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   September 26th, 2011

   Three days passed before Fafnir and I felt that we had made the proper preparations for our delve into the dome. First we started by informing the Deputy Commissioner that we had found evidence leading us to believe that our killer was holed up near the Millennium Dome and was attacking anything that got close to it. We also suggested the victims were all related in some fashion. We turned over all the pictures of the gangsters that had been autopsied by the police. Finally we told him that the killer was definitely a magical creature and likely a powerful one. Given the circumstances it was enough for a green light to investigate the dome.

   The second thing we did was speak to Miller. He was intimately familiar with the karmic world and the mythic age that had come and gone so very long ago. The creature, he said, might be some strange sort of Fae or even a bastard werewolf. The clothing hid much from us so he noted that we could not tell if this creature "had gone Egyptian," our slang for modern occurring supernatural entities with animal heads and human bodies. He even made a call to a contact of his to ask for an opinion. Unfortunately it was like nothing either Miller or his pal had ever seen so no help there.

   The third and, for the pair of us, most important step was gathering our war gear: We were intent on going in armed to face the legions of hell itself. Fafnir's weapons of choice included Bron: his two handed ax, Helga: his two handed hammer, Sven: His crossbow and the old bowie knife we had. The knife was a karmic item.. imbued with that most sacred energy by constant violent use by a human hand. My weapons included a USP tactical pistol, an XM8 carbine, three grenades, a blasting charge and a kiem: an ancient and wicked martial art sword I had damn near perfected the use of. My armor of choice was a suit of scale mail that Fafnir had enchanted some time ago for the whole brood to use. It was by far superior in protective quality than any kevlar vest we had. Other than this though.. we wore little clothing. No shoes, no gloves, the scale mail included a long armored 'skirt' that covered my naked legs while Fafnir wore only the kevlar vest and cargo shorts.

   The drive to the Millennium Dome was quick and our shared anticipation clouded any other thoughts we might have had. When we arrived Fafnir ended up praying in the back of our van. He anointed himself and his weapons for battle, as was his tradition. I laughed to myself and poked him mentally. "I'd offer a great prayer with you and call Miller to make sure the mead horns were filled to the brim for us when we get back so we could toast our upcoming victory and give thanks and credit to the gods.. except.. you know.. we used to damn near be gods in the mythic age." Fafnir continued praying, my telepathic message didn't seem to register in his head. For what it was worth I often wished I was a pious as him.

   With the van parked near the dome, weapons loaded and firepower maximized we slipped out into the twilight of the setting sun. No tangos to greet us, no crazy fox thing tried to shred us with it's diamond blades.. no this was the easy part. "Enjoy it while we can, I expect shit to hit the fan today." Fafnir fumbled through the duffel bag once we got to the door. He grabbed the blasting charge and passed it to me. I began to prep it while he transformed.

   Toes first.. he always started at the change with his legs. From his reshaping toes great claws extended while the bone, sinew and muscle morphed until his legs were draconic appendages ending in talons capable of slicing through flesh and bone with ease. Next his whole body started to bulk up. Muscles expanded, bones stretched and reset themselves. Soon his skeletal and muscular framework had changed completely. Even for him a new strength and power surged through his body. Scales were next, his skin crawled and flesh was quickly replaced by a gunmetal colored natural armor that was once his birth right. Finally the change came to his head: His jaw unhinged loudly, each of his teeth became a fang as long as his new claws and twice as sharp. Scales grew over this as well and by the time he was done snapping his body back together his skull was truly that of a dragon's.

   "Blasting charge set. We go on my final pop." I too began to change. For me the arms and legs came first. Like with his legs my every joint reformed, bones stretching and snapping into place to create dragon limbs with dagger like claws as clear as crystal on both my hands and feet. Scales replaced my skin too, but my armor was a slightly softer and colored like fresh snow. My spine bent and coiled and shuddered for a moment as I grew a blade tipped tail that slithered out of my backside. The thing was weapon useful both in combat of minds and bodies. My whole physical frame.. my muscles and bones.. reshaped themselves into something both sinuous and strong.. a new body that graceful and still muscular. After the popping sound in the joints of my newly shaped shoulders had ceased I blew the charge.

