Crusoe
(Or, Their Thrones Became Electric Chairs)
Crusoe yawned, opening his eyes and lifting his head off the warm wooden platform and smiling at the warm sun against his scales, stretching his spine, tail and wings out simultaneously, accidentally hitting Kite's horns.
She opened one eye, groaned, and went back to sleep.
"Sorry!" Crusoe whispered loudly.
Kite didn't answer, flinging her wings over her head and muttering something about even in the Rainforest she can't "not get woken up by some annoying SandWing".
He ignored her, spreading his wings and leaping off the platform, sighing contentedly as the warm, steamy air passed through his wings.
Doing a twirl, he avoided a thick Mahogany tree, and angled his wings toward the healer's hut.
(The medical version of Pizza hut)
He dropped down onto the edge of the hut's platform, then steadying himself with his wings.
"Hullo? Sage, you in there?"
A few moments passed until Sage's navy blue head poked out the door, nodding. "Come in, I'm getting ready to leave."
Crusoe cocked his head. "...Leave? Leave where?"
Sage walked back into the hut, stacking multiple fruits into a large satchel-like pouch. "Well, the nearest city that buys exotic fruit, of course. The Scorpion Den."
Crusoe raised an eyebrow. "Scorpion Den? Does it have actual scorpions, or…."
Sage shook his head, piling a small stack of starfruit inside the pouch. "Nope, not that I know of. I do know it's a very fitting name, however, I don't think I've seen a city with a higher crime rate."
Then, tapping his chin thoughtfully, "Then again it IS the ONLY city I know of…."
Crusoe waited for a moment, then asked "Um, can I come?"
Sage turned around, eyeing him curiously. "Why? All that you'll find there is trouble. Plenty of cutpurses and swindlers, not to mention all the vile con artists. Even the Outclaws there are spread thin, due to the odd skyrocket in the place's popularity."
Crusoe frowned, following him inside. "Actually, I was uh, hoping that maybe going there might recall some of my lost memories."
Sage's eyes widened. " Heeeyyy, you're right! That's not a bad idea. With a place like the Scorpion Den and all its sights and smells, you'd be bound to remember a thing or two. This would undoubtedly be an acceleration to your recovery."
"So I can come along?" he asked again.
"Of course you can. With your help, I can maybe carry another sack of fruit too. Come here let me show you how to…"
The Scorpion Den itself was huge to Crusoe. He marveled at its sheer mass and amounts of traffic as well, even recognising a SeaWing among the oncoming travelers.
Hm. I would assume they'd be carrying a significant amount of water, since what happened to….
...What was I saying?
He shrugged, jostling the pouch slung over his shoulder.
I don't know. I just hope I'll be able to recover something while I'm here, or this might be a waste of time…
Sage landed at the front entrance, signaling him to wait Crusoe had touched down.
He calmly approached the guard, showing him a small section of scroll, to which the dragon nodded and motioned toward the archway.
Crusoe waited patiently, still thinking about who Terri was, and why his journal had spoken so fondly of her.
I suppose it'd be nice to get some answers right no-
"Crusoe, come on! What are you waiting for, a red carpet?" Sage called from the other side, motioning with his talons.
Crusoe quickly walked in behind him. "Do they even have those here?"
Sage shot him a queer glance, then kept walking, keeping a close eye on his bag.
"Make sure to pay attention to your bag. Especially the fruit, because dragons will steal food willy-nilly in these parts."
Crusoe pulled the small canvas pouch closer to his chest, watching any dragons who passed by with a sharp eye. He made sure not to bump into anyone, for he knew that was a common pickpocket's tactic.
And if they steal my backpack, the option of getting all my memories back is out of the question.
SandWings, SkyWings and MudWings alike lined the shadows, either talking to others in hushed voices or watching the common passerby with a keen eye, which Crusoe assumed was either from them looking for an item of value or them being an 'Outclaw', which Crusoe knew Sage had previously mentioned, but he'd also read mention of them in his own journal.
I wonder if anyone I know came here. Well, that's not already in the Rainforest, that is.
All we're missing is….
Jyn, Nathan, Milo, Ryder, Nick, Arc, and….
….Terri.
Hm.
They rounded a corner until Sage stopped at a closed stall, which was covered in sand-filled sheets.
(I'm in the middle of class and I'm learning that if you have no happiness to a certain extent, you will stop functioning and eventually die. Um. Let's keep everyone happy, shall we?)
((Also, on the topic of an old insulting chant: "Girls go to college to get more knowledge, Boys go to Jupiter to get more stupider." This is like the single most retarded insult, but it's bothered me since preschool, so let's put it six feet under, like my dreams. Okay, just saying this literally is saying whoever is saying it was a complete idiot, since 'more stupider' is incorrect grammar and therefore is saying that the girls will waste their time trying to get into a college while having bad english grades.))
Sage's tail flicked excitedly as his scales shifted to a bright yellow shade. "I just love this trade so much. Help me take the sheets off, will you?" Sage pulled down a sheet, flinging the tan sediment off, flinging them in the brick streets.
(I literally imagine the Scorpion Den as that one Dust map from CS:GO)
Crusoe pulled off the topmost canvas, shaking off the sand and rolling it up quickly.
The small stand had a stool behind it, which Crusoe was able to infer Sage sold fruit from. Sage sighed contentedly, unslinging his pouch from across his shoulder. Crusoe did the same, setting his bag next to Sage's discarded one.
