Mixtape: Cassette 3, Side 1, Song 5:
"To put you in the mood" - Evelyn
*Click*
January 8th, 2011
In the fire and the flames, in the dawning of the day.
In the failure of the stars, in the writing and the scars.
In the dying of the light, in the coming of the night.
I see you.
O' Dragon.
Divine you declare yourself, above mortal ken.
Invincible you see yourself, undefeated, time and time again.
But, O' Dragon.
Your throne is weak.
Your blood does leak.
And Godhood is not gained by right.
Let us see if you survive the night.
________________
Caiman didn't know what to think of today. It should have been a good day, nothing bad had happened in the last two weeks, product was selling well, his boss didn't hate him, and Lung was seemingly currently content with life. Today should have been fine.
But then whatever the fuck that had gone on at Medhall had happened.
Gunshots. Lots and Lots of gunshots. Like a stupid amount of gunshot, a ridiculous amount.
Like a
Holy Fucking Shit amount of gunshots.
People, him included, had almost thought that there was miniature war happening in the Med hall building. I mean, he knew that Medhall had security, a ridiculous amount of security actually, but this was Brockton Bay. But he didn't think Medhall had enough security to fight what sounded like a miniature version of a world war in a single building. But it certainly sounded like it.
By the time the police had got there, the gunfire has slowed but not stopped, it had also moved higher up the building. About three minutes after that the gunfire stopped altogether.
No information had been relesed regarding what had happened. The building was on complete and total lockdown, enforced by both the police and the PRT. the PRT's presence definitely said something about what had occurred inside, but nothing had actually been
said said to anyone. Once again, complete and total lockdown.
Though apparently, at least according to some people on PHO, there have been sighting of what seemed to be bodies being brought out of the building over the course of the day.
A
lot of bodies.
Which really did not bode well for whatever had happened, if the massive gunfight wasn't obvious enough.
And whatever had happened there seems to have spooked the boss, a lot. Maybe he heard something though contacts, maybes he's just being rightfully paranoid. All Caiman knows is that all that has led to him patrolling the streets at night, in the dark and cold.
Not even allowed a smoke, goddamn it.
Caiman stretches out his arms to try and get the blood flowing back to the, the cold prickling at his skin through his jacket. As he turns the next corner, he takes a chance to look up toward the building in the distance whose area he's patrolling, illuminated by the full moon.
They call it the Palace. A three story building, part casino part brothel part bar. All the best things rolled into one. Also, Lung's main seat of governance.
He would really rather be in there then out here, but fucking orders were fucking orders. Don't want to get on his bosses, or more importantly the Dragons, bad side.
Still though, he'd kill for the chance to take a fucking smoke.
Caiman huffs, and continues on his route, the light of the full moon illuminating his way. He takes the opportunity to glace upwards towards it.
The moon shines bright overhead, undaunted by any clouds. Its rather beautiful he thinks, shining bright up there.
For some reason, he can't help but think that it seems brighter tonight.
...Wait a minute. Was it even supposed to be a full moon tonight?
Before he could finish contemplating that thought, he's interrupted by a noise in the dark.
…
…Is that humming?
Slick!
Aaaaaguhh
hgagh…
Wheeeeuuuuuaaaa…
Thud.
"Hmmm hm hmm, hmmmm Hmm hmmmm…"
Click, Clack, click, clack, click, clack...
________________
Moon and sun, two and one, yet different all the same.
Me and you, Sun and moon, I'll play your little game.
Come, O' Dragon, let me see your vaunted flame.
________________
Harold hated his job. Selling drugs was personally repugnant to him.
Harold hated his home. This city was a shithole, barely worthy of being called a city in the first place.
Harold hated his life. His "friends" weren't friends, his home life sucked, his sister a bitch, and oh yeah, he was a drug dealer.
Harold hated a lot of things, so he took out all his hatred on others.
That was one thing Harold liked, fighting. He would have joined the army if he could have, but they didn't take him. He would have tried to be a mercenary, but he couldn't find a job that he could actually reasonable do, all they wanted was Capes. He would have joined up with Hookwollf and his gang, but he was too Asian to be a Nazi.
So here he was, a drug dealer for a shitty Asian gang, serving a shitty boss, in a shitty city.
What a shitty life.
He opened the back door and came out onto the second floor fire escape, he pulled out a box of cigarettes and lit one. At least he had nicotine, it understood him.
It was on his second smoke stick when he noticed something off. There was a faint sound coming from an ally in front of him. Not the shuffling scuffling sound of feet on concrete that a drunk would make, or the faint tap tap tap of one of the guards shoes. It was...
Humming?
From the dark, emerged a girl. A teen, fifteen, maybe sixteen, but no older. She wore a red beanie, with a red scarf and a green jacket. Under the jacket she wore a stiped, multicolored sweater, red, grey, dirty white. She wore boots, too big for her feet, and mismatched red and white socks up to her mid calves. She had brown hair down to her shoulders, and wore a short skirt. Her clothes seemed raggedy, but also well kept. Used, but loved.
She was a wired looking one in his opinion.
She was also staring right at him.
He dropped his smoke.
Those blue eyes. A deep, deep blue, that he couldn't seem to look away from. Those eyes, they saw him, knew him, devoured him.
Blue. A blue so deep you couldn't see the bottom, couldn't see the sea floor for ocean blue turned to black. A black abyss, looking back at him, though him. He was not a person to those eyes, he was a
thing. They saw, they judged, they rendered judgement.
