Prequel

By Mr. David R. Dorrycott

Dragonet, a new Hero or dark Evil?

Reporter: Thomas Maxium Feilding

Lizards... It was rarely lizards that people thought of when needing help. In fact, it is almost never lizards one turns to. Oh yes, mad costumed figures with odd powers, the police and even occasionally the rare true hero has arrived to save the day. Once or twice one might even call the military.

But lizards?

Yet those who studied the ancient legends were always aware of hints, whispers, odd glimpses into some forgotten legend. For this land the Dragon would always send a child to defend. Defend what? Whom? Dragons were never in Australian legends, a rarity among Earths nations. No feathered serpents are found painted on walls, no great leather winged reptiles weave there ways through stories, no flame breathing dragon stands carved as if high in the skies. Oh there was the Great White Evil that had been destroyed. But that had been centuries, perhaps millennium before any white man had glimpsed Australia’s shores. Much less stepped upon them. Then why these whispers? Why the barely noticed hints?

During the colonial days, when England shipped her convicts South to force colonize this, Earths smallest continent, one man had stood against the English army in its oppression. At least it was claimed to have been a man. A man wearing perhaps a croc’s skin with made up wings of roo hide. No one believed the stories that this ‘man’ could fly, only that he helped crush the English hold by striking at English patrols oppressing ‘Free’ colonists.. When the troubles ended ‘Croc Man’ seemed to have vanished.

When Germany and Japan became an aggressor in World War II yet another stood with those few costumed crime fighters standing for good. This man too was thought to wear a croc skin, to have recreated or rediscovered the original ‘Croc Man’s’ costume. He drifted across the skies at night, helping keep the peace while military forces strove this time not to oppress the Australian people, but save them from destruction. He too vanished when the troubles ended. Or was thought too have. There were rare reports of his existence until well into the sixties. Those few crime fighters who continued to work after the war admitted they had met him, worked with him. Then those stories too passed, replaced by more popular reports of UFO’s. Flying Saucers. Aliens from Mars come to invade. For man had entered space, having done so the public’s mind followed.

Silence followed, the stories forgotten by all but a handful. Then again in the seventies another ‘croc man’ appeared. This one worked with another small group of heros, helping fight crime. Photographs of this one seemed to prove he wasn’t wearing a costume either. Adventurers and scientists soon fanned out, searching the outback for some ancient forgotten tribe of reptiles. Some tribe of perhaps intelligent descendants of dinosaurs. Though no one found any such evidence (we won’t dwell on the obvious frauds) this new ‘croc man’, as all others before, rarely had contact with the public other than to leave some battered criminal in front of a police officer. So rumors abounded.

One popular rumor was of a mist shrouded magical valley only ‘true believers’ could enter. Another of a strange magical stream that could change any human into a flying reptile, but only for a night. Yet the one taken most seriously was of ancient caverns, deep near or below the city where such a tribe could exist undetected. This rumor slowly became story, then legend. It had within it all the ‘facts’ needed to explain a mysterious appearing then disappearing flying ‘croc man.’ Why he would only be seen at night, never day. One born and raised underground would have little protection from the sun of course. It also explained how he could vanish without a trace. Searches even discovered a few deep natural caverns though none showed any evidence of habitation. At least not in the last twenty-thousand years. Still the entrance had to be nearby. This supposed entrance had to be located, even our military became involved for a short time. Yet like all other such attempts to locate what did not exist each project closed with ‘No Evidence’ stamped on its folders. About all these searches proved was that yes, there were previously unknown caverns deep under the city but no, there was no way short of drilling to access them.

It seem’s however that no one ever bothered to examine any of the long abandoned mines dotting their cities hills. At least, not those held on private lands.

Now a new age is upon us. Dusting off piles of long ignored texts we discover this new reptile ‘hero’ bears much resemblance to those of pasts days, yet perhaps not as much as we should expect. This reptile however is more open, has permitted close examination by qualified medical people. This reptile is no male, is no croc and certainly has no roo hide wings. For this reptile is a woman. More importantly, medical evidence places her body more in the genius of True Dragon than croc or dinosaur. And she has no fear of the Sun as did the older incarnations.

So we are left with a mystery. What are these heros who are more reptile than human. Have they accidently stumbled across some element, some ancient water or device that changes them forever into this form? Why always as a force for good? One would expect at least one of this line to have been a criminal, yet none are. This leaves us wondering about our new visitor. A creature once human, mentally still human. Did she retain her soul or is she, as some Priest’s are already claiming, an embodiment of the evil one. A succubus sent to try mens souls, to turn us from God? Is she still human?

This reporter isn’t certain, yet this reporter has seen with his own eyes the one called Dragonet enter a church of her own free will. To display respect, to offer communion with God. Certainly had she been what is claimed she would have been destroyed. Wouldn’t she?

Dragonet

by Lord Rees

Interrogation;

Blanca Martinez stared sullenly at the length of black rubber hose laying before her. Standing across from her was the woman who’d just finished using it on her. Parts of the dark skinned women’s body ached, some screamed, as she had. It was all an act of course, though a painful one. Taking a deep breath she leaned back, giving arches time to become dull throbs. “Glad that’s over” she whispered. “You hit hard Lieutenant.”

“Husband was SAS” her taller interrogator admitted, her voce a honey soft sound tinged with concern. “Before he went and died. Didn’t hurt you too bad did I?”

“A little” Blanca admitted. “I say anything?”

“You don’t remember?” the rooms third occupant asked, stunned surprise spiced his voice. Detective Arnold Whitman glanced at the notes in front of him, somewhat green faced. “Name, rank, serial number” he admitted. “Or what it comes to. Nothing more.”

“Thanks Sam. Faded out there at the last, when she started getting...” She coughed softly, spitting out blood. “Imaginative. Think they’ll buy it?”

“I would” Lieutenant Mary Williams admitted. “Your tough, I’ll give you that. What do you have for us?”

“Got in with the Professor” Blanca answered. “Coca?” She waited until the older, more attractive woman fetched a waiting mug filled with hot coca, drinking it down greedily. “Can’t seem to get enough of this stuff lately” she sighed. Prof’s doing business with Dabber, Stoned Man and Mad Mage to name three. Bunch of others, maybe ten, twelve more.”

“Big time” Whitman whispered. “What we’ve been looking for.”

“Nother thing. Prof’s got two inside men. Narcotics. Thompson and Bellows.”

“WHO?” William’s asked, her voice louder than it needed to be. “Your sure?”

“Gave Bellows tha cash myself last month. Thompson was siting in their car waitin. Should have heard what he called me, bad cop, worse. More coca?”

“That explains our leaks” Whitman agreed, “Makes sense. Bellows I can understand, he’s always had a problem with gambling. Thompson... Maybe. Since his wife left him he’s been odd. Might explain things. What about Dabber and the rest?”

Blanca swallowed her coca slowly this time, obviously savoring its thick taste. “Dabber’s the right honorable Reverend Lucas Lo Lee. He deals through his confessional. Mad Mage is somewhere in town, keeps himself low profile. Word is he’s got some big shot’s daughter as a play toy. Not much on Stoned Man yet. Other than both Professor and Dabber consider him insane. Too dangerous to deal with directly.”

“Reverend Lucas Lo Lee” Lt. Williams laughed, “Now there’s a joke. Old fire and brimstone himself. Anti-this, anti-that. Can’t think of anything he’s for except spouting hate. I sure never would have expected him. I’ll have a team on him long enough after your free to let suspicion off you. Thompson and Bellows though, they have to go.”

“Better pick one to ‘let off light” Blanca warned. “Prof already knows he’s got a leak. Let him think one of them’s it, he’s just arrogant enough to believe it. Given a choice I’d say Thompson, I like him. Liked his wife too. She was awfully nice to me when you were setting me up. Wouldn’t believe I was bad, kept wanting me to fight it. Her husband even gave me money just before I ‘lost it.’ Guess she found out he was dirty. That’s a good reason to leave a husband.”

“One of the few” Williams agreed. “Look, you’ve been on this what? A year now? It’s time to bring you in. Why not after we get this Professor? You need rest and I’ll be honest, pounding on you made me sick.”

“Your not the only one” Whitman agreed. “Remember, Theresa and I go way back. All the way to fifth grade.”

