Author's Note: To all who have watched this story since I began writing this in 2013 I thank you. It has been a long journey since I began this story, and it is far from over! What originally was just a spin off idea inspired by games of that year, Destiny, Last of Us turned into a little story that I fell in love with. I quit writing this story as I left college for a multitude of reasons. Mainly, I had lost the original flash drive that contained the rough draft I was working on, and I had hit a brick wall. The original ending I had chosen for this story simply no longer fit, and I found the ideas for the next chapter simply not working. It wasn't until summer 2019 that I finally decided to dig my teeth back into this project and finish it. What follows is completely different from the initial ideas I wrote years ago. I have since reworked the old ending into an extended epilogue, and many ideas for the sequel I thought up have been roped in as well. I would consider the following next chapters to be a sort of Part II to this story. This is also draft...12 or 13 of this chapter. I have actually rewritten this many, MANY times over, more then ANY other story I've ever done. I might share all the old drafts as a massive dump to just show all the ideas I had worked on. Without further adue…
THE JOURNEY HOME, THE FINAL ACT
The year is 2082. It has been 57 years since a cataclysmic war destroyed the modern Earth. A species of anthros and dragons have taken over the ruins of humanity, now remembered as a Forger. This is the world Spyro grew up in. A fateful meeting one day with a one of these long extinct humans catapulted this dragon on an adventure that took him across the eastern seaboard of the united states. It was there he witnessed the world for its marvelous ruins and squabbling factions. All of this was in the shadow of the Dark Master, a dragon of immense power who operated an empire in the old American southwest. His soldiers, the Sentinels enforced his will with an iron fist. His empire grew east, and threatened to swallow all in his conquests.
It was Spyro and his band of friends who resisted, traveling to the ruins of New York with their newfound human, Jericho. It was there that Spyro learned so much about this world… and he became part of a greater cause.
Just how far is he willing to go for this cause?
April 27, 2082 9:12AM
City of Savannah
He has asked himself this question a million times, but had never gotten an answer he liked.
Had it all truly been worth it?
Again and again he asked himself this question to no avail. With deep remorse, the creature, a dragon of legendary background and potential, sighed sadly.
Here he was again, where it had all started. He stood and looked over the city of his birth and home: Savannah, in the old state of Georgia. The dragon found it funny, for he had lived most of his youthful years in this same place and had never known its true name. The city simply was, and he had done as all others had done in the city before him for countless years: lived.
After all, for an orphaned drake like himself, growing up in the streets, what good would these trivial details do him?
Oh, how things had changed in the past few months.
There, he stood upon the second floor balcony of his old room, bathed in the light of the spring morning. Before him was the same box courtyard he had seen before. The familiar crumpled and decaying ruins stared back at him, giving him some sense of calm.
Looking at the disfigured and ancient buildings he saw more then he did when he stood here a year prior. Growing up here he had never noticed how misaligned the ruins were. Having seen the world, having seen the ruins of the Forgers… mankind… he had seen how they built their structures in neat rows. The ruins that surrounded the courtyard just in front of him were misaligned and tilted. Something it would seem had pushed them clean off their foundations, like a child moving his toys just off center.
He could see many things more clearly now, since he had returned.
Down below in the yard, there were several figures strewn about. Two haggard canines with old blackened clothes sat around a small fire they had made. Their laughter echoed in the ruins, adding to the flurry of conversations and the sound of life. In the corner of the yard sat a slender feline anthro, plucking away at the strings of an old guitar. She wasn't very good, Spyro thought to himself. He was thankful, nonetheless.
More figures walked through the yard, busied with their daily lives here.
So much had changed here, and yet, stayed the same.
He wasn't the same dragon anymore. Yet, he stood, doing the same old routine.
Wondering, yet again, had it all been worth it?
It was a few more minutes before the dragon decided to venture into the city for his own daily routine. He leaped down from the second floor balcony where his home was and faded into the crowds in the street. Among the shadows of the ruins he went, his thoughts towering high above them.
There were some sights the Spyro had taken note of in the crowd. Gone were the patrolling Sentinels from a year ago. Now, they were replaced by armed guards wearing uniform khaki long shirts and old caps. Red banners adorned their arms, and their eyes scanned the crowds as they filtered passed.
Posters adorned some of the city walls, calling for unity against the threat from the west. For a city that had once known little of governance, they had elected their first city council. Young children ran past the crowd, with rolled up papers in their arms. They were the voice of the city, spreading news and announcements.
Every paper and slogan was of the same thing: the war.
It was on the voice of everyone in the street, and the atmosphere reflected it as crowds gathered around council members who gave raucous speeches. They were on nearly every street corner these days, Spyro thought to himself, almost annoyed at their existence.
"Resist! Resist the temptations of the Dark Master," they cried, to the roaring cheers of the masses.
'How little they know,' Spyro thought silently to himself.
At last, Spyro filtered from the moving crowds, and found himself in the markets of the Surface City. He had to bite his tongue, as a rogue memory of him and his old friend coming here together. He tried to suppress the thought, but soon the dragon stopped in his tracks, thinking back to his old friend, Flame. He cursed himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered what things would be if Flame and he had never ventured to the Sunken City that day.
Would things truly be different?
Those events were only a little under a year ago. Yet, they felt like an eternity.
The dragon stopped himself, rubbing his neck again. He tried to not think of it, but the events weighed on his mind. It had only been half a year or so since he and his friend Flame had ventured to the Sunken City. They had always lived in the false assumption that this city, these ruins were all this world had to offer. What they found in the ruins that day, all those months ago had catapulted this young dragon far beyond anything he'd ever thought possible.
Now, Flame was dead and he was alone here. He had found out that the humans, the Forgers had not been whipped out. Instead, they persisted and Spyro followed one of them to the ends of the known world. Jericho was his name, and he was the gateway into the wider world. Through him he been shown a world of ash and ruins. It had only been a scant fifty seven years since humanity had ruled this world and had walked these city streets like anybody else.
Now, they were all gone, and Spyro was here.
He passed that from his mind. There was nothing more to be done. Spyro spoke and haggled with the street vendor. The vendor refused to back down on his price. The portly swine anthro was always a hard head, grossly overcharging for his wears. Spyro could have gone further into the market to get better priced food, or he could have stood his ground and argued for a better price.
He didn't.
Spyro merely sighed, and deposited his money on the counter before departing with his sack of fresh fruits.
The shop owner scratched his head and took the money. Being one of the closest vendors along Spyro's route, the dragon came to his stand almost every day. Spyro usually did put up a fight. Yet, as the days and months dragged on, there was no fight left in him.
To the nearest meat vendor Spyro went, to commit a similar song and dance.