"Alright, now I'll need to organize them." He looked up at Crusoe. "You go do your thing, look around for anything familiar. Happy hunting, eh?"
Crusoe nodded as a small smile crept out of his mouth, revealing his razor sharp white teeth.
"Much appreciated. Catch you later, Sage."
With a light spring in his step, Crusoe strolled calmly out of the market, not noticing the trio of dragons following close behind.
He began whistling a tune softly to himself, one called 'Now That This old world is ending', from the soundtrack of a game he'd written about, and quickly remembered. He was able to recall the tune easily enough, the guitar music was very clear inside his head.
(I love the Far Cry 5 OST soooo muuuuch)
He noted a few vendors sold multiple objects, as one was filled with apples from what he assumed was maybe from the MudWing kingdom, and fish from the SeaWing kingdom of which a few of the smarter merchants had encased the fish in stone containers to preserve their freshness and slow the fish's decay.
A sign above a door advertised 'Rare Weapons and gear', with a small notice below he couldn't quite make out. He cautiously walked to the door and knocked his talons against the dark oak door, glancing around quickly.
Nobody answered the door, and nobody seemed to notice him.
He slowly opened the door, slightly surprised it was open.
"H-hello?" He called, reaching for his backpack, where he'd stashed his frying pan.
"Welcome. The sign said 50% off on everything, because we're going out of business." A bored gruff voice answered from the shadows.
Crusoe tentatively entered the store completely, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the faint candlelight.
"Out of business? Why's that?" Crusoe asked with a slightly curious tone as he glanced around the room.
The SandWing behind the front counter grunted. "Owner's dead."
"Hm. Dead? That's unfortunate. How?"
"Freak lightning storm. Came out of nowhere and killed him smack dab on the spot."
Ah, right. Nobody knows what cardiac arrest is here.
"Oh. Well I suppose that's some reasonably bad luck."
"I guess."
Crusoe took note of his surroundings, seeing racks of oddly curved knives, and few that glowed, as well as multiple tiny squares that had a glowing cyan crystal in the center.
Those things created my gauntlet.
He thought with a certain level of worry. If someone who knew and hated him where to get one of those…
Who knows what could stop them.
His gaze drifted until he spotted something that had a shaft long and black, with a sinister curved blade and glowing violet crystals embedded within it.
Wait, I recognize that, it's-
Suddenly, his head began to feel uneasy, as if a sudden fever had come across him. His thoughts became blurry until the point where it hurt, his mind making another connection with his past.
...Jyn's.
A memory flashed through his mind, of him laid out on the ground as a lithe figure garbed in a white hood slashed with his scythe at a giant pink crystal, that seemed to have a….giant eyeball in the center?
That's when we….
That's when Jyn, Nick, Nathan and Jake joined our dimension.
Crusoe blinked, the headache fading away as fast as it had materialized.
"I recognize that weapon." Crusoe mumbled dizzily.
The SandWing opened one of his napping eyes, glancing over at the weapon of the horseman Death.
"That thing is nothing but trouble. You'd be better off without it." the clerk mumbled, shutting his eye.
"Someone touched the blade, didn't they?" Crusoe asked, nodding toward the adulatory blade.
The clerk leaned forward, opening his eyes and narrowing them at Crusoe's. "How do you know that?"
"Because I know who owned it previously." Crusoe replied calmly, looking off to the side to see a familiar sight. Diamond-like in shape, and colored tan with a clip that glowed magma orange, was….
I can't- Oh god…
Another headache slammed into his skull as he shut his eyes quickly, this time more intense than the last. His jaws opened and closed in a wordless scream from the pure white hot pain that erupted behind his eyes.
Countless memories flashed through his head, the more recent ones even more vivid.
The final one: Sprinting through a dark corridor, and turning back to see if someone was following him as he was running, only to suddenly find himself against the ground as he looked up to see a SkyWing yawn and open her eyes to the sight of Crusoe, licking her lips hungrily.
The memory faded away.
That's when I lost it…
My Vector, I lost it in…..Queen Scarlet's palace, yes….I think I didn't get to write about it in my journal.
I wonder how it ever ended up here.
"That's mine." Crusoe blurted immediately.
The SandWing raised an eyebrow. "Is it now? What is it then and what does it do, because we haven't been able to figure it out."
"I want it back."
The clerk gritted his teeth visibly under his lips. "We don't just give weapons away when dragons ask for them, this is a buying and selling establishment."
"Well I'm not asking." Crusoe growled. "It belongs to me, and I know you probably got it from a SkyWing, I assume? Did he look tired? I can assume it was from him leaving the Sky Kingdom, the same day Queen Scarlet mysteriously disappeared. What was it, almost a week ago, I believe? Wanted some quick cash before he left, so he tossed it on the counter for a pouch of gold?"
The SandWing's jaw dropped slightly. "H-how did you get all that from...wha…."
"It's easy to assume why when you were there."
The SandWing's eyes widened. "You're one of those escapees from the SkyWing prison, aren't you?"
Well, not ALL the SandWings there were prisoners I mean...
Crusoe never saw it coming. The clerk grabbed a dagger, which glowed a light green, slashing it across Crusoe's muzzle.
