AN - Sorry folks, couldn't help the cliffhanger, but I also couldn't just make you all wait. Enjoy!
The first thing he did was scan the area in front of him. Where was the dragon? Where was there cover? Distances, dangers, anything he thought important was filed into the back of his mind as he darted forward.
He was running through a narrow tunnel that lead into the arena. The arena was about the size of a Quidditch field, though not nearly as even. There were boulders and rocks scattered throughout the uneven terrain.
There were hundreds and hundreds of people in the stadium and they all seemed to be shimmering slightly. Some sort of protective field, he supposed. It wouldn't do for a dragon to burn half the crowd.
On the opposite end of the field sat the Hungarian Horntail. She looked mean. It had to be at least fifty feet from nose to tail spike. The dragon noticed him for the first time as he burst into the arena, sliding to cover behind a boulder. He saw its leathery black wings stretch in anticipation as it eyed him with evil, yellow eyes.
He peeked around the edge of the boulder at the dragon. It was staring right at him, its mouth open slightly. It whipped its tail from side to side leaving a meter-long gouge in the rock beside it.
"You look pissed," Brad muttered, gripping his rifle tightly. It didn't feel nearly big enough. The dragon, still a fair distance away, gave a soft growl and looked down slightly. He followed its gaze and saw a clutch of eggs in front of it, the golden one sitting in the center of the pile.
There was the objective. His experienced eyes scanned the terrain around him and he found the next spot of cover he'd run to. He didn't give himself time to consider hesitating. He pushed himself out of cover and darted toward the next rock.
The Horntail bellowed in rage and Brad reflexively snapped his rifle up, firing several shots at it. He was disappointed to see the red streaks bounce harmlessly off the dragon's oily black scales. If anything, he'd just pissed that dragon off.
It stomped forward a few steps, just as he was reaching his cover, and belched a gout of flames at him. He made it to cover just in time but the air around him got hot. He pulled himself close, trying to make as small a target as possible. This was stupid, holy fuck this was stupid. What was he doing here?
He heard the sound of something breaking the sound barrier and looked up at the sky. He saw the streak of an atmospheric reentry pod angled for the left end of the field, closer to his target than he'd prefer. After a moment, he risked a glance over the rock.
The dragon was looking up at the pod and Brad noticed that the whole end of the rock he was using for cover had been melted slightly. He made the most of his opportunity, breaking from cover again and sprinting hard for another boulder nearer to where the pod was going to land. He was going to need to get that M3A1 fast. No way the dragon was going to let him blow it to hell without a fight.
He slid behind the boulder, now closer to the dragon. He could faintly hear the roaring of the crowd and Bagman's booming voice, but he didn't try to listen to what they were saying. He needed to focus. The dragon roared at him and he heard a whoosh of air as the dragon swiped its tail overhead.
Glancing back up at the pod he could swear he saw a feint gray streak rip toward it from somewhere outside the arena. It confused him for the split second that he saw it, then it was gone. Its effect was not, however. The pod angled sharply away from the field and he felt his stomach flip as the pod fell outside the stadium somewhere.
"FUCK!" Brad shouted louder than he'd intended. He'd been counting on that firepower. Evidently, the Hungarian Horntail was not fond of foul language. It responded with another gout of flame that licked at his right side, forcing him to scoot more central to prevent more serious burns. Now what?
He had to get that fucking egg. He needed to get a bit closer, within grenade throwing range. Maybe he could hit it with a stun grenade, distract it long enough to grab the egg. He'd seen another boulder to his right that was suitable.
Again, without allowing himself time to over-analyze, he bolted from cover. He'd just made it out of his cover and almost shit a brick when he saw the dragon's spiked tail swinging at him. It was a lot closer than he'd thought. He tried to stop but his momentum betrayed him and he felt the heavy impact of the spike hitting him in the chest plate, lifting him off of his feet.
He flew through the air and for an absurdly slow moment, he saw the faces of all three other champions. His eyes locked on Fleur, her hand covering her mouth in horror, and a thought entered his head. Damn it, she's watching this shit show.