“Blanca Sam, until I’m out of this. No slips, it’s my life. Okay. I know he’s got an important party lined up tomorrow night. I’ll leave a message givin yah tha details, where we’re at an stuff, soon’s I’ve got our stuff. After that... After that I’m out. He’s been slipping me stuff. Not drugs, something else. I get rashes, odd feeling inside me like things are moving around. No more narcotics for me. Better a meter maid than any more of this. ”

“Then we pull you out now” Williams decided. “I don’t like the sound of this. Not knowing your exact location is bad enough. It was pure luck you got caught up in that sweep.”

“Not luck” Blanca admitted with a weak grin. “No... not until we have him. I want his books, there someplace in that basement but the only time we go down there is when he plays Frankenstein.”

“Frankenstein? What? How.” Whitman asked.

“Prof got the name Professor because he was an United States medical researcher. Sometimes he talks about genetics. How little things can change our whole bodies. He’s been working with all kind of animals. Not just drugs for the market. Something else. Somthin really sick. I want him on more than just drug charges.”

Williams walked over, setting another mug of hot coca in front of her undercover officer. Kneeling beside her she reached out, touching a thin hand. “If that’s true your in dangerous territory. Mind altering drugs are one thing. If he’s playing with genetics, you could end up dead. Real dead. Or worse, unable to have normal kids.”

“Its only a week most Mam” Blanca argued. “Can’t do much to me in a week, not since he needs me for his business. I’m his trusted numbers girl, payoff runner, Jill of all trades. He can’t afford to lose me now.” She tried to laugh, ended up coughing. “Sides Doc says I’m okay. Bit malnourished but okay. Least I’m not hooked on some drug. After the party, I’ll call that number. Give you the word.”

Detective Arnold Whitman looked down at the undernourished woman sitting in front of him. “That’s it then, you’ll be on the street with the rest of them by morning.”

William’s sighed as she picked up the black hose. “One more, then...” She swung, the impact knocking Blanca to the rooms floor. Opening a door behind her Williams looked out. “Officer, we’re through with this one. Throw her back in her cell.”

The Cell;

‘Blanca Martinez’ stumbled to her hands and knees as the cells door slammed behind her. A dozen hands turned her on her back, examined her, then helped her to one of the cells beds. “Worked you over didn’t they?” an older women’s voice asked.

“Yeah. Got nothin. Get nothin” she whispered back. Her ribs hurt where Williams had used the rubber hose. Her face worse from the last strike. It’d bruise badly. Still if the Professor, her ‘boyfriend’, needed proof... A simple examination of her body would give him all he needed. A few bruises were nothing compared to what would happen to her if someone broke her cover. “Heal. Word?”

“Words we get out inna morn. No hard charges. Nothin more than suspect. Damn, they hit you there?”

Blanca tried to laugh, ended up coughing. “Made a pass at tha black woman. She’s cute.” She coughed again, doubling up more as an act than in real pain. “She’s straight.”

“Hell” a younger voice laughed. “I couldah tod you that. Mean too. Where you going when they let us out?”

“Home” Blanca whispered, exhaustion beginning to take over.

“Not back to him. God woman, he’s killin yah.”

“I know” were her last words before she fell into a fitful slumber.

The Professor;

Across town, nearly at the same time Detective Barlow was visiting ‘The Professor.’ “You are absolutely certain?” a tall pale man asked. His visitor nodded, yanking an envelope from his jacket.

“Read an weep” he answered in a gruff voice. “Kids deep cover. Found it in Williams desk lessa’n hour ago. All there. Look, I gotta go. Thompson’s getting nosey. Can’t be missing too long.”

His host opened took the envelope, noting absently the words ‘To be opened upon my death’ written in a delicate, fine hand. “Go then. I’ve a party tomorrow. Certain want-to-be important people. Eleven o’clock please. Be there, we will deal with her then.”

“You need someone tah dump the body right?”

“I believe five thousand should cover your expenses.”

“Aus or US?”

“American my police friend. As always.” The man known as ‘Professor’ watched his paid for police officer hurry away. Pity he thought, that Thompson wasn’t the kind to join his partner Barlow. Still... It had been cheaper. Shutting his door he read as he walked, mentally making notes. It did explain her fitness, alert mind and intelligence he decided later, quietly feeding the pages into a shredder. “Police officer” he whispered, opening a notebook on his desk. “So sad, little Blanca was doing so well on treatment. Now I must expend her. Move on.”

There would be others he could experiment upon. Still she had been so promising, the changes were already unmistakable. Things only he knew to look for. Little things like the color of her eyes, hair... Her skin changing slightly. Even the small humps on her back where... He sighed, clearing his thoughts. A

few more months and he’d have been certain beyond reproach. Would have been able to return to his people with living proof. Now...

Ah well, she was after all nothing but a half breed. Certainly not pure stock. Of course he’d have to cover his tracks again. Barlow had to go as well. Too bad about the couples tomorrow. This business was sometimes rough. Certainly in his position they would understand. He’d know it would have eventually come to this, had already prepared to leave. Still he’d hoped to take his current pet with him. Now that was changed. Quietly he began to pack his important papers, carefully destroying what he wouldn’t need. There would be plenty of time to try again, in his brand new hidden desert lab. He’d simply have to pick up a few laboratory animals on his way.

Der Fuhrer would understand a slight delay. Time to fall back into character.

Days Later;

Light, shadow. Layers of darkness slowly lifting. Within the basement room lay two bodies. One moved, the other was long cold. Eyelids flickered, lips opened. Memories awakened.

‘Gonna be ah great trip baby, promise. My own newest design, cooked it up last night from my own brainstorm. Gonna make us rich. Wild stuff babe.’

Those words still echoed through the young women’s head as she woke. Echoed as if down long empty passages. Returning in varying levels of sound from whispers to stone shattering bellows. Every muscle of her body was sending pain messages, her mouth tasted like she’d been chewing aluminum foil. Barely opening her eyes she closed them quickly, even what little light made its way into her ‘boyfriends’ basement was like an arc lamp burning through her brain.

Carefully she tried to move, her limbs felt like leaden lumps. It was the last time she’d play helpless experimental captive with... with... She hunted for names, even those last words were beginning to slip away in her pain. What was her boyfriends name anyway? It wasn’t like she hadn’t been seeing him for over half a year. She knew it as well as... as... Oh God, what was her name? Theresa, Theresa Mendez. Undercover officer for the narcotics squad. On deep assignment. Yes, at least that hadn’t been lost to her.

“What’d you do to me” she croaked, her own voice sounding loud, alien in her ears. Sandpaper rasped her throat, even that minor effort to talk had left her exhausted. Her voice sounded higher, thinner. Helpless she could only wait until her body recovered. Mind spinning she made every effort to remember last night. It had been last night right? It felt like a long time had passed. Events came in a slowly clearing haze, fragmentary. A party, not too many people. Lots of alcohol, then people passing out, laying on sofas, pillows. Yet no faces. No names. Herself drunk. No, drugged. She hadn’t had that much, alcohol was something she hated. Had drunk a single small glass only because it was her cover. He had helped her downstairs. Something about she was letting him play his Frankenstein game of chemicals and electricity.

Nothing else came to her bidding, even that felt more dream than reality. Her eyes felt sand caked, absently she reached over to rub them. Lead filled arms seemed lighter, still the effort was almost more than she could manage. Sleep fell from caked eyelids. Again opening her eyes, saw something on the floor in front of her. A shape, odd. Like nothing she’d seen before. Pulling her other hand towards her she lifted her head slightly, bringing what lay near her into better view.

Screams of horror soon filled the basement.

An Investigation;

“That’s five bodies, if their bodies” Detective Arnold Whitman told the man standing near him. Andrew Williams, another Detective, grunted. Williams was Homicide, Whitman narcotics. Often their departments overlapped. Like today. Now their partners were downstairs comparing notes. Whitman’s normally gruff ‘seen it all’ voice was edged with an unnatural weakness. His companion, fresh from outside, where he’d emptied his own stomach twice now, only nodded in agreement. Five people, all young adults. At least from the id’s they’d uncovered. What they had found had been something out of a cheap science fiction movie. Bodies sprouting odd limbs, internal organs now horribly outside, as if it were natural. At first they’d thought it was a movie set, until the smell hit them.

Down in the basement it’d been worse, the rooms restricted airflow had kept the smell inside. It’d been four days since these people had died. In that four days mother nature had been busy. Very busy. Neither man could look long at the single body. Not without running upstairs and outside. “So where’s the other one” Detective Thomas Barlow, Whitman’s partner asked. Flipping open his notebook he read a name. “Blanca Martinez, age twenty four.” He indicated a point near the last body, “Had to have been there from the mess. So where is she?”

