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Chapter 11: Clearing the Air

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It's common knowledge that you can't teach an old dog new tricks. Turns out, though, old dogs can teach them to even older gnomes.

And that was how Margret learned to text.

Dear Mr. Dragon, a reporter from the Los Angeles Times is trying to reach you. This is Margret.

Jake didn't bother to touch the phone. He glanced to the side where it sat on his desk, read the first few words, and looked back to his laptop. The screen showed an empty document, the cursor icon blinking in and out on the first page. It hadn't always been empty - he'd gotten as far as five words several times, only to hate them, hate his predictability, hate his lack of determination, hate his cowardice, and quickly delete them.

The phone buzzed again. Dear Mr. Dragon, a reporter from the Chicago Tribune is trying to reach you. This is Margret.

Sighing, Jake rubbed his eyes. The throbbing pain in his head made trying to type an essay particularly difficult. Maybe it was from staring at the screen for so long. Maybe it was the air growing stale after sitting in his dorm room for hours. Maybe the Crest had decided to put him out of his misery with a merciful carbon monoxide leak. Something told Jake he wasn't that lucky.

More buzzing. Dear Mr. Dragon, a reporter from Cosmo is trying to reach you. This is Margret.

Jake squinted at the phone.

"Hey bud," Spud said from behind, "not to be a drag or anything, but can you maybe kill all the vibrations? Having bees in the room is making it kinda hard to concentrate."

"Believe me, Spud, I wish I could. But if something real goes down, I've gotta know about it." Jake creaked back in his desk chair and spun around. He found his roommate dangling upside down from their bunk bed, one leg hooked over the metal bar of the top bunk while the other was bent with the toes holding a paper aloft. Spud was glaring at the paper cross-armed, looking like a grape on the vine the way blood pooled in his face.

"Uh…" Jake tilted his head, looking between the paper and Spud, "you okay there, Spud?"

His friend stared resolutely at his foot, trading out the paper in his toes with another. "I don't know," he bemoaned. "The old noggin' just isn't working like normal and I don't know why. I've tried everything - sleeping," he counted off on his fingers, "eating, energy drinks, meditating, more sleeping, hot Pilates, candy, aggressive hydration, even old faithful!" he shouted, pointing at his plum face. "The brain drain has never let me down before, but I still feel like I can't think!"

"What about-"

The phone chirped its presence. Spud glared at the thing. "Normally I think harming electronics is a crime of the highest degree, but just this once…"

"You break it, you buy it." Jake grabbed the device. Seeing anything other than Margret's number was a gift. Seeing Liz's name above the message, all the better.

Nothing new today. Connally said to start reading Doctor Faustus and have it finished by the end of next week. Reminder about the essay due in two days.

The cursor on his empty computer screen kept blinking. A few books sat open around his desk and his old essays, already graded and marked with comments, were piled against the window. None had been particularly inspiring. At this rate, Jake wondered if two days would be enough.

His fingers tapped over the phone. Got it. Thanks for covering for me!

A little bubble with three dots hovered below his message. Jake could imagine her, walking out of the lecture hall with her bag over her shoulder, following a flow of students with her eyes on the phone in her hands. She would huddle against the day's cold winds tossing her hair. As she typed, she would squint and hunch over, trying to see through the glare of the sun on her screen.

The words appeared. No problem. How are you feeling? Need me to grab you medicine, soup, blanket?

Actually, a blanket sounded kinda nice. I'm good, no worries. Let you know when I'm better.

"Mmm," hummed Spud. "Still workin' the 'worst cold of your life' angle, huh? Classic."

Jake looked up to see Spud, still dangling by his legs, curling up and twisting his neck to peek at the phone. It was a decent rigatoni impression. "How the heck do you have the core strength to do that?"

"I'm a man of many talents, as you know." He flopped back down and returned to the paper between his toes. "Not that I'm against little white lies, but isn't she kinda smart? It's only been a few days but she won't buy the act for long."

"I know, I know. Just a couple more days." Jake set the phone back down and grabbed one of the books. It occurred to him how much easier the assignment would be if he had Liz's brain to pick. "But what if we find a lead on the People? What if another dragon gets kidnapped, or Pandarus starts talking?"

"If Rose couldn't get him to squeal, no one can."

"Point is, I gotta be ready to go. Bustin' out of class in a flash wouldn't exactly be easy to explain."

"Well…it could be," said Spud. "If you told her about the whole 'reptilian heritage' thing. It'd be really easy then."

Jake glanced at him dryly. "You're right, the brain drain definitely isn't working."

"What?" he countered. "I'm not saying you should tell everyone. Just, you know, the chick you've been dating for months and seems pretty serious. Wouldn't hurt having another person to help now that Trixie's turned into a major flake…"

There was truth to that, though it felt unfair to hear aloud. "And meanwhile you've been running the whole DMC? Someone shoulda told me, I would've given you the Am-Drag reins for good."

"Oh, so Trix can go do her own thing and Rose gets to cherry pick her jobs, but Spud decides to take some personal time off for once and all of a sudden I'm the worst thing since the Huntsman."

"Dude, I was just-"

The phone buzzed again.

"That's it!" yelled Spud, papers flying from his feet. He twisted and jerked on the railing, trying and failing to untangle himself and instead tumbling to the floor. Beanie forgotten on the ground, he shambled to his feet and reached for the device, growling, "Buzz one more time you stupid little-"

"Hey, chill out!" Jake snatched it away and held it behind him out of reach. He fended the boy off with his outstretched feet. It was a difficult task given Spud's gangly length. "You can't just trash my stuff!"

"Not all your stuff, just the phone-"

"Back off!"

"It'll only take a sec-"

"I'm serious, Spud!"

"C'mon, really quick-"

Light flashed and suddenly Spud was pressed away by a scarlet, scaled arm. Jake held him firm but was careful not to snare his claws in the boy's clothing. "Spud! Cut it out! What's the deal with you today?!"

"Nothing!" he grunted, struggling and failing to pry the claws from his chest. "I'm totally, perfectly, one hundred percent fine!"

"Oh, that's what this is? Fine?"

"Yes!" He squirmed and writhed with ever less effort. "Because I have to be, right? What else can I be? It's the American Dragon and his little sidekick just like always! This is how it's been since middle school, how could I not be fine?"

Jake let go. Fire rolled over his arm as he stepped back. "What?"

"You've got all this," Spud waved his arms whimsically, "supernatural, prophesied, world-saving destiny stuff going on. I'm fine with that. And when you ended up coming to college with us, and we got roomed in this place, I was fine with that too."

"I thought you wanted to be roommates?" asked Jake.

"Oh, right," he chuckled to himself. "Because there's so much to love about this place! The pipes always hissing, bathrooms that don't work, heaters that don't heat, you snoring all the time. Who doesn't love being chronically sore and sleep deprived?"

"But the vibes-"

Spud shouted at the ceiling, "And now he's lecturing ME about the vibes!"

Quiet followed. Spud drew a long breath and dug both hands in his messy hair. "You know my old man. As much of a lame, robotic cog as he is, he's actually pretty smart. He always told me that college would be the best years of my life, that it was supposed to be this chance for me to find myself, to, like, discover my passions! But ever since we got here it's always been 'Jake this' and 'magical creatures that'. That's not who I am! And I thought I was dealing with it. My grades aren't that terrible, and that engineering liaison gig I landed felt right. It was actually kinda fun…"

"Was?" asked Jake.