Then his back smashed into a boulder, rocking his head back quickly. His helmet prevented him from directly smacking his head against rock, but it rang his bell for sure. Through blurry eyes, he raised his rifle and began firing at what he thought was the dragon's head. He let go of the rifle with one hand, pushing himself up with the other.
As his vision cleared, he saw that he was indeed shooting the dragon in its face, and the dragon was not happy. It stomped toward him and he scrambled to the right toward another boulder. He dove behind it, scraping both of his elbows, as another gout of flame burst from the dragon's mouth. His right foot was too far out and he felt his foot get intensely hot. Cursing, he brought his knees up, getting himself fully behind cover.
He could hear the dragon pounding toward him and distinctly heard Bagman's shout.
"Oh, dear, this doesn't look good!" Thanks for the vote of confidence.
He pulled an M84 stun grenade from the pouch on his chest and yanked out the pin. He was relatively sure that the shimmer around the crowd was a shield, but he wasn't sure enough to bet a frag grenade. He quickly jumped up, seeing the dragon was yet again closer than he'd hoped. He pitched the grenade directly toward the dragon's head and dove back under cover.
CRACK! The grenade detonated, producing in the neighborhood of seven million candela and a hundred and eighty decibels of sound right in the creature's face. It was very loud, very bright, and he hoped it would be enough.
Standing up from his cover and raising his rifle, he saw the dragon swaying its head back and forth, its tail swinging around and its wings flexing as it struggled to maintain its balance. It worked! Time to press the advantage.
He darted toward the egg clutch and he'd made it within ten feet when he heard a steady thump behind him and a roar of rage. Shit. He turned and took a knee, raising his rifle up. The dragon opened its mouth, inhaling deep for another burst of flames.
Brad flicked the switch on the side of his rifle, turning from semi-automatic to automatic, and let loose the remaining rounds in his magazine of stunning ammunition. He'd aimed directly at the creature's mouth, hoping that it was less protected from magic in there.
The dragon hitched, rearing its head back and thrashing back and forth wildly before falling onto its side. Brad didn't wait to check his handiwork. He turned, ejected the magazine and pulled another another into place as he crossed the last several feet. He bent down, picked up the large golden egg, and heard the crowd erupt in cheers.
Suddenly, dragon keepers were swarming the arena and Brad was acutely aware of everyone watching him. He stood the rest of the way, glancing around for the exit. He saw Colonel Sumner and Professor McGonagall waving him over and crossed the distance at a jog, his right foot shooting pain up his leg with every step. That bastard had ruined his boot.
"Well done, Captain," Sumner patted him on the back as he passed. Professor McGonagall grabbed his elbow and guided him toward a medical tent where Madam Pomfrey was waiting.
"You'll need to get checked out before get your score." She brushed soot from his shoulder and eyed him front and back, inspecting him for damage.
"Dragons...unbelievable," Madam Pomfrey sighed as he entered the tent. "Basilisks, dementors, now this. Maybe they'll invite giant spiders next year." She pulled his boot off of his tender foot as he took off the plate carrier. He saw a ragged hole in the chest where his ceramic plate took the spike.
As she rubbed some kind of paste onto his foot that left it immediately feeling cooled and better, he pulled the ceramic plate out. The hole punched almost all the way through and was only an inch from the bottom of the plate. He'd been lucky as hell, an inch lower and he'd have been speared through the gut.
"Colonel," Brad called out, thinking about luck. The colonel stepped into the tent as Madam Pomfrey lowered his foot and set to work on an anti-concussion potion for the knock to his head, along with a potion to help the ache in his back that he was just starting to notice. "Sir, I think someone sabotaged the OCDS pod."
"Is that so?" Sumner asked. The sudden change in direction was definitely not something they'd seen a pod do before, even when it burst during reentry.
"Yes, sir," Brad nodded, accepting a tall glass with a thick, brown, bubbling liquid that smelled vaguely of mildew. He eyed it for a moment.
"Drink up, then." She tilted the bottom of the glass up and he began chugging the liquid. The first gulp almost made him throw up, but once he was on a roll, he finished the glass out. It was only after the last gulp went down that he wretched hard.
"Holy hell," he said hoarsely, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his uniform. "Sir," he tried to concentrate on what he needed to say. "I saw something hit the side of the pod on its way down."