Crusoe howled in pain, the stinging effects of the acid sinking into his scales as he stumbled backward, startled.
Acid….knife….oww…..
The SandWing reached for Jyn's scythe, grabbing it with both talons and leaping over the counter.
"My brother was in that arena. For all I know, you could have killed him yourself. I'm sorry, but it's personal."
The dragon raised the scythe above Crusoe's splayed out body, preparing to strike.
Crusoe rolled to the side at the last moment, reaching for a shortsword, which lit aflame the second his talons touched the hilt.
Fire began to spread up the wooden walls, startling Crusoe backward before the clerk slashed at him, a purple extension of light firing out of the scythe's blade and going straight through the wall, cutting a needle-wide hole through it.
He roared, swinging it from his shoulder as Crusoe rolled over his own shoulder. Crusoe swung the flaming blade with a grunt, the sword wedging into the clerk's back leg.
The SandWing screamed in pain before bashing Crusoe in the head with the butt of the scythe.
Crusoe dizzily fell over, reaching for any weapon he could find.
The SandWing clerk pulled out the sword, grinning at he tackled Crusoe, raising the blade for a strike.
Crusoe's talons came in contact with a cold, metal object while his claws fitted themselves on the handle instinctively.
He moved his head sideways before the sword impacted the wooden floor, lodging it's blade into the pine.
The SandWing snarled, trying to pull out the sword as Crusoe inhaled deeply while a hissing noise came from his throat.
You seem a little cold…
Flames rocketed out of his maw, wreathing around the dragon's face before he screamed and leapt off of Crusoe to bat away the flames. Crusoe stood up, securing the weapon close to his chest and subconsciously tugging back on the trigger, flinching while the incendiary rounds lit the rest of the clerk's body ablaze as his screams faded away and the roar of the flaming building got louder.
There. That hot enough?
Crusoe painfully tried to smile as he slung the Vector around his neck, grabbed Jyn's scythe, and calmly left the store as the building erupted in flames.
Anyone who was in the streets previously was long gone by the time he'd gotten out.
Probably the fires.
He coughed from the smoke, which began to follow him like a second shadow.
And maybe the purple hard-light scythes.
After wearily limping away from the flaming shop, Crusoe leaned up against a wooden crate on the opposite side of the street, catching his breath and trying to process what had just happened.
I just almost had my face slashed in half by a crazy homicidal (vampire priest) SandWing clerk.
And also, I got some memories back…
He inhaled the clear air deeply, which smelled faintly of tainted smoke.
Hm. I wonder if anyone will come to put out this fire…
After unzipping his backpack, he pulled out his leather-bound journal, wrapped in waterproof leaves he'd recovered from the forest floor to keep it dry in case it rained hard enough during his time in the Rainforest, which, was usually common.
Let's see if I wrote anything specifically on the Scorpion Den…
He leafed gently through the small pages, having to almost squint to understand what was on the pages.
I swear I saw a heading for the Scorpion Den, it's somewhere in here….
His claws eventually stopped on a section labeled:
"Section 3: Locations, Visited and Unseen Alike"
This sounds about right.
He slowly drew his claw down the page, stopping above the miniature heading he had previously made for the Scorpion Den.
"Though considered beyond the help of any forms of justice, the Scorpion Den is actually one of the more interesting locations I've read about, being terrible in reputation but still fascinating in certain aspects, such as factions and the culture revolving around it."
Hm. That doesn't help at all.
He continued reading.
"Speaking of factions-"
Oh, here we go.
"-the most heard-of faction is the infamous Outclaws, a form of semi-peacekeeping gang that practically runs the Scorpion Den, serving as its own form of militia. The irony is, despite gangs typically being somewhat corrupt and oppressive, the Outclaws are surprisingly charitable, having set up control of the oasis in the center of the city, feeding and watering the needy dragons who were unfortunate enough to end up in the city without any money or fortune. Not only that, they function as both the city's forms of police and fire departments, usually taking on these tasks as soon as they arise to prevent multiple casualties. Led by their fearless leader Thorn, the only thing that can actually come to rival them are any one of the armies of the three SandWing heirs."
Hmm. Seems like I'll be seeing them any second now.
I wonder how suspicious I'll look as I sit here reading a book while a building burns to the ground.
I wonder if they even know what a book is.
He coughed again, seeing the smoke had begun to get closer.
Binding the book once again in the waterproof leaves, he slid it into his backpack fastened over his arm.
Weird. I'd think they'd have come by now. Maybe there's something else more importan-
Suddenly, two SandWings swooped out of the sky, showering the crumbling and smoldering building with buckets of sand, sending smoke and ash over the ground toward Crusoe.
Hm. I stand corrected.
The area was quickly swarmed with SandWings, either barking out orders to others as the majority put out the blaze, or watching over the project, probably to find out whoever could have ignited the blaze.
A SandWing standing atop a building fixed his eyes on him as Crusoe zipped his backpack closed.
I suppose there'd be no point in hiding, they'd find me in mere moments if I tried, no doubt.
He decided he'd sit down and wait patiently.
It is a rather sunny day anyways, I suppose. No need for risking a hostile approach. Undoubtedly, they'd find me even more suspicious if I were to come out of the blue and begin speaking to them. However, if they were to come to me, they might not be alarmed in such ways as they would be with the latter.
Leaping down to the ground, the SandWing started toward him, staring at Crusoe with a confused expression.