"You again, dragon. You know, I don't see dragons in this part of the market anymore." A friendly voice beckoned to Spyro as he approached the stand. The tall white-tailed deer was always welcoming, something Spyro appreciated. The dragon offered back a halfhearted huff.
"I guess they've moved to different parts of the city," Spyro responded.
"What about you? You disappear for six months then just… come back. You never did tell me what you've been up to this whole time." The deer gave him a playful look. Spyro shrugged, giving a soft chuckle before his face drooped somewhat.
"I told you, it was nothing important. Just went to… see some family is all." Spyro pointed to a cut of meat on display, which the deer then picked to wrap up for the dragon. With his own shrug, he decided to drop it.
Spyro departed the market, returning to the confines of the long city streets.
There was one spot that Spyro did appreciate, and often stopped to take in the view. Here, standing at the end of a long forger road, the drake could see to the sea. The road before him sloped downhill, as this entire section of city had seemingly folded down on uneven terrain. It meant that standing here, atop the summit he could peak over a vast section of city. He could see the brilliant waters of the bay as they kissed the old ruins below, slowly reclaiming another stone at a time with the passing years.
Such sights were common in the Surface City. It made the dragon wonder. Like a sleepless beast it wandered the expanse, wanting to peer over the horizon.
It was times like this that reminded him of the optimism he once had.
Now, standing here as a great wind washed over him from the salted sea he wondered.
Where had things gone awry?
Where were things going to go now?
Four Months Earlier…
It was pitch black, just as before.
The dragon tried to focus, to no avail.
Ash, and darkness. It was just like it had always been. Every day, every night, the same thing. A room, filled with shadowy darkness. Walls, made of lifeless concrete. Steel beams held the walls in their eternal position, their featureless walls taunting him. There, against the opposing wall from him rested that of most tantalizing enemies: a massive steel door.
It sat there, just as it always had. Every single night he came here, like a pilgrimage. He stretched his mind across this infernal continent each time… seeking a different response from this door. Yet, the door would not yield.
It's simplistic design, molded into a simple square shape confounded the dragon. It was slightly ajar, its hinges damaged from a cataclysm he was not privy too. Even in this state, an opposing force kept him at arm's length. It… was filled with hatred, fear and an everlasting desire for vengeance.
As strong as his will was, he could not bend the force to his will. It kept him at bay. It kept him from the answers he sought.
So there he sat, staring at that infernal steel door. He'd been staring at it for what felt like years, and here he would stay.
"Spyro?"
Chapter 26: The War
January 4, 6:24 AM
Southeastern Pennsylvania
"Spyro, hey Spyro."
A voice roused the young dragon from his slumber. He coughed, rubbing his face as the bitterly cold morning air filtered into the small space he occupied. His senses snapped to attention like the rest of him, taking it all in.
He was on a cot, stashed in the back of an old decrepit tent. A thin layer of canvas kept the bite of winter at bay. If it wasn't for his native species as a dragon to keep his internal heat up, he didn't know how anyone could survive this.
There, a figure pushed a flap out of his way so he could peer into the tent itself. It was another dragon, just like him. The dragon was of onyx scales, and a gray undertone. His horns were short, as was his muzzle. Two piercing red eyes looked down at Spyro as he lay on that cot.
"Asimov." Spyro muttered, while he rubbed his groggy eyes. He gave a soft groan before sitting up. The light filtering in told him that it must have been mid-morning.
"Come on, the Americans are making a move. It won't be long now." The dragon disappeared from the open flap, which left Spyro alone in the canvas tent. He cast himself from the cot, leaping onto the icy cold dirt below.
That damn dream again, Spyro thought to himself.
As he pushed his way out of the tent and into the world beyond, his mind wandered. It had been the same dream again, for the past two months. Spyro had to stop himself. Had it really been two months, he thought?
A breath of cold air answered the drake back, as fresh as the morning sun that slowly rose in the sky. Frost tipped trees surrounded them and their camp, making it hard to find them if you didn't quite know where to look. Their camp was small, only a few tents scattered around a small snow covered clearing amongst the dense evergreen forest. A few crates of supplies sat underneath the snow, pushed against the tents themselves. A few figures walked between the tents, moving with a slight bit of urgency. Some of them Spyro recognized, some of them he didn't.
They were of Hunter's Order, a mercenary group from the south. They were an odd assortment of anthros, of various canine species and felines. The most prominent species was cheetahs, like Hunter himself. He'd seen very little of them until now.
In the two months since the great battle with Vivex many things had happened. The world had… woken up. Factions stirred, and mustered their forces. A great game of chess began to form across the landscape, and Spyro could see the pieces moving, piece by piece.
Moving through the tents, towards the edge of the clearing Spyro spotted Asimov, alongside Hunter. There, beside them two more figures came forth from a nearby tent: Cynder the dragoness, and Jericho the human. Sparx the venerable dragonfly hovered nearby, his friendly yellow glow making Spyro feel that much warmer.
The gang was all here, Spyro thought to himself.
"There he is, I thought he'd never wake up." Cynder said with a shake of her head.
"Let the poor dragon sleep, he could barely move until a week ago." Jericho gave Spyro a friendly smirk. Spyro simply shook his head.
"I just wanted to give you guys a head start," the purple drake said with a chuckle.
"Hunter says he's spotted movement, coming from the southeast," Asimov interjected, changing the tone of the conversation. Spyro turned to him.
"The humans?"
Asimov nodded in acknowledgment.
"I counted two fast movers from the southeast. It's their high altitude fighter bombers. There is likely an assault force not far behind," Hunter clarified.
"We don't have much time then. We've been waiting for this opportunity. Is everyone ready?" Spyro inquired, looking to the cheetah. Hunter gave an affirming nod, withdrawing his bow from his back, using it as a pointer to the assortment of fighters that had gathered in their small camp.
"My soldiers are ready. They will strike once the humans have engaged."
Spyro then turned to Cynder and Sparx, who both gave him a confident smile.
"Storm the facility, grab the goods," she said.
Two loud cracks were heard in the distance, followed by the high pitched hum of a jet engine. Looking to the sky, they could see two black wedge shapes cutting their way through the morning haze.
"That's their attack, go, go!" Jericho ushered them, waving his arms as the camp erupted into a frenzy. The human dashed with the other anthros to an assortment of modified assault jeeps stashed just outside the tent perimeter. Their engines rumbled to life, and their heavy mounted machine guns swung to position as their occupants buttoned themselves up.
Spyro turned to his longtime friend and compatriot, Sparx.
"Sparx, stay here with the security! We'll be back soon, I promise!" The dragonfly let out a disappointing groan, but they had talked about this.