“Donno” Jacob Thomas admitted. “Maybe she melted?” He was William’s partner, his personality subject to poor jokes. “Think about it though, wake up, see this” He waved towards a mass of rotting flesh and bones that looked more like some seven eyed alien bear than a human, “What would you do?”

“Run. Run as fast and as far away as I could” his companion admitted. “APB on her family, friends, workplace. If we can find her we can figure out what happened here.”

“Maybe” Thomas agreed, walking over to what had been a large glassware assembly. “Maybe she just went mad. Or maybe she did it and ran. Wish I knew what this had been, looks like a mad mans chemistry set. Like the set of some old Hammer film. Maybe the lab boys can figure it out.”

Flight, Fear, Time Passes;

Darkness cloaked the city, darkness and a thick layer of fog. Deep in fog, floating through the cities night glow a strange reptilian shape drifted. Shifting course to pick up altitude from updrafts caused by each buildings heat she wandered. Afraid to look for help, afraid not to. What had once been an adventuresome young woman named Theresa Mendez was now something else. Something out of both nightmare and fantasy. There was no way she could go home, no way she could return to narcotics. As an undercover officer for the city she’d been working to track down a new drug supply , had been days away from making the bust. Now....

Her head turned, looking over towards one wide wing now sprouting from her once unmarked back. Near madness had taken her, it’d been days before she came to her senses. Now... What could she do? Banking right she drifted towards an abandoned area of town, one she knew wasn’t even on the planning boards radar yet. Deep in its broken glass and steel skeletons of buildings was an unused water tower, a tower she now called home. Maybe if she could contact Millennium Man or Mysteria. One of them might help her. But how, short of becoming a criminal, could she find them? And why had wings grown from her back? Why not her arms like a bat? Questions spun through her head until she was nearly dizzy.

She knew she needed serious help getting her head straight, and fast.

Nearly a week later Theresa, or the thing that had been her stood silently on what was left of a rotting metal catwalk. Far below her, where her abandoned water towers legs came to rest in mounds of garbage, several young men stood talking.

“Young men” she whispered to herself, knowing fully that those so far below her were nothing but street punks. Wanna be gang-bangers who’s idea of respect was completely one sided. What they were doing could be anything, chatting about the weather... a soft snort of amusement crossed that subject off her list. A drive by, party, girls, territory... any of hundreds of things. Not one legal.

Once an undercover police officer she was now... Looking at her arms Theresa had to admit, anything but human. Under the suns bright gaze her skin glistened as if made of uncounted tiny gems. Scales she knew, scales so fine they almost felt like skin. A rustle reminded her of leather covered wings that now adorned her back. No more swimsuits for her. No more admiring looks as she worked on a tan. Somehow Theresa was certain her new body couldn’t tan anyway.

Slipping back into the cooler darkness of the tanks interior she settled down just outside the suns reach. Too much sun overheated her, she started feeling weak. It was heat and cold, not light and dark that was now her enemy. No longer able to sweat she lost heat by her wings, and gained it. Too much heat and she’d pass out. When Winter came she’d better have found a new place to live, cold was going to be a terrible enemy to her if she couldn’t find a way to control her heat problem.

“Am I a reptile?” she asked herself, her new voice echoing slightly within the old concrete walls. “I’m not human, but I’m warm blooded still. Didn’t Dr. Hargonson say reptiles are cold blooded?” Her wings fluttered, the way her new body shrugged. She could glide but not fly. At least no attempt to flap her wings had produced results. They reached all the way to her ankles when fully open, with off knobs on the leading edge that allowed her to grip them, giving her more control. Thank goodness she wasn’t afraid of heights.

She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. Asking herself such questions wouldn’t get her any answers. Anyway, she could feel her body changing, becoming better suited to its new shape. Whatever concoction had been given to her and the others had caused massive changes. Like she’d been twisted up inside and out, de-evolved and re-evolved into something new. “At least I still don’t have a taste for Princess blood” she laughed, staring out into the late afternoon sky. “Or breath flames. And maybe this problem will fix itself.”

Sanity had been a near casualty of her change. Only her sense of humor had saved her mind from twisting into a darkness she’d never recover from. Only her hope that a cure could be found kept her sane, for the moment. Later other things would help, still it would probably always be an uphill battle against madness. Digging in trash cans for food hadn’t helped either. Right now however, she’d nearly kill for a burger and fries.

Darkness took its own sweet time coming. With darkness came the ability to move freely. Those below almost never looked up, those that did could hardly see her dim shape against the night sky. Flickering through the cities sky Theresa knew where she was headed. A friends apartment, a friend currently in New York on business. She needed human contact, any human contact. Even a phone call. There was someone she could call, someone who would talk not shoot first. Maybe he could help.

“Detective Whitman” answered a tired voice almost an hour later. “How can I help you.”

“Arnold. This is Theresa. Theresa Mendez. Can we talk?”

“Theresa? Where the hell are you” the older man asked, his voice telling her he was suddenly very awake. “And what’s wrong with your voice?”

“I... I can’t say” she admitted, pausing long enough for another drink of fresh brewed ice tea. “I was working undercover. Something happened. I... I can’t come back. Ever. But I need help.”

“Someone inside dirty?” Whitman asked. He and Theresa had worked together nearly two years. They were good friends. At least he thought they were.

“Northshore Elementary, second floor, room two ten” she answered. “One hour. Alone if you can, with the army if you need too.”

“One hour” Whitman repeated before the phone went dead. Room two ten was where he and Theresa had first met in fifth grade. As he grabbed his coat Whitman remembered the years spent chasing the dark hairewd woman, only to discover he never had a chance to be anything but a friend. She’d trusted him with that. Now, he wondered. What was she going to trust him with?

Sometime Later;

“No” she whispered to the man sitting in stunned silence several yards from her. “Check the files. Almost a week ago, five dead in a horrible way up on Hightower Street. Girl named Blanca Martinez missing. That was my undercover name.”

“Oh God” Whitman groaned. “I helped cover that. Me and Barlow. You remember him of course. What the hell happened there. Are you okay? Can you... you know.... Change back? Like those comic characters?”

“My umm.. My contact, the guy we were gonna bust... He came up with some mad idea. Slipped everyone some new concoction. I never even suspected really. I woke up a long time later. A lot like this. There’s been changes since and... I almost slip into something else when I’m not paying attention. Something almost animal like. I think.” She sighed, setting down the coffee she had made for them. “I’m getting control over that, like anger management. I can’t change back and I’m scared. Real scared. But I’m still a police officer. I’m going to do what I can. I guess that’s all anyone can do right?”

Whitman’s nod was her answer. “I’ll keep quiet on this Theresa, as long as I can. I owe you that, you saved Barlow’s life once. Someone does that for you partner you owe. Can’t say why, or how. But you do. If I can help let me know. Just don’t go crazy.” He looked into his half full coffee cup. “Gonna make getting a date to the annual police bash kinda difficult ain’t it? Even worse when NASCAR comes to town next summer.”

They both managed to laugh at that, then talked quietly several more hours before going their separate ways.

Three days later;

Mad Mage watched as the last man left the warehouse he currently called home. "Losers" he yelled, knowing they'd ignore him, even if they could hear him. Of course with the battered old house trailer's doors and windows closed it was more than likely they hadn't. Not that he cared. Their leaving only meant he could get started cooking up more Meth for his buyers. He glanced at the remote wind meter. A strong steady wind from the sea. Tossing aside the skin book he'd been reading he lifted his feet off the woman laying helpless on his floor, slowly walking to the front of his tiny home. Here was his lab. A room filled with chemical equipment and supplies. The woman, his sole companion, was his experimental animal. Resetting a heavy circuit breaker he listened as the blowers started. A light wind from his back told him everything was working. Reaching over to one of the blacked out windows he popped it open. The light breeze became a steady wind. High above, on the warehouse's roof, nearly sixty feet above him the air was ejected in a steady stream. By the time it drifted back to the ground the steady on shore breeze had pushed the smell miles away.

When you cooked Meth, it stank.

