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The vehicle carrying the Echo squad arrived at the scene of the crash, giving witnesses yet another abnormality to gawk at. The dark gray smoke from the car continued to fill the air, obstructing most of everyone's view. Firefighters had already been contacted, and were on their way; however, it would take them around five minutes to arrive, due to the immense traffic.

The team exited the vehicle and looked around the area; police tried their best to calm the crowd, who repeatedly tried to get through. Half of the team was ordered to assist the police officers, while the rest went over to the crash for inspection.

Frank looked at the compacted car from its back side and whistled. "Shit, that's a bad wreck. I don't think he could have survived that."

He turned to Markus, who was already ten feet from the wreckage. "I wouldn't say that. He wasn't sitting on the passenger's side, so there's a slight chance he's simply unconscious, but still alive. I highly doubt the passenger was just as lucky, however."

"Well, should we wait for the fire department to get here? We could probably attempt this ourselves, and it does seem... urgent."

Markus glanced back toward Frank. "Nah, even if he's alive, he's not going anywhere."

...

Parker was still in the surveillance room, watching his team track the situation. He had only just heard of the crash, and with the information his team was receiving, he was uncertain whether to close the case, or wait for confirmation of his death. Watching the surveillance footage of the crash, he was not very optimistic. He would rather have him alive than dead.

His team reported Echo's arrival at the scene, who helped ease the situation, as well as investigate it. Nothing could have been done until the paramedics arrived, however, which allowed everyone to earn the status of sitting ducks. After a few moments, Alan finally decided to contact Tom Benson, in order to notify him of the predicament.

He walked out of the room and through the hallway into his office, where he grabbed his phone and pressed "0". A beep was soon heard, and he was transferred to his secretary. After asking for a transfer to the head of the CIA, yet another beep was heard, followed by a dial tone. A young woman responded after a few rings, intercepting the call.

"Hello, Tom Benson's office."

"Hello. Could you transfer me to Tom Benson?"

"Who is this?", she asked in a polite manner.

"This is Alan Parker. Is he in his office?"

"No, unfortunately he isn't. He recently left for a flight to New York about 15 minutes ago. However, Mr. Benson left you a message before leaving, saying that he was going to conduct the interrogation for Eric."

Alan froze and recalled the prior interrogation Tom had conducted. The last thing he wanted to have was a traumatized-to-death 17 year-old, who theoretically did nothing wrong. Having had a kid himself, lost after the divorce of his former wife, he knew what he was doing was wrong, and for the first time during the case, he felt guilty. He shot a look toward the picture of his young child on his desk; blond hair, eight years-old, smiling on his shiny new bike. Alan tried to convince himself several times he was doing the right thing - the fate of humanity would depend on his actions, but was it worth mutilating an innocent boy? So many other measures could be taken instead, all of which he could name at the tip of his tongue. Why was he pursuing this particular method?

"...Mr. Parker?"

Alan snapped out of his thoughts. "Huh? Oh, yes." He remembered his objective. "Would Tom have, by any chance, an alternate number I could contact?"

"Yes, he has a cell phone number, but he turned it off for the flight. Is this important?"

"Yes, it is. Could I have that number, please?"

"Of course, Mr. Parker."

She recited the number, and once he thanked her, Alan hung up. He sat back down once again into his chair and pondered. What he was doing was wrong. Not only was he endangering the life of a young man, he was endangering everyone Eric encountered; instead of trying to safely reel him in, he went through the most crucial methods possible, all while costing the lives of just under ten people. He knew it would have simply been best if he had simply dropped the whole case. Suddenly, something clicked; he did have control over it all. Benson gave him the case earlier that day. He could stop everything.

Parker rose and rushed into his surveillance room to face his team. They gawked at him with strange faces, wondering why their boss was running around the building. He finally spoke. "We're dropping the case."

Silence ensued, and then someone commented on his statement. "Sir, we don't even know if he's dead or -"

"It doesn't matter. We're dropping the case."

"Sir, with all due respect, how the hell do you expect us to drop an internationally publicized case, when we don't even know if the suspect is dead yet?"

"It doesn't matter. We're dropping the case. Tell the Echo team to pull out."

"We don't have authority over that kind of decision. The squads belong to the CIA, and we can't take them off this case."

"What are you talking about? You know as well as I do I took over the case. I should have complete control over them. Besides, we ordered them to go in the first place; why wouldn't we be able to pull them out?"

"You never took complete control over the case. The CIA owns the task force, and Benson allowed you to command them, but removing them off of the case requires his authority. You can't drop the case without his approval either."

Alan rubbed his hand against his head. Everything was messed up. Tom still had every string wrapped around his fingertips, and Alan was attached to one of them. He did not understand why he wanted to interrogate him as much as he did. He knew he was not fit for the job; he was much too rough. Alan took a seat in front of the room, dropped his head, and sighed. He had failed, and Eric was going to suffer the consequences - that is, if he had not suffered them already.

...