The raid would be dangerous, and Spyro wanted at least one of his longtime friends to stay here and safe.
"Let's get these bastards!" A yell came from the anthros, eliciting similar jeers from their fellow comrades. Spyro gave a confident smirk as he and the other dragons took to the sky. These beasts of air, serpents of the heavens, sailed high into that blue expanse.
The tree tops sank below Spyro's view, instead giving the dragon now an unending view to the horizon.
There, nestled in the foothills of a small mountain sat a collection of cold concrete structures. They sat there in the shadow of the rocky formation, almost hidden among the snow like the rest of the forest. A plume of black smoke erupted from one of the long flat structures. It churned a deep hue, mixed with orange and red flame. A crack whipped itself through the air, the remnants of a blast from a bomb. Two more shapes leaped across the morning sky high above the dragons, their silver paint barely giving a gleam to them in the sunlight.
It was hard to see, but to his reptilian eyes Spyro could track their packages: two bombs that knifed their way downwards before hitting hard. They erupted within the concrete structures, blasting them into pieces.
"Damn, if they keep this up, there won't be a base to storm!" Asimov cried out, flying just a few feet in front of Spyro.
"Then hurry your ass!" A reply came from Cynder in the front. The three dragons gained altitude, barreling straight towards the onslaught.
This had been their goal for the past month. Ever since the battle with Vivex, the Sentinels stirred across the eastern coast. The humans fought them back, but they were still a major threat. A march against their base in the east, the mighty Citadel itself was an inevitable conclusion to this fight.
Little by little the humans had worked their way to this objective, but kept from assaulting it outright. Cynder wanted to storm the place, to gather all the information that hadn't been pilfered or destroyed in the past two months since that time. She, like everyone else, sought answers. However, their status as "mercenaries" amongst the humans meant they had to play ball… and wait for them to muster their own armies.
At last, the time had come.
The Sentinels didn't take this assault sitting down. Like a beast reaching out with long tendrils against an attacker, missiles streaked into the sky from behind the walls of the prison. Long plumes of smoke were left in their wake, with one being launched every few moments. A yellow fireball was all they could make out as it raced into the heavens to challenge the attacking craft. Bright yellow and white chaff cast themselves down from the wings of the man made birds, forcing two of the fired rockets to sail off course. One hit home and split one of the aircraft in two. The fiery remains fell from the sky and slammed hard into the forest below. More aircraft flew in from the south and delivered more munition. Blasts rocked the citadel and started a cavalcade of fires that spread rapidly.
As they got closer, more traditional guns erupted onto the dragons, ranging from smaller caliber machine guns to large flak canons. A blast rocked the group, sending them down near the tree line.
"Good, I was hoping they weren't asleep this morning," Cynder called out from the front, forced to dodge to her left and right to avoid the oncoming fire. The two males behind her followed suit and flapped their wings for course corrections.
To their rear, they could hear the oncoming assault wave. Craning his head, Spyro could see the legion of aircraft, coming in from the rising sun to the east. They were twin engine tilt rotor craft, similar to Jericho's old Osprey. Their large bulbous engines sat at the end of long wings like a plane. They were rotated in the cruising position, their rapidly spinning rotors seeming to chop the image of the rising sun.
The oncoming VTOLs caught up to the dragons, no match for the output of the machines. Their cargo hatches were open in the back, revealing the packed holds filled to the brim with soldiers clad in armor and equipment. Masks covered their faces, with only a semi-translucent visor revealing two human eyes looking back at the dragons.
"Mercenaries," Spyro thought he heard one of the humans say as they recognized the purple dragon and his comrades. Two single engine gunships escorting the oncoming soldiers rotated from their position at the end of the pack to the front, and sank in altitude. Pods mounted to the underside of their stubby wings came to life as rockets came out and sliced their way down to the compound below.
The birds of prey swooped in, low and fast. The barrels of their chin mounted cannons spun uninterrupted, spouting fire and flame upon whatever still clung to life in the blackened craters that filled the opening courtyard. What was once an open and spacious yard separating the wall from the first set of structures now looked more akin to a small hilly valley, strewn with rocks, broken concrete and what one could make out as bodies half buried in the dirt.
A few surviving Sentinels made a mad dash to cross the open gap. They may have thought to find solitude amongst the tall commanding structure of the Great Hall, which only lie a hundred feet across from the main gate. As Spyro swooped in, he could see them leaping over their fallen comrades. They took care not to lose footing in the broken gravel, but it mattered not. Another pass from one of the attacking gunships saw their end. They disappeared into black geysers, kicked up from the impact of their forward canons.
The two attacking gunships swayed side to side, like two bees cutting through the air with their mysterious and deadly elegance.
The trio of dragons came in over the wall not long after that, touching down onto the broken and shattered rocks.
The humans followed not long after. With the courtyard clear of the hostiles, the large and lumbering tilt-rotor craft descended down. Their large forms were unlike the elegant and nimble gunships. They were like bloated animals, carrying their precious cargo of human commandos. Their engines rotated upwards which sent a massive draft downwards onto the dragons. The bitter winds of January were only just mitigated by the heat and exhaust of the craft. Like a large beast using an umbrella to catch its descent four of the dropships found their place among the open yard. Doors to either side of the craft's body slid open, revealing their spacious troop bay within. Soldiers leaped into the snow covered concrete below, their bodies strapped tight with combat gear, pouches, grenades and equipment. Unlike the common grunt, the gear was more compressed to the body, hanging off an all-white jacket and pants that obscured their body. Armor plating coated their chest and arms, but was small and held itself to their clothing. It was obvious they were meant for speed, not armor. Helmets obscured their faces and identities, with an ominous black reflective visor that greeted any onlooker. Its bulbous appearance obscured the shapes of their heads, an obvious choice for a species who favored secrecy.
Upon their boots striking the ground, gunfire greeted them. Survivors of the initial landings sought shelter amongst the shattered ruins of the Great Hall. The long concrete structure, which acted as the entryway to the old prison and dominated the Citadel's front courtyard was hardly the image of refuge to the purple dragon. It's thick concrete walls, which maybe measured a foot to two feet thick of stone in places was cracked and split open to the world. This structure, which Spyro and company had narrowly escaped a mere two months ago had been blasted by the initial bombings. It was as if a massive beast had descended from above, and taken a large bite from the structure itself. It did however, offer what little cover there was to be had by those tenacious defenders.
Persistently, the survivors pelted the landing soldiers with a volley of gunfire. The trio immediately scattered and kept low. The cratered landscape offered great cover, as overturned rock and stone shielded the mad dashes of human and dragon alike as they raced to the hard cover of the Great Hall.