Dragonet;

Dragonet, as ex-police detective Teresa Mendez had taken to calling herself, was fighting heavy winds. From the ground it was a steady, if strong breeze. At her altitude it was a battle to make headway towards the warehouse district. But she needed things, and if she stayed in her abandoned water tower they wouldn't come to her. Besides she was hungry, the kind of hunger where your stomach was trying to eat your backbone. She had three destinations, two 'clubs' and a warehouse. Since she'd be fighting the wind all night, the warehouse had to be last. Looking down she spotted the garish light marking her first target, a 'Gentlemen’s Club.' Yesterday morning she'd picked it out more from the signs than location. Its official function was self evident, the drugs sold within were another matter. Closing her wings slightly she started her landing, eventually using the winds to hover a meter above the ancient tarred surface. Dropping down with a light thump she moved towards one of the four skylights. “I’m getting good at this” she laughed softly.

Mad Mage;

Mad Mage shook his head. "Outta acid again." He walked out of the trailer, headed for his 'storage area'. A section of the warehouse where unclaimed freight was kept. His supplier used it to store the stuff he'd need. Pulling out his key ring he unlocked the gate, unconcerned if anyone might see. There wasn't a night-watchman to worry about, since he was now the night watchman. Walking in he headed for a stack of pool supplies near the back.

Dragonet;

Dragonet spent nearly an hour in the slowly building drizzle watching dancers on the stage so far below. Still, selecting a target... “No” she whispered to herself, 'An informate. Keep the labels right girl. Don’t slip any more into that strange madness. Your not Calisto”, would take more than a single hour to decide. Besides, there was that other club. The really strange Goth one. Snapping open her wings she lifted silently into the night air, turning South. She'd just reached what could be called her 'cruising altitude' when the smell hit her. Almost retching she dropped instantly to a lower altitude. Whatever it was the smell had brought images of darkness, death and evil. It was Meth, she was certain but where? No matter. Right now there were other things to worry about. A safe place to sleep for one. That, and informants

Willing or not..

Mad Mage;

Mad Mage watched the chemical reaction, his face covered in a surplus gas mask. Not that he was afraid of anything getting out of his homemade vent hood, he just didn't like the burning rubber smell. Suddenly a buzzing caught his attention. Turning in his chair he waited, pulling free a fax page as it finished. "Dabbers wants acid" he muttered as he read the 'order form.' Big party he thought. Two hundred doses in cube form. That meant he'd need sugar cubes again and there probably wasn't any in his trailer. Time to hit the employees break room again. Dabber paid cash on delivery, had never quibbled about the price and never asked questions. Mad Mage liked the guy. Unlike his other buyers Dabber was specific, showed up on time and never tried to cheat him. Not like the Stoned Man. That guy was bad news. Mad Mage never dealt with him direct, only through a series of middlemen and drops. The guy was crazy-mad. Yawning, Mad Mage turned back to his current project. Glancing at the clock he sighed. At least two more hours before he could finish.

High Castle;

Dragonet had tripped over a wire in landing, ending up flat on her back with the rain pounding down in her face. Struggling to her feet she walked over to the towers guy-wire, studying it. The same temperature as the night air it had been invisible to her new sight. She tested it, swallowing. If she'd been diving, had hit it just right... It might just be strong enough to have taken her wing off. Maybe even her head. She wasn't sure what her fantastically fast healing ability might be able to do but losing her head ought to be terminal. She noted the danger, then walked to a fire door nearby. There were no skylights here. She'd have to go in. Using one claw to slice through the battle rusted latch she opened the door and walked in.

Black Dollop Willy sat up straight as the roofs silent alarm sounded. Pressing a button he found himself looking at the slowly closing fire door, the black and white image grainy on his monitor. Turning a rheostat the camera's image changed as it spun around slowly. What he say made him gasp. A small female form walked slowly away from his camera, wings fluttering as they closed Selecting the next camera he nearly passed out. "She's real" he whispered, staring at the winged form from his dreams. Grabbing a blank tape he shoved it into a recorder, starting a record of everything that would happen. "SHE'S REAL" he yelled grabbing a phone. THE HIGH CASTLE's dreams had been answered. A real vampire had just walked into his struggling Goth club. Now if they could only keep from scaring her off.

In seconds he was talking directly with the DJ down at the main floor. Tapping buttons he followed the unaware woman as she moved through the building. Below the massive projection screen flickered, reruns of Dark Shadows vanished to a hale of complaints. Then Dragonet's image popped up with the word LIVE at one corner. Everything went quiet as partygoers realized what they were watching. Here, in their building, coming towards them, was their dream Goddess. The DJ studied Dragonet's image as he softly warned everyone not to look directly at her if she came in view. "We do not wish to frighten our Goddess" he said softly, grabbing a tape at random. "Do not point, do not scream, do not stare. I think she's headed for the North balcony. Watch the screen. Talk to each other. Dance. Do not notice her." He put on the new track, a Arabic-Galiec mix. Slow, haunting. A club favorite.

Dragonet hadn’t spotted the cleverly concealed cameras, had no idea she’d been noticed. Moving as quietly as her police training allowed she opened each door in turn. Most rooms were empty, some had old rusting or rotting office furniture. High Castle, she remembered, had been a bank once. So long ago it had been closed before her birth. Finally she reached the perfect spot to spy on the clubs proceedings, a dark platform that opened high above the floor below. A metal railing was the only thing between her and the open space beyond. A perfect place to watch the crowd, to watch for anything illegal.

Black Dollop screamed in delight, making adjustments as fast as he could. Unknown to Dragonet she was almost directly above the massive screen, in full view of a high resolution colour camera meant to pick out players on the floor far below. Her image in high resolution filled the screen. He zoomed in on her face and his heart nearly stopped. She was beautiful. The iron railing gave a scale, small yes, but... He swallowed "God" he whispered, "Those dreams were true. A Goddess come to LIFE! YEAH!" Now if only he had a mike up there. Grabbing his checklist he flipped pages, only to throw it down in disgust. The nearest mike was sixty feet away and only a cheap one meant to pick up walking noises. Useless. He watched as Dragonet's lips suddenly began to move. "She's Singin ta tha music" he gasped. And no damn mike. He stood and spun in frustration. THAT would be fixed in the morning. He'd make certain of that!

The music had ended. It wasn't exactly what she'd liked but it'd been nice. Certainly the best music she’d heard since going undercover a year ago. High above the small crowd Dragonet had noted the small crowds attention focused in her general direction. 'Can they see me?' she wondered, then realized they were looking below her. There had to be an entertainer just below her. Oh a movie screen. She couldn’t remember much about High Castle since it hadn’t been in her assigned area. Changing her location would be a mistake since she currently had a direct route out. Getting lost inside a building meant being captured. Capture was not in her plans. If her parents every found out what had happened to their youngest daughter.... She studied the crowd, all dressed in dark clothing. She didn't like blacks. Bright colors were more to her taste. Still the women were wearing tight revealing outfits and as she watched, one drew her attention. Pale skinned. Whiter than anyone else around. She wore something with a neckline that plunged well below a delicate navel. The girl suddenly started dancing with a male. She was thin, maybe half again as tall as Dragonet herself. Smaller than any of the others there. Yes Dragonet decided, after spotting the woman slip something to another dancer. She is the one. It was time to go though, Stretching her cramped muscles, wings spreading wide behind her she yawned, needle fangs dropping naturally as her mouth opened fully. Light glinted of their ivory surface, promising much to those below. Then she turned and hurried out of the building.

Everything stopped as they watched their.. THEIR vampire leave. The crowd waited, only twenty or so people but for the next minute they were one. Finally she was gone and the screen changed, a test pattern. Everyone waited until it cleared. There she was again, watching them, singing to their music, with them. And hunting. That was instantly obvious. One of them had been chosen. The building suddenly shook with voices as everyone started talking. On the screen was a single frame. Their Goddess in all her glory, skin shining, massive wings outstretched and fangs waiting hungrily. Something grand had just happened and they were there! Which of the crowd had their new Goddess chosen? Which would have to live on forever, to serve only her. Knowing only they had what she needed.

If only they suspected the truth....

Mad Mage;

Mad Mage wandered out of the Employees lounge, an unopened box of sugar cubes in his hand, a cola in the other. He was pretty rich now and since rumors were the cops were closing in on a hidden lab that meant one thing. He'd better leave by the weekend. He'd keep his contacts. The good ones, leave everything else. Especially the girl chained to his bed. She'd been his ticket to this gig. Daughter of the buildings owner she'd fallen behind in her payments. He'd tried, really nicely, to get her to pay. But she just didn't respond to the beatings. Not even when he branded her. The money just never arrived. Only begging and pleading. Finally he'd contacted Daddy. Explained things. Daddy had understood. Daddy had given him a place for his lab, a cover, a place for his supplies. Daddy really understood. Of course Daddy didn't want his pretty daughter to end up kitten chow at the zoo. Daddy never suspected his newest employee was his daughters captor. Never suspected that his missing daughter, who's weekly messages always waited on his desk, was kept in his own warehouse.