Crusoe began to whistle softly once again.
"Ahem. Why are you still here? It's not very safe to be around a fire, especially without knowing if any explosive materials haven't quite detonated yet."
Crusoe sighed. "I'm afraid I had to wait for, well, you. I'd like to explain how I came to ignite the building in flames, and explain my reasoning as well."
The dragon raised an eyebrow. "Er, excuse me?"
"I started the fire. I'd like to end the mystery of why, before it actually begins." Crusoe explained.
The SandWing nodded quickly. "Ohhhh, you mean you're turning yourself in?"
Crusoe shrugged simply. "Of sorts."
Scratching his head, the Outclaw looked back to the fire.
He turned back to Crusoe. "You...started that?" He asked, jerking a claw at the blaze behind him.
Crusoe responded with a nod.
The SandWing frowned. "Sorry, excuse me, I just need to process this real quick. Usually dragons don't come up and just surrender themselves." he muttered, his expression still between confused and suspicious.
Chuckling lightheartedly, Crusoe nodded.
Minutes later, he had landed in the courtyard of the Outclaws camp.
The SandWing who had escorted Crusoe eyed him with a suspicious glance, seeing Crusoe's intimate fascination as he swung his head from side to side, examining the courtyard closely.
He stopped Crusoe in his tracks. "What's your real reason for turning yourself in? What do you want, exactly?"
Crusoe frowned, then wiped away his confused expression, shrugging and flicking his tail. "I suffered from an amnesia-related injury and I'm hoping to find objects or dragons that trigger memories from my past."
The dragon glared wearily, then jerked his head toward the tent. "You might as well explain to Thorn why you set the building on fire, at least. On that note, you should probably be happy you didn't kill anyone-waaaaaiiiit, did you?"
Crusoe grimaced, then nodded slowly as he looked away toward the ground.
"Who?" The dragon demanded.
Gulping, he replied, "The clerk. He attacked me on the grounds that I might have killed his brother, in which case, before you ask, no, I didn't."
The Outclaw raised an eyebrow, then sighed, turning away and walking toward the tent, beckoning to Crusoe with one of his wings when he'd remained still.
He hurried to the tent, brushing aside the flap as he entered.
His accomplice was already whispering something into the ear of another dragon, who hurried out the tent flap past Crusoe without as much of a glance.
"Who were they?" Crusoe asked, catching a glimpse of the SandWing winging into the air before the tent flap fell back in place.
"A courier. They'll bring the word to Thorn, who is busy breaking up some gang-related violence. Strange that you should start a house fire as a fight breaks out on the other side of the den, eh? Know anyone here?"
Crusoe shook his head. "I'm here with a friend, Sage. Perhaps you've heard of him?"
The SandWing blinked. "Maybe. RainWing, comes here every week?"
Crusoe nodded. "I managed to end up in the rainforest not too long ago, that's how I met him. I think I got in a scuffle with a NightWing, resulting in my jugular artery being slit, which in turn altered my long term memory. Sage was the one who managed to save me from bleeding out."
Yawning, the SandWing leaned against the shabby wooden table seated near the back of the room. "Nice story. You got a name?"
"Crusoe." Crusoe answered.
"Not bad. Mine's Karnak."
"Karnak? Like, the Egyptian temples?"
"What's 'egyptian'?" Karnak asked, a curious glint in his eye.
"Oh, nevermind, that's not important now." Crusoe replied, shaking his head and looking away. "What do you normally do? Are you a pure firefighter, or…?"
Karnak shook his head. "Nah, I do other things. I guess it just depends if you know how to do it or not."
"What if nobody knows how to deal with the problem?" Crusoe inquired.
"I dunno, we've never encountered anything new so far, just fights, illegal goods, fires-" He narrowed his eyes at Crusoe, who winced.
"-And the occasional weapons exchange break-up."
Crusoe flinched, his claws twitching as he remembered the ancient technology he'd seen in the weapons shop. "And those would sometimes consist of?" he asked cautiously.
Karnak narrowed his eyes once again. "Strengthstone weapons. Why?"
Crusoe inhaled sharply. "Describe a Strengthstone weapon to me."
Listing the properties of his claws, Karnak replied, "Made of a strange black stone, has glowy crystals in it, pretty much unbreakable, and hasn't been found as a normal element instead of an already-made weapon. Again, why? Do you own one? I hope you know they're illegal for public use, so that might not help you on the topic of your fire-starting-"
"No," Crusoe grunted, stopping him. "I saw some in the store."
"The one you blew up?"
"No, the fruit stand." Crusoe replied, rolling his eyes. "Of course it was the weapons store. Who ran it, and who killed him? The clerk said they were going out of business."
Karnak frowned, confused. "A SandWing named Euphrates, I think. His case was weird, we found his body rotting in the street after a freak dry-lighting storm.
Crusoe fixed his eyes on the ceiling, rubbing his chin. "I'm thinking that might be more explainable than you can guess. How frequently do you find these, "Strengthstone" weapons, and who uses them?"
The SandWing seemed to relax. "Well, all of the on-duty Outclaws are assigned with one of the weapons, but it's possible that a SandWing could have inherited one of the weapons as an heirloom. We've had similar cases, like one with a spear. And, highly explosive gasses. Not fun."
