Dawson and Dragons part 1/2

When a young demon hunter investigates a shady academy, he finds much more dange than he ever expected.

As it sped out of the harbour, the ambulance's sirens wailed throughout town. Bloated corpses lined the railing of the Cargo ship as it was slowly drawn onto the beach by local police. A rather strange ship calamity had just occurred. While completely dry, 25 crew members appeared to have drowned. Most people forgot about it after a few days, but some others would stress over it for years, wondering how it could have happened. Some speculated that the tragedy was caused by a mass murderer, government weapons, mermaids, and so forth. But, no matter what hypotheses they developed, the public would never learn the reality, which was hidden between the lines. The ship was intended for 23 men instead of 25. There were two people who were not on the crew.Those two were now being transported in body bags in the same ambulance. The bags were inspected by the doctor in the ambulance's back seat. He must have thought it was just his imagination earlier, but now he saw that there were green shards on both bags. He slowly lowered to grab one of the shards, but somehow the body sat up and gave the poor man a brutal headbutt, sending his glasses rattling to the ground as he crumpled. Then both body bags unzipped, revealing two haggard men, or so it appeared, but as the shards slid off the bags, their appearance shifted. They no longer appeared as complex men, but as simple boys, no older than 13 or so. One of them was tall, and the other was short and lanky.
"You know you've really done it now, Canadian?" The tall one snarled, his voice barely audible over the siren's roar.
"Well, this would never have happened if we had just gone straight to the academy instead of trying to stop a crime that isn't even a MAT."
The short one retorted.
"I know our specialty is dealing with demons, Dawson, but all those people were arms dealers who needed to be stopped, and I'd say this crime is undisputedly related to magic." The tall boy reached into his pocket and took out a single bullet, which he waved around. A sloshing noise could be heard as he did so. Dawson's stomach trembled when he realised what it was. Nonetheless, he maintained his anger, for he still wanted to argue.
"If you believed that dealing with those arms dealers was essential, Alec, why did you have such a problem with their deaths?" Dawson responded.
"I had a problem with that because crooks should be punished by the law, not by sadists!" Alec reacted with a response of his own. Dawson tried to say something, but he couldn't get anything out. Over the shaking of the truck, the two glared at each other until Dawson suddenly dropped his head in defeat. Alec had finally noticed the doctor, or rather, that the man was convulsing. The two moved into action without discussing anything. Alec knelt to the man's body and listened to his heartbeat, while Dawson grasped his knees to keep him from flailing too much. He was clearly suffering from a heart attack of some sort.
"We haven't made it to the academy yet." "Dawson, you should get out of here and find the academy," Alec said between chest compressions. "I've gotta stay to help this guy out and fix the whole, two missing bodies problem once I'm at the hospital."
"Are you certain you'll be okay?" Dawson questioned, his voice solemn. Alec nodded and smiled. As Dawson walked out of the rushing vehicle, the pair parted ways without even exchanging goodbyes. He turned around to see the ambulance race down a slope and vanish into the darkness. Before commencing his long walk towards the academy, Dawson took a few box-breathing exercises to calm his mind for the eventual bloodbath that would occur. Throughout the 9-hour walk, he was pondering how he was going to blend into the academy. He could pretend to be a student, but he could be noticed. Same issue with being a teacher. He could handle pretending to be a janitor, but he'd have to find the original one first to make an illusion out of him. Dawson had the ideal plan when he eventually arrived at the boarding school. Under the cover of a father, he would enter the Saint Helens boarding school. He could assign his fictitious child a common name, and it would almost certainly appear in their records. Through some well executed thinking with his water magic, Dawson successfully scared off the security guards guarding the premises and eventually entered the school after doing so. Now he could focus on the mission's goals: determining how the demonic infestation began, destroying it before it spread, and summarily executing those responsible for its inception. They were objectives he had fulfilled four times previously, but in a group context. With this mission he just had one partner, but now he was fully alone. To add to Dawson's sense of dread, his nose was assailed by the scent of sulphur from all directions the moment he entered the building, with sulphur being the smell of demons. The stench was so strong that it brought the seasoned agent to his knees, coughing profusely! A woman snarled, "You look like you need some help." She extended a hand to Dawson, who instantly took it and pushed himself to his feet, still bewildered. Dawson got a good look at her once he was awake. The woman was a natural brunette with a relaxed expression on her face, dressed in a purple dress and leggings. She appeared to be in her early thirties which was unusual. as her tone was that of someone twice her assumed age.