"Alright," Sumner replied, digesting the new information. "I already have a squad tracking the pod down. Can't go leaving ordinance like that laying around. We'll inspect the pod when we get it."
"Copy that," Brad said. Madam Pomfrey began wiping the paste off of his foot and his skin looked like new. Magic was pretty badass sometimes.
"Here ya go, sir," someone said behind him. He turned and saw a private handing him a pair of boots. He accepted them, surprised. "Sergeant Steele said you'd need 'em."
"Good man," Brad said, pulling the boots on. He slung the plate carrier back over his shoulders, feeling a lot better after drinking that awful fluid.
"Let's go see your score," Colonel Sumner said. They walked out and rejoined Professor McGonagall, who was conversing quietly with Harry. Brad pulled Harry's wand from the pouch it was residing in and handed it over. Harry gave it a brief inspection.
"Nothing happened then?" Brad asked. Harry shook his head.
"Nothing," he agreed. Brad smiled, that was one thing they had going for them.
"Good, good." They all walked together until they could see the judges. On seeing them, they began raising their wands, producing numbers from the tip.
Barty Crouch – 8
Dumbledore – 8
Ludo Bagman – 8
Madame Maxine – 9
Karkaroff – 4
All in all, not a bad total. The crowd booed at Karkaroff when his number popped up, but it didn't really faze Brad too much. He didn't care about winning the damned competition. He wanted to survive it.
"Well done," Sumner said. He clapped Brad on the back one more time, then left. Ron, Hermione, and the rest of Reaper team joined him.
"You tied for second!" Jason exclaimed, shaking Brad by the shoulders. Brad couldn't help the grin that crept on him. His exhaustion after the fight was giving way to the elation of winning a battle.
He listened as his friends recounted the previous champions work. Cedric, it appeared, had transfigured a rock into a dog to distract his dragon. It worked, for a bit. Cedric got his egg but was burned in the process.
Fleur had charmed her dragon to sleep, which Brad found impressive. He'd never considered the possibility. Her dragon snored a flame that burned her clothes a bit, but she also managed to get her egg.
Krum turned out to be the only one not injured in some way. He'd hit the dragon directly in the eye with some kind of curse that made it stumble around the arena. He'd had to dodge the dragon as it swung around wildly and stomped on some of the eggs, but he too got his egg.
Before long, Professor McGonagall returned and told him that the champions needed to meet in the tent one last time. He parted from the group of his closest friends and headed back to the tent where they'd waited earlier.
He was the last one to enter and the rest of the champions tuned to face him. Cedric crossed the distance quickly, half of his face was pink with freshly grown skin. He smiled broadly.
"Good work," he said, holding out a hand for a shake. "And thanks."
"You bet," Brad replied, shaking his hand. They'd just broken apart when Mr. Crouch entered with Ludo Bagman.
"Fantastic!" Bagman exclaimed just as Crouch opened his mouth to speak. The elder Ministry official shot his exuberant coworker a withering glance, but Bagman was too distracted to notice. "You all did marvelous."
"Quite," Crouch agreed. Before Bagman could continue, Crouch started, "Now that you have your eggs, it is time to prepare for the next task. You'll have plenty of time, the next task isn't until the twenty-fourth of February. You'll need to crack the riddle within the egg if you want any hope of succeeding. Well done, everyone." Crouch turned and left the tent and Bagman stayed only a moment, as though wanting to say more. He seemed to think the better of it and left.
Cedric and Krum quickly followed and Brad was gathering his egg when he saw Fleur walking up to him. His heart began hammering again and he cursed it silently, commanding it in vain to stop jumping every time she was near.
"You did a wonderful job out there," she said softly. Her melodious voice was soothing and he smiled at her.
"You too," Brad said. "I heard you charmed it to sleep." She looked troubled and Brad stood, fully facing her.
"I'm sorry for 'ow I've acted," she said. "I..." her eyes darted around, everywhere but him. "I'm sorry."
"Water under the bridge," Brad replied, surprised at how relieved he was that she was talking to him. She responded with a half-smile that was gone as quick as it came. After standing there for a moment she looked him in the eye one more time, looking like she had more to say, then turned quickly and left.