   We trampled in like a pair of oxen, kicking a turned over table that was positioned behind the door. The strength of our blows turned the solid table into nothing more than splinters. Our enemy had expected business to come through this door, but no one expected the merchandise we brought. Fafnir and I had waltzed in on a group that was either a gang or a cult. Nearly 20 people occupied the room and half of them had been chanting in some kind of ceremony before we barged in. Naturally the explosion from the door had caused a mess of this and most of the group had already hit the floor. Some still stood though and from one came a command. "Blast these fools!"

   Fafnir ducked to the left, I rolled to right and blast of metal balls from a shotgun filled the empty air where we had been standing. The battle instantly became a beautiful cacophony of destruction. Gunshots were fired from several people and tables were overturned so they could have cover. Fafnir's first move was to jump up above the table the shotgun wielding punk had hidden behind, spin upside down in midair and take the guy's head off with his war hammer by swinging it into the back of the punk's neck. It was like watching a wrecking ball hit a hollow, rotted tree.. blood and brain matter sprayed onto the underside of the table. I strode out from behind the support pillar I had rolled near, my gun firing so fast that I emptied my entire clip into into the crowd at hip level while Fafnir was still in mid jump. Bullets riddled chairs with holes, turned candles to paste, shredded furniture and punched through at least two tables so they would taste flesh and blood. My instincts guided each step so my mind almost detached itself from the fight. Only my channeling of the winter cold into my blood kept my mind active. By the time Fafnir landed and my gun was empty the scales of my skin were coated in ice, my eyes translucent orbs of sky blue and my blood had frozen in my veins.

   Fafnir leaped up again, this time twisting his whole body so he came in upside down and brought those taloned paws up at another man, the claws cutting the cultist's belly open, raking up through the robes and ended by slashing the chin wide open. My brood brother's motions were like a flowing mercury torrent of death. His hammer attacks shattered that which his hind claws did not cut. A quick spin gave him momentum to swing his massive hammer with gravity defying velocity. The head of the instrument found a buff lady and brought upon her a shot on her shoulder. There was a wet crunch followed by a shrill scream of agony.

   I sprinted in from where I had taken cover yet again. I ended up sliding onto my knees and through the center of the room. The XM8 was reloaded and once again spitting fire and lead. Three bullets hit the lower abdomen of one gangster, shredded his insides and then spat out at another person behind him. That suffered much less damage thanks to his organic cover. I had stopped sliding at this point and as I was still on my knees he attempted to come down on top of me with a fire ax. I sent myself onto my stomach and used my tail to parry the ax blow. Seeing his legs were right in front of me I took my chance to strike while he pulled his ax back for another chop. I discarded the carbine and grabbed his shins with my taloned hands. The blades of my fore claws cut right into his Achilles tendons while the strength of my grip fractured his shin bones. I yanked his legs out from under him, almost literally, and threw him to the floor. He was prone and totally defenseless so I took my time to roll on top of him. My final attack was to drive my tail straight through his chest, the blade end cracking the foundations of the floor.

   "Tyr! Look out!"

   Fafnir tried to warn me of danger but he was too late. A pair of the fucking cultists had taken up positions flanking me. I had one on either side of me with fire arms pointed right at my head. I had no room to dodge at this range. I let the blizzard I had built up inside of me burst out in a bid to defend myself from the coming shots. Surely enough everything with 20 feet of me was suddenly frozen over by the burst of frost. Life and warmth was sucked from the flesh of the weak mortals around me. My very essence became a killing cold that cut to the bone and stole their strength. Still it was not enough to prevent those two from firing their guns.

   6 bullets.. three shots from each gun hit me in the shoulders, neck and head. Each bullet found it's mark and bit my body with the lethal force of a point black shot. Fafnir could only watch as my reckless actions put me between two armed men who fired their shots with hateful abandon. He screamed in blood curdling rage and threw his hammer like it was a child's toy. The power of the throw was so great that Helga's handle took an arm off of the cultist that stood at my right. Still.. too little too late.