""Thank you," he grumbled, "Ms... What is your full name?"
"The name’s Caina and what is your name?"
With a hoarse cough, he said, "John," and his mind raced with Cana thoughts. Is she a Lazarus agent, is she linked to the infection, can he trust her? There's only one way of discovering the truth. "T-tell me, Cana, how do you deal with all that sulfur; I can't imagine that would be safe for the pupils; ya know, my son is in this school, and he has a bit of a nicotine issue, so this is going to kill him no dou-!"
"Oh my god, you're one of them!" Cana interjected, her face twisting into one of sheer delight. Dawson had no idea that his disguise had been blown before Cana grabbed his hand with the speed of a cobra launching at its prey, and sprinted off, carrying him like he weighed less than a feather. Cana's little run to her unknown destination, gave Dawson the time to silently observe more of the school. Many students all had their own peculiarities.
There were some first- and second-year students who appeared uneasy and suspicious, and who avoided crowds.
Then there were the third and fourth years, who were quite bold as they roamed the halls with synchronised parkour skills, trying to stay as close to the ceiling as possible at all times, the fifth and sixth years, who were focused on seclusion, hiding themselves in chandeliers and even the walls to elude suspicion, and the seventh and eighth years simply sat and stared at clocks, as if they were waiting for something.
Dawson's eyes welled up with emotions as he watched the students shift and alter. If a demon could do this to these children, there's no way he could save them. Caina finally screeched to a halt when she reached a library, which was luckily empty, and hurled the false man into the library counter, which crunched loudly. Dawson wailed as he collapsed to the ground, and footsteps from around the corner could be heard as he did so.
"Oh, you're not an earth mage, are you?" Caina chuckled, "They're typically the most durable, aren't they? And, if you're not an earth mage, what type are you, and are you here to assist us with our problem, as I sincerely hope?"
Dawson was so overcome by the pain and the questions that he didn't even hear the footsteps, so it was a rude awakening when he raised his head to answer and saw the figure before him. Drake Shill was leaning against a bookshelf in front of the Lazarus agent. Drake was one of the few adults that were welcomed into Lazarus, as they would typically just get children to train them as long as possible. He was a mage who excelled in soul alteration. His hair was brown, much like Cana's. He was suited up in a beige suit, and despite his cane, weathered eyes, thin skin, and damaged glasses, he was still a massive threat. Dawson's heart pounded like a piston as he shuddered. Drake smiled, revealing his cracked teeth, before speaking.
"Can you tell me whether he's the one?" Drake inquired, his eyes darting to Cana as he spoke in a frantic tone.
"Yes, he detected the odor of sulfur. He's unmistakably a mage"
"He's not simply a mage, he's an agent, and is probably here to deal with our minor issue, yes?"
"What the hell is going on here?" "What are you talking about, I'm just looking for my kid, why are you talking about mages?" Dawson screamed, desperately trying to maintain his persona. Drake smirked as Cana grimaced at the response. "Are you human, then?" He inquired, his hand delving into his pocket. Dawson nodded; his gaze fixed on Drake's pocket. Drake kept his hand in his pocket for what seemed like years before bringing out a 9-inch vial partially filled with a lovely yellow liquid, purposefully building up the suspense as he did so. As soon as she noticed the liquid, Cana tensed up and moved out of the way and Drake strided forward. Dawson recognized the liquid right away, but he tried to keep calm.
"Can you tell me what's in that thing?" Dawson asked, as he carefully turned his hands to the floor, readying himself for what might happen next.
Let me demonstrate."
Drake answered by tearing the vial's lid off.
"I'm confident the end outcome will be...enjoyable."
As Drake walked closer to him, Dawson leaned back slightly.
Finally, when Drake got within 6 feet of Dawson, he waved the vial at his feet, causing the yellow liquid to shoot out.
