Callan couldn’t believe he went along with the mystery man’s orders, he had grabbed a dress that had somehow fit like a glove and happened to be a violently virulent shade of bright pink. That alone was galling. Even more was being passed off to two other men just along the road. They looked like the rough and tumble sort that belonged to biker gangs or PMCs. One went by Goat and the other went by Steel.

Goat was a man of average hight and build, bald save for a thick goatee. He had deep brown eyes and particularly gnarled hands. He loudly proclaimed his name what not because he was the greatest but because he could eat damn near anything and live. The thick creole accent straight from the swamplands made it all the more believable.

Steel was an older African American man with a dense build and large frame. His motions may have been cautious and gentle but the set of his eyes spoke of violence waiting for purpose. He had bright blue eyes and deep scars crossing his face, lending his demeanor and even more hellish cast.

It was Goat who spoke first, “Top, tell me you haven’t sunk so low as to go sampling the local cuisine. Cause heshe is not all that pretty. Oh damn it even looks like you brought a to go bag from the hotel, or did you steal all the towels again?”.

Steel spoke next with a bass rumble that fit him all too perfectly. “Shut up. I smell extra duty and your big fat mouth probably landed us in it tits deep. What’s the story Top?”.

The mystery man came to a halt next to the other men. “First of all, heshe was Firecracker’s date not mine. After all she went for the deep kiss with more balls the both of you. As for extra duty, my old friend Steel is right, you two have escort duty for the princess in pink. He is due at Kirby Cove for a ride out of the US and you know I would do it but I’m just so damn busy and you lay abouts just happen to be available so I figure why the hell not.”

Callan knew how to play a crowd from his time doing street performances. He had no intention of letting these people walk over him or treat him like he didn’t exist. Knowing full well the move may earn him a beating and way more than a bruised ego. He walked over to Goat with as much of a seductive walk as he could manage in six inch stilettos and wrapped arms and a leg around his chosen victim, caressing his face with one hand while speaking in his deepest register and the stereotypical lisp, a difficult combination but quite effective. “It’s ok to be afraid little man, I’m way more than you can handle, yet I’ll be gentle just for you.” Topping off the statement with a mimed kiss.

Then things went south as Goat reached up and seized some of Callan’s hair in a fist. “You want to play this game of chicken gay boy? We play it in the Army sometimes and tell you what, I ain’t never lost.” Goat didn’t mime a kiss, he dove tongue deep with zero hesitation. Callan didn’t recoil but didn’t play into it. The taste of bourbon and fast food was vomit worthy enough, the thought of playing this to the hilt was even more so.

Kiss finally broken, Goat licked Callan’s cheek before speaking again. “Tell me, little bro, when I make you cry tonight and I put those tears in a bottle and make a necklace, are you going to wear it or am I?” Goat gave Callan a hard slap on the ass before shoving him away.

How Callan maintained balance and dignity he had no idea, he just responded fluidly. “Neither, and that is a kiss not worth waking up for. Hell, Firecracker did better and I was too unconscious to know what was going on.”

Firecracker snorted a laugh in surprise, and surprisingly the mystery man joined in as well.

The leader turned to Callan, “I promised we would take over for Arty’s plan. These two knuckleheads will escort you. One has been with me from the beginning and, despite what you’ve seen, Goat is a damn fine operator. Kind of a Jack of all trades guy. We are getting you to Kirby Cove for handoff. From there I’m sure you’ll get to where you need to be. I am Tobias by the way, you ever pop back up state side and require assistance, find your way to Killian California. Someone there should be able to help out or get word to me. Oh, and if one of my daughters happen to be there, don’t bark up that tree. Anything of you they leave left, I will handle personally.” It was a humorous smile, except for the cold promise of far worse than death, that Tobias showed Callan.

Goat spoke into the empty silence that had followed. “Damn Gay Boy, you fucked, and not in no good way either.”

Callan sighed. “That my nickname or whatever you assholes call it?”

It was Steel who answered. “It’s Callsign, and it’s yours till the day you die Gay Boy. You roll with us and you roll with the best, and worst.” Steel pulled out a cigar and fished for a lighter.

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Callan had the irresistible urge to show off, he had a trick with a hidden lighter that he could do but he was obviously lacking. He focused on the idea of flames dancing on his finger tips and not burning himself. He reached out feeling heat course from his heart to his hand as he moved, he closed his eyes and pictured the spark of a zippo. “Need a light?”, Callan opened his eyes and saw nothing but cocked eyebrows and questioning glances. Pissed, he focused on the heat in his hand and, in a moment of inspiration, exhaled.