From within the blackened windows and door frames of the prison complex, the retaliation came. Sentinels who had escaped the massacre in the prison yard stole vital and commanding positions inside the high vantage points that covered the open approach to the central structures. They got creative, using whatever hole or crevice that exposed their gun barrels to the outside world.
There would be no easy fight today.
Within moments, the dragons and humans had reached the walls of the broken Great Hall. From behind the dragons, soldiers of another squad came in from behind. Spotting a large gaping hole in the right side of the structure, two of the men hurled their grenades inside. They aimed for a cluster of Sentinels who took cover on the other side of the chest high walls. A loud crack and a boom followed. One Sentinel was flung from the position, shrouded in a cloud of flowing grey-white smoke. His shrapnel riddled body came to a rolling stop a few feet away from the trio. One overeager commando attempted to vault over the wall, but a round caught his shoulder and sent him back down.
Spyro raised his arm and halted his comrades. He moved quickly to wave them off. Clearly, going through the front door wasn't the answer.
The dragons nodded to each other, before they proceeded around the corner and to the left of the hall. From there, they stayed close to the structure itself. Above them, the Sentinels found the humans sprinting amongst the open fields more inviting targets.
They spoke little to one another other then a few glances and nods. They knew why they had come, and the less their human allies knew, the better.
They used a shattered window near the back left-hand side of the hall as an entry point. They leaped into the massive room, and quickly found it wanting. Another gunfight had erupted within the structure between a band of smaller anthro Sentinels and the humans who had so desperately tried to storm the room. Fallen tables, concrete and even dead comrades served as cover for these Sentinels. One by one, the human attackers would poke their heads out from cover to exchange a quick bout of gunfire before they retreated back. Clouds of smoke and fire erupted from the stone debris and shrouded the room in a thick black ink. Flashes and yells came through the smoke, which only added to the confusion.
Towards the back of the hall, a rather large dragon Sentinel stood defiantly. He guarded the only exit to the hall, a set of double doors that lead deeper into the heart of their objective: the administration building.
The mighty red scaled beast let forth a loud roar, before he stepped forward into the fray. He carried a weapon regular men would have only considered mounting to the top of an armored vehicle. He wielded it like any other rifle, and swung it from side to side as it erupted in white thunder. The fallen debris the humans used as cover did little to shield them from their fates. Like an artist using a hammer to forge a sculpture from marble, the heavy rounds of his weapon chiseled away at the stone. Like glass, the old rock and stone shattered.
It didn't take long for the dragons to react to this new threat.
It was Spyro who first dove at the creature, followed closely by the black serpent, Cynder. Asimov was last to join the fray, with visible reluctance.
A torrent of flame rained onto the beast, catching his attention. It curled and lapped at his armor, scorching the exposed areas of his scales. The beast merely snarled in response, reeling his form around so the heavy machine gun how thundered at them. Blasts of debris filled the air as they shot to the left and right. Cynder and Asimov both used their corrupted elements in retaliation. Shadow flame and lightning cascaded towards the larger foe, adding to the fire that Spyro had already unleashed.
Now to within just three feet, they encircled the larger drake, with Spyro coming in from behind and lashing himself to the armored monster. Cynder and Asimov struck to his front and side, hammering away at the tough Sentinel armor. They went for the small cracks in between, hoping to hit his vulnerable weak points.
In anger, the larger dragon cast them off, flapping his massive wings, even in this enclosed environment, to flush the attackers away. They skid on the ground, to look back up at the dragon as he recovered and reeled his weapon around.
Regardless of the Sentinel's desire to retaliate, things fell from his control.
Outside, the fighting outside escalated. At once the front gates of the citadel fortress were blown from their hinges. Several ground vehicles charged into the gap, flowing into the courtyard. They were the armored jeeps of Hunter's Order, and their vehicle mounted machine guns and grenade launches added to the punch of the mobile American troops. It took them a few moments to realize these jeeps were allies, but when the two worked in tandem, they pushed the Sentinels from the open yards.
One of the jeeps pulled up to the Great Hall, and its gunner got a clear sight at the large behemoth Sentinel in the back. Heavy machine gun rounds flew downrange, forcing everyone to ground. The massive half inch anti-material rounds blasted at the dragon's armor. With the few moments he had, he returned fire, striking the vehicle outside. Sparks flew, and the vehicle shuddered under the impacts. The two weapons, of the same make and model dueled to the end.
In the end, it was the machine that won over the beast.
The armor of the dragon failed, and shattered onto the floor in many pieces. In a few more rounds, the dragon fell onto his back, blood and scales dripping onto the ground below him.
"Keep going, keep going into the structure!" A yell came from the advancing humans, now finally having overtaken the other Sentinels within the hall. The soldiers picked themselves from the blood and snow covered concrete before they came right into the trio.
"It's you three, the mercenary dragons," came a comment from one of the soldiers. An insignia printed onto the soldier's chest denoted him as an officer, a Captain.
"Don't act so happy to see us," Cynder said with a slight smug tone.
The Captain waved his arms, ordering a squad of his men to advance into the hallways beyond.
"You may have done a lot for us, but this our op. This base is our mission and you should stay clear," came his simple reply. Cynder frowned. Unfazed, Spyro chimed in.
"The Sentinels are as much our enemy as your enemy. We're here to help, whether you want it or not."
The human officer seemed unconvinced, but his rapid change in demenour told them he didn't really have much choice either.
"Don't complain if you get hit with crossfire then. Echo, India groups, advance." With that, the other white clad soldiers began their advance into the administration building beyond. The bemused purple drake shot both Cynder and Asimov a look of amusement as they quickly filtered in behind the humans. Asimov didn't seem so pleased. He was, after all, surrounded by creatures he'd been born to kill.
Beyond the spacious and blood filled Great Hall lay the narrow corridors of administration. What were once the officers of the prison staff, now acted as offices for the Sentinel's war effort. One by one the soldiers broke off and cleared rooms and separate hallways. They passed several bodies of Sentinels. Many of them were of lesser rank, and some even wore little armor. Occasionally, a human casualty from the earlier squads sat against the wall. A medic broke off every now and again to tend to their needs. One or two were fatally wounded, and given a mere nod as they passed their bodies for later.
Loud gunfire clattered in the halls just ahead, echoed and intensified with the narrow space of the passageways. Just ahead they could see a trio of soldiers, pinned against a series of fallen barricades. Down at the end of the long hall sat three Sentinels with light machine guns. The large, belt fed weapons plastered the halls with continuous fire. The humans managed an occasional burst here and there but kept their heads down. Passageways on the right and left snaked off deeper into the structure. The Captain waved his arm.