Crusoe nodded. "Then maybe your killer had a weapon that harnesses electricity. Have you had any problems with this dragon "Euphrates" in the past?"
"Weeeeeellllllllllll…..yes. Lots and lots of claimed shipments. It's almost as if he were obsessed with them, really."
"Perhaps then, he was attempting to claim the heirloom, and was killed in an act of self-defense?"
"A worthy guess. It sounds fairly accurate, but how do we know this killer wasn't murdering him with a Strengthstone weapon in order to form some sort of crude irony?" Karnak questioned him, tiling his head sideways.
Crusoe smiled. "Fair enough. Was Euphrates known to have many family members, or any enemies within said family and out?"
Karnak shook his head. "I was looking into this case not long ago, and no. His parents died soon after he became an adult, and he had no relatives, and anyone who was even related to him long-distance is either in the war or a casualty of it, at least by what our records show. It'd be nice to have a more up-to-date edition, but I had to make do with what we had."
"Of course, nothing compared to the archives in Burn's palace." Crusoe agreed, nodding.
"Quiet. Perhaps if he were to-"
"Am I interrupting something?" A SandWing asked as she stepped into the tent.
She was significantly shorter than Crusoe, but bore a peculiar necklace around her neck, and had the kind of action forms that caused Crusoe's brain to believe she was a figure of authority.
Karnak coughed, dipping his head. "Greetings, Thorn. This is the dragon who set fire to the weapons shop. He's been most-"
"Understandable, have a nice day."
Karnak recoiled slightly, then dipped his head once again, hurrying out the tent flap.
(Dusty: How about if you give me your phone, I'll do a magic trick! *reaches for bag and pulls out an invisible AK* I'M GONNA MAKE THE WHOLE CLASS DISAPPEAR!
Me: DUSTY NO
Dusty: DUSTY YES)
Thorn stepped behind the table, a small gash wound having been bandaged on her front foreleg.
Probably from whatever violence she'd gotten involved in when the Outclaws broke up that fight.
"So I'd like to ask, why in all of the moons did you decide to light a highly explosive weapons shop on fire?" Thorn asked calmly.
Crusoe gulped. "I'd like to, er, point out the fact that I was engaged in a combat scenario and was too busy reacting to my opponent's movements to notice the ignition, before it was too late for anything to be done."
Thorn raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And this opponent was?"
"The shop's clerk, ma'am. I mentioned having escaped the SkyWing queen's moonblasted arena, and he engaged in a fit of rage, claiming vengeance for his fallen brother." Crusoe answered quietly, knowing what was going to happen to the NightWing Preyhunter in the distant future and remaining as inhostile as he knew possible.
"I see. Are those weapons from the store?"
Crusoe flinched, nodding but feeling unwilling to give them up if it came to the situation.
"What are they?" Thorn's voice had gained a curious tone.
Crusoe opened his mouth to speak, then was cut off by a SandWing bursting through the tent flaps.
"Seriously, it's as if this tent, and fate are working together to cut off all my conversations at the exact moment when I'm actually fully interested in them." Crusoe muttered.
"Thorn! I heard Karnak saying you were with a strange dragon and I came as fast as I could!" The younger dragon said quickly, eyeing Crusoe with intensive suspicion after he'd concluded.
Crusoe held his talons up to his chest with mock innocence, then grinned, feeling he knew someone who would have loved that.
"That's quite alright Qibli, he's not tried anything. Yet." Thorn assured him, shooting Crusoe a wary glance.
Crusoe chuckled nervously. "I didn't intend to. You have enough of a reputation that I would think doing so would spell a decently troubling future for me, with or without your adorable bodyguard," He said, gesturing to Qibli, who narrowed his eyes at Crusoe.
Thorn eased back slightly, a minorly amused expression replacing her one of suspicion. "Continue your explanation."
Crusoe dipped his head. "Of course. This," He said, unslinging Jyn's scythe from his back, "-is the scythe of the horseman Death. Destroys anything living with a mere tap of the blade." He said, setting it down on the rug draped across the floor.
Thorn closed her eyes briefly. "I'd assume a demonstration wouldn't be in order then?"
Crusoe nodded, smiling grimly. "Quite. The other one-" He held up the submachine gun slung over his chest. "- is a forty-five caliber sub-machine gun, made by the Kriss firearms company, called the Vector. It fires twelve-hundred rounds per minute, and is used in most high-level reconnaissance operations that require ample firepower." He snapped his jaws shut, wondering how he'd known so much about the weapon.
Qibli stared at the gun with caution, but not forgetting a slight fascination.
"What does it do? I don't see how it could impale a dragon, or light them on fire." Thorn inquired, giving him a minorly dubious look as she stared down her snout.
Crusoe grinned, pointing the barrel to the tent ceiling. "Allow me." He switched the firing mode from 'auto' to 'semi', then proceeded to fire a bullet through the ceiling, the gunshot's sound startling Qibli so bad he fell backward.
Crusoe blew away the residual smoke and smiled contentedly.
".45 rounds, miss Thorn." He said smugly, returning the weapon to his chest.
Qibli sat up, dazed. Thorn seemed as if she didn't know what to think.
Two dragons burst into the tent. "Thorn! What just happened?" "Are you alright?"
She nodded, then focused her sharp gaze back to Crusoe. "Alright. And why did you turn yourself in afterwards?"
