You know," she said, "my mom asked me the other day why I'm even interested in you. Right now, I'm starting to see her point."

"Hold up." Jake slipped his arm out from around her and twisted in the booth to face her as well. "Your parents know we're dating?"

Liz reared back an inch, looking like she'd just been asked if the sky was blue. "Well yeah, Jake," she laughed. "It's been, like, two months now. Why wouldn't I tell them?"

The question made him pause. It was such a simple thing, and he felt like the answer should have been equally straightforward. The fact he felt so flustered only worsened his confusion. He physically shook the thought from his mind and smiled at her. "So what'd you tell her? Is it the hair? Please tell me it's the hair."

"It wasn't the hair, and it definitely wasn't your limitless humility."

"That's just hurtful, yo."

Liz flipped her dark hair over her shoulder, the flawlessly straight curtain he'd come to expect now curved with broad, rolling waves. "That first week in Dr. Connally's class, when you fell asleep during her lecture."

"I remember."

"And you were drooling," she added, gazing into the distant past. "Spit dripping all over your face, your book. And the snoring-"

"Feel free to move on whenever."

The corner of her mouth pulled into a smirk. "When Dr. Connally asked you about the book, I thought you were going to make up some lie about why you hadn't read it, throw out some vague comment, something like that. But you didn't. You gave her an actual answer, and it was thoughtful."

Jake screwed up his face in thought. "I don't think I've ever heard 'Jake' and 'thoughtful' used in the same sentence before. And I never would have guessed chicks dig dudes answering questions in class. Thanks for the tip."

"It wasn't just that," she grinned. "You opened up with me at that frat party, even though I was a total stranger. And for whatever reason, I opened up with you too."

"That 'reason' was definitely crappy booze."

"And the lecture after that, you didn't lie about forgetting what happened. I guess what I'm trying to say is that you're so real, so honest. Lately I feel like I'm always second-guessing my family, my friends, everyone." Her hand slid over the table and intertwined with his. "But not you. You're just…you. And I'm just me. I really like that."

A feeling of relief lifted Jake's chest, like a breeze filling his lungs. Since coming to LA, it was becoming a pleasantly common sensation. It made him feel free. It drove him to tighten his grip with Liz, to brush her cheek with his other hand, to ease forward and meet his lips with hers. The kiss was brief, but they stayed there a while longer and shared the space. Jake had his eyes closed. He focused on the feel of their foreheads resting against each other, the warmth of her cheek in his hand, the floral smell drifting from her hair.

In uncanny unison, a pang of hunger struck him just as a rumbling growl escaped Liz's stomach.

She breathed slow and deep. "Didn't we come here for dinner?"

Jake hummed his agreement.

"And we've been here for, like, an hour."

He hummed again.

"So what happened to the food?"

"We never got it."

"That makes having dinner pretty difficult."

"In my defense," sighed Jake, reluctantly lowering his hand and drifting away. "The scenery is pretty distracting. Emphasis on the pretty."

"Now you're just being sappy," said Liz. She scooted out of the booth and around the table to stand. "You save our spot, I'll go grab a couple plates. Anything you want in particular?"

"Whatever you think looks good. After all," he said, palms held upward. "I've heard you have pretty good taste."

Another eye roll and she strode away. If Jake's count was correct, that was six for the evening - a new record. Personal victory aside, he really just enjoyed the elation they brought him.

Liz was quickly lost to the crowd of diners, a particularly heavy turnout tonight. It made sense. Not many students would be willing to go far for food on a Sunday night. Granted, the Crest was so far up the hill of dorms that Jake had to travel for his food regardless of which dining hall he chose. Still, having his girlfriend live right above one of his favorites made the whole chore magnitudes more enjoyable.

Jake's thoughts, however, drifted back to what she'd said. He drew his phone from his pocket, tapped through the menus, and dialed his mom's phone. The decision was easy, hardly even a decision at all. As he waited with the device to his ear, listening to the ringing tones come and go, he marveled at how it had taken him this long to do something so simple.

There was a click and silence as the other end answered. Jake called over the din of the dining hall, "What's up moms-"

"Is that my JAKERS?!"

Jake reflexively recoiled from the shout. Confused, he called back, "Pops?"

"I knew it!" his dad cheered. "We've been waiting for ages for you to call, young man! Oh, but you're probably busier than a tornado in Kansas! What with college and being the American Dragon. Poor Haley-hoo's out until dark most nights!"

Jake looked at his phone screen, checked the number, and returned it to his ear. "Yo pops, no offence or anything but why do you have mom's phone?"

"Oh she just ran out the door to go deal with some catering emergency. She must have left her phone in the rush. You know your mother, always on the run! Oh but she'll be absolutely ticked when she finds out she missed you! She's been worried sick about you ever since you left. Not that we don't think you can take care of yourself, because we do! Wait-!" His father gasped dramatically. "Is that why you called? Are you in trouble Jakers?! Don't worry, we'll be right there! By golly we'll fly all night if we have to!"