Or Daddy would have called the cops.

But he'd been here two months, the bill was long paid and she was clean. Sort of. He hadn't allowed her a drop since arriving. Except the funny stuff he made. The really experimental stuff. But it was time to pack up. Make this last delivery, get his stuff together and vanish again. Daddy's next message from his daughter would be in person. Her dismembered body artfully arranged on his desk, with a bomb wired to his chair. Yeah, leave no witness was Mad Mage's rule. He had just stepped off the metal stairs when a sound of shattering glass reached him. Mage was crazy mean but he wasn't stupid. Sprinting he headed for his home, and his shotgun.

Critical Encounter;

Dragonet dropped to the top of a stack of crates. She'd have to be careful until she knew where the guard was. Taking him out without killing him was primary. Still an officer of the law in her heart she regretted her thefts. She'd been here before, slipping out with tents, lanterns, fuel and food two nights before. She hadn't seen the guard, but then Mage had been busy all night. Playing with his toy. Feeding her his newest mixture. Recording her reactions. Tonight she wasn't going to be as lucky. Dropping to the floor she headed for her destination. A stack of cans filled with 'White Gas.' She'd hadn’t gotten any cans her first attempt. Tonight it was her main priority. Her lanterns needed it and she wanted the light.

She'd quickly reached her destination, was cutting open the heavy plastic shroud when a voice from behind froze her in place.

"Allright you. Put yer hands up an turn around." She froze, then turned slowly. "Hands UP" Mage ordered. She turned, lifting her hands slowly while studying his weapon. A scattergun. She was unsure if it would kill her or not, but she knew it would hurt. Hurt a lot. Mage noted what was behind her. "Girl? Yeah, ugly looking but yer ah girl." He waved his free hand, "Over there." Firing into a pallet of white gas would about ruin his whole night.

Dragonet moved, eventually coming to a stop in from of a pallet of foodstuffs. Mage studied her. "You must be a blood sucker" he laughed. "Tha’s great. Bet you’ll be fun. LOOSE THE CLOTHES!" Mage sucked in air as the t-shirt and shorts quickly vanished, leaving Dragonet standing wearing only two bright strips of cloth. "Wow" he hissed. "Small, but you got what I need." He reached to the back of his belt, pulling out a long knife. Reaching forward quickly he slit the cloth, watching her eyes as both strips fell to the floor. Mage stepped back, studying her form. "No hair.. skin glitters.. Scales? You a lizard?"

Scared, Dragonet shook. She could take him. Easily. But if he shot her in her head would she survive? At this range he couldn't miss. The idea of being reduced to a mindless thing, never able to avenge herself froze her in place. Froze her so long Mage was already on her, his lips crushing hers, his free hand reaching before she realized it. With a scream of outrage she bucked, spun and leapt for the pallets top.

Caught unaware Mage staggered back, his trigger finger convulsed, his weapon roared. Pellets slamming into the concrete floor just meters from his own feet. "That's it. Live or dead I'm gonna have you lizard" he yelled, swinging his weapon up. "Then I'm gonna cook yah and EAT YAH!" He fired again, catching Dragonet in the back. Lead shattered her spine. She fell, landing hard, unable to move her legs. "That's better" Mage laughed, crawling up to her position then flipping her on her back. Dragonet hardly saw him, the pain was fire in her mind.

A fire that cooled rapidly. Mage had just dropped his pants when she felt her toes tingle. 'Even nerves' she realized. As Mage started to kneel she snapped her right foot up, catching him in the groin. Mage's eyes nearly popped out of his skull at the pain. He dropped to his knees, trying to bring the blade in his right hand up. But the last thing he experienced was Dragonet's clawed hand ripping the blade, and his hand, off his arm. Then nothing but darkness.

Investigation;

Bright blue and red lights flashed on the buildings walls. Officers in police blue stood ready, weapons of all kinds covered the doors. There were just too many windows for their number to watch. "What have we got" Lieutenant Mary Williams asked as she pulled to a stop.

"A Meth lab" a young officer answered, pointing to a burning shed beside the warehouse. "And some kind of flying thing. We got a call. Weapons fire. Showed up just as it stepped onto the roof. Sgt. Martin got a shot off at it and it dropped something. Must have been a bomb because when it hit the ground..." He lifted his hands, spreading them.

"Fine" Mary snapped, popping open her door. She'd been on her way home from a dinner date, stepping out of the car her long brown legs reflected the burning shed's light. "Fire department on the way?"

The young officer brought his eyes up from those impossibly long black legs, "Yes mam, ETA's two minutes."

"Good, lets go in." She leaned into her car, getting her gun from its storage place. When she stood her companions white face was a pale shade of pink. She walked past him, only then letting herself smile. It was nice to know that at thirty plus French-Negro blood insured she still had it. Though she'd never tell that boy. He was way too young for her taste. Walking quickly, her black satin party dress fluttering around her like a living thing until she reached the Shift Sergeant's car. "Ready to go in?" she asked.

"Mam" the older man answered, absently reaching into his cars trunk to hand her a bullet proof vest. He was too busy to notice her clothing, too busy making sure the youngsters on his shift didn't make that one mistake that killed them. "Paterson" he barked.

"Right here sir."

The Sergeant turned to talk to his trooper, only then noting Mary's clothing. "You stay with the Lieutenant, she'll keep you alive."

"Yes Sir."

"And do what she says. Understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Lieutenant?"

"Yeah Sarge" Mary responded, busy with a strap.

"I like that new uniform."

She looked up, flashed a grin. "Special Occasions only. Don't expect me to waste it on just anyone."

"Yes Mam. When your ready."

She picked her weapon up from the trunk lid, "After you Sarge."

Forty minutes later she was letting the greenie haul her vest back to the car. It had been hot, heavy, chafing... and she'd heard her dress tear at least twice. She'd be sewing it back together tomorrow. If it was salvageable. They'd found Mad Mage lying in the middle of a corridor between lines of crates. He was resting in a lake of his own blood. Hardly a drop remained in him.. A lab tech had arrived and was busy photographing the scene while they waited for Detective Williams and his gear. The fire department was going over what was left of the shed, and an ambulance had hauled off what was left of the girl. She hadn't been touched by Mage’s killer but two months with almost nothing to eat had left her nearly skin and bones. They were waiting on the buildings owner.

"Here comes the fire inspector" someone warned her. She turned to greet the man, noticing that he was carrying a twisted metal shape. "Found your bomb officer" he reported, holding it up. "From the looks of those cans over there its from that stack. Carried gas. Lantern gas. Can probably sparked on impact. That be all it'd take."

Arnott took the twisted metal, "Why would anyone steal gas" she asked.

"Donno" the man admitted. "If its that white gas I use it in my lanterns. Not much other use. Stuffs scary under pressure."

She handed the metal back to the fireman. "Thanks. Lanterns." Shaking her head she walked off to study the trailer. At least their Meth lab had been found. That was a plus.

For the love of donuts;

Scud clouds had forced Dragonet to drop lower than she liked. Drifting through such an active city even late at night was dangerous to her. Light bouncing off the low cloud bank backlit her dark form, revealing her to any who happened to be looking. An occasional gunshot proved this, each event forcing her back into the dangerous cloud. Dangerous because a tenth of the cities structures poked up into the fog that had only an hour ago been rain clouds. A couple of near misses and she'd decided to return home, even with an empty belly.

Below her Patricia Armine was working her normal late shift at Daisy's Donuts. With the cold and damp business had been slow. Looking out the stores huge glass windows she had watched in boredom as rain clouds slowly changed to fog. Here on the outskirts of town fog arrived much sooner than in the inner city where heat, stored in buildings and streets, tended to create a bubble keeping it out. She checked her watch, another hour before sunrise, almost two before her replacement arrived. If he didn't call in sick again that was. Well... like that other more popular chain liked to say...time to make the donuts. Walking to the kitchen she started working.