"India One, Two, clear the flanks. Echo Three get that second floor under control. Secure Hivemind!" The soldiers nodded in acknowledgment before shuffling themselves into the side hallways. More fire came out as they met resistance.
The drakes looked to one another.
'Hivemind,' Spyro thought to himself.
These humans were here for the same thing they were. Using the cover of the fallen barricades they fell in behind the men of Echo Three. They were searching for the staircase that went upstairs, but thankfully for the drakes, the humans weren't nearly as familiar with the structure as they were.
Debris from the bombings had caved in one of the main stairwells, blocking access to the floors above. The men of the assault squad devised alternate routes, and the dragons slid into the shadows.
Asimov, being very familiar with the layout, directed the others into a small maintenance closet. Within, there was an air duct barely visible behind overturned shelving and crates.
"Tuck your bellies in boys, get in there!" Cynder said in a hushed voice after removing the metal grate. The drakes slithered their way through the cramped space which was just barely big enough to fit their frames.
At once, the door came down with a loud thrash. The dragons charged into the warden's office, expecting the treasure trove of artifacts, maps and documents laying about for the dragons to whisk away.
They were instead met with emptiness.
The room was completely and utterly empty. The shelves and desk that were once packed with so many documents, maps and other letters were completely barren. Not even a scrap of paper was left there.
Clearly, the Sentinels weren't stupid enough to leave the paperwork here.
"Damn it, damn it!" Cynder yelled before she bought her tail down in one swift motion, smashing Vivex's main desk in two.
"There goes our whole plan..." Asimov said lowly, his voice reeked of disappointment. Spyro said nothing. He didn't have to.
Their whole damn plan was to come in here and relieve the Sentinels of whatever valuable paperwork was remaining. Perhaps it would lead to clues to where the Sentinels planned to attack next, or even where Orrick was being held.
Instead, the office was empty, just like all the others here.
"I knew it felt too easy. The Sentinels must have moved their entire operations," Asimov begin to pace the room to scan for any possible clues. Cynder sat silently near the smashed desk, her mind lost in thought. Spyro instead walked over to the large window that overlooked the old prison yard. Smoke and fire still rose from the morning's battle. It had calmed down outside, with the tide of battle clearly having swung in the human's favor.
"Where would they go, if not here?" Spyro asked, turning to Asimov and Cynder.
"We'd always heard of a second Sentinel base somewhere in the east. We didn't think it was as large or important as the Citadel," Asimov said, rubbing the back of his head as he attempted to recall the information. "As trainees, we… didn't know where it was located."
"We should have known they would have moved their entire operations there. Now that this base would be an obvious target..." Cynder finally spoke again, her voice cruel and filled with spite.
"Don't beat yourself up Cynder, this was our only true shot. Maybe there's still something here in the base," Spyro said, trying to maintain some semblance of optimism. Cynder relented, saying nothing but walking over to join the purple dragon by the window.
"Now what?" Asimov inquired. Spyro pondered for a moment before turning to face him.
"Let's fight our way deeper into the base. The prison blocks, didn't they use those as barracks?"
"They did, yes," came Asimov's reply. Spyro went to the door, motioning with his head for them to follow.
"Let's clear them out. There may still be some answers yet."
Fighting inside the prison blocks was getting close, and personal. Four squadrons of the Forger special ops had infiltrated the structure from all sides. Yet, the Sentinels fought relentlessly and refused to give an inch without blood.
The soldiers would push and advance, only for the Sentinels to counterattack, claiming an entire prison block and pushing the humans back. It was now midday.
Screams and shouts echoed between the sounds of loud gunfire and the crack of an exploding grenade. The open, two story prison blocks featured prison cells with iron bars facing the interior of the room with the second floor being just a series of catwalks that connected to one another. Security offices sat on the second floor against the wall, overlooking the block on either end. The Sentinels used these to stubbornly cling to the room. The reinforced concrete and iron shielding made them particularly difficult for the humans to dislodge, even with grenade launchers. Machine gun nests turned those reinforced pillboxes into death machines, making it suicidal for anyone to even dare venture into the open. Sentinels posted themselves into various different cells, creating a lethal field of fire that made advancing a dangerous affair.
The trio of dragons found themselves on the ground floor of the eastern most prison block. A small group of Forgers had stolen some precious cover among some overturned rubble that had fallen from the ceiling. Every so often they returned fire to the machine gun nest in the second floor security room, but to little affect. A second squad of humans occupied the security room directly above and behind the dragons, facing out. The two security rooms on either end of the hall, controlled by the two opposing soldiers, dueled in a series of firefights. Blasts of smoke and fire choked the room, making it hard to see.
As the dragons pinned themselves against the concrete for protection, a door on the left side of the room beside the two pinned human commandos slammed open. Several figures emerged from the shadows of the hall, revealing themselves to be Hunter and his Order.
"Jericho! Hunter!" Spyro called out to them from his cover, seeing the group of about five Order soldiers accompany the human and cheetah emerge and join the humans. At first the humans leveled their weapons at them, but the sight of Jericho made them pause.
"It's the damn mercenaries! You're in our AO," one of them said to Jericho, who gave them a disinterested response.
"Seems like the Sentinels own this place, why don't you argue with them!"
The anthros of the Order shuffled into position, their older armor and fatigues making for an interesting sight as they melded in with the human commandos.
"Jericho!" Spyro call out to the human from across the hall, trying to pierce the cracks and bangs of the grenades and gunfire. "That machine gun nest has got us pinned! We need to take it out!"
The human fired quick successive shots, ducking back into cover as return fire from Sentinels blasted away at the concrete rocks he hit behind. "Well? Let's take it out then! Any ideas?"
"One, keep me covered!"
Spyro backed himself up, so only his head could peek above the top of the fallen debris. The others watched, as a small white ball of light began to gather itself in his muzzle.
"Covering fire, covering fire!" Jericho bellowed his commands, snapping his upper half out of cover to pour quick bursts of automatic fire down the hall. The other commandos, human and feral, followed. A cascade of fire poured in, peppering and obscuring the concrete pillbox above in clouds of dust from the impacts.
The ball within Spyro's muzzle was now the size of a small soft ball. It pulsed warmly, making his two comrades pause for a brief moment. They watched, waiting. Then, it came.
Spyro whipped his head back, as if to throw the sphere himself. It sailed through the air, with the speed of a tank shell. A might flash of white nearly blinded everyone in the room before it detonated with great force. A loud crack echoed in the open space, followed with the sounds of rock and metal shattering and cascading into the hall below. Pieces of debris propelled themselves as far as the hidden commandos, who sheltered in place.