Spud's arms fell to his sides. He moved over to his desk and plopped down into his creaking swivel chair. "Yeah," he said, cold eyes staring through the open blinds. "Was."

"When'd you quit?"

"Fired…and it was a few days ago. You know, when you threw my boss in magic-jail?"

Jake's pulse quickened. "I'm gonna kill that hack."

"Here we go-"

"He can't do that, Spud! That's, like, retaliation or something!" Jacket half-way on, Jake scanned the cluttered room for his wallet and keys. His phone, at least, was already in his hand. "I'm gonna fix this," he said. "Just sit tight. Gimme five minutes to beat some sense into Pandarus and-"

"-and what?" sighed Spud. "The concussion makes him forget they cut me from the team and I walk back in like nothing happened? Just…stay out of it Jake. You'll just make things worse."

"But-"

"It's fine." He opened his laptop and started typing. "I'm fine."

Jake's answer was to close his own. "No, you're not."

It only took a minute for Jake to collect the materials on his desk and jam them in his backpack. Shoes on and phone in his pocket, he left the room with Spud inside. Neither said anything as he left. Underdown was as effective of a study place as any - assuming there was still room to breathe in his note-ridden office. If nothing else, Jake could at least give Spud some peace and quiet.

As he left, Jake checked his phone again. It buzzed another five times on the walk from their room to the stairwell alone. A quick look through the messages showed more of the same. Reporters, agents, likely scam artists, it was like Margret was texting him the phone book one agonizing name at a time. At the very least, his secretary's unnecessary verbiage made skimming through the texts for anything remotely important that much easier.

It wasn't long, about halfway down the stairwell, when Jake found a message from Fu. Ate two sloppy meatball subs in front of Pandarus for an hour. Nada. Gonna try again later with clam chowder and a microwave.

Jake smirked. Some might call the attempts petty. Well, he was a petty dragon.

"Hey, Jake! You got a second?"

He looked up from his phone and scanned the Crest's still unattractive lobby. A hand waved from behind the main desk, and its owner, David, watched him from a moldy recliner. It was tough to judge his expression since the way he lounged meant the top of his head was barely visible from behind the desk.

Jake walked up to the counter. "Yo, check out the new interior design." He noticed the remote in his RA's hands and looked to the side to find a small CRT TV - grainy picture, bent antennae and all. "Been doing' some redecorating lately?"

David looked down at the decrepit armchair and shrugged. "Just trying to stay sane, my man," he laughed. "Turns out manning the front desk can get pretty boring, so we improvised. Just don't mention it to any higher-ups, it's not exactly kosher. Sorry to stop you, just wanted to ask a quick question."

"Sure thing, what's up?"

"One of the bushes outside got burned up sometime in the past couple months and we just noticed because all of the landscape is, well, already dead. But just to be safe, you wouldn't happen to know anything about that?"

"Burned bush?" Jake's hand instinctively moved to scratch his neck and he forced it back down. "Uh, no. First I'm hearing about it. That's pretty weird."

"That's what I figured. Still, all the dry foliage is sort of a fire hazard so they want us reminding all the tenets," he pulled a notecard out from the counter and squinted at it, "that this is a smoking-free campus, that open flames and space heaters are banned in all dormitories, and to properly dispose of any matches or other flammable materials."

"That last part might be tough…"

"What was that?"

Jake cleared this throat. "Nothing, just talking to myself. And no worries, we won't go setting off fireworks any time soon."

"Just what I wanted to hear." David gave him a lazy salute and turned back to his hidden TV. "You know where to find me if you need anything!"

"Sure thing." Jake turned to leave but the screen caught his eye again. He leaned further over the desk and tried squinting through the static-filled image. "What's on, anything good?"

"Hm? Oh, this. Nah, it's just the news. Turns out you can't find much to watch on the local airwaves. Here-" David aimed the remote at the TV and raised the volume click by click.

The broadcast was just visible if Jake tilted further over the counter. None of the banners or claxons were legible through the distortion, but a woman's voice narrated, "Throughout the country, unrest continues to spread over concerns of safety around magical creatures. Though his administration has stated that the Department of Magical Creatures will continue operations as normal, President Danvers has yet to personally comment. Current polls show forty-five percent of Americans disapprove of the government's response, with sixty percent believing that additional protections from magical creatures should be instituted."

"All they've been talking about the past few days is that dragon going crazy and attacking people," said David. "Pretty scary stuff."

"Well it's not like he did it on purpose, right?"

"How do you know that?"

"Their leaders, that council or whatever, said so. Did you see that announcement they made two days ago? They said it was all because of those dudes in the masks!"

"And that's all they said," David countered with a jab of the remote. "How do we know he wouldn't have snapped on his own, or that something like that won't happen again? Don't get me wrong, what happened to that dragon was pretty messed up. But the People did have a point - if they have magic and we don't, that's pretty unfair, right? Plus, they proved that micks can be anywhere and we'd have no idea."

"But that's all just gossip and rumors! All they're doing is trying to scare people so they can manipulate them! You can't seriously listen to what a bunch of crazy people are saying?"

"Well if the president, the mick department, and none of the dragons are giving us more info, what else is there to listen to? Oh, hey man," said David, leaning up in his recliner and setting the remote down, "I didn't mean to upset you or anything. We don't have to talk about it if it's a touchy subject."

The apology made Jake realize his own heavy scowl. He rubbed his hands over his face and sighed, trying to physically smooth out the coiled irritation. "No, it's not you. I'm just kind of out of it right now. Things aren't going great between me and Spud."

"Ah." David leaned back again, relieved. "The pleasures of shared living, am I right? Just so you know, I'm technically supposed to be a mediator if things get out of hand and I'm a terrible mediator. Just try not to kill each other, yeah?" He turned back to the TV, remote in hand. "And no playing with matches!"

Jake left him to his TV and made for the exit. He'd quickly lost count of the number of times his phone had vibrated during the exchange. Without the distraction of conversation, however, the buzzing was infuriatingly noticeable again. At this rate, waiting for it to stop on its own any time soon seemed a vain hope. And what David had said was even more troubling.

But...there was a solution, loathe though Jake was to pursue it.

The Council wouldn't like it and doubtless Lao Shi would advise against it. Heck, Jake's own conscience squirmed at the thought. But something had to be done. Too much was happening while he sat idle, and he'd be damned if he was going to live with his cell phone squirming like a mouse in his pocket.

Outside, brisk air met his skin. Jake pulled out his phone and scrolled through the messages, wondering which of the names would be the least irritating to meet. Keeping with the theme of adding to Jake's impossibly long list of contacts, another message popped up on his phone. It was both curious and uplifting to find it was from Trixie. It was also, however, suspiciously brief.

Jakey, I need a favor.


"How do I look?"

"Like a pig on a spit, seasoned and ready for roastin'."

"Hot and irresistible? Thanks, Fu. Couldn't have said it better myself."

Jake adjusted his vest in a vanity mirror. His dragon form occupied most of the relatively small oval of glass, but it sufficed. In the one corner not taken up by his body, he watched Fu's reflection shake his head with arms folded. A thin headset was situated over his canid skull with a mic extending out to the side of his jowls.

"It's still not too late to call the whole thing off. I'm tellin' you kid, she's gonna eat you alive."