Daisy's brilliant internally lit sign nearly came to an end when Dragonet slammed into it, barely having time to react she threw her wings into full stop. Their surfaces billowing as they caught air, now facing her direction of travel she felt heavy acrylic bend under her as she slammed into its surface. Between the materials strength and her attempt to stop neither suffered major damage, although small cracks appeared at the signs edges. No longer flight worthy Dragonet slammed into Daisy's parking lot from a fall of nearly sixty feet. She lay there stunned but otherwise unhurt. Fighting her temper, she’d known that sign was there, there was no reason to take her pain or shock out on an inanimate object just because she’d been daydreaming. Drawing herself up into a standing position Dragonet looked around. Not the cities most affluent area, middle class. Maybe a dog pack or two around. She’d always hated dogs. Now so more than ever. But the fog was too thick even for her senses, she could barely see a dozen feet and it was thickening. She'd be lucky to make it home before sunrise burned off this thick blanket. Behind her she heard the sound of a car. Might as well get some of those delicious donuts she decided, reaching into a pocket of her cut-offs.

Patricia stopped her work as the stores door tinkled, someone had finally entered. Her first customer since midnight. "Be right there" she called cheerfully, grabbing a towel to wipe flour dust off her hands. Grabbing a clean store apron she walked to the front. A man stood there, dark skinned, not black she noticed. Maybe Spanish. Cheap clothing but that wasn’t as unusual for this area as it had been a few years ago. "What can I do for you this morning?" she asked, her voice bright and cheery. Her answer was a shock as the .45 caliber automatic appeared.

"Yer money babe, inna bag now." he demanded.

'Not Spanish' she thought as she moved to comply, 'Wrong accent. White accent but...'

"Hurry up. Aint got all flippin day".

Dragonet stopped, her hand on the stores door. Something odd was going on. A man stood, his raggedly dressed back to her. Then she saw the gun. Indecision struck her. She wasn't certain, find a pay phone, call it in? Or act? It was when Patricia moved into Dragonet's sight her breath nearly stopped. Small, maybe five foot three or a little taller the red haired girl was a sight to behold. Making a decision Dragonet stepped back until she could just see what was going on, now effectively invisible to those inside.

Handing over the bag Patricia waited. There was no way she could trip her alarm, not without being seen. All she wanted to do now was live. Her assailant opened his bag, looking in. "Twelve bucks? That's ALL? This place got more than that."

Fear filled the woman’s body. "It's been slow, I made a drop at two. There isn't anymore" she stammered.

"Bull. Open that safe."

"I can't" she whimpered. "I don't have..." Her words ended as the man slammed his weapon across the side of her head, knocking her glasses flying. As if a switch had been thrown two things happened at once. Patricia hit the floor like a sack of potatoes, and Dragonet crashed through the door behind him. He turned, saw an apparition from Hell framed by flying glass and fired.

His heavy weapon bucked, its thick slow slug slamming into Dragonet just below her right breast. Dark ruby blood splashed as she flew backwards out the same door she'd just crashed through. A second, third then forth slug followed. None hit her, all going wild to slam into buildings across the street. He looked back at Patricia's bleeding body. "I'll be back" he promised. "You better have more next time." Unconscious, Patricia never heard a word. Walking through the shattered door he headed for his car.

He never made it. Dragonet slammed into him, her claws making short work of the hand holding his weapon. He opened his mouth to scream, a scream that was absorbed by uncaring fog as Dragonet's fangs slid through his flesh, opening his artery like a ribbon. Bright red blood splashed to be greedily swallowed by gravel flowerbeds beside the walkway. A coward since birth he fought to escape, but he was getting tired. Oh so tired. "God" he gasped as his last flicker of life flowed from him.

Dragonet stepped back from the corpse. Her face was smeared with blood, her outfit soaked. For a moment she thought about leaving but the idea of flying home covered with sticky, slowly drying blood nauseated her. Walking back into the store she went to the kitchen, there she found a large sink. It was a matter of minutes to wash most of her filth off. After she’d emptied her stomach of what little it held. ‘What’s happening to me” she whispered. “I killed like an animal.” Using a towel to dry herself off she walked back to where Patricia lay. Kneeling down she felt at the woman’s neck. A pulse, not strong but a pulse. Studying Patricia's unconscious form Dragonet made a sudden decision. Lifting the injured woman she walked outside. Stepping into the street she spread her wings wide, then started running.

Patricia woke with a blinding headache. All she remembered was her attacker, his face etched vividly in her memory. She tried to sit up but was washed by a wave of nausea. Laying back down she moaned. Delicate hands suddenly touched her head. "Shhhh" a gentle, elfen voice whispered. "Rest. That’s a bad skull wound you have. You need sleep, food, care."

“My glasses... Where am I?" she asked. The hands removed something from her eyes. Light burned, causing a lance of pain through her skull. She turned away from her pain, looking towards the darkness. It didn't smell like a hospital and from what she could see it wasn't any kind of building she'd ever been in. "What is this place?" she asked.

"Shhh" the voice ordered again. Something cool and wet was laid across her face, cutting out the painful light. "Sleep. I’ll take care of you. I couldn’t find your glasses." With no other options Patricia did just that. Closing her eyes against her pain she relaxed as best she could. Needing energy to heal its wound her body pushed her back into sleep. A troubled sleep, but sleep.

Another Investigation;

“Looks like your pets been here" Detective Jacob Thomas remarked, looking down at the dead criminal.

"My pet?" his partner Andrew Williams asked. "When did this killer become my pet?"

"Hey, better you than me" Andy" Jacob laughed. “I’d dump it on Whitman and Barlow. Except their narcotics and we’re homicide. It’s a killer not a drug addict. ” He walked away leaving his partner so he could chat with the forensic team. "What yah got?" he asked.

A smock clothed officer opened his notebook. ".45 cal automatic, four casings. Blood and hair, red, on the muzzle. Probably match our missing clerk. Blood behind the counter, lab'll let us know in a few hours but I'm betting its our missing girls. Blood just inside tha door, same ruby-black colour as at the warehouse. More in tha parkin lot. Twelve dollars seventy-one cents in a store bag, dead perp missing a lot of blood. Stolen '71 Chevy in tha parkin lot filled with drugs and guns. Perp wearing makeup tah look darker. Guys whiter than me, like he never saw tha sun. Almost looks like he was makin ah delivery. Just dropped by to grab some quick cash."

Jacob made his own notes. Until the lab reports he wasn't taking anything for granted. "Anything else missing?"

"Nope" the officer answered. "Manager says everything here. From what he says this Patricia Armine must have been hit around five am. She's started making tha donuts, fives her schedule for that. Apparently she’s his most reliable employee. Or was until last night. Camera's broke, no tape, no alarm. Until tha docs finished with John Doe out there I’ll hafta take that as near tha time. Relief never showed, customer found tha body at about nine. Called us on his cell phone. Smart, never entered tha store. Just waited fer us."

Thomas nodded. Nothing to do now but chase leads. But where was the girl? From that blood pool behind the counter she had to be hurt. Maybe badly. Maybe even dead. Did she run off or was she taken? There just wasn’t enough evidence yet to tell. And why take her anyway? It didn’t make sense. Then, with some there never was any rhyme or reason to what happened. A guess was as good as you got.

Tower Time;

Dragonet, Theresa when in her ‘home’, herself was wondering the same thing. She sat on her favorite pillow, a hot mug of tea cupped in her hands. Patricia lay on Theresa’s bed, her head wrapped in damp towels in an attempt to keep any fever down. Theresa’s limited medical knowledge was stretched to the limit. She’d made a stupid mistake not just calling the police and leaving the girl. Something about her though... “Stupid mistake” she cursed. “Redheads... I always go dumb around redheads.” Sipping at her tea she waited. There really wasn't anything else she could do. At least not until nightfall. Slowly she slipped into a fitful, memory filled sleep.

It was late evening when she woke again. As always when Theresa woke she stretched slowly. Wings three times her body size billowing out, sending tiny signals of complaint along their length as long idle muscles were woken. All this she took in stride, even now slowly becoming accustomed to her new bodies needs. Sitting up in her small nest of pillows she yawned, her odd thin needle fangs glinting in the chambers dim light. Looking over to her real bed she noted her visitor was still asleep. Moving as quietly as she could Theresa removed dry towels, replacing them with fresh cool ones. Patricia moaned softly, her plump lips opening slightly, the tip of her tongue barely visible between them. It was an effort of will to turn away from the invitation. Quietly Theresa walked to the home-made door in her water tower. Outside it was starting to darken, more rain had fallen and a grey day apparently was going to become a cold wet night. Once, when she was Detective Theresa Mendez, she’d loved the rain. Loved storms and cold nights. Now it slowed her, made her want to sleep. ‘It’s the reptile I guess’ she told herself, remembering her school days.