All logic and reason had faded from Dawson's mind, leaving him with only the will to survive as he channelled his power throughout his body.
And rocketed torrents of water from his palms to the floor, sending him flying a few feet in the air as the liquid splattered harmlessly across the floor where he formerly stood. Dawson cursed internally as he revealed his magical abilities.
"For someone who claims to be natural, you certainly appear supernatural." Drake snorted and slurped up the yellow liquid, bowing to it. Dawson was so taken aback that he forgot to use his magic and fell to the ground, landing flat on his back. Dawson stood at his feet, his body cloaked in bewilderment, after a brief pause while the two exchanged glances. Drake reached inside his pocket and took out another item. It was a packet this time. To be more specific, it was a mustard packet. When he waved it around a little, the packet made a sloshing sound, and Dawson's mind went from uncertainty to rage, directed solely at himself.
"Agent, please come now." Drake began by snatching the packet and placing it in his mouth with his teeth. "Why would I use the infamous Lethal Liquid, a poison deadly to magical creatures, in a setting like this, surrounded by my hundreds of lovely creations? If you couldn't conclude anything so simple, I see the standards have slipped since my time at the agency! But that's enough for today; I assume you've come for the infestation, right?"
"I am," said Dawson, "but what do you mean by wonderful creations?" Dawson enquired. Drake raised his head, gestured for Dawson to follow him, and walked over to a bookcase. Intrigued, Dawson followed the man, carefully stepping over the remnants of what he once thought was lethal liquid, just in case. When Drake finally reached the bookcase, he grabbed onto the book "The 48 Laws of Power" by Robert Greene, and pulled it, just slightly. And as he did so, a clunking noise sounded about mere moments before the bookcase fell through the floor, revealing a three foot long twelve feet wide rectangular hole that was pitch black. Dawson knelt down and examined the hole. When a gentle kick to the back of his neck sent the poor boy barreling into the hole, he could barely make out the sound of beating wings! Dawson's thoughts raced with speculations about who or what may be responsible as the pounding of wings became louder. But he didn't have time to ponder that mystery, or even the fact that Drake had kicked him; he had to concentrate on avoiding smashing into the bookshelves below. The child palmed his hands and raised them to his ankles, unleashing a flood of tremendous magic. If he forced his way through the opening meant for the bookshelf, perhaps it could act as a makeshift plug, and he could fill the hole with water and halt his descent. If the previous blast of water Dawson used could be described as a jet, the blast of water he released now, was surely like that of a rocket. Pain rippled through Dawson's body as the water erupted from his hands. He felt like Samson clutching the pillars, only instead of his hands. It was every cell in the boy's body. But just when he felt like giving up, Dawson landed in a small pool of water with the most adorable splash known to man. His body sank like a rock. Dawson took a deep breath, mentally at least. He had done it. He had survived. Dawson slowly swam further and further down, until he came to the bookcases, and upon feeling around he could sense that the bookcase had been practically torn in half from his water, so, being too weak to do anything else, he held onto it and waited for the water to carry him out the ruined bookcase. Dawson fell onto the cold metal floor, elbow first, sending waves of pain through his body. Just the act of using so much of his magic damaged the boy to such an extent, he would surely have to head back to the agency for repair, but when added to the pain of his elbow splintering like a tree struck by a missile, Dawson was now on borrowed time before he'd bleed out. Fast foot fleets echoed to his right. Dawson stared at his reflection in the water, and noticed that his illusion had worn off, for the face staring back at him was a mere boy. Dawson turned to see Caina and Drake walking down a cylindrical set of stairs that seemed to contrast with the darkness of the rest of the area, aside from the metal floor. Dawson locked eyes with Drake, and for a fleeting moment rage substituted his immense pain.