"What's her name again?"

"Agatha Banderly, career journalist, two-time Pulitzer winner, and regular consultant on the second biggest news channel in the country."

"And you said you picked her because she was honest, factual, and so far sympathetic to magical creatures, right?"

"Honest and factual for a journalist," Fu clarified. "They're still vultures, every one of 'em. Second only to politicians, if you ask me. Compared to the rest of the crazies that tried to get an interview she's a peach, but she's still a peach with teeth. There's no tellin' what tricks she's gonna pull, and if you slip up even a little-"

"That's why you're here," Jake assured. He smiled - nothing in his teeth. He turned his head this way and that - dang, his hair was stylin'. "If anything gets suspicious or confidential, you tell me and I'll keep my mouth shut. It's the only reason the Council and Carson agreed to this whole thing anyway."

"Which I still don't get! Carson should be the one holding onto your leash, not me! I'm a dog!"

"Magic talking dog with a talent for lying." Jake licked a claw and twisted a stray hair back into alignment. Perfect. Sighing, he stepped back from the mirror and did one last turn. "Oh man, look at this. Who could hate this fine piece of dragon?"

"Yeah, yeah, let's go Runway. Fashion show's startin' in two minutes. Don't go wastin' all that charm on a mirror."

"Good point." Jake flicked a switch on the wall and the lights around the vanity blinked out. Fu held the door to the dressing room open for him and together they walked out into a dark backstage hallway. Stage crew hustled about their work but most managed to shoot Jake waves or smiles in passing. These gestures that had become annoying lately were something of a comfort now. At least this group of people didn't seem to hate him just yet.

"Remember, kid," said Fu, hopping over cords on the ground and ducking below a distracted crewmember's arm, "keep the answers short and sweet. Don't go blabbing all over the place, that's how slips happen. We already know the questions she's gonna ask, so stick to 'em."

"I get how this might be risky, but you're sounding really paranoid today, dawg. What's got you so riled up?"

"They set this whole thing up in two days," the Shar Pei hissed, watching those they passed with critical eyes. "And they met all our conditions - private location, no audience, prewritten questions - if that ain't suspicious then I'm a unicorn."

"It's an exclusive interview with the American Dragon, of course they're bending over backwards for us."

"I just don't get why we couldn't stick with the usual press release. Reading from a script, no questions, even you can't mess that up."

"The Council already tried that Fu, and it didn't solve anything. People need more than just some TV appearance. Maybe if I can just sit down and talk with this Amanda chick-"

"Agatha."

"-then people can get to know me. Hear some straight answers, build some trust, and just calm down, feel me? And don't worry," said Jake, seeing the reproachful look in Fu's wrinkled eyes, "stick to the script, I know. It'll be a piece of cake. I mean c'mon, you know how smooth I am with the ladies."

"Definitely don't say that." They reached the end of the hallway where a break in the heavy black curtains waited just ahead. Fu, however, hopped up to grab Jake's claws and led him off to the side. "Got your earpiece in?"

Jake wiggled his right ear, device snuggly tucked inside.

"We've already got you hooked up," said Fu, pointing to the small mic attached to Jake's vest, "so you don't gotta use the little mic disc. I should hear you just fine. Just stay focused, don't get cocky, and please don't flirt on national television."

"No promises." From the corner of his eye, Jake saw a stagehand gesturing for him. It was time. He nodded to Fu and straightened his back. "Wish me luck. And just remember if this does go wrong somehow, it's all your fault."

"Oh good, glad we got that sorted out."

Bright stage lights radiated from the gap in the curtains. The stagehand smiled as Jake approached. "Everything's ready, Mr. Dragon. Just head out to the stage and find your seat on the right. Ms. Banderly is waiting."

Jake nodded. Learning from experience, he ducked his head and covered his eyes as he entered the light. Avoiding the whole 'sudden-blindness' thing made it much easier to walk out on the wide stage. From here, the room was bleak and bright at the same time, like a murky cave pierced by sunlight from cracks in the ceiling. Rows of empty seats radiated away from the stage at a steep angle. Everything had a very manufactured appearance - plain seating, exposed rafters and struts, cords running every which way, and a distinct lack of any pageantry or theatrics. The only audience were the rare clumps of crewmen operating the cameras and lights.

The exception to all of this was the stage itself. It looked just like he'd stepped into a weekday morning talk show, not that the scenery was a magnificent display by any means. Two plush armchairs sat at slight angles to each other with a side table between them and a cozy rug underneath. Some potted plants and an off-white backdrop decorated the background, and that was it. No flashing TV screens, no bands or performers, and no teleprompters to read from. Just a cavernous room, cameras, and two chairs.

And Jake paused halfway along the stage as he noticed one of them was already occupied by the kindest, most cheerful looking grandmother he'd ever seen.

The woman was pleasantly glancing over a notebook while a younger assistant passed over her cheeks with a makeup brush. Thin half-moon glasses rested on her nose with beaded strings drooping back over her ears. Her grey hair was light and elegant, waving only so far as her shoulders. Even sitting she looked tall, posture relaxed and without any of the hunching one might expect given her age. Her casual blouse, skirt, and trailing shawl told Jake she planned to follow this event with an afternoon of baking and tending to her garden.

Jake wasn't sure how long he'd been idly staring at the women when she met his gaze and smiled excitedly. "Thank you, dearie, that should do," she said to her assistant, patting the woman on the hand. As she left, Agatha climbed to her feet with surprising ease and raised her arms up. "You must be the American Dragon! It's such a pleasure to meet you in person, it really is."

Her voice had that slight wavering only found with decades of experience. It drew Jake in, his feet again recalling their purpose. "Hey! It's a pleasure to meet you too, Ms. Banderly. Thanks for making all this - oh!"

The woman had ignored his outstretched hand and stepped forward to fold her raised arms around his torso. Surprise held Jake stiff. Did he return the gesture? And he'd been right earlier, the woman was tall. The top of her fluffy hair tickled the bottom of his jaw.

"Oh ho, look who's gettin' handsy," Fu heckled through the earpiece. At least they now knew the device was working. "Looks like I should tell your girl about her new competition."

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Agatha broke away and chuckled to herself. "Everyone always says I'm too much of a hugger. Sometimes I just get carried away! Ah, but what an interesting vest you have on," she marveled, fingers running along the material over his chest. "I've seen you wearing it in photos. Who's your designer, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Designer?" They'd only just traded names and this was the first subject she broached? Jake glanced down at the garment, apparently hoping some name would suddenly appear stitched into the lining. "I don't have a clue, to be honest. Detective - Secretary Carson got it for me somehow."

"That's alright, dear. Just an old woman's curiosity at work. I suppose I'll have to ask the Madam Secretary herself!" She waved to the other of the two chairs. "Please, have a seat. Make yourself comfortable."

"Thanks." Jake fell into the seat and felt a sudden shock of pure, unfiltered bliss.

Agatha took her own seat and returned to her written notes. "As you know what we discuss will be recorded and distributed this evening in its uncut, unedited entirety. We've prepared - oh my, is something wrong?"

Jake had jumped back to his feet and glared at the chair. "There's a hole…"

"Pardon me?"

"You put a hole in the chair…in the back…at the bottom." He turned back around and slowly sat, savoring every glorious, painless second. "My tail fits perfectly. I think…I think I'm in heaven. This wasn't one of our conditions…how did you know?"