   For me though.. the world did not end. No darkness embraced me, no pain caressed the nerves under my ice and scale armor. No.. I have the promise of fire, I was birthed by Karma at the beginning of time as were all of my kin. My greatest and most undeniable power was my Aegis of Protection. I could not die here like this for I.. I am a dragon! In the mythic times in humanity's forgotten past I was a GOD! I feared no weapon forged by the hands of men back then! I DO NOT FEAR THEM NOW!!

*Â Â Â * The bullets warped, melded and even broke against my flesh. My ancient legacy.. my ultimate power protected me even from these lethal attacks. My skin, my scales became a substance on a whole different level than any of the matter in this room. A change so subtle at the molecular level occurred within me, making my flesh as invincible as possible. A direct rocket hit could not even tickle me in this state.

   I smiled inwardly at Fafnir's act of love. "You know I'm an aegis bearer, and I have expended little of my karmic energy until now. They could not kill me, but still.. I appreciate the effort."

    I stood up from my position and faced the individual on my left. She was a female and even with all the gangster junk and dirt on her body she was still a pretty thing. With proper grooming she likely would have been gorgeous. I gave her a more careful examination, and my eyes showed me that she had more than simple clothes and cult insignia on her.. no.. her clothing was robe like and she even carried an athame on her hip. This was their leader.

   She shot at me again. Each hot bullet that ejected from her cannon smashed against my body but each bullet bent, broke and then vaporised as it contacted my invulnerable flesh. Each shot that pierced my scale armor, both the set I wore and the set that was my skin, also made me draw upon my karmic reserves. To power my legacy I had draw quite deeply upon that energy... I would not be able to replenish it quickly. After the third shot I balled up my right fist and punched her right in her gut. The attack drove deep and likely crushed an organ, but I did not care. With my left hand I raked my claws right across her face. She staggered back upon suffering these twin blows and almost fell over. I seized the opportunity to seize her by her throat.

   "Such a fragile thing.. yet such a pretty thing you are." I lifted her from her feet like a cloth and cotton doll. She resisted, screamed her curses and spit petty insults at me. She even kicked my chest and did what she could to make a pain of herself.

   "A flower.. you are like a flower that lost itself in the wind. Perhaps you could have been a beautiful rose in a garden, or a wild lilac in an untamed field in some nameless foreign land. Instead you chose to plant your roots in oily soils and have brought upon yourself your own ruin." Fafnir was behind me now with Ivan in hand. The crossbow, elegant and pitiless killing machine that Ivan was, had already loosed a bolt with enough strength to pierce straight through the sternum of one of the last standing cultists.

   "Fuck you.. you.. you mutant! We are the servants of the earth! You shall rue this day for you have earned the wrath of the mother and she shall send forth her mighty wyrm Tandoori!!" Damn this little brat... I looked around at the tattered remains of this child's cult. Her warriors were dead, dying or had long since scattered to the winds in terror at the true wrath of dragons.

   "Your little family is undone witch." I threw her onto the floor and stepped lightly on her head. My claws crudely gripped at the sides of her skull and clutched her flesh.. my feet in this form were barely gifted as opposable appendages. My claws dug into her forehead and made her raise her face so she could see the armless fighter who, like her, had made the mistake of firing a gun at me.

   "This is a dragon's wrath. You are so certain your goddess will send forth a dragon to smite me. Maybe you even think that she will save you here and now. Well she won't because she can't. Go join her in hell." With that I drove her head down into the floor so she might speak to the earth in person. Her skull cracked and only 3 short breaths coughed life from her body before it ceased altogether.

   Clean up work was my duty at this point. Between my tail, my guns and Helga I put every person still laboring to suck air into their lungs to the grave. Fafnir on the other hand promptly started rumaging through drawers and desks and scanned over tables. He noticed that the table on the north western part of the large room we were in had numerous mundane ritual items placed on top of it. There were incenses, crystals, symbols, herbs, dried animal parts, various books and a map of the dome that layed out their summoning circle within the main chamber. "Hell.. Tyraneth.. these were just a bunch of dumb fools. I don't think they can actually cast anything let alone perform such a bastard ritual." He caught me right before I put a bullet through the head of the last cultist.

   "Is it worth interrogating this one over?" He sent me an empathic shake of his head.

   I fired the last shot in the assault rifle.