"That's pretty suspicious." Qibli agreed.
Crusoe sighed. "Alright, I'll cut to the chase. I originally came here with a RainWing friend of mine to figure out how to recover my lost memories. Soon, I wound up in the weapons shop, having intense reintegrations of my missing memories, involving these two weapons. The clerk then attacked me, as I explained previously, and in the ensuing chaos, the building was lit on fire. I was able to defeat my adversary, and escaped before I too were to be swallowed in flames. I then waited patiently until the law enforcement were to arrive, in hopes that more interactions would provide more memories, but I see now that I'm mistaken." He concluded, his face seemingly troubled as his tail brushed the floor slowly.
Thorn seemed to have no problem processing this in her head. "Alright then. I assume your actions were in some levels, acceptable, but we can't just let you go now."
Crusoe dipped his head glumly, but nodded. "I...I understand, miss Thorn."
"Your property damage escapade alone keeps you here for at least two days, not to mention how much debt you'll owe if the dragons decide to press charges." She continued. "As for the death of the clerk, it was in self-defense by the sound of it, so that will be only one extra day in the cell."
Three days, Crusoe thought, mentally shaking his head in disapproval. Sage is gonna kill me.
Crusoe poked the orange absently, leaving a miniature puncture in the soft spongy skin of the fruit.
Day one,
He exhaled.
"Hope I can keep myself occupied."
The Outclaws had confiscated his weapons, but had left everything in his backpack untouched, thinking most of which were just trinkets. He'd been allowed to keep his journal, so boredom was possibly quenchable.
He licked his talon, then turned past the title page, beginning to read about the races the past him had known about.
7:Floran
Commonly seen as a race of savage, cannibalistic simpletons, Floran have almost no moral code, and live in barbaric villages constructed through massive trees, or low hills. Often toting around a spear, shortsword, or axe and shield, Floran are not often seen using a ranged weapon, usually killing their enemy and feasting on their bodies. (Ewwww….) In rare occurrences, Floran have been said to have eaten some adversaries-
His reading was interrupted by the jingling of keys outside the cell. He pricked his ears up, denying to tear his eyes away from the page.
"Got some friends for you," the Outclaw muttered, shoving three dragons in.
Crusoe peeked over the top of his journal.
Before him were the three dragons. Two SandWings, one SkyWing, with strange flame-like markings under her wings and claw markings across her chest.. The female SandWing had a small scar across her throat, leading Crusoe to believe she'd had her fair share of fights, and multiple bruises across her side, mixed in with bloodied slashes into her flesh. The male SandWing had shied toward the other side of the cell, as far from Crusoe as possible. There was a small blackened scar on his underbelly, one Crusoe had yet to make sense of.
"Hi-" Crusoe began, instantly receiving a bat on the nose.
"Shut up." The female growled, her gaze seeming to pierce through his skull painfully as her talons wrapped around his throat, threatening to crush all the oxygen from it.
"I j-just wanted to say h-hello." He whimpered.
Her expression softened slightly as she pulled her claws away from his throat.
"Well, in that case-" She froze mid-speak, her jaw unmoving. Her stance remained still, like a living statue.
How is she doing that?
Even her chest didn't move, no signs of breathing coming from it.
"Um, hello?" He asked cautiously.
She didn't move. In fact, none of the other dragons did either. Crusoe shuddered, knowing something was clearly wrong. It didn't feel right, nothing did. His stomach churned fearfully.
He opened his mouth to speak again, but was quickly cut off.
"Why hello, my dear boy!" A cheerful voice called from the shadows.
Crusoe blinked in surprise. "Er...hello?"
"Yes, hello indeed!" The voice repeated, as its owner stepped out of the shadows.
He was a rather slim dragon, with a strange cyan color scrawled across his scales. Small glowing scales flickered excitedly all about his body, illuminating peculiar black streaks shooting through the cyan. His body overall resembled a SeaWing's, but two strange tear-like scales sat just behind his eyes, sending small tremors of confusion through Crusoe's thoughts.
"Who are you?" Crusoe asked, tilting his head. "And I dare say, what are you?"
The dragon chuckled lightly. "Why I'm a hybrid, of course. A mix of a SeaWing mother and a NightWing father, to be exact. It's a true pleasure to meet you, Crusoe, really. My name is Flashback." The dragon said, walking to the cell door.
"A hybrid. Interesting. Do you have the details of your parents meeting?" Crusoe asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Ah! I had expected you'd say something like that. Always the inquisitive one, you." Flashback said, snapping his talons. A hole tore open into thin air before Crusoe, showing an overhead view of a large rocky outcropping above the sea. A dragon, a NightWing, with small pouches decorating his body, soared above the turbulent ocean, coming to stop at the top of the outcropping's peak. He waited patiently, occasionally stopping to sniff the air. The tear seemed to zoom in on the peak. Eventually, a pale blue SeaWing appeared, climbing up to greet him.
A shocked expression seemed to flicker between the two, before the NightWing cautiously handed over a letter, in which the SeaWing shyly grabbed in between her claws, bid him goodbye, and leapt back into the ocean from off the cliff. The NightWing watched her sink away under the waves, looking as if she'd taken more than the seemingly waterproof letter.
Oh my, that's sweet.
"I agree, their story IS quite heartwarming," Flashback agreed, snapping his talons once again. The tear closed with a sucking noise, a wafting cold breeze from the ocean hitting Crusoe's face.