"Call it a woman's intuition." Those kind, wrinkled eyes smiled as much as her lips. "Well, the cameras are waiting and the crew are set. We can begin whenever you're ready. If it's alright with you, we'll start with some of the basics to get into the rhythm."

"Lady, you let me keep this thing and I'll do whatever you want."

"I'm sure that can be arranged." She nodded to the crewmembers below and set her notebook out of view.

"Alright everybody," a man called from below. "We're rolling in five, four, three…"

The studio fell silent. Red dots blinked on.

A fresh, wholesome smile wrinkled Agatha's face. "Welcome, everyone, to what will no doubt be a very special evening. I am Agatha Banderly, and I'm here tonight to share with you all a truly wonderful and unique interview. Our guest of honor," she waved to Jake, one of the cameras swiveling to follow her motion, "is our very own American Dragon! How are you doing today?"

Jake wiggled in his seat, suddenly conscious of how he couldn't decide what to do with his hands. "Good! I'm doing great, Ms. Banderly."

"Please, call me Agatha. No need to be so formal!" she tittered with her soothing tone. "And how would you like to be addressed? I meant to ask earlier - all our dragons are named after cities, or in your case the nation. Is it fair to assume that you also have other names, and would you rather go by that if so?"

"Already going off script!" griped Fu in Jake's ear. "Five seconds in and she's trying to get you to fess up your identity!"

Jake fought the urge to roll his eyes - Fu's words were for him alone, so any reactions to them would surely make for a confusing sight to viewers. Luckily, Jake was used to answering this question, improvised though it now was. "You're right, Agatha, we do have other names. But we like to keep them private. It's a cultural thing. American Dragon works just fine."

"Fascinating," she hummed. "Well then, American Dragon, let's start with what everyone's been talking about: the dramatic events last week with the Australian Dragon. Now I understand you two are friends?"

Jake smirked, "Not always. We fight all the time, and he always gets on my nerves. But…yeah. Friends is a good word."

"Tell me about that relationship. What's he like?"

"Man, where to start." Jake leaned back and glanced at the lights overhead. They were bright as the Sun, their warm light like that of a certain Summer's day on the Isle of Draco years ago. "We met at this summit, a huge meeting of the world's dragons, and man was he annoying."


Jake finished dragging the wet cloth over his face. It was dry when the stagehand had given to him, and it was close to dripping when she reached to accept it again. Jake hesitated and grimaced at the rag. "Uh…you sure? This thing's kinda rank."

"No problem at all," she assured, and wouldn't you know it her smile was steadfast as she took the towel back. Now that was professionalism.

"Sorry again!" he called as she left. He was pretty sure he could see the odor wafting from the cloth. Ah well, at least he didn't look like he was sweating buckets anymore. Despite how well he'd adjusted to the overhead lights, sitting beneath their glow for half an hour was still like baking under a tanning lamp. This short break couldn't have come sooner.

It made him appreciate how collected Agatha still seemed. The woman sat across from him reading over her notes once again. Unlike the crew bustling around them, she was apparently just as comfortable as when they'd begun. Without breaking eye contact with her book, she grabbed her cup from the side table and sipped. Realizing his own thirst, Jake mirrored her and drank from his own, significantly larger cup. The water was cold and impossibly refreshing.

"Are you hanging in there, dear? If you need anything, just say the word."

Jake blinked awake. The bliss from his drink had nearly made him comatose. "I'm good!" he answered, a little too loudly. "Man, that hit the spot though."

"Glad to hear it. You're doing very well, by the way. Have you done this kind of interview before?"

"Nah, but you made it easy on me," he said. "You gave me the questions ahead of time, and all you've asked about are the Australian Dragon and some of the cases I've worked on in LA. It's really just like talking, easiest thing in the world."

Her eyes crinkled. "Exactly. Ready to get back to it?"

Jake nodded and overtly cleared his throat.

Fu's voice answered, "I'm here, I'm here. Yeesh, is she ever gonna stop brown-nosing you?"

It's called being nice, Jake thought. Definitely a foreign concept for the Shar Pei.

Crewmen cleared the stage. The studio fell quiet. One of the cameramen below counted them down, the lights renewed their intensity, and Agatha remained radiant.

"Welcome back, everyone. Now that we've had a break, why don't we continue our conversation?" She turned to Jake. "If I recall correctly, we were talking about some of the ways you've helped humans and magical creatures integrate."

"Yup. I just finished that story about that Sasquatch in Seattle." Jake smiled fondly. "Now that was a fun one."

"And we were just getting to the Lucky Clover in Las Vegas," she continued, adjusting her glasses and looking back over her notes. "This was a situation about a month ago involving a casino run by Leprechauns, correct? That must be an interesting story!"

Jake reached for his cup and sipped while he waited. Fu's voice soon barked, "It's public knowledge, you're good."

"Oh yeah," laughed Jake as he set the cup back down. "It was pretty complicated, but I'll try to explain. So, Leprechauns have their own currency, gold coins, right? And they wanted to set up an Irish-themed casino where people paid for tokens with those gold coins."

"You'd be hard pressed to find enough humans with gold coins to run a casino," said Agatha. "It doesn't sound like a very sound business model to me."

"Except they also opened up these exchange booths right outside the casino. That meant people can get coins and gamble with them inside, but they're also not worth nearly as much on their own 'cause humans can't really use 'em."

"Seems like a happy arrangement. What went wrong?"

"Taxes." Jake leaned forward in his seat with his elbows on his knees. "Some time goes by and the city tries to collect their share of the gambling profits, right? And the Leprechauns give them gold coins. The city says 'Hey! We can't use these, give us real money!' but the Leprechauns say, 'This is the money people gambled with, so this is what you get a cut of'. The city says, 'Then exchange them for real money at one of your booths,' and the Leprechauns say, 'Sorry but we only give our services to individuals, not governments or corporations'." Jake shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "On one hand they've got a point. Right now the government says magical creatures can keep trading with whatever currency they normally do, so they're technically following the rules. But really, we all know it's just a convoluted way of trying to make a quick buck."

"So how did you handle it?"

"Well by the time I got there, the city had cops on the street and the Leprechauns had ogres inside. Things were getting pretty tense. But I go around, talk with everybody, and I get an idea. If they only exchange for individual customers," Jake smirked, "then give all the coins to one person and have them go exchange it. Course, you'd have to pick a pretty reliable person to do it. So now the mayor goes down to the Lucky Clover every now and then, gets a truckload of coins, turns around, and trades it all for cash. I hear they're even gonna turn it into some kind of parade or something. Las Vegas, right?" Grinning, he held his hands out with palms up. "Easy as that. We had to set some rules about the exchange rates and stuff like that, but no one fought and everyone ended up mostly happy."

Agatha shook her head with bemusement. "Well, that's certainly one way to reach a compromise! You're quite the negotiator, American Dragon. Are all of your interventions so peaceful?"

"Not always," he admitted. "Especially before we made ourselves known to humans. It wasn't always easy to keep things under wraps, if you know what I mean. But now that everything's out in the open, things have gotten way better."

"Good, kid. Keep it vague."

"For example," Agatha flipped through the pages in her notebook, "with the wrestling incident?"

"Er, what now?"