Cold days tended to make reptiles, cold blooded animals, lethargic. That might explain things except this new body was warm blooded. That much she’d already proven to herself with nothing more than a simple medical thermometer. No.. Something else. Absently she fluttered her wings, settling their folds and it hit her. Her wings, of course. They had to be radiating a great deal of her body heat when she flew. Warm days it wouldn’t matter but cold days... “Winters gonna be hell. If I can’t find a way around this” she said to herself.

“Why?” a women’s voice, weak, asked her.

Turning Theresa studied her visitor. “Because I’m not human anymore” she answered. “What’s your name anyway.?”

“Armine. Patricia Armine. Why are winters going to be hell. Why I here and who are you?”

“You’re here because I made a stupid decision” Theresa admitted. “I always go stupid around redheads.” She moved closer to her visitor, settling down on her temporary nest of pillows. Patricia’s eyes were still covered she noticed. She couldn’t see what Theresa had become. Not yet. ‘Best to work her into it slowly’ she decided. “I arrived just after that man tried to crush your skull. I dealt with him, he won’t do it again. Then stupidly I brought you here to my home. If you can call it a home.”

“No hospital? I could have died.”

“I know” Theresa admitted with a sigh. “I was wrong, I know better. It was a reaction. You... You reminded me of someone at first. It shook me. Now you shouldn’t be moved until you heal. I’ll take you to a hospital as soon as I can.”

Patricia tried to open her eyes but even the chambers dull gloom was too much at the moment. “I’ve got a concussion. Don’t I.”

“Yep. I’d bet dollars to donuts you have a doozy. I’ve had a couple myself. I remember what the doctors did. After twenty-four hours it was bed rest and quiet. Speaking of which we shouldn’t talk much until your better. It’s been more that twenty-four hours. Your still breathing so even though you probably wish you wouldn’t, you’ll live.”

“Who are you?”

Theresa worried that question before answering. “I call myself Dragonet now. It’s not my real name.”

“You said your not human anymore. What are you? A White slaver? Murder? Rapist? Aluminum can?”

Theresa laughed at that. “Far from it Patricia. In fact I was quite the opposite. But I was experimented on against my will by a madman. It changed me. Physically. I can’t go back to what I was. I can’t even go home.”

“Your ugly?”

“Not my face” Theresa admitted. “I don’t look like I did so I know I can’t be recognized, but even I have to admit I’ve got a really sexy face. It’s my body.”

“Scarred? Burned?” Patricia asked weakly.

“Uh... no. I’m changed, I don’t even look human. I’ve umm... I’ve got scales. Wings and a.... tail.”

“You are kidding me right? This is like, Twilight Zone or something? You’re a Succubus or something?”

“Oh I wish” Theresa admitted. “Or Candid Camera. Tell you want, I’ll show you. Close your eyes first okay?” She stood, moved next to the prone woman and lifted the cloth, then backed away. “Okay, don’t scream because I’m really out of Asprin right now. It’s dark enough now so you should be okay.”

Patricia opened her eyes a slit, though the light hurt it wasn’t daggers in her brain anymore. Just random needles of near white hot pain. Opening them further she looked towards Theresa’s voice, her eyes barely able to focus without her thick glasses. “Oh God” she whispered, seeing the truth even without her glasses. Theresa stood slowly, then spread her wings just as slowly. “Oh my dear god” Patricia gasped, then slipped back into unconsciousness as her strength failed her.

“At least she didn’t scream” Theresa told her silent walls. Carefully covering the women’s eyes again she went back to work securing her home. Nearly a weeks work had proven useful, if not quite as successful as Theresa had hoped. She'd finished shoring up the entranceway, along with that she'd built a large low platform that kept her somewhat above the concrete’s cold damp. It wasn't a professional job, but every bit of work had been done as well as she could, and it did show. Where she'd started, after studying the stolen 'handyman' books, it was a little odd. Visibly improving in quality as she learned. In the middle was her bed. Around it were piled stolen, pillows and a chemical toilet. It wasn’t her old apartment but it served. Now if she could only find Mysteria or better yet Millennium Man. “Or should I just contact the department again. Maybe they can help” she asked her towers concrete walls. Like the best of advisors they remained silent. With a shrug Theresa began fixing breakfast.

Freeze dried soup.

Fifteen Minutes of Fame;

"Just how the hell did those tapes get out to the public" the cities young DA screamed from one side of a conference room table. "Dammit Williams, that's evidence. Not a side show."

"Not us" the older Detective snapped. "Besides, we only took copies. How many of those... Uh, Goths, had their own?" 

"Shit, its all over the tube. Just like the other weird things. What is this. The comic books?"

"Maybe" Williams admitted. "Maybe. But your not out there. Tell yah what, lets my partner and I pay that Goth Club another visit. Maybe this flying rat will show up. Then we can arrest her and make your whole day perfect. If she doesn’t rip us apart for fun in the process." Then as if on a silent signal, and maybe it had been, both police officers turned their backs on a stunned DA, leaving his office without another word.

Decisions;

It was late, very late. Already the sun’s last feeble rays had vanished, leaving the city to its own devices. Framed against the cities glow a bat-like creature had stood nearly unmoving for over an hour. Patricia’s voice abruptly interrupted Dragonet’s thoughts, startling the winged woman. “You’ve been standing there a long time” she said softly. “Lost in thought or just watching the unwashed masses?”

“Lost in thought” Dragonet admitted, turning to face what to others would be pitch darkness. To her Patricia’s blanket shrouded body was a soft warm glow in otherwise near blackness. “I don’t know wither to go mad, end it, turn myself in or go hide someplace until I die.”

“Suicide is a sin” the red tressed woman answered. Slowly she pushed herself to a sitting position, fighting a wave of dizziness as she moved. “God would never let you into heaven as a suicide.”

Dragonet shrugged. “God and I parted ways a long time before this happened Patricia. People attracted to their own sex are a sin too you know. Heaven’s a no-go for me. At least my priest said so. So did the Bishop. Never got a reply from Pope John-Paul. I haven’t been in chapel in oh, ten years or so now. Guess that’s why God did this to me. Punishment right? Suicide really wouldn’t matter anyway would it?” She stepped away from the open door, moving to her jumble of pillows. Settling down she studied her companion. ‘Captive?’ she wondered. ‘No’ she decided. ‘Just someone in the wrong place at the wrong time.’

“No light?”

“I could light a candle” Dragonet admitted. “We’d have a dozen gang-bangers up here in less than five minutes. I could take care of them but I’d have to hurt them pretty bad. I really don’t like hurting people. This place’s been my home for now, except the few times I could slip into my old apartment for things like clothes, that blanket, sheets and such. That old mattress was already up here, I hate to think what’s been done on it but it’s a bed.”

“I’ve been in worse places myself” Patricia admitted, “I was always the rebellious one. Straightened up a few years ago. Going to college now. I want to be an astronomer.”

“NASA?”

“Best game in town” Patricia agreed. “Finding new planets for me, if they’ll have me. But you were a police officer, you’ve admitted as much. Isn’t there someone you could go to?”

“Maybe” Dragonet admitted. “I’m not certain. I’m afraid really.”

“Maybe you ought to try. At worst you’ll know for certain. One thing life’s taught me. Knowing is a heck of a lot less painful than not knowing. Knowing things like, are you going to keep me up here or what?”

“Think you can survive a short flight?”

“If it doesn’t end in a hard stop, yes. Why?”

Dragonet smiled. “I do know someone. I’ll see if I can find him. If I can I’ll take you down. He can get you to hospital.”

Patricia turned away suddenly. “After that what? I vanish into some program? Have my brain ‘adjusted’ or die on an operating table?”

“Why?” Dragonet asked, confusion evident in her voice. “Okay, you know about me. So do others. More will later I guess. All I have to do is move so that before your story can get out I’ll be long gone. Why hurt you? Besides maybe one day I can look up at Alpha and say I know someone up there.”

A long breath of relief escaped the blanket shrouded woman. “I wasn’t sure. Okay... You go find your friend. I’ll pack and be ready to go.”

“Pack what?” Dragonet asked as she stood again. “Dress yes, your stuffs over there. What’s to pack?”

A short burst of laughter answered her. “Trying to make a joke. Okay I’ll be ready then. Good luck.”