   It took maybe a whole five minutes to figure out what these fools had been up to. The leader's magic was hedge wizardry at best while the rest of the group had very little or no skill at all. Their ritual was unsound in design and in truth completely unworkable. Their desires were passionate, but ultimately quite hateful. Some of the personal journals we read were filled with the nonsense of the kinds of pagans that lust for power, vindication and the death of the sons of Abraham. I sat casually while reading the hateful rhetoric, but felt compelled to comment to Marco.

   "I've always found this stuff funny. Marco.. you are a Godi: A priest of the Asatru faith. Truly you are a modern viking. You are what some might call a pagan and you certainly carry yourself as I think a pagan priest ..be he a Celtic, Moorish, Saxon, Nordic or Roman.. should. Thing of it is for a non-Christian you are very removed from Christianity. You place no emotion or design upon the followers of Christ. You wish them no harm for their beliefs and treat them with respect when they as people are respectful... But these new agers.. these wiccans and faceless pagan groups.. they are so filled with hatred for all of Christianity." Marco wasn't paying as much attention as I'd like. Instead he was checking his weaponry and putting our tools of destruction back into the duffel bag.

   "These ones here.. they thought that they could bring a dragon into this world. They were willing to bet their very lives on a hate filled desire that couldn't even come true. They dabbled in magic so they could destroy their chosen enemy... an enemy that existed only in their heads."

   I looked back towards Fafnir. He had walked away from me towards the main dome room. I could see that he was observing the patterns and drawings and symbols these people had carved or painted along the walls and floor. "Are you saying you pity them? That we should have spared them? That's not like you Conor."

   I moved up alongside him and gazed at the room as well. "I pity them for being stupid fools who were slaves to their own worlds, but I spare nothing. Death has come upon them. They will find peace, find torment or return to this life anew.. it matters not to me."

   We stood there in quiet contemplation and gazed upon our work. Marco was reserved.. he ached at the realization that he had broken the flesh of fools when he thought he was fighting villains. I did my best to sooth him, to tell him it did not matter what their skills or methods were. They were dark people and had the potential to be a threat. That didn't work so well so I told him what I knew was true: They were dead. We were not but harbingers and bringers of a natural and promised state of existence. He didn't take well to that either.

   As much as I wanted this quiet moment to last, albeit with less depression in my brood mate, it was shattered; brought down like the suddenly collapsing roof of the dome. Part of it's top exploded right above the center of the room and scattered debris in every direction. We simply looked at each other and walked forward away from the doorway we had been standing under. Marco's eyes scanned the hole and I cast my attention to our environment. It wasn't until we were stepping on the debris of the ceiling that we saw what had caused it.

   There our killer was. He kept himself shrouded dark clothes and a great cloak hugged his entire body. He jumped down to the room and landed with poetic grace, even enduring the 100 foot drop like it was nothing. The creature stood there not even 10 feet away from us. He regarded us with total indifference.. it was like he was watching us.. judging our motions and stances. He was tall; at least six and a half feet tall and was pushing up towards seven. His head was partially covered.. just enough to hide the eyes at the base of his muzzle. His fur was a bright yellow, his clenched fists had only three digits and his feet were animal like... large paws ending in three clawed toes.

   Fafnir and I gazed towards one another and nodded silently before turning our eyes back upon our quarry. My scales froze over once more as I summoned the great cold inside of my core. My tail weaved in a steady back and forth motion showing my hunger for the kill. I grasped my kiem and drew it slowly from it's scabbard so I might hear it slide from the protective sheath. Fafnir tightened his grip on Bron and snapped his jaws at the creature. He left his smile wide so his vicious fangs could be seen. He even clenched his hind claws so they could rake the ground and leave gashes on the floor. This was now a fight between scions, we dragons reincarnate, and a deadly supernatural warrior. He sensed our intentions.. he knew what we planned and probably knew why we planned it. He greeted our motions with similar ones. His fists opened up and gripped slightly, his stance changed so his body faced us and his footwork was already set to carry him through this fight. His eyes glowed hot white from under his hooded cloak, the orbs burned with radiant power and we all locked our gazes upon one another.

"Gentlemen. Lets dance."