"Here." She pulled a large photo from the pages of her book and handed it to him. "Maybe this will help jog your memory? It was four years ago, after all."

Jake looked at the photo, paused, and burst into laughter. He roared at the ceiling, a paw clapped over his eyes as he struggled to breathe. "Oh man! Where did you find this?!"

"Pictures like these have been popping up more and more, particularly in the past couple of days." Agatha smiled knowingly. "I take it you remember, then?"

"Like I could forget." Jake flipped the photo around for the camera's benefit and pointed a claw at the wrestling arena it showed. A four-sided ring with ropes along the edges was occupied by two people - Jake's dragon form clad in ridiculous underwear and a mask, and the muscle-bound luchador pinned beneath him. "That was-"

"Hey, hey, hey! Don't answer, I don't think that's public! I gotta check…"

Jake froze, his maw hanging open mid-sentence. "-was…uh…excuse me…"

He snatched up his cup and passed precious seconds drinking. They can't expect you to talk and drink at the same time, right? Gulp after gulp he looked about, failing at feigning innocence, praying for Fu to elaborate…

His water ran out first.

Oh. He stared at the empty cup in his grip. Crap.

Agatha leaned closer. "Everything alright, dear? We can get you some more water."

"No, s'all good. Just something in my throat." Jake's lungs rattled with loud coughing as he set the cup down. Still, nothing from Fu. "So, uh, about that wrestling thing-"

"Wrestling, yes."

"-right. I probably shouldn't go into the details, for privacy and stuff, you know. But basically, this guy was taking advantage of a magical creature and I stepped in."

"By competing as the so-called Dragon Fire?"

"Yeah, and it was pretty tough, too. Long story short, the only way I could fix things was by taking the champion title. Looking back now it was kind of a stupid plan, but everything ended up working out." Jake shrugged and handed the picture back. "Weird problems take creative solutions, know what I'm sayin'?"

She accepted the picture and promptly replaced it with another. "I think I'm beginning to see a pattern," she chuckled. "Perhaps you could elaborate on this one?"

"Oh…OH!" Warmth bubbled beneath the scales of Jake's face as he held the picture against his chest like a bad report card. "We really don't have to talk about this one."

Her playful smile was unflinching. "More private information?"

"N-No…I don't think so…" Fu offered no wisdom. Cringing, Jake flipped the picture around for the camera and distinctly looked away from its lens. "I was trying to save this yeti baby that was loose in New York, and…well…"

He tapped the picture. Jake was on a massive stage, dead center in a line of dancers in his dragon form. Everyone, himself included, was clad in Santa Clause coats and hats. At the time the crew and audience had been remarkably oblivious to his expression. Looking now, however, he could still read every ounce of terrified embarrassment.

"…we got mixed up with that pageant, and everyone thought I was a performer. Nothing crazy happened, and the yeti got home safe. It was more just…well, here…" Jake grabbed his empty cup, dropped the picture in, and hissed a blast of fire inside. He set the smoking evidence down behind his chair. "There! Never happened. What were we talking about?"

"Haven't the slightest idea." Agatha winked. "I had a few other examples to ask you about, but I think we all get the point. The fact that you were able to remain hidden despite being around humans so often is quite miraculous. How did you accomplish that?"

"I mean, staying hidden isn't anything new for magical creatures. It's mostly just about knowing where and when to be…or not be."

"Your ability to take human forms helps too, I'm sure."

A quiet moment passed. "Yeah," he admitted, hoping his discomfort wasn't as painfully obvious as it felt. It was one of the most heated topics the Council had addressed during their press conference. Now that the world had watched Nerk turn from a human into a dragon, arguing against the existence of their alter egos seemed unrealistic. Still, admitting as much felt taboo to Jake.

"And you also have a human form?"

"Yes."

"How often do you normally appear as a human?"

"Sorry, Agatha. I really can't answer that."

"Why is that?" she asked. "In a broader sense, I suppose. A lot of people are wondering why the Dragon Order continues to be so secretive. What would you say to that?"

"We don't have a choice," said Jake. "Dragons are the protectors of all magical creatures. If someone uses our human identities to attack us, then who'll defend everyone else? Just look at what happened to the Australian Dragon."

"But why is that your responsibility?" Agatha flipped back through her notebook, adjusting her glasses. "This wasn't one of our prepared topics, I know, but I am curious - why is it that dragons are given so much authority? Do other magical creatures have a choice in the matter? Who ultimately makes those kinds of decisions?"

"Well, the Order does, I guess. There's no voting or anything. We're born dragons and dragons have always been the leaders. It's-"

"-a cultural thing, yes. And that adds to the challenge of integration, correct? Trying to assimilate your system which sounds, to be candid, like an inherited oligarchy, with a democratic republic like the United States is bound to cause controversy. And that's not even including the possibility of magic disadvantaging humans. How do you plan to ensure equality under those circumstances?"

"You know," Jake straightened in his seat, "You're starting to sound just like the People, Agatha."

The woman looked surprised but set her notebook down in her lap. She focused entirely on Jake. "I was pretty aggressive, wasn't I?" she hummed. "Forgive an old woman for losing herself. Of course, I don't encourage the methods of those criminals, but the anxieties they claim aren't entirely untrue either."

"Anxieties? Like what?"

"Well," she breathed deeply and motioned with her hands, "dealing with the unknown, I suppose. We don't know that much about magical creatures - where they are, how many exist, what they're capable of, yet you know everything about us. That seems one-sided, wouldn't you say?"

"For now, sure," Jake argued, "but that's why the Department of Magical Creatures exists! So we can do research and teach everyone about magic over time!"

"How much time?" probed Agatha. "Months, years, decades? And all the while the non-magical are expected to wait patiently, wondering if they'll still have a job, if their neighbors are magical creatures in hiding, if they're safe to go out in public when there's a certain dragon-"

"How many times do we gotta say it, that wasn't Fred's fault!"

Agatha watched Jake patiently. Her pleasant smile had faded, and in its place was a knowing concern. She didn't say anything. Instead, without explanation, she held her hand out.

The limb betrayed her age. All the youthful vigor in her spirit couldn't change the wrinkles over her knuckles, the veins apparent beneath the thin skin, the spots of brown and purple blotching its surface. Jake stared at it, thinking about how small and frail it looked as he clenched and unclenched his own. He hadn't even noticed his anger bubbling to the surface…or maybe it was frustration. And now that he knew, he went through the motions. Breathe out, relax the jaw, untighten the shoulders…whatever it took.

He held his hand out for Agatha.

She didn't bother trying to fit her fingers around his palm. Instead she rested her hand in its center, soft and warm. "I'm sorry. Mourning is never easy."

"It's fine." Jake pulled away. "He'll be fine…I hope…"

"We all do." She sat back in her chair with hands folded. "I should clarify, however, that I wasn't talking about the Australian Dragon."

"You weren't? Then who…?"

"You, actually."

Jake tilted his head. "Me? But…I don't get it. I've never hurt anybody."

Agatha's smile tried to return, though it only managed a smirk. "Those wrestlers might not agree," she joked. "But seriously, American Dragon - do you feel like magical creatures pose a danger to humans?"

"No! I mean sometimes…okay, it depends," he conceded. "Some creatures are dangerous, and they aren't always as smart or self-aware, so we just have to make sure they're safe doing their thing. But most of us are just trying to fit in! Honest!"