He opened his eyes halfway, and tried to distinguish what was surrounding him. He forgot what had happened, and his neck hurt. When he struggled to lift his hand to rub it, he felt a pool of thick blood leak into his left sleeve; he had a large gash just above his spine, which was not very deep, but would certainly leave a scar. When he was finally able to regain consciousness over what was around him, he noticed he was in a car. The front part of the roof had been crushed down to the hood, shattering the windshield and blocking sunlight from passing through. His right foot was trapped, since the dashboard in front of him had collapsed onto it. His hands were okay, and he did not feel any pain requiring immediate attention other than a few bruises here and there. He located another gash on his right leg, caused once again by the dashboard, which did not hurt very much. He tried his best to remember what was going on, and once he did, he quickly turned his head to see Diane sitting in her seat, unconscious.

She had suffered major injuries. Out of those visible to Eric - a large cut above the right temple of her head, allowing blood to drain down across her face. Her arm was crushed by her broken door, and her seat belt seemed to have locked and wrapped itself tightly around her chest. It was a painful sight for Eric to see. He leaned over and turned her left arm on its side, placing his index finger onto the vein below her wrist; there was a pulse, but it was irregular. She would probably not survive a few more minutes in the wreck, and they had to get out.

In spite of the crushed roof, there was a small amount of light shining from the front of the car. He thought he would have been able to escape by forcing a few more holes through it, but he knew punching at it would have been useless. He thought of shifting into his dragon form, but he reminded himself of the control his other side had over him, which made him think twice.

Eric began to hear some commotion outside of his vehicle. He knew the accident did not go unnoticed, and that there were many witnesses outside. He also began to hear fire trucks roar in the distance. He needed to get out fast; otherwise, he would be caught by the police shortly after being set free from the wreck. After a bit of fidgeting, he was able to set his foot loose, giving him the ability to move freely around the car. He removed his seat belt, concentrated, and began to shift his upper torso into his dragon form. His snout preceded his ears, which was followed by his eyes and arms. Scales appeared everywhere and his clothing slowly "vanished". He did not want to transform completely, due to the lack of space, but he did shift his wings. He turned to his right and cut away Diane's seat belt, before moving her away from the door pushing her aside.

Then, he needed to get out. He did not want to attract any attention, since it would have gotten him into even more trouble. If he could have gotten a head start on them, he would then have been able to place Diane in a safe place, and fly off, in order to hide. Eric began by taking a deep breath, and exhaling a large breath of fire, taking precautions in order to leave Diane unharmed in the process. He continued for ten seconds, which was when he figured the metal was sufficiently weakened. His claws then served their purpose as Eric used them to gently pierce through the scrap, but not too far, in case someone was to notice from the sidelines. He managed to poke a large, square outline, deep enough to be able to be pushed out of place.

The fire truck approached closer, and came to a stop. Fire fighters began to jump out and move toward his vehicle. It was then or never. He grabbed Diane by the arm, pulled her to him, and tucked her in his arms. With immense power, he smashed into the square he carved, and took flight, away from the rubble. Gasps and yells of surprise erupted from the sidewalks, which led to the police's guns being lifted out of position, and aimed toward Eric. Something he noticed very quickly was that the pain of the gunshot wound he had suffered during the police chase was back to haunt him, as his flight skills became increasingly impaired. Every wing flap hurt him more and more, and he did not know how much longer he would be able to last.

Gunshots were heard, and bullets zoomed past him, each missing its target thanks to Eric's "zigzag" maneuverability. The strain on his back became unsustainable for Eric very quickly, and after a mere dozen meters of flight, he aimed for an alley between two buildings. Police cars activated their sirens to warn people to move, as Eric tried to land without his tail. He did so smoothly, but came near to falling when Diane's weight pushed him downward. He ran across the alley with her body in his arms, and saw another alley to cross into. Eric took cover behind the wall forming it, placed Diane a little farther down the wall, took his gun out of his pocket, and slid against the wall, waiting for the cops to come.

His wings ached even at ease, which in his view rendered them unusable. He decided to leave them to rest, and shift his tail and legs into place, while he got ready for the bombardment of officers coming his way. It took a few seconds, but finally, they pulled over near the side of Northern Boulevard, and went silent. This gave Eric a moment to realize he only had four bullets left; he had used two of the six available back in Wilkes-Barre, and was about to encounter a truckload of police officers. He did not stand a chance. They had loads of weapons in their arsenal, and he only had two-thirds of one. He decided to do what he would soon regret for a long period of time; allow his other side to take over.

...

Echo was one of the best teams in the country. They were highly skilled in every department; speed, detection, aim, experience, and power. But never had they ever even imagined a scenario where they would have been face to face with a dragon. Nevertheless, they took the upper hand and ordered the police force to stay back and calm the crowd, while they took care of Eric.

Markus and his squad placed their riot helmets on and walked slowly through the alley. Hand signals were their only method of communication, since the slightest sound could reveal their location, and it was not the time to make mistakes. Cautiously, they made their way to the "intersection" of the alley, and hugged both walls. The two at the front got near the edge, and with the help of hand signals, began to count down from three, giving time for the squad to prepare for a surprise attack. Before they had the chance to reach to one, two gunshots were heard. Everyone jumped out of the way and turned to see two dead bodies, a wound to each head. Immediately, someone shouted.