"Why'd you push me!" He yelled through tears, "I could've died, or worse, lost the mission!" Instead of answering, Drake walked to the bottom of the stairs and made a motion to Caina with his head. Caina took a deep breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, all human emotions and appearance vanished and was replaced by something else entirely. Caina opened her mouth, as snaps and crackles boomed from within. A natural red glow could be seen behind her cheeks, like a man's finger when holding a light. Her body seemed to shake and bend for what felt like hours, until she grew still, opened her eyes, and as if her body was a cannon fired a shell of flame and destruction from her very mouth! So intense was the flame it seemed to fully light up everything for a brief moment; allowing Dawson to see large bat wings flapping through the air, alongside forked tongues and yellow eyes. The flame rocketed up in an diagonal position, before finally disappearing from view over what could only be described as a golden table, showering the area in darkness once more. There was a loud crack from above, and sparks showered from the table. Then, the entire room was drenched in a white light. Dawson screeched and shielded his eyes. Over the next minute, the light lessened to where it felt more like staring into a flashlight, rather than staring at the sun, and Dawson finally felt it was safe to look around. "That was a neat trick" he thought. "putting a clump of magnesium on that bolted down table just to show the accuracy of your assistant's magic. I should keep that little trick of hers in mind." Dawson then turned to observe the room, and what the wounded boy saw shook him to his very soul. There were dozens of cages behind him, and each and every one was crafted from pure diamonds. And within each of those cages were creatures too dangerous to exist. There were dragons in the cages! Their eyes were a putrid tint of nasty yellows and oranges. Their wings, which were bent over onto their backs in cylindrical shapes, were clearly too huge for the cages. As their legs were bent, their claws dug into the tops of the cages. It was as if they were all conspiring together just to destroy him. Dawson trembled and stepped back from the cages. He suddenly remembered the beating of wings he'd heard earlier and turned up to see where they were coming from, only to be greeted by the most incredible sight of all. It was a shrunken-down B-52 bomber that moved in an odd manner.. Despite its wings being made of rigid metal, they flapped like those of a bird. Instead of a pilot, whirling flames filled the cockpit, and a clear vertical line flowed like a mouth across the plane's propeller section. It was just fantastic. It was really wonderful. It was something that should not have existed, even with the limits of magic. It was wrong. Incorrect. That plane was a complete and utter mistake. Why, though, was it? Dawson sighed and struggled to recall what had happened. His memories, which had been as clear as glass before, began to cloud up. This didn't feel right. His thoughts were not becoming hazy on their own. Someone triggered this impact. no, that couldn't be. Dawson could tell something wasn't right. Something sparked this effect. Dawson stumbled away from the freaky sight above him, and turned back to the cages. He looked at the dragons, and the dragons looked at him. All of the creatures looked at him with malicious intent. All but one. A lone dragon stood out amongst the many in cages, and it was quite a sight. Whereas the legs of the other dragons were slim and lengthy, this dragon's legs were fat and stubby, protruding just slightly from its body. As its head stared at him, the dragon's scales were dark as shadow and flowed some purple substance. the dragon starred not with hatred. not in the name of love. But with a total lack of interest. As if he didn't exist whatsoever. Dawson's recollections flashed through his head as soon as he caught eyes with the monster, and the beast retreated with a howl.
"These are my beautiful creations, dear agent Drake boomed, "Dragons, of all colors, shapes and sizes. I have taken an interest in these beautiful creatures since I was young, you see. Most children are born tasting their mother's milk, but I was born tasting my mothers blood. She was ripped apart by streams of gunfire in what you call Bleeding Kansas...Then I fell from her corpse and into the loving embrace of Jackson Stonewall, who introduced me to just one of these beasts of legend, and taught me to ride it into battle. It laid siege to scores of Lincolnites until it exploded from barrages of artillery fire and my poor handling. but I’ll never forget that it died protecting me." Drake paused, briefly grasped his heart, and violently shuddered, before smoothly continuing.
"Seeing that my life and the only thing that gave it meaning were thrown away by Stonewall. The trauma of seeing my only friend, that beautiful dragon with golden scales and emerald eyes, activated my abilities. I found that I had the ability to create souls and imbue them into objects. My trauma was so great, I huddled to myself in a cave, for the rest of the war, and beyond occasionally using my new abilities to ward off any trespassers. Eventually, I was found by Lazarus in my mid 20s. They accepted me, not as an agent, but as a handler for their dragons, as apparently it's hard for other people to train them. I worked with them, taught tykes to train dragons, and worked with my magic on the side, growing my power. It was a wonderful life.