"Even when they're stumbling into Christmas pageants? Or wrestling with regular humans? And it goes beyond just physical injury. Take the Lucky Clover, for instance. Couldn't Leprechauns with magic easily cheat their clientele out of their winnings? Or Elis Pandarus, who you've detained for a week now. Couldn't he use his own abilities, or his current monopoly on wholesale magic, to take advantage of humans? I'm asking all these things because I honestly have no way of knowing." She raised her hands at her sides. "None of us do."

Jake's deflated claws fell in his lap. How was he supposed to answer that? "Look…I can breathe fire. I can fly. And as straight up insane as my vision is, even I can't see the future. I know I'm supposed to be the expert on magic and everything, but it's not like I have all the answers. We're all just…doing the best we can." These last words were said to the floor. The cameras and lights had flown far from his mind.

Still, he raised his head back to Agatha. "We just want everyone to be happy and get along. Isn't that enough?"

Agatha matched his melancholy. "It should be, shouldn't it?" She closed her notebook in her lap and returned to her neutral tone. "One last question - what would you say to reassure those who are feeling distrustful of magical creatures?"

Jake ran a hand through his hair. "If we're being real, I feel like I've said all I can say." Then he chuckled halfheartedly, "I'm guessing you don't happen to have any bright ideas?"

"Me? Hmm. Well…now that I think about it, I just might." Agatha scooted to the edge of her seat and addressed Jake head-on. "We never did share proper introductions. It's hard to preach trust when we can't even do that much, agreed? So, here goes - my name is Agatha Banderly. I'm sixty-seven years old, thank you for not asking, and I'm a professional journalist and an amateur harpist. Bet you didn't know that?"

Her smile was bright and her hand inviting, outstretched and ready for his. "And you are?"

Jake stared at it. Her gesture called out to him, as if it were bridging a gap far greater that it seemed. Did it call to the stage crew, too? Those that would watch later from the comfort of their homes? Nothing in the hour they'd spent together had felt this intimate. If she was right…could a simple handshake really hold so much power?

His claws decided for him. They inched forward. "I…" An introduction had never felt so daunting. "…I'm…"

"-stop, kid! Kid! If you can hear me, Jake, STOP! Kill the show!"

Fu's voice was like an alarm clock. Jake's hand was so close to Agatha's that he could feel the warmth of her skin through the air between them. Part of him really wished Fu hadn't said anything.

"…I'm sorry." Jake gently closed his paw around her hand. "I have to go. Thank you for your time, Ms. Banderly."

Her arm still hovered there as Jake stood and left.

The dark backstage soon enclosed him. Behind, Agatha was saying something aloud, probably some method of concluding the interview. Jake didn't bother hearing the words. His only goal right now was to leave this place. The way his guts were writhing was unpleasant, and he'd just seen how little he could trust his own judgement right now.

Fu scurried out of a side-room further down the hall. "Kid!" Panting, the Shar Pei trotted up to meet him on all fours. "Are you okay? I told you we shouldn't have come here!"

"I'm good, Fu." Jake maintained his course, sighing as Fu fell into step beside him, "Let's just bounce, I'm not really feelin' it anymore. What's got you so worked up?"

"What's got me - didn't you notice!? Those con artists cut off our comms right after the break! Oh sure," Fu sneered, "I don't know why he can't hear you, they said. We're trying everything to fix it - no way they're gonna pull that one over on me! I know they did it on purpose!"

"Or maybe they didn't."

Fu gawked at him. "What, did that old bat brainwash you or something?!"

"We were using our own mics, Fu, not theirs. It makes sense they wouldn't be able to fix it - which they did, eventually." Jake sighed again. He wanted to tell himself he was just being dramatic, but it was hard to ignore the sudden fatigue weighing on his mind. "It doesn't matter. Let's just-"

"American Dragon!"

They paused and turned, Jake's paw about to push open a door leading outside. Agatha was shuffling in their direction at what was likely her top speed, shawl swaying and glasses bouncing on their cord as attendants tried to usher her on both sides. Her confidence didn't mask the effort of her breathing. Despite how little of Jake's life the woman had occupied, seeing her chase after him like this still made his chest ache.

"We're gonna leave." Jake pushed open the door. The amber light of a waning afternoon poured into the hallway. "Thanks again."

"It must be lonely," she called. "Being just the American Dragon."

Jake considered that. Then he and Fu left, the door hissing closed behind them.


Ten dragons.

It sounded like too many, but every time Jake did the math in his head it added up. They were now closer to three months than two since revealing magical creatures to the world, and that meant they would have to sacrifice the powers of ten dragons to undo it all. The thought of losing that many in an instant, of having that many communities without protection, without a clear leader, was difficult to comprehend. It wasn't long ago that Jake thought he could stop worrying about that number. Now he couldn't go a day without it occupying his mind.

"Alright, now bite down on this."

Something shoved itself into Jake's sagging maw. He recoiled and glared at the black bar held in front of him, trailing spit from his teeth. "Ah! What the…"

"To test your jaw strength," the man in the white coat beside him explained. "Don't worry, it's sanitary. Just slowly bite down as hard as you can."

"Oh, right. Sure thing."

This time Jake accepted the rod. The scientist maneuvered it lengthwise between Jake's jaws, pushing back his scaled cheeks until it rested along his back-most teeth. Jake suddenly felt a deep empathy for bridled horses. When the man was satisfied, he turned to a nearby computer, clicked the mouse several times, and nodded to Jake.

Slowly, he bit down on the bar. A few more people in matching white coats, gloves, and safety glasses watched with clipboards and pens at the ready, as if expecting Jake to spontaneously burst into a lecture. Really, the event was anticlimactic. It was just them, a dragon, and a stubborn rod of metal that tasted like an old grinding railing. Nevertheless, Jake bit down harder and harder. He had no idea what to expect, and as far as he could tell nothing sensational was happening, but you wouldn't have guessed it judging by how their leader ogled at the computer screen.

"Still climbing?" He adjusted the thick plastic glasses on his face and scribbled something on his own clipboard. "Okay, go ahead and bite as hard as you can."

Jake complied. The metal whined, and when Jake tried to open his mouth it resisted. Some finesse was needed to jimmy the bar free from his teeth. "Oh," he handed the tool back to the man, "my bad."

He accepted it while his colleagues wrote feverishly over their clipboards. "No problem at all. At least now we don't have to get molds of your teeth, right?" His joke fell on deaf ears. Coughing, he set the bar on a counter and returned to his clipboard. "Alright, next we'll take some measurements."

"Sure…and, uh, hey," Jake pointed to himself, "do I really have to wear this thing? It kind of itches."

He was gesturing, of course, to the blue and white hospital gown draped over him. The things were meant to be tied up in the back and so conveniently avoided Jake's tail and wings, but the material kept snagging between his scales with the slightest movement. The same was happening with the paper covering the exam table he sat on, but he wouldn't press that issue. Something told Jake it was the only thing keeping the cheap cushions beneath intact.

"Oh?" The man paused where he was digging through a drawer of tools. "It's intended for your privacy, but if you'd rather-"

"Ugh, yes, I'd rather." Jake ripped the gown off from the front, balled it up, and shot it over their heads into a distant trash can. "Dragons don't usually do clothes, with rare exceptions. Just feels wrong, you know?"