As they lifted their heads to look upon that once deadly machine gun nest, they saw just as a body of one of the Sentinels slipped through the smoke billowing out from the impact site. One could hardly make out his species through his blackened armor and charred fur. Gunfire from the human commandos in the room struck the wall nearby, with one even nailing the fallen warrior. Broken stones and clouds of thick dust fell with the body, collecting into a fine pile below the pillbox.
"Go, now's our chance," Asimov said, as he now dashed from cover. The other two joined him, ushering the others into the open space.
What combatants of the Dark Master remained sat huddled in the individual prison cells along either side of the wall, firing an occasional burst. As the humans and anthros advanced, they returned fire. Both Sentinel and allied soldiers flinched as their thick ballistic, crystalline or makeshift armor took shots, creating an odd scene as both would fire uninterrupted into each other until one side died. Two of the anthro soldiers took hits, causing them to stumble down. One of the human commandos as well as Jericho double teamed another, both firing into a single Sentinel bull who had nowhere to run. All three dumped their magazines until the Sentinel's armor gave way. Jericho managed to dodge a hit, but the human commando wasn't as lucky. He took half a magazine into his chest and arm, causing him to fall. Jericho stopped and helped the yelling man, just as one of his comrades advanced from behind to extract the fallen man and provide aid. Most of the bullets were eaten by the advanced black and white pattern armor the human wore.
Yet, technology could only save you from death for so long. The blood of man and Sentinel alike spoke that simply enough.
For Spyro and his comrades, their fight was not here. They sailed above the carnage in the hall and fell upon the breach. Like phantoms they passed into the billowing smoke coming from the stricken nest. They slipped past a pair of smoldering bodies, and set upon the unfortunate survivors.
Creatures of dragon, feline and bear greeted them. Various assortments of burned, pristine or damaged armor clung to their figures. Some had no armor at all, only basic fatigues that carried the blackened stain of war.
At once, the larger dragon and bear anthros rushed. They lacked weapons, but their fists and their grip was as deadly as any rifle. They charged Cynder, the first through the hole. She bypassed them, letting Asimov batter the unarmored bear with his horns. Spyro followed behind, joining his fellow drake in the fray.
Cynder had spotted a more glorious prize.
There, in the back of the room, stood a retreating gorilla anthro with a smaller feral dragon in tow.
The feral dragon had a necklace on, with a single pulsating crystal hanging from a simple string. A second crystal rested in the gorillas hand. Upon seeing Cynder, the gorilla let out a guttural yell.
"They're here! They have come!" He bellowed this, letting his deep voice fill the room. With that, he clenched his fist down onto the crystal he held. It shattered, leaving a fine mist of purple and pink fragments that rained to the floor.
"NO!" Cynder cried, rushing them. She knew what it was he held. She knew what it was he had just destroyed. The servant of the master would have known its prize to them as well.
"Go, take that crystal and smash it! I'll kill this traitor and plant that false dragon's head on a PIKE for the Master!" The gorilla flung his arm to a nearby door and hallway, beckoning for the small red feral dragon to escape. The dragon in question backed up a few feet, almost in shock at the sight of a killer black serpent baring down upon them. After a few moments, he made haste upon his feet, darting into the black halls beyond.
The gorilla slammed his fists to the ground before Cynder, sending her backwards. Spyro saw this, and knew this was their only chance. He left the bear and dragon anthros to Asimov, leaping instead for the mighty ape.
"Cynder go, I'll get him!" Spyro called to her as he barreled their way. The purple drake saw the thick black armor that covered the gorilla. The hardened armor always made the Sentinels tough beasts to kill in close quarters. That's why for two months, he had prepared.
He charged another shot of white energy into his muzzle, not unlike what he had just unleashed. Yet, it was more concentrated and with a different purpose in mind.
As the ape turned to intercept the purple drake, Spyro could see it in his eyes. The gorilla knew exactly who he was, and a level of hatred entered the beast's eyes.
Spyro cast the second energy attack downrange, striking him at a range of five feet. It was like a focused bullet, passing and drilling through the black armor before dissipating itself deep inside the creature's body. Not unlike what Spyro had done to Vivex months ago, it rendered his left arm useless as his body shut down. The gorilla cried out, collapsing to the floor. He wasn't finished, as he managed to catch his weight upon his right arm. Without wasting a beat the gorilla rolled onto his back, using the momentum to swipe at Spyro.
The drake leaped back, narrowly avoiding the strike.
"Go Cynder, go!"
The black serpent needed no further command. She sank into the black hallways, perusing the ruby red dragon from before. She recognized him, which created a pit in the bottom of her stomach.
As the sounds of hand to hand scuffles further sank away, she focused in on the clinks of claws striking rock. She could hear him, just ahead. He was panicking. He must have recognized her too.
How could they not have recognized one another? He was, after all, in her class of trainees too.
"Hendrick! Hendrick stop!" She called out to him, recalling the reclusive, yet obedient dragon. He wasn't remarkable, but he wasn't a washout either. If he was here, assisting what looked like the only commanding officer she'd seen this whole time, then things were desperate for them.
A tear came to her eyes as she thought of the fate of all her fellow trainees.
No response came from the drake. She only found winding halls, and dead ends.
Back in the broken pillbox, a real struggle was playing out.
Asimov had his hands full, keeping both the injured bear and dragon at bay. Another thin feline wearing nothing but burned fatigues had died from a gunshot wound. The poor soul had wandered too close to the gaping hole, inviting the attention of the human snipers in the hall below.
They were large beasts, and trained killers. Asimov tried desperately to keep them away while blasting them with his black lightning. For his troubles, the Sentinel dragon returned fire with his own ice attacks.
Spyro meanwhile continued to tear the gorilla commander apart. The beast continued to try and smash Spyro using his one good fist, but this drake was too fast for him. Every few moments he'd send inner light into his claws, tail, or another muzzle blast that melted the ape's protective armor. More and more, it peeled away and fell to the floor in useless pieces. Eventually, the creature tried reaching for a knife hidden in a sheath along his leg. Spyro missed this, and let out a yelp as the blade sliced a gash onto his face. Blood from the dragon dripped to the floor below as the young dragon recoiled.
The commander had gotten an upper hand, and charged the drake.
"You think we didn't expect you?!" He swiped again, catching Spyro's leg as he retreated again. Spyro used fire, but the gorilla blocked it with his one good arm that had armor on it. "We knew you and your FILTHY humans would come! You'll find nothing here! NOTHING! We burned anything of worth! You'll just find DEATH!"
"You talk too much!" Spyro charged after the ape swung again, using his sharp claws to knock the blade from his hands. It clattered to the floor, but did little to intimidate the mighty ape. He just managed to finally bring his fists onto Spyro. He struck him hard on his side. He knocked the air out of Spyro and sent him crashing to the floor.
