The morning of June 9 was filled with explosive activity in New York harbor, even more so than usual. Utilizing a number of helicopters and commandeered ferries, the National Guard had quickly deployed a substantial force to Ellis Island, conducting a vigilant watch over all approaches and nearby areas. Corporal James Rankin had been part of the first wave taken over, and was itching for a fight, eager to avenge his comrades who had fallen at Coney Island.
Only nothing was happening. Dawn passed by without any action, and now they were approaching noon and still the only people causing a ruckus were the Guard. Rankin was disappointed, he hadn't been privy to what exactly had triggered this deployment, but the scuttlebutt was that some defector from the "Guardians of the American Revolution" gave the intel of an impending attack. It was all above Rankin's paygrade, but he knew his superiors had spent the past few days complaining about a stream of conflicting and unreliable reports, and the complete uselessness of the NYPD.
The tense readiness the Guard on Ellis Island had been at through the morning was largely gone now. Some of the officers were trying to keep their men at the ready, but many others didn't try, frustrated themselves. Rankin and some of his buddies were speculating about what was actually going on in New York City.
"I'm telling ya, these 'Guardians'? Not real. I've been asking around, nobody's heard of them before, and now they come up and have the whole city dancing in their hands? No way."
"But it makes a kind of sense, if anyone had heard of them before, they could have stopped them from getting this strong."
"Come on, you guys can't be serious. You've heard the stories from the survivors of Coney Island. No humans are behind that. It's definitely aliens."
"Aliens aren't real. But you're right that this is no simple group. It's a whole range government conspiracy."
"...Bob, we are the government."
"Speak for yourself, Jim."
As the wild speculation carried on, those involved missed the sudden increase in radio traffic. Not until their commanding officer came over to their position.
"None of you are going to believe what's happening at the Museum of Natural History."
Rachel Mullins could not believe what was happening at the Museum of Natural History.
What had been a simple date had become a scene straight from Hell. One second she was laughing at her date's stupid joke, the next armed men had stormed in shooting anyone who moved. Her date had been hit, and in his fall had taken her down with him. She had crawled away to find some hint of safety, only to belated hear him crying out for help. She turned back, thinking of how to help, when his cry attracted the attention of one of the armed men, who shoot her date again and again until the screams stopped.
She thus resolved to make no sounds and not move a muscle, pretending she was one of the dead. She was finding this to be only a temporary reprieve though, as now some of the men were grabbing the corpses and carrying them elsewhere, it seems next to the T-Rex skeleton. There was a young woman standing there, and something inhumanly tall next to here. She didn't dare look closely enough to be noticeable, but they were clearly doing something.
And it didn't make any sense to Rachel. This couldn't be real. Things had been getting crazy recently, but that was elsewhere in the city, and it couldn't keep going, the National Guard, or the police, or the FBI, someone would get it under control. This, a massacre right in the heart of Manhattan? It couldn't be real, it just couldn't. This had to be a dream, a nightmare, something she would soon wake up from.
Her denials were interrupted by a new commotion. There was still shooting and screaming, but it was different. She was pretty sure the screams now came from the armed men. She dared to glance in the direction the shooting was heaviest.
It was another impossible sight. A hulking beast of a man ran like a whirlwind, twisting and thrusting with a spear in his hand, carving a path through the gunmen. She couldn't tell if their bullets were missing him or he just didn't care when they hit. He was an apparent savior, but he somehow seemed almost less human than the gunmen who fell apart and screamed as the spear's edge met their skin.
His rampage was checked by the intervention of another impossible figure. A man smaller only by comparison, wielding a wicked looking sword. A feeling of dread filled Rachel, even more so than already, as she laid her eyes on the sword. In yet another thing that should have been ridiculous, she could tell from one look- it was evil. It hungered for blood, an insatiable apatite for suffering and destruction.
The clash between these two human, yet also inhuman figures was palpable. Rachel's deniable about her situation ironically was dispelled now, there was no way her mind could have created this feeling now all around her. A pressure that was both physical and not, tangible and something greater. As their blades clashed, the fabric of reality seemed to buckle. Everyone could feel it, even the surviving gunmen had stopped shooting and looked on in awe.
But the two impossible combatants continued, moving even faster, their weapons striking without hesitation or mercy, determined to slay the foe in front of them. Rachel had no idea why they fought, no context to put this into to make sense of it. But their commitment to the deathmatch was unmistakable. It wasn't personal animosity, but nor was it professional duty. She couldn't tell what it was, that she could feel any emotions at all from a fight she barely understood was astounding in its own right, but there was something like satisfaction to it.
Her attention was torn away from the almost hypnotic fight by renewed screaming from the gunmen. Somehow, after everything, she still found capacity to be shocked by what she saw. The T-Rex exhibit was now covered with glistening red growth. What was left of humans, Rachel realized with revulsion. The inhumanly tall figure was standing in a pile of human remains as it moved it hands over the skeleton, and tendrils of the growth were springing out, grabbing any humans left around, alive or dead. Except one, the young woman Rachel had noticed earlier was standing unharmed, laughing like some movie villain while occasionally sending colored orbs of light from her hands to other colored shapes Rachel now noticed moving around the edges of the area.