He couldn't look away. Not when he saw her, not when she saw him, not when she started walking closer.
Not when the knife plunged into his chest, straight into his heart.
He couldn't look away.
He couldn't...
________________
Come, O' Dragon, see your walls crumble.
Come, O' Dragon, see your soldiers fumble.
Know, O' Dragon, that judgement closes.
Know, O' Dragon, that death approaches.
________________
Sao was concerned. For the past week Lung had been acting erratic. He had been seeming more and more paranoid, more and more suspicious, and the bags under his eyes had been growing.
Sao was a good lieutenant, and a good servant. He had been serving under The Dragon for nearly as long as he had been in Brockton Bay. He was even one of the few who had permission to call the great Lung a friend.
He had asked him what was wrong and if there was anyway he could help, and he was almost burnt on the spot.
Almost, but not quite. Lung's reasonability won out in the end.
Dreams. The Dragon was having dreams, horrifying dreams. He could not describe them in any detail, for they fled his mind as soon as he awoke, but they were constant, and similar.
Dreams of drowning, in a never ending ocean or red. He could not describe it as blood, for it did not smell or taste so, but he called it similar. Being pulled down beneath the surface by grasping arms of pitch black, laughter and jeering in the void of the lightless ocean.
A figure seen in the black, enormous yet tiny. A wisp, yet a giant.
Pointing. Laughing.
A knife.
Cutting.
And then he would wake up.
It was obviously the work of some Parahuman, but for the life of them neither could tell who. There had never been a reported Cape with such a power. And if it was a new trigger, they have no true way of finding them in this city.
And then earlier today happened. The attack on Medhall.
The PRT did not want any info to get out, but the great Lung had informants.
It was the Empire. All of them. Not all of them had been killed in the building, but there had been calls from around the city about multiple bodies in multiple places. All eventually confirmed to be the Empires Capes.
Lung was convinced it was the actions of the Cape that was torturing his dreams. Sao was not so sure, but he had no other possibilities at the current time, so the that was their current idea.
Lung was also convinced the Cape would come for him next, and this one Sao agreed with. So patrols had been doubled, and guards had been tripled. Both Lung and Oni Lee were in the building, and it was as safe as they could make it.
Sao wasn't convinced they would survive the night.
But he pressed on regardless, no reason to give up when the enemy hasn't even arrived yet, he thought.
Or course, that was, until he discovered the first body.
On a loop of the backrooms of the second floor, laying against one of the walls, was a corpse.
Jiong, one of the guards. He didn't seem to have any wounds, not cuts or scrapes, no abrasions or bruises from strangulation, no bullet holes.
But his eyes were bleeding. And his nose. And his mouth.
Splashed across his face, like someone had blown it at him, was a fine red, glittery dust, sparkling in the light.
Sao reached for his radio.
"Intruder! There is an intruder in the building! Lock everything down, guards call in!"
He waited. There was no sound back.
Sweat beaded at his forehead.
He heard a scream from down the hall.
He ran towards it, like an idiot.
He came across another corpse thirty seconds later.
This one had its throat slashed, blood still gurled from the wound. He was collapsed on his knees, gun fallen from his hands, it looked like he hadn't even tried to fight back.
He... He... He needed to warn Lung. He continued down the hall, now knowing in what direction to head.
Unfortunately, it seemed he wasn't the only one to come this way.
On his run he encountered more corpses. Some had no wounds on them, like the had just collapsed from nothing. Some had the dust on them, bleeding from their faces. Some were cut, the neck, the wrists, straight to the heart.
His run turned into a jog, then a walk, then a fearful shuffle. He found more and more bodies. The worst one had had his eyes and tongue cut out, and seemed to have drowned in his own blood.
As he continued, he noticed that the building had quieted. He could not longer hear the noise of patrons leering at the girls, the sound of slots going from the casino, or the sound of glasses clicking from the bar. It utterly quiet. Silent.
He stopped outside the doors to lungs throne room. There was another body. Oni Lee.
His eyes had been cut out, his hands had been cut off, and his tongue had been removed. The knifes and grenades he carried were nowhere to be seen.
Sao looked up, and noticed a bloody handprint on the doorway of the throne room.
He reached out to open it.
He couldn't stop shivering.
The door opened, and he stepped inside.
There, on his throne, was Lung.
His head had been removed, and placed in his own hands. There were sigils he didn't know carved into his forehead, and they glowed a dark red. He had been stripped of clothes, his manhood had been removed and placed in the mouth of his head, his eyes had been cut out, and red sigil carved gemstones had been put in their places.
Words had been carved into his chest.
"Not all Dragons are immortal".
Sao heard a slam, and turned around to see the door had closed. He heard a whooshing sound, and turned back around to find that Lung's corpse had burst into flames. He turned once more and rushed towards the doors, he pulled and pulled, but they wouldn't open for him. The crackling sound of the fire grew louder behind him, he almost swore that it sounded like the cackling of some evil beast, laughing at his misery. He banged on the door, he called for help, but no one answered.
The flames grew closer.
He screamed.
________________
The Dragon falls, deaths sweeping call, an immortal he was in name.
A throne did crumble, a man did tumble, for only mortal he was all the same.
(A.N. Me: wants to write the next chapter and already has many ideas.
My Muse: "Poetry."
Me: "But-"
My Muse:
"Poetry!"
This chapter was fighting me the entire time, it went through at least three different revisions, probably more.
I didn't plan on putting anything resembling poetry or rhyming in this chapter, but the Witch wanted to rhyme, so she rhymes.)