"Is that it then? Is this the purple dragon who killed our commander? Pathetic!"
Blood trailed from Spyro's face as he rolled up, seeing the half immobile gorilla fight through the pain that had to no doubt be surging through his body to continue at Spyro.
Lying there, underneath the approaching ape, Spyro grit his teeth. Not having given up on life, Spyro instead channeled lightning to his muzzle, and let it arc straight to the ape's partially protected head. It caught just below his left eye, and surged through his body. The creature let out a pained cry as his body jolted, almost rippling as it caused every muscle in his body to flex in one moment.
Steam rose from his head, and the creature fell down onto his back. He gripped and clenched onto his head, even as more muscles turned off within his body.
"Help Spyro! Help!" Asimov's voice came from behind Spyro, catching his attention as the purple dragon turned to witness the dragon anthro pulling and choking Asimov as he held him around his throat.
As Spyro ran to help, the sounds of falling boots and clattering gear filtered in from the doorway. Soldiers from the Order filtered in the room, lead by Hunter. Jericho came in behind, spotting the two dragons.
"Asimov! Spyro!" Jericho yelled out, raising his weapon. The antho dragon turned to face them, holding Asimov as a shield. Nearby, the bear anthro from before let out a grunt and tried to stand from the wounds Asimov had given him. The allied soldiers ended his life, with a series of targeted gunshots to his unprotected arms and stomach.
No words came from the dragon as he sneered at them. Spyro stood only two feet away, ready to strike, but now the dragon Asimov's throat, and was ready to snap his neck at a moment's notice. Like prey circling their meal the allied soldiers and Spyro slowly backed the dragon up to the destroyed wall. Just beyond, lay the open prison halls. They stood there in that uneasy truce, neither side willing to make the first move.
Now came the guns of man.
Soldiers who were moving through the prison halls below fired their weapons. Automatic fire cascaded into the room, striking the dragon from below and behind. Several rounds hit and then punctured the armor. Blood shot out in between bits of shattered armor as the dragon flinched from each new wound.
"Damn it! Asimov get down!" Jericho's blood began to pump as they watched the Sentinel dragon fall backwards, life exiting his body. His arms still held tightly to Asimov who cried out in terror.
"Damn it! Damn it! Holy shit!" Came Asimov's cries as he slowly slipped free of the dragon's grasp.
Spyro was airborne before the Sentinel was even dead. As the dragon fell back, Spyro grabbed ahold of Asimov, and ripped him free. Jericho and Hunter dashed in only a moment later, each pulling and grabbing at the dragons to keep them from falling over the edge.
More gunfire continued to strike at the ceiling and walls, filling the room with dust and smoke.
"Check fire assholes! Check fire there's friendlies!" Jericho waved his arms like mad before finally being rewarded with a replying command from below.
"Son of a BITCH!" Asimov gripped his arm, letting out a searing hiss as blood pooled from multiple wounds along his arm and one that grazed his chest. Some had punctured his arm, having over penetrated the Sentinel.
"Watch it, I got you." One of the Order soldiers, a medic, knelt down over Asimov. He quickly began dressing the wounds.
"Spyro, where's Cynder?" Hunter asked, seeing the black of their female compatriot.
"Cynder… Cynder! Shit!" Spyro raced off without an answer, disheartening into the black halls.
"Crap! I'll go help! You two follow me!" Jericho raced off after Spyro, with two Order soldiers quickly following. Hunter stayed with his medic and Asimov.
"Like hell you're leaving me here! Damn it get off me I have to go!" Asimov fought with the medic, trying like hell to stand. Hunter held him down, shaking his head.
"Don't move Asimov, you're hurt! You'll be of no help to them like this." Hunter knelt down beside the dragon, pressing a paw to his chest. Asimov finally stopped, held back by the sheer pain of his wound and the force of two adult cheetahs above him.
"Cynder! Cynder!" Spyro called out from within the halls. The electric lights had failed in this part of the building, obscuring some parts in darkness. Behind, the flashlights of Jericho and the anthros gave some respite.
"Hendrick! Heeeendrick!" Cynder's cry echoed into the dark tunnels, bouncing and repeating themselves for what seemed like an eternity.
"You can't keep running Hendrick! Please! You don't have to fight for them!" Cynder felt like she was about to collapse from all this running. She lost track of where they were. It felt like he was leading her on a wild goose chase, going back and forth… It was obvious he was trying to just lose her.
"Hendrick! Answer me, please!" She cried out into the black halls, hearing only faint gunshots and screams. She had lost track of his claws two minutes ago. Now, she only slowly moved in the darkness as she could run no longer.
"I know you're there Hendrick… You know what they've done… I know what they won't tell you… Don't die for them, they don't deserve it. Come, please…"
There was no response.
Then there, in the dark, she could hear faint breathing. She reached out, feeling at the cold gray stone. Eventually, she found a door. Inside was probably a small room. With the limited light, she could barely make out a figure in the corner.
"Hendrick, I know its you." She said softly, resting near the door. The figure shuffled a bit. She could tell he was holding the crystal, hiding it within his claws. She could barely see the purple glow from between his talons.
In between her heavy breathes, Cynder felt around. There were boxes within the room, old cardboard and paper. Moving one into the center of the room, she lit it aflame with her shadow fire. The purple-white hue illuminated them, revealing her former compatriot resting against the walls and decrepit boxes stored here.
"Hendrick..."
"Why'd you come back…? There's… there's nothing left for you… for anyone..." He clutched the crystal protectively, hiding it from her sight.
"Hendrick, you don't have to do this. You don't have to fight for them."
"I fought because I believed in our struggle. Our friends died for that vision… Now we just barely struggle to survive… Cynder… I have no choice. There… there is no choice..."
"No Hendrick there is. Join me and Asimov… give this up. There's more to fight for then giving your life away uselessly… fight for the real cause Hendrick. Please."
His lips quivered, and he looked to the floor.
"When you were accused of treason, when Asimov betrayed us… I could hardly believe it. Asimov was a good dragon, a good friend. We were family- all of us. How could you leave us like this? They're all gone Cynder. All of our friends, comrades… they're all gone now."
With an outstretched paw, she hoped to comfort him and help him relax. He only recoiled back with fear dominating his eyes.
"I know what you're here Cynder. You're here for this crystal. I… I can't let you have it. I'll smash it, destroy it."
Cynder's eyes widened, and her voice cracked.
"No- don't. Please," she pleaded, withdrawing her paw. "I… I need that crystal Hendrick."
"Why? So you can destroy everything the Master has worked for?"