The meat on the T-Rex skeleton was growing further, the fight between impossible men continued, a madwoman was flinging what could only be magic, and the gunmen that were still alive were decidedly distracted. Rachel stood up, banished all thought of understanding anything that was happening, and ran harder than she had ever run to get away. Far away. Anywhere else but here.
A flight of Blackhawks carried Corporal James Rankin, his squad, and several others to get from Ellis Island to the Natural History Museum as quickly as possible. Other Guard units in the city were en route, but after Coney Island, every engagement was treated as an all hands on deck crisis. The NYPD had apparently been getting calls but was being predictably useless.
The basic situation was understood, a group of armed gunmen attacking civilians at the Museum. Other reported details, men with swords and spears dueling each other, inhuman creatures, and human remains being made into some monstrosity all seemed too ridiculous to take serious, but no one was willing to put too much stock into that after recent events.
Even still Rankin couldn't help but gawk as they passed by a skyscraper to get eyes on the museum.
"Is that a dragon!?"
A great red beast, covered in scales, was bursting through the roof of the museum, screeching and unfurling two gigantic wings. Flashes of colored light burst from within the museum, seeming to force the dragon out even more comprehensively from the structure.
Rankin's CO didn't hesitate, "Questions later, shoot now!"
Every gun in the flying convoy soon opened up on the dragon, assist by what Guard units were arriving on scene on the ground. Unfortunately bullets seemed to do nothing more than irritate the great beast. It did attract its attention away from whatever it had been focusing on in the museum though. Whatever that gained its previous target was sorely felt instead among the National Guard helicopters, which were not rated for sustaining dragon breath or claw swipes. Hit choppers fell out of the sky, crash landing into Central Park or nearby streets.
The survivors scattered, trying to make distance while keeping up the fire on the dragon. The remaining pilots attempted to keep the battle over Central Park and the Museum, both to have the support of nearby ground forces and to avoid the challenges of fighting elsewhere in the city. It was not evident that their efforts were accomplishing much. Even fire from miniguns didn't seem to be slowing the dragon down, and there wasn't much heavier in the National Guard's arsenal in NYC. Rankin could see a couple Bradleys coming up, but would they be enough?
The dragon took down helicopter after helicopter, and fires spread ever more below in Central Park. Rankin fired off his last bullets and realized that his chopper was one of three left. The dragon didn't seem any weaker. It was back on top of the museum now, having seemingly decided the remaining helicopters weren't worth its attention, not compared to whatever it wanted back where it came from. To Rankin's shock, he noticed a human on the roof with the Dragon. One man, standing before it, holding something. It was hard to tell from a distance, but it looked like a spear to Rankin. That couldn't be right though, what lunatic would be running around with a spear, to face down a dragon of all things.
This man apparently, who raised up what was indeed a spear and threw it at the dragon. Incredibly, the spear not only connected with the dragon, but caused it to shriek in pain. It raked one of its claws along its chest, which dislodged the spear, but Rankin could see it also took off a number of scales in the process.
"Look, sir," Rankin grabbed his CO, "On the chest, it just tore off some scales. That may be a weak point!"
It was a desperate assumption, with little but hope backing it up. But there was no wealth of options available, and it couldn't go worse than what was already happening.
And so all remaining forces, the Bradleys, the remaining helicopters, every Guardsman on the scene, was instructed to fire upon the exposed portion of the dragon's chest. A hail of bullets, rockets, and shells tore into it, finally drawing out cries of pain from the creature. It was not down yet, and it lashed out, striking at anything it could to stop this now damaging stream of fire. But though its final throes took out a number of Guardsmen, it came down at last all the same.
The days that followed were fraught with rescue and clean up work, but this was far from over. With a dragon corpse, a ruined museum, and a burning park, and no explanation for any of it, the National Guard, and the vast majority of the population of NYC, was left wondering incredulously what on Earth was happening.
Every news station, and many other ones too, were transfixed on the continually escalating situation in New York City.
"The President and several regional governors have been exploring the possibility of further expanding the National Guard presence in New York City, citing the..."
"Now Doctor, scientific consensus may be that dragons never existed, can't exist even, but then how do you explain the footage coming out of New York..."
"Colonel William Groves has announced the arrest of the Mayor, Chief of Police, and several other leading officials in the city and its police department, claiming they have been abetting the actions of the terrorist besieging America's greatest city..."
"We speak now to an expert on the occult, who claims that we are seeing all the signs of the impending apocalypse, to come in full at the start of the new millennia, based on the predictions of Nostradamus..."
The man flicking through the channels turns the TV off in disgust.
"Have any of these idiots ever even heard of the word subtly?"