"No, no, no!" shouted Jake. "I'm good, pops! Everything's good!"

"Oh thank goodness," his father chuckled loudly. "That's a relief, let me tell you. You know how your old man does on planes. How you kids go about flying everywhere is beyond me!" His father's laughter gradually slipped into silence. A moment passed and he cleared his throat. "So, uh, what's up Jakers? What can your old man do for you?"

"Nothin' pops," said Jake. "School and dragon business are great. Just wanted to catch up with you guys, see how things were goin' on your end. Figured we hadn't talked in a while. Sorry about that, by the way." Jake sighed to himself and looked around the room, at students eating and laughing, the TV screens changing channels, the lights dangling above. Whatever answers he was searching for, they weren't out there in front of him. "I don't really know why it took me so long. I guess…I was just waiting for the right moment, until I felt ready or something."

"You don't have to explain anything, Jake. I'm just glad you're happy! That's all your mother and I care about. And we're so proud of you! We've told you that, right?"

"Yes, dad, tons of times."

"Because we are! I swear, every day I see some story on the news about you and it kills me that I can't jump at my desk and shout 'That's him! That's my Jakey'!" A sniffling sound came through the phone and his dad's voice returned thick and laden, "Why, I remember when you were still in diapers, chasing Fu Dog around the room and laughing yourself silly. Feels like it was just yesterday…"

The sobbing began in earnest. Strange as it was, Jake couldn't help but smile to himself and laugh. His younger self would have shrunk away from the embarrassing display. Now he couldn't believe he went so long without it. Maybe the safety of distance was to blame.

Jake glanced up from the table and saw Liz heading back, balancing two plates stacked high with food of dubious nutrition. "Listen, pops," he called over his father's hiccupping, "I'm gonna grab something to eat. I'll call later when mom's around and catch y'all up on everything that's been going down. And the wait won't be so bad this time. I promise."

"Sure-" Jonathan blew a long, steady breath and cleared his throat again. "Sure, son. That's a hip-hoppin' idea, dude."

"What did we say about the bad slang, pops?"

"Right, you're right. Well have fun and stay safe, okay? I love you Jakers!"

Jake didn't answer. His gaze, initially back to Liz as she sat down at their table, had drifted beyond her to a set of TV screens. One had changed channels to a newscast showing a familiar sight, but he couldn't be sure from this distance.

"…Jakers? Hey now, you're never too old to tell your old man you-"

"-love you, right! Sorry pops, gotta go."

Jake stuffed the phone out of sight and found his plate. Fried rice, noodles, chicken, vegetables, and pot stickers steamed in a haphazard pile of unabashed gluttony. The spices and oils hit him, striking a fresh pang of hunger.

"A lot of everything, your favorite," laughed Liz, holding out a pair of chopsticks. Jake accepted them absently as she set her own down. Food untouched, she faced Jake and brushed her hair behind her ear. "About what we were talking about earlier. You know, about being real. I'm not really good at relationships - you know, like, in general. But I like you, us, what we have going on, and I think we should take it to the next…uh, Jake? You okay?"

He looked back to her, distracted again by the TV's. Two more of those nearby had changed to the same newscast. "Sorry," said Jake. Realizing he still held the chopsticks motionless, he set them down by his plate and started shuffling out of the booth. "Hold that thought. I'll be right back. Just gotta go check out something real quick."

Her response was lost behind him. Jake moved through the crowded dining area, dodging between chairs and sliding between moving groups of students. By the time he'd reached the wall of TV's, every single one was showing the same thing - a camera focused on a performing stage, situated in a park with a bright afternoon sun overhead. Speakers were placed at the front and each corner, and rigging above held spotlights aimed at the stage. An average-sized crowd was assembled as well, but they weren't watching any singers or dancers. Instead, five people in typical clothes stood in a rough line. The one in the middle had a microphone, and they all wore matching black ski masks.

Kneeling in front of them was Fred Nerk in his human form, head sagging forward and hands behind his back.

Jake looked over the screen, baffled. He didn't recognize the news station. Pinning them somewhere in Australia was probably a safe guess, but beyond that he was clueless. The ticker at the bottom was worryingly blank. His phone was buzzing in his pocket, but he couldn't look away from the screen. Was it some kind of performance? An act? Some new attempt at world fame?

"…cannot exist…fairness…as all…"

Their leader with the microphone was talking. Jake hadn't even seen his mouth moving under the mask. He listened closer, working to tease out the words over the noise around him. It was impossible. Never had he been so desperate for his dragon ears. The attempt only flared his frustration with the din of the room.

"YO!" Jake turned on the tables around him. "Can y'all zip it for five seconds?!"

Never had he earned so much vitriol in an instant, but he'd gotten his quiet. Whipping back to the screens, he listened again and could hear the man's voice clearly.

"…not in good faith. We've been told to be kind while they take our jobs. We've been told to accept them while they steal our property. We've been told to trust them while they lie to our faces."