"He's on the roof!"

Everyone ran for cover behind what little they had as the dragon fired two other stray bullets; the first missing someone by a few inches, and the second attaining a member in the back of the leg, immobilizing him. Shots were fired back at the suspect, who avoided them just in time. Silence followed soon after that. Suddenly, a member of the squad found Diane's body lying on the ground. Everyone was too occupied to notice, so the member cautiously decided to bring her to safety himself. Before he even got the chance to lift her corpse off of the ground, the dragon jumped off of the roof above onto him, killing him under his weight. The other members quickly took notice of this and rapidly drew their guns, but the dragon picked up the dead body just as fast, and pulled it in front of its body, utilizing it as a shield from the bullets. He then grabbed the automatic rifle from the body and shot it with one hand. Even with a very low accuracy, he managed to hit two members without killing them, before they took cover.

When the gunfire ceased, the remaining 13 members took another glimpse into the alley, only to find nothing. Markus found this irritating; the beast had taken three of the best gunmen in the country out in a mere 15 seconds. He had taken advantage of the corners and rooftops, and almost seemed invisible to them. The squad subsequently decided to split into four groups of three and four members, in order to better cover the area. Each went their separate ways, covering all sides; front, back, and above.

Frank led his group through the western alley. They did not bother taking care of the dead female's body, since it was clearly an opportunity for the dragon to strike. The leader directed his group calmly through the dark corridor, watching each intersection very closely for any movements. They continued to look for him for several more minutes, which led Frank to fear the dragon had begun attacking the other three groups. Suddenly, a swooping sound was heard, and as the team turned around, they faced the dragon flying straight toward them from a nearby rooftop and discharging a steaming hot jet of fire, which caught onto their leather armor and engulfed them fairly quickly. The dragon landed a few feet away from them, and turned around to watch them drop to the ground, rolling to rid of the fire. He took this chance to grab the rifles the group had in their hands, and flew back up onto the rooftop to face the other members of the team.

The ten remaining members heard the yells of agony, and began turning back from where they were going in order to locate the dragon's new position. Fortunately, Markus had a better idea. Upon seeing a ladder leading to the top of the roof, he signaled a group of four to climb up, and see if they could initiate one of their own sneak attacks. The front man led the way, sawed-off shotgun in hand, followed by a rifleman, and two other sharpshooters. The ladder was fairly long, forcing them to climb about eight meters up the building. Once again, the front man watched above, the middle men watched both sides, and the bottom man watched the ground.

While they were preparing for the sneak attack, Markus' group tried to produce intentional noise, in order to distract the dragon. This seemed to have worked, because they soon heard a noise from above, which made each of the three members react, and point their guns in the air, looking for any sign of the dragon. They heard nothing but silence for a few seconds, but noticed its silhouette fly above the roofs, in direction of the ladder. A squad member who reacted quickly took aim and fired a few stray bullets, missing his target.

"He knows where you are! Get out of there!"

It was too late. Shortly after shouting the sentence, gunshots were heard, as a gunfight erupted. The team on the ladder clearly did not have room as an advantage, and when the fighting ceased, silence once again reigned, clearly depicting the dragon as the winner. There were only six members left, and in frustration, one of the members snapped.

"Fuck this!", he swore, reaching for his pocket. A grenade appeared in his hand, and he placed it to his mouth, ripping the metal trigger out of its position. Before his teammates had the chance to stop him, he launched it in direction of the prior gunfight, and heard it hit the roof. A grenade normally detonated after seven seconds, so they waited. Three seconds. Four seconds. Every member's heart pounded in their chests, waiting to see if he had succeeded. Five seconds. A small shadow appeared on the wall beside them. Six seconds. Their eyes grew wide as they saw an object fall from the same space it had been thrown into. Seven.

A large explosion was heard, and the remaining group of three saw it with their own eyes. Markus and his team stood in place, flabbergasted. 13 men killed in 20 minutes. If they all failed to kill him, how could three men? Markus thought long and hard, before finally realizing how impossible it would have been to face a dragon in such a confined place such as the one he was standing in. He asked his remaining men to escape the area. He did not feel the need to risk their lives when there was no chance of survival. Hesitant, the two members left Markus alone in the dark alley, running toward Northern Boulevard, while remaining cautious of their surroundings. Markus spoke.

"Alright Eric", he called, loud enough for his opponent to hear. "You've killed every member of my team. You've humiliated me in such a way I thought was not possible. You've terrorized everyone in this country, as well as the people of Canada. You've killed many innocent people for your own gain, and now you're here. But there's one thing I noticed about you, Eric; of all the people you've killed, little were in actual combat." He raised his voice's volume, his head rotating around the area, pointed upwards. "You're a coward, Eric! A coward! If you had the guts, you'd come down here, face to face with me, and fight me like a man."

Seconds later, a thud was heard from behind Markus. He turned around to face the dragon, wings folded, with no weapons. His trademark glowing eyes were all too familiar for Markus, who knew he was in berserk mode. An indifferent face greeted him, as Markus grinned.

"That's what I thought."