They all stared at him. The leader turned to the other three. "Write that down."

"Yes, sir!"

"Make sure to include the comfort and social significance."

"Already did."

There was a fourth member among the lesser researchers, but Jake struggled to group her with the rest. After all, Trixie showed none of the same eccentric wonder. Her attitude was far closer to Jake's, taking few notes and instead watching her colleagues apparently rediscovering the existence of fire. Jake shot her a wink and she rolled her eyes, both suppressing smiles.

"Here we are. Matthews, you start with the lower extremities. Carter, you have the upper." The lead handed them both measuring tapes. "Alright, American Dragon. While they're doing that, I'll get some saliva samples. Go ahead and open your mouth."

Jake looked at the cotton swabs in his hand. "If you say so. Just be careful in the back, doc, I'd hate to gag and puke fire on everyone." They watched each other for a moment. "I'm being totally serious, just to be clear."

"…Noted."

"Interesting." The other researcher with the tape measure hummed out of sight near Jake's legs. The tape's tongue tickled his scales. "American Dragon, I understand you are capable of taking a human form as well."

Now? You're gonna bring that up now? Jake breathed around the hand in his mouth, "Uh-huh."

"During which you walk on your heels like a typical human, correct?"

Jake rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh."

The leader blessedly interrupted, "Let's save the questions for a moment, Matthews."

"Oh! I'm so sorry." The tickling switched legs, now teasing along the bottom of Jake's other foot. "It's just interesting - both bodies are bipedal, but one is plantigrade and the other digitigrade. Not to mention the addition of wings…"

"The diversity of morphology is impressive," chimed one of the notetakers.

"Very impressive," agreed the other.

"And the reptilian and mammalian phyla are so distant…"

"Convergent evolution, perhaps?"

The gloved hand left Jake's mouth. A little dry, but a passing survey with his tongue confirmed saliva was all the man had taken. "I'm gonna be real with y'all, I've got no idea what you're talkin' about."

"They think it's cool how you can walk on your toes," said Trixie.

"Ah." Well, it wasn't easy at first.

She stood on a step stool behind Jake, tugging on his wings and arms as she slid her own tape measure around. "Since I'm here, you mind if I get some more samples?"

"Huh? Oh, sure thing. No swea - AAAH!"

"Heads-up!" Trixie dodged his spasming wings while the rest of their team shied away. "There, that scale looked like it was about to fall out anyway."

The sudden needle-like pain sprouting from Jake's spine was a shock, and worse he couldn't reach the spot with his claws no matter how he flailed them. "Hey! I didn't say you could just start rippin' out my - AAAOWOW, QUIT IT!"

She waved the black and green hairs she'd plucked from the nape of Jake's neck. "You don't remember, American Dragon? The study protocol I sent you mentioned it. Now," she revealed a frighteningly large pair of nail clippers, "do you wanna do the honors or should I?"

"No, no! That's all me. I still want to have fingers when we're done." Scowling, Jake accepted the tool and got to work on his hand. Trixie handed the prizes of her maiming to the leader and grabbed another small bag for specimens.

It was a good thing their team wore the protective glasses that bordered on the ridiculous. The way they collectively gaped at Trixie's boldness made their wide eyes promising targets for Jake's ricocheting clippings. Talking with Trixie earlier, Jake knew these individuals to all be juniors and seniors in the science department. Like her they shared grand ambitions for academia and healthcare, so Jake could only assume they also shared her devilish intelligence and composure. Of course, none of that was on display right now. Something about standing inches from a fire-breathing lizard tended to throw people off their game.

Predictably, the leader was the first to shake himself awake. "Right, thank you Carter." He flipped the page on his clipboard. "Let's move on to the social history questions next. American Dragon, the following questions that I'm about to ask may pertain to sensitive and personal information. You may refuse to answer any of these questions at any time if you feel uncomfortable. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, yeah." Jake flinched as a piece of his claw shot across the room and cracked a glass jar full of tongue depressors. At least he was halfway done now. He passed the nail clipper to his other hand. "Lay it on me, doc. Do your worst."

"Alright." He clicked his pen. "How often do you smoke cigarettes?"

"Never, but sometimes there's smoke when I breathe fire if that counts."

"Good to know. And how often do you drink alcohol?"

Jake snickered, "Believe me, you do not want to see me drunk. It ain't pretty." When silence followed, he looked up to see the man watching him expectantly. "Oh…uh, never. Let's go with never."

He nodded. "Are you currently sexually active?"

The clipper shattered into little pieces in Jake's grip.

"American Dragon?"

Jake blinked up at the man. "My bad…what was the question?"

"Are you currently sexually active?" he repeated. "And if you could elaborate on what the normal methods and rituals of dragon reproduction are, that would also be very helpful."

"I…" Jake coughed, aware of the group's attention. "I…uh…"

Their gazes were pointed and intent.

Jake hopped off the table. "I have to use the little dragon's room."

Silence. In unison, their eyes slid lower over Jake's body.

His paws snapped between his thighs. For the very first time in his young life, Jake was in his dragon form and felt…bashful. Abandoning the gown had been a grave mistake.

Trixie hooked her hand around Jake's elbow. "No problem, I'll show you where it is. We'll be right back."

Jake let her usher him through the curious group and out of the room. Only when they were in the hallway beyond and out of sight was he able to force himself to relax. "Thanks, Trix," he breathed. "Was that weird? 'Cause it felt weird. Like, really weird."

"Not your fault, Jakey," she whispered, leading him down the hall. They passed door after door, each with a narrow window showing offices, laboratories, classrooms, and more exam areas. Right now the spaces were empty, as intended. "That's just type A eggheads for you - not the best social skills, am I right?"

"And you're not one of them?"

"Boy, please," she said with a wave. "Mama Trixie's got more class than all them peeps put together - at least I hope so."

They reached a lounge area with seats and a cooler. Jake's black vest hung on a rack against the wall and the compulsion to wrap himself with it was powerful. Instead he plopped down on one of the couches, tail cramping and scales scraping over the worn polyester. "We're almost done, right? I've still gotta finish a couple assignments before class tomorrow."

"Practically finished." Trix leaned against the cooler, raising her safety glasses and pulling off her gloves. "Just a few more questions, get some blood samples, and you're good to go."

"Blood?! Aw man." Jake slunk further onto the couch. "It's gonna hurt, isn't it? You owe me for this big time."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," she laughed. Her smile started to wane, however, and she wrapped her arms around her torso. "Thanks, Jakey. I know you probably had to pull a lot of strings to make this happen so fast."

He waved her off. "Please, you should have heard how excited Rotwood got when I told him. The guy giggled, Trix. He giggled. Carson on the other hand…good luck gettin' her to forgive you."

"I'll figure something out. So," she hummed, "what're you gonna do about Spud?"

Jake gazed out one of the windows. Somewhere in the distance, Spud was probably still holed up in their room. The two hadn't spoken in a week. It wasn't for lack of trying on Jake's part - several times he'd punted his friend easy questions or mentioned meaningless events in his life. Half the time they went ignored, and the other half had never earned more than an idle grunt.

"I don't know," he said. "You know how hard it is to read him, and I keep tellin' myself he can't stay mad forever, but…this feels different. I think he actually hates me."

"C'mon, that's - oh!" Trixie jumped off the cooler to stand upright, hands flat at her sides. "Hey there Dr. Roberts!"