This caused his energy to circulate and essentially spark the lighter. A steady blue flame danced above his fingertips in a livid flash, most flinched back. Steel and Tobias however didn’t, instead they had impressed expressions and calculating gazes.

Muttering around the cigar while he lit it off Callan’s flame, “This ain’t going to turn me gay, is it Gay Boy? I mean I know you’re flaming but turn down the literalism in your life a bit before you end up like that protesting monk.”

Callan rolled his eyes in as an exaggerated manner as possible. “Just be glad I don’t steal any of your wives, or maybe Firecracker? I’m certain she may fall for me, shitty kisser or not, she has already had a taste and seen me naked.” He had subtly moved to her side as he spoke. Resting an arm around her heavily muscled shoulders.

She reacted in a way he didn’t anticipate. Firecracker reached around and gripped the cheek hard enough he flinched, when she spoke her voice was dripping with false pity. “Oh, Gay Boy, go back to your bored housewives and househusbands, you are trying to fight way too far above your weight class. Toughen up a whole metric fuckton and we may talk, but for now, even a magic eight ball won’t give you a good response no matter how hard you shake it.” This prompted another round of laughter, more genuine and tension relieving.

It seemed Tobias had had enough however, cutting into the the laughter with the voice of command. “Alright, enough meet and greet. Entry team press on to the safe house. Security, you two fuck sticks get Gay Boy here to Kirby Cove for handoff time now. Sooner he is somewhere else, the sooner he is someone else’s security risk.”

The dispersal was instant. Silently people moved on with grim faces and weapons at the low ready. Callan was escorted by the arms to a waiting truck, a beat up Ford ranger that looked to belong in the nineteen nineties. It even had the jump seats behind the driver and passenger. It was there that Goat stuffed him. It was not an easy fit.

The ride the the cove was uneventful, besides being winding and at a breakneck pace.

They parked away from the entrance to the campground, concealing the truck in the bushes and kudzu. Goat and Steel were carrying some form of sub machine guns at the high ready and scanning for threats as they moved into the woods toward the abandoned World War Two artillery site. The plan was to hole up there and wait for the handoff just before dawn.

They made it to the battery without incident, Steel and Goat’s vigilance didn’t cease or relax. Callan looked to break the boring silence that had dragged on for an eternity of several minutes. “How did you meet your glorious leader Steel?”

Steel grunted and whispered the response, “Tried to break into his house. He invited me and Bolt in for a drink with him and his wife.”

Silence lingered on like a dying breath. Callan prodded for more, “That’s all you got? No more detail?”

Steel gave his singular response. “Nope.”

Callan huffed and moved on to questioning Goat, “What about you Goat brain? How did you meet the man of mystery himself? The guy could probably make a fortune off of selling his stories to unsolved mysteries. He is probably in an episode am I right?”

Goat started to reply yet before he could speak he face erupted in a fountain of blood and bone. Like most assaults this came without warning, Callan fell back in shock with blood and bone spattering his face and hair, while a being filled the doorway. He had no idea what it could be beyond horrifyingly ugly and overly muscled.

Steel reacted almost instantly, a testament to his years of training and experience. He oriented on the being and fired with precision a metronome would envy, and accuracy that would make Artemis blush in shame. The creatures eyes vanished in black spurts. Black began to gush from chest wounds, yet the creature didn’t flinch nor cry out.

It strode forward silently, tossing aside Steel with ease. Callan could hear bones break. The creature now stood before him, ruptured sockets staring blankly down at him. An invasive thought crept through Callan’s mind, that he was going to die or worse be dragged back to Morrigan. Then his fury came forward. Callan shouted and not only words came forth but a piercing jet of bright white flame as well, “I am a FUCKING DRAGON!”

The creature practically melted in the intense heat. The flame even melted the concrete like glass.

When everything quieted down, save the occasional crackle of cooling concrete, Callan could hear this very shrill beeping. Steel got up and pointed out the door, speaking as if nothing had occurred or that he had even been injured. “Ride’s here Gay Boy, get to the beach, I’ll watch your back. If they had more here they would have hit us with it, most likely, but I’m not taking that chance. When you’re gone I’ll watch over Goat. I hope you never took him serious, we like you kid, now book it, don’t look back and get yourself out.”

Callan did as ordered cursing himself as a coward. This wasn’t his fight, at least not yet. He vowed to get revenge on Morrigan all over again.

The sand was gentle and soft on his bare skin. A dinghy was waiting on the beach with a man in a naval uniform. He spoke with arrogance, “Welcome aboard princess, my boys sure are going to love you.”

Callan’s only reply was “Fuck you, I watched a good man die.”

The man in uniform sobered his tone. “We all have, son, we all have. Hop on in, you got a ways to go.”