"Shame it didn't last long. Both tribes disagreed, both tribes decided they needed to pay," Flashback growled, his happy expression becoming one of anger and bloodlust. He must have snapped his talons out of view, because another tear opened, brighter than the last. A cave appeared before Crusoe, illuminated by a low orange torchglow. A small dragonet cowered behind the NightWing and SeaWing from before, both looking much older, and more defined. The NightWing was coated in blood-red claw marks, one of his eyes swollen shut. The SeaWing was pocked with bruises about her body, the dark purple clashing with her scales clearly.
That's Flashback, Crusoe realized, his gaze focusing on the dragonet.
His father looked back, before a spear hurtled through the doorway, lodging in between his shoulder and chest. Blood surged out of the wound as he roared in pain, before charging out the cave entrance, defiant cries of pain and roars of anger following soon after.
Flashback's mother shut her eyes, seemingly holding back tears before she seized the tiny form of Flashback in her talons, running to the other end of the room. The tear rippled, the image distorting before reforming itself into what Crusoe could tell was the view of the other side of the cave. A small opening had been carved into the floor by water that had once existed there, forming a tunnel small enough for Flashback's miniature form to squirm through. His mother dropped him before the gap, shoving him forward with her snout. A tear seemed to curl down from her eye, but the shaking of the cave seemed to contort the tear slightly. "Go, little one," She urged, smiling softly. "Run!"
A triumphant cheer erupted from outside, before dragons poured into the entrance. Flashback's mother stared at the door fearfully, then yelled, "RUN, HAYDEN!", the dragonet staring at her with fear in his eyes, tumbling into the gap as the dragons overwhelmed his mother, who snarled before tearing into another SeaWing's gills with her talons, blood spilling across the floor as she was surged with talons and teeth.
Flashback ended the tear, clenching his talons. "But that was over three centuries ago, they're long gone." He said, looking as if he was trying to shake a feeling of loss. He plastered on a grin, turning back to Crusoe. "But back to you. A scavenger, turned dragon! How does it feel to suddenly have sentience?"
Crusoe frowned. "Uh, for one, human, and for two, we had more sentience AND intelligence than you, you've just killed off so many people that they haven't been given a chance to evolve from their current "Dark Ages" portion." He concluded, nodding matter-of-factly.
Flashback frowned, appearing to be slightly troubled. "Hm. But if your kind was so smart, how come they were defeated by dragons during the Scorching, hm?"
Rolling his eyes, Crusoe replied, "Because I doubt they had any real experience fighting off dragons, even if they had higher-tech weapons back then than they possess now."
"Very well. Your argument stands, but for now, we must agree to disagree." Flashback announced, causing Crusoe to wrinkle his snout confusedly.
"Anyways! Back to you, what's life been without your memories?" The hybrid asked, cradling his chin in between his folded talons.
Crusoe's frown deepened. "Confusing. And harmful, I can't seem to get a grip on who I was, and this journal only makes it worse. Apparently I used to be someone, and someone interesting on that note. But I can't seem to find something that makes everything come back, to return my memories all at once." He said, sighing forlornly.
Flashback grinned. "Ah, precisely why I am here! To help you! Of course, I expect you to do a measly three favors in return. What do you say? Partners?"
Crusoe thought for a brief moment.
What if he's dangerous? His past seems almost as bad as mine, and I was once a very dangerous individual indeed. Join him, or lose everything in a blink of an eye.
Crusoe nodded, taking the dragon's outstretched talons, in a handshake.
"Of course, my end of the bargain." Flashback reached through the bars, brushing Crusoe's forehead with his claw.
Everything flashed white, except this time, there was no pain. Memories faded in and out of his darkening vision, before everything returned to normal.
He didn't feel any different.
But he knew.
He KNEW about what had happened back at the Lightsheen Outpost, how he'd killed Captain Saul, how the Rivet Legion gang had blown his house to pieces, and killed his parents. How he'd left with Cuia, who'd housed him long after they'd become friends.
How Earth had been destroyed on his graduation from the Protectorate academy, how he'd stolen the Elemental Manipulator in hopes he could bring back his parents, receiving the USCM and the Protectorate as enemies.
How he'd saved Terri from the bandit gangs on her home planet, only receiving a kick in the face as payment, how he'd fallen for her soon after, and how she'd helped him almost defeat the Erchius Horror, before Nathan, Jyn and Jake had shown up, delivering the final blow.
He remembered leaving to save Milo with Jake and Terri, punching Plague in the gut before the horseman had disappeared.
He remembered the Mercenary, Leighton, and how he'd betrayed them to Scarlet. He remembered Arc arriving not too long before, and how he'd been discovered in Scarlet's palace before bumping into a sleeping guard.
He remembered the time he spent in the windowless tower, how his powers had increased before he was thrown in the arena against two of the dragonets of destiny.
The memories became fainter after Scarlet's arena, though. He remembered hearing an explosion, then waking up as a SandWing.
A connecting feeling snapped in his mind, as understanding flooded his conscience.
"I'm….back. Thank you. I'd assume you're an animus then? Which one is that, from your SeaWing or NightWing genes?"