Jake turned to see the lead researcher had paused just inside the lounge. He looked between the two of them with a mug in one hand and his clipboard in the other. "Carter," he nodded. "Facilities taken care of? That was quick. We can get back to it, then."

"We'll be back in just a second," she said, sounding apologetic. "The subject wanted to take a little break, so we were just talking-"

"Oh?" Dr. Roberts maneuvered around her to the cooler and filled his mug, clipboard tucked beneath his arm. "What about?"

"Mostly just about getting the project together. Writing the proposal, jumping through hoops," she laughed unconvincingly, "you know how it is."

"Clearly not as well as you do," he smirked. "I'll admit I had my doubts about you, Carter. It took the Department of Material Sciences a month to get the go ahead for their research. But you, getting this project of yours thrown together and approved in little over a week? Now that's the most impressive thing I've seen all day." He raised his mug in Jake's direction. "No offence, American Dragon."

Jake shrugged. "None taken. She's an impressive person. That's really the main reason I decided to jump on board with this whole thing." He glanced at Trixie. "Dragons are pretty loyal, after all. We'd to anything to help a-"

"-a good cause!" agreed Trixie hurriedly. Her glasses bounced on top of her head as she hustled closer to Jake, placing herself between him and Dr. Roberts. "Improving human and magical relations, and maybe finding ways to improve our medical knowledge at the same time! I mean, who wouldn't want to be a part of that, right?"

"Well if medical school doesn't work out, you certainly have a knack for marketing. In any case, we'll be waiting back in the exam room when you're ready." Dr. Roberts raised his mug again and left the room. From the hall outside they heard him hum, "Loyalty, hm? I'll have to write that down."

Trixie waited until the sound of his footsteps faded before letting her plastered smile fade. Relief overtook her, dropping her to the couch beside Jake. "That was close."

Jake cocked his head. "You didn't tell them that we're friends?"

"Nah," she sighed, massaging her closed eyes. "They think I applied through the government by myself - and technically I did! You just greased some wheels for me is all."

"What's the big deal?" he asked. "Is that breaking some kind of rule? You think they'd kill the project if they knew I helped speed things up?"

"You kidding?" she chuckled. "They'd thank you and ask you to do it five more times. Turns out 'academics' is really just writing grants full of false promises and cutting deals under the table. Nah, it's just…I don't want them thinking I'm just some freshman that hangs out with magical creatures."

There was a small, firm knot in Jake's stomach. "What's so bad about that?"

Trixie didn't answer right away. Eventually her hand fell away from her face, and it occurred to Jake how deep the bags were beneath her eyes. "It's not bad, Jakey. I just don't want it to be all anyone talks about, especially after that Banderly interview. Getting into medical school means I have to get noticed, get people to recognize me. The last thing I need right now is people sayin' I'm only succeeding because of magic. I know it sounds bad, but I need a big win here on my own if I'm ever gonna make it. I really, really need it."

She sighed and pushed herself to her feet. "C'mon. Let's get back and knock this thing out, yeah?"

Jake watched her lower her glasses and leave. "Yeah…sure thing."

The rest of the team was ready when they returned, pens at the ready and energy untarnished. Trixie held the door open for Jake, but before he could enter Dr. Roberts piped up, "Welcome back. Oh, were you cold American Dragon? We have warm blankets in here."

Confused, Jake followed the man's gaze to see the black vest in his grip. Strange…he couldn't recall grabbing it from the lounge. It must have been a force of habit.

Except…it wasn't. He knew exactly why he'd grabbed it.

"Sorry, y'all. I've gotta head out." Jake slipped it over his arms and guided the back up into the slits for his wings. "An emergency came up that I've gotta deal with. Maybe we can finish up another time, yeah?"

They took the news poorly. Two of the underlings erupted with questions while the other stood speechless. Which were which he didn't see, choosing instead to make for the closest stairwell.

He'd made it down three flights and nearly through the exit when Trixie's voice echoed from behind, "Wait! Just hold up for a second!"

Jake pushed outside. The sky was already starting to turn a deeper yellow, but with how short the days were growing the afternoon was likely still young. Just like the facilities upstairs, the paths here were completely empty. That was the beauty of campus on a Sunday. If he took to the sky now-

The door flung open behind him. "Are you crazy?!" Trixie called, panting with her lab coat ruffled. At some point she'd lost or abandoned her glasses. "What're you doing? We're almost finished!"

"It's like I said, there's an emergency-"

"Don't you give me that there's an emergency BS!" she countered. "You've always sucked at lying, Jake, dragon or not. What's your deal?"

A paw was defiantly scratching the back of his neck. Jake lowered it and huffed, "Look, I helped get your project approved, and you guys have some samples. Isn't that enough?"

"Not until you tell me what's going on."

"Does something have to be? I'm just tired of gettin' poked all over and having' random people's hands in my mouth! I didn't sign up for that." He immediately put his hands up. "Yeah, I know that's literally what I did, but you get the point. I'm out."

Jake turned and managed a single step. "When do I ever ask you for anything?"

He slouched. "Trix-"

"I know you ain't blind, Jakey. You saw what they're like!" Her hands were balled into trembling fists. Her eyes raged. "Smart, hard-working, intense, and they're the only ones that would take me! I've been trying for months, and none of the other labs would even give me the time of day! But these guys give me a shot, and I ask you for help this one time, and you're seriously gonna ditch me at the last second? What kind of friend does that?"

"And you're such a great example?" he spat back. "You didn't even know Spud was all messed up until I told you today! You haven't talked to either of us in forever, haven't done anything for the DMC, and you're calling me a bad friend?" Jake shook his head and laughed without humor. "I don't know what I expected. You stopped caring about us months ago. But hey, look at it this way - at least this way they won't think you cheated your way to the top, right?"

Again Jake turned, and this time managed two steps. Then, something hit the back of his head.

Surprised, he paused and looked down where the object had fallen. It was a small rectangle of leather, flipped open and flashing the golden shield inside.

"You don't get it."

He looked up and found Trixie - grimacing, hunched, and eyes close to spilling over.

"You really wanna know why Spud won't talk to you?" Her voice was low and steady. "Me and Spud got you through high school. You were born with those dragon powers, and Pandarus handed you college on a silver platter. You don't know what it's like having to work for something." She shook her head. "You didn't earn any of it."

Jake looked down at the badge, then back to Trixie. "I'm not your guinea pig, and I guess I'm not your friend. Go write that down."

He turned and left. This time, nothing held him back.


It was supposed to be a quick flight back to the Crest, but Jake couldn't do it. At least walking as a human meant putting off getting there a little longer.

Still, he only made it a couple blocks away from the research building. It was about then, in the angular shade of a lecture hall, that his phone buzzed in his pocket. Jake was certain it was Margret again, informing him of yet another vulture looking to tear apart his interview, and he was seriously considering accepting purely for the opportunity to meet some anonymous stranger, verbally assault the coward, vent his aimless feelings, and be damned with the consequences.

What he found instead was an incoming call from his Dragon Master. Turns out, the emergency he'd invented was very real.

Jake tapped the screen and held the phone to his ear. "Gramps? What's up?"

"They've captured two more."

"Say what?"

"The Indian and Spanish Dragons. Both were just exposed at the same time and are now loose in their dragon forms. The People have struck again."

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