She swallowed hard. This crystal, this cipher… it was the gateway to the world beyond for the Sentinels and those within the Dark Master's dominion. It was, after all, the reason why they were here.
"The Dark Master took someone from me Hendrick. A friend… from a long time ago. With that cipher I can access the Dark Master's network and search for him."
Hendrick moved slightly away from her, suspicious.
"No Cynder, that's not all you can do with this. I'm no fool. This cipher connects to all Sentinels and all the nodes in the Master's network. You could use this to read our plans, find all Sentinels in the network, see all within the Master's realm."
Cynder narrowed her gaze, growing more agitated.
"This isn't about that Hendrick. I'm trying to save my friends from this nightmare. I want to save you Hendrick!"
"You liar! You just want the cipher! You just want to tear what I have left! The Master is all I have left! My friends who still live within the Sentinel Corps, you'll get them all killed! Don't do this Cynder."
"Hendrick..."
Footsteps came down the hall, echoing louder and louder. Lights filled the hallway outside, then the room, attracted by the glow of Cynder's shadow fire.
Soon, Jericho and the two Order soldiers surrounded the ruby red drake and his cipher. He backed himself into a corner, fear emblazoned on his face.
"Don't do it. Put the crystal down, slowly..." Jericho said with a raised hand to calm Hendrick, with the other still on his rifle's trigger.
The drake breathed in hard, with his claws gripping the cipher for dear life. With how hard he was holding it, the cipher was beginning to vibrate. He could very well smash it then and there.
"Hendrick don't! Think about this! You can join us! Surrender and we can help get all the others out! This doesn't have to end this way!" Cynder called out, standing the closest to him in the small room.
"Listen to her son, just do as she says. You don't want to cross her..." Jericho stated, lowering his weapon somewhat to get him to relax.
"If I give you this cipher, I will have betrayed the Master. I… I can't."
"Hendrick, don't-"
A sudden blast of energy sent the black dragoness and her allies against the wall. A rush of fiery wind slapped all of them, emitted by the still very dangerous Sentinel trainee. As Cynder and the others quickly pulled themselves up, he dashed from the room and down the hall.
"Damn it, he can't smash that cipher, after him! Go!" Jericho raised his arm, barely getting out the door before Cynder sprinted out. She was joined in rapid succession by Spyro who had taken another turn in the dark halls.
"What's going on? Where is he?" Spyro asked, catching up to the dragoness.
"Just ahead! He slipped passed us!" They could see a faint light coming from down the hall. It was where he could have gone…
They listened in, trying to hear the drake. They heard his talons striking the ground, his panicked breathes... Then, she heard shouting. There were yells, and commands to halt.
"No..." She muttered, her blood running cold.
She ran with all her might, her feet gliding across the tiled floor.
The sounds of three gunshots rang through the halls, echoing and blasting all else from her senses.
"Hendrick! HENDRICK NO!" She barreled towards the shots, rounding a corner.
Her heart pained to know what was there.
She emerged into another room at the end of the hall. There, she was met with a section of building that had been blasted away, exposing them to the world. Soldiers of the Forgers stood near the opening, with one of their VTOL helicopters hovering above. Its blades kicked up the snow, sending the cold wind against their bodies.
There, in the center of the brightly lit room rested the body of a ruby red dragon, with a pool of blood slowly growing beneath him. In his claw, rested the gently pulsating crystal.
"Hendrick, NO!"
"HALT! Stop right there!"
"Hostile Sentinel!"
There must have been ten of the human soldiers, each now turning to her. They raised their weapons, flashing their tactical lights onto her. She froze, her body not responding as she only stared back at them. Them, and the dead body that now rested in the center of them.
"Cynder! Cyyyynder!" Spyro came in just behind Cynder, followed quickly by Jericho and the two Order soldiers.
"Hold your fire, its sierra minor!" Called one of the commandos.
"God damn it, its the fucking mercenaries!" Called out another.
Cynder said nothing, only staring at the fallen drake.
"Cynder…?" Spyro asked, seeing her face. There were tears in her eyes, slowly flowing down her cheeks.
The human soldiers still stood, with their weapons in stand by, just as the other anthros of the Order did. Jericho stood ready too, sensing a sharp rise in tensions.
Spyro turned his head, spotting the pulsating stone on the ground. That was it, their prize.
He made the first move, racing out towards the dead dragon to retrieve it.
"Halt right there! Stop! Don't come any closer!" One of the human soldiers raised his rifle, pointing it directly at Spyro. The others followed.
"You drop that fucking gun right now! Do it!" Jericho said, pointing his weapon right at the first human soldier.
"Drop the weapon! Back up!" Commands bellowed from the human commandos, each of them now pointing their weapons to the group.
"Stand down! Stand DOWN!"
Cries and yells came from the soldiers, each overpowering the other in their battle of commands. Spyro could barely make out the individual words as they yelled and spouted at one another. He could only sit there, petrified at the sight of the gun barrels only one foot away from the ultimate prize.
"Where the hell are they?" Voices filtered in from behind, making Jericho turn.
"Captain sir, down in here!"
Another human soldier dashed up from behind Jericho, emerging from the bowels of the prison. The insignia on his helmet denoted his rank, the same Captain that Spyro and the gang had first encountered in the Great Hall.
"Damn you dragons I knew this is why you were here. I told you to stay OUT of our AO. This is our op, and this is our intelligence!" The Captain walked up beside Spyro, going to retrieve the crystal.
Spyro stood in front of him, blocking his path. The incensed commander dashed to get the crystal first, but Spyro scooped it up into his claws.
"Hand that crystal over immediately. That is property of the United States Government. This our operation, and that is our intel," he said, standing over the purple dragon. The other commandos still had their weapons raised, looking to each other as they were powerless. They very well couldn't shoot the purple dragon.
"We've spilled out blood for this too, and we're just as entitled to its secrets..." Cynder said, not breaking eye contact with the human commander.
"Out of the question dragon. This base, and everything in it, is under our jurisdiction. You may be prized among the intel officers on the carrier, but don't think that'll let you get away with this purple dragon."
Spyro only glared at him.
"Yeah? How many of you assholes know how to read this crystal? You, can you tap into the Dark Master's network?" Jericho said, pointing to the Captain.
"I don't have to read crystals. I only need to know how to retrieve them." Came his simple response.
"Jericho's right. You don't know how to tap the network. Your intel officers can't tap this network either. You need me. You need me to read this crystal." Spyro stared down the human officer, who said nothing at first.
They all knew he was right.
Of course he was right.
Yet, the wind still came, the clouds blackened as the blood of human, dragon and Sentinel scarred the rock.
It was going to be a long war.
End of Chapter 26