The man stepped aside and waved behind him. A sixth member climbed onto the stage, lugging a metal contraption behind him. It looked like Frankenstein's oversized vacuum cleaner, a heavy steel apparatus with a matching hose attached and a great glass container cradled inside. The newcomer dragged it forward and set it down just behind Nerk, now bending down to mess with a series of buttons and dials.

The dining hall had fallen silent. Jake felt someone approach and stand beside him. "Who is that?" asked Liz. "Do you know them?"

Jake couldn't answer. Someone must have found a way to turn up the volume as the man's voice returned, booming from each screen for all to hear. "We the People of all nations, in order to form a more fair and just society, call all humans to action. These monsters will destroy our way of life if we let them. They're making fools of us all, even now at this very moment. And for any who do not believe us, here is your proof."

The man lowered his mic and stepped forward.

Run. Jake watched Nerk sit motionless, willing his thoughts through the screen. RUN.

The sixth man moved aside as the speaker reached down, gripped the device's hose, and rammed it into Nerk's back.

Gasps, both from the crowd in the screen and the one behind Jake. They watched as Nerk fell forward, tubing jutting between his shoulder blades and clamps digging into his skin. The sight made Jake's blood boil. His skin burned and ears pounded with rage, worsened tenfold by his own impotence. And he wasn't alone. Several of the observers on the screen gave cries of outrage and approached the stage.

The man held up a hand and pointed to the device. The encroachers paused.

His machine churned to life. Its sleek metal radiated an unnatural glow while streaks of green lightning danced over its surface. The glow, a faint white, travelled down the tube and met Nerk's skin. Tense seconds passed where nothing happened.

Then the glow turned violet and Nerk screamed.

Gasps and cries were heard again, but this time in horror. All watched as the boy, bound and barely conscious, collapsed in a convulsing heap. Whether he was sedated or confused, every ounce of Nerk's agony was painfully plain. The device's glow intensified as he writhed. What looked like purple smoke was beginning to fill the machine's glass chamber. It swirled and clumped together, growing larger and more solid until it resembled a whirlpool of violet ink.

Once again, a few bystanders threatened to charge the stage. This time, they stopped on their own. They stared at Nerk, frozen, as his cries grew more guttural. His limbs were stretching and strange lumps protruding out of his scalp and back. Something snapped and the creature's hands were free, only for it to fall forward and squirm on all fours. His clothing stretched and tore, first in the back where vestigial limbs were sprouting, then over his backside where a tail had appeared and was thrashing about.

The sight was monstrous. Jake had never seen something so unnatural, so viscerally disturbing. He watched as scales formed and thickened over Nerk's body, wanting to rip his own skin off. He watched his friend's legs snap and crack into grotesque angles, his own feet begging him to run far away. He watched his rival's kind face, already contorted in torment, be ripped, dragged, twisted into a mutilated maw.

The glass container was filled with the churning purple substance. At its center was a pit of pure black, a void condensed into a single point. The masked men moved to work on the machine, and both the whirring and electricity suddenly faded. With a jerk they wrenched the tubing from Nerk's hide, who had finally fallen still on the stage floor.

"If they wear masks, then so will we. If they won't come out, we'll make them!" shouted the man with the mic. He and the others gathered near the back of the stage, dragging the machine and its strange contents with them. "The People want equality! We won't stop until every mick has shown themselves and knows their place. All or none!"

He tossed the mic aside and nodded to one of the others. The video feed shook and blurred with static, erratic lines and colors scratching at the image. Despite the distortion, Jake could see more of the green energy building in the air around them. This time, however, it coalesced into a sphere of neon green light. It engulfed the strange men entirely and in a flash was gone along with them.

The static vanished. All that was left was the Australian Dragon collapsed on an empty stage, lifeless in a pile of torn rags.

Confusion abounded, both in Jake and the audience. Again his phone vibrated in his pocket, unanswered. Implications, consequences, all were far from his mind. His only desire was to help his friend, for anyone to help him.

Then he saw them - the same bystanders from earlier, now climbing the stage. They hurried to Nerk's side and rolled the dragon over, poking and prodding him for some kind of reaction. Several others were close behind him, and soon the whole crowd was rushing forward. They barked directions, telling some to call for help, asking for medical professionals, all rallying around their magical guardian. With two under each arm, they were even able to raise Nerk to his feet. Though limp, the dragon's eyes drifted open at last.

Jake's fingers raked through his hair. He let out a long sigh, his relief overwhelming. Whatever had just happened, at least-

A body went flying off screen. Nerk reeled his arm and flung another of his helpers in the opposite direction. The crowd scattered. They scrambled away from the dragon, trampling over each other in their desperate escape. Panicked shouts filled the air and the video feed toppled to the ground, showing the sky above licked with searing blue flames.

The dining hall echoed with a beastly roar.

O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O=O

2/24/20 - Made some very slight adjustments to the end for clarity.