"My mother's side." Flashback answered. "She was distantly related to the royal family, which as you probably know, contained the animus bloodline. My father's NightWing genes provided me with the ability to read dragon's thoughts, and focus on a single frozen picture in the future, or past. I assume it's a defect, like how for example, my animus abilities are strictly limited to time travel and the mind." He said.
Crusoe nodded. "It's possible. If being a hybrid strengthened a dragon, it could spell the opposite scenario for another by just as much."
"Exactly. Now, I assume you've seen your cellmates?" Flashback inquired, his gaze flicking through the three dragons.
"Yes, the female seems to be a hardened warrior, but has a small soft spot for weakness in others. The male SandWing seems to distance himself from the unfamiliar, afraid for mishaps to occur in his wake and to harm him. I'm currently waiting for a deciding factor on the SkyWing, but her expression seems familiar…"
"Oh? Does it?" Flashback, asking with mock curiosity that told Crusoe that he knew something Crusoe didn't.
"If you would feel so obliged to tell me about them, I'd greatly appreciate it." Crusoe told him, tipping his head in acknowledgement.
"Ah, Crusoe. So perceptive. Ironic, since you actually know one of these dragons."
"Oh do I? It shouldn't be too hard to rule out, since the majority of the three are female, I'll assume the SkyWing would be…..Terri!" He dropped his book and leapt to his feet, moving over to her to stare into her fierce eyes.
Does she still love me?
He wondered.
Flashback sighed forlornly. "Ahhh, young love. Something I never had the pleasure of experiencing. Oh well, I suppose it couldn't be helped. But I must ask, how did you identify her so easily?" he asked, raising his eyebrow at Crusoe questioningly.
His lips spread into a grin. "It wasn't too hard. Process of elimination, really." He pointed to the dragon in the corner. "There was a small chance of the SandWing being Jyn, but he would have recognized my backpack, for he'd helped me adapt it to turn invisible with my suit, so this dragon could never be him. The other SandWing, had a possibility of being mistaken for Terri, except Terri is almost never rude to new people, even if their appearance is terrifying. This dragon, the exact opposite." he replied, sniffing in the wake of his success.
"Very good." Flashback nodded. "I see my magic was well spent." An expression of amusement suddenly flickered across his face. "Ah, right, the second reason I was here."
"What is it now?" Crusoe asked, tilting his head.
"Do you remember the neurological toxin known as IBI-12?"
Crusoe nodded, minorly wondering how he'd known about it and why it was important at the moment.
"I think it's important you know that-" He laughed, rolling his eyes. "You know what, maybe I'll let you sort it out yourself. It'll be quite….entertaining. Speaking of which, your first task out of my three, is that you survive! Shouldn't be too hard, eh?"
With a snap of his talons, Flashback blinked out of existence.
Suddenly, the SandWing continued her rant. "-Hello to you too. Woah," she wobbled, then sat down quickly. "Why do I feel like I did that too hard?" she rubbed her jaw painfully, staring up at Crusoe. "Hey, how'd you get up so fast!?"
He didn't reply, just stared into Terri's eyes as she stared back intently, slightly confused.
Crusoe smirked. "I suppose this is the part where I toss you the live bomb?"
Her eyes widened. "CRUSOE?!"
He nodded, grinning, before he held in a gasp as she hugged him.
Crusoe hugged her back, letting her head rest on his shoulder.
A bizarre feeling of bliss seemed to rack Crusoe's body when she hugged him.
"I missed you." He exhaled.
Terri gripped his shoulder tighter. "If you ever go missing again, I don't think the world will survive much longer."
"Yeah. I'll make sure not to let you strike terror across the continent next time."
"Sounds reasonable." She whispered, sighing contentedly.
"Awwww…." The SandWing said sympathetically, tilting her head sideways.
The male turned his head and blinked in surprise at their embrace. "You know this dragon?" He asked.
Terri nodded. "I don't just know him," She smiled. "I love him."
Crusoe's heart stuttered, as a burning warm feeling flushed his face.
"I love you too." He amended, hugging her tighter.
They stayed like that for a while, until the door to the prison began to rattle threateningly.
He let her go, sad to leave her warmth. "What's going on?" He demanded to the guard, who shook her head, her expression saying "I don't ever know"
The wooden door bent in slightly as the guard shied away from it, grabbing her weapon off the wall, made of the same material Crusoe recognized his gauntlets were made of.
The door collapsed, as screeches of triumph and rage filled the room, dragons surging in and instantly overwhelming the guard, who let out a wail before she was drowned out above the savage snarls and roars of the seemingly infected dragons.
Terri backed against the wall of their cell, the other two SandWings mimicking her.
"A-are those zombies?!" she yelped.
Crusoe fished the Glock 17 out of his bag. "Not at all. Worse, actually."
He handed Terri his knife, surprised when she rejected it. "I've got my own weapon," She explained proudly, her talons igniting with orange fire.
Crusoe raised his eyebrows, surprised. "Ah, so I suppose we're even now."
"That we are." She agreed, frowning slightly as a SandWing with glowing red eyes and bloodied teeth bit the cell bars, trying to get at the occupants.
Suddenly, it reared back, attempting to spew fire at them with its bloodied maw. Terri leapt in front of them, taking the blast.
"I'll protect you from the flames, you hold them off as long as you have bullets, got it?"
Crusoe cocked the handgun. "Oh boy, this'll be fun."
(Okay, so I've made a HiveWing named Potato...)