Still a bit confused Dragonet quickly launched herself from the water tower. Turning West she headed for her old station. Though there was no thick cloud cover tonight she was mainly unobserved. Those awake had other things on their minds and to be truthful, looking up from brightly lit streets into darkness made spotting a fleeting object nearly impossible. Her flight, a series of turns and climbs over updrafts soon found her landing on the police building cluttered roof. A guy cable had caught her left ankle sending her tumbling. ‘At least the top floors storage’ she thought as she picked herself up, brushing sticky tar covered pebbles from her body. Learning how to fly had been one thing, she’d liked para-gliding already. Landing. Now that was still a problem. “Feel like a dumb gooney bird” she grumbled as she headed for the roof’s edge.

Oddly her normal walk had evolved into a kind of slow loping run, as if her leg muscles were more elastic. “Bloody roo is what I’m becoming” she cursed, looking over the edge. Two floors down and three windows over was what she needed, an open window with no light showing. Probably some bean counters office or more than likely a records room with no air conditioning. Carefully planting her feet on the brick edge she took a breath, then leapt off. Making a wide turn she headed back towards the building, breaking just a little too late she slammed into the window. Shattered glass tumbled, making a wind-chime sort of sound as they cascaded across the rooms floor. With claws digging into the wooden frame Dragonet waited. Someone had to have heard that. There should have been alarms, pounding feet, dozens of officers.

It remained strangely quiet. ‘Too many movies’ she decided. Moving as carefully as she could Dragonet entered, glass crunching under cloth soled feet. Shoes would be nice, her feet were barely more resistant than before and the glass was sharp. Though she’d tried, only her old house slippers still fit, and they were tight. It was a records room all right. Banks of metal file cabinets lined its walls, boxes of old files looked ready to tumble at any minute. Turning on a desk lamp she picked up the phone. Whitman would be at home right now. Selecting an outside line she dialed his well remembered number.

“Whitman’s” a young male voice answered. “Who yah want?”

“Tommy” Dragonet laughed. “Is the old man in? I need to speak to him a moment. Or is he still trying to digest Sara’s cooking?”

“Nah, Mom cooked. Sara’s grounded. Too much onion. I’ll get dad, he’s playing with his trains I betcha.” A clatter of handset striking a wooden table came as the young boy ran off. She waited silently, Tommy almost never asked who was calling while Sara nearly demanded a pedigree. Kids. She thought about their last picnic, just before she’d taken the....

“Arnold Whitman, who is this” her friends voice asked, breaking into her thoughts.

“Hiyah toot-toot, still shoving ice cream down little girls blouses? Or are you carbonizing hot dogs again.”

“Theresa” he gasped. “Where are you. How are you?”

“Where I am Arnie is about three floors over your desk, and a dozen or so rooms to one side. How I am...” She took a deep breath. “I’m falling apart Arnie. I’ve even debated about killing myself. Look, I’ve got your missing donut girl. I need to turn her over to you. She’ll need hospital. I need to talk to Lt. Williams. Is that safe?“

“Okay hold it. I’ll meet you where? We’ll sort this out okay?”

“Seventeenth and Markham. That’s close enough. I’ll get her to you then we go wherever you want. What about Williams?”

“I’ll call her, let you know.” Her line went dead as Arnold Whitman hung up. She was just setting her own phone down when she heard voices.

“Not this office, try the next.” Her office doorknob jiggled. “Locked too” a second voice reported. “Hang on.” Sounds of a key entering the lock. Moments later light flooded the room as three police officers, weapons drawn, came through the door. Even after an exhaustive search all they found was a broken window. Nothing else.

Dragonet blew her landing again, ending up on her back, legs spread wide above her while pillows slowly tumbled about her. Laughter filled her ears. Turning her head she found Patricia, now dressed, sitting on her bed. “If that’s the best you can do no ones going to be afraid of you” the redhead giggled.

“Be... Very... Quiet” Dragonet snapped irritably. Patricia’s sudden silence, the look on her face struck Dragonet like a knife. “Sorry, shouldn’t have said that” she added. “I’m just... I can’t seem to get the hang of landing.” Turning slowly she let gravity tumble her body into a somewhat more dignified position. Managing a sitting position she pushed her hair back, looking out the towers shattered side towards a nearby dark building. “Good thing your leaving now, someone’s over there. I’m sure they saw me. If not me, they couldn’t have missed your laughter.”

“Sorry” Patricia whispered. “I didn’t think. So.. I’m leaving?”

“So am I. There’s a can of white gas on your left. Open it up. This place goes up in flames.”

“What about your stuff?”

Dragonet shrugged, wrapping a wad of cloth over a fragment of board. “Soak this please? My stuff...” She shrugged. “Take hours to get it out, what’s salvageable. Not worth the effort. I’ll find a new place, until then I can maybe hide in my apartment during the day. At least a few more days before someone comes in to check.”

“Isn’t burning this stuff dangerous?” Patricia asked as she poured the clear pungent liquid over pillows. “I mean, this tower might fall or something.”

“Uh-uh, things made of concrete. It’s chuff, burn a bit then this stuff will collapse down the old fill pipe. Only a few dozen old boards keeping everything from doing that already.”

“You mean...” Patricia looked down at her feet. “We could...”

“Wanna live forever?” Dragonet asked with a smile, stealing an old movie line. “No worry, I checked it before I picked this place. Fire will burn through pretty quick though. They’ll play hob getting any evidence worth keeping. Now go stand by the door, this is really kinda dangerous.”

Dangerous wasn’t the word. As soon as Dragonet tossed her torch there was a dull thump far below where heavy fumes had already gathered. Everything moved up a bit, then settled. Air began to rush through the opening, a steady breeze in both women’s faces. With a squeak of surprise she jumped to the openings edge, grabbed Patricia then leapt out into darkness. It was only after they were falling that she remembered to open her wings. Behind them was a flicker of light, a kind of huff, then a huge tongue of flame reached out above the airborne figures.

Twisting left Dragonet aimed for the intersection she’d selected. Past several buildings, through a narrow alley and they were down. It was Patricia that saved them a tumble, bending her knees just before they landed she stopped most of their forward momentum. Then she dropped to her knees, holding her head.

Dragonet glanced behind them. Her one time home was a series of bright flashes as flames first billowed, then starved for air withdrew, sucking in fresh air to repeat the process. “So much for my signed Bon Jovi poster” she groaned. A voice called to her, turning to face the source she found two people waiting for her. Her old friend Detective Whitman and Lieutenant Williams. “Help me get her into your car” she yelled, helping Patricia to her feet.

“You call that dangerous?” Patricia gasped as she stood. “What’s deadly force? A hydrogen bomb?” She stumbled, then was being helped by two pairs of human hands. “Oh, hi” she managed, looking up into a women’s black face. “Seventh Calvary. Fashionable late as always.” With that the redhead passed out again.

Debriefing;

Three hours later, with Patricia now settled in at hospital, the three were sitting in William’s living room. Dragonet was greedily drinking the last of a gallon of chocolate milk while William’s grilled her. “I still have trouble believing your Theresa” Lt. Williams finally admitted. “Still unless she blabbed every secret she had, which I can’t see happening, and you just happen to be left handed too....” She reached out, touching Dragonet’s arm. “I don’t know what we can do hon. I’ve got a couple doctor friends who owe me. I’ll contact them, we’ll see. But you have no place to stay.”

“Still got that California King bed?” Dragonet asked.

“Yeah, and the answers still no. But I do have a nice visitors bedroom.”

“Its still yellow isn’t it? You know I hate yellow.”

“Close your eyes then” Williams answered. “Or you can sleep in the garage. Whitman, your calling in sick. I don’t need you at work after a night of no sleep. I’ll talk to you this afternoon.” She stood, intending to escort Whitman to her door. “Dragonet huh? Couldn’t you come up with something better?”

“What? Lizard girl? Scale face? Croc woman? Winged Wonder? Bat Girl? The Incredible Insect Eater? I think I did pretty good.”

Whitman smiled, “Your still Theresa to me, and your still welcome at my home.”

Dragonet smiled, “Really Arnie? Can I play with your trains again?”

“Are you kidding?” He looked at Williams, “She watched too much Adams family reruns. The original series. Set a charge that blew up my biggest bridge. Five weeks it took building that trestle, one second for her to turn it to matchsticks.”

“Hey” Dragonet complained, setting her empty bottle aside. “You said I could play. If you can’t blow them up...”

“Kids” Williams nearly shouted. She glared at the two. “Enough okay? Look, Whitman goes home to bed. I’ve got to go in for a meeting, but I’ll half-day it. Got enough comp time. This evening we’ll work something out. Until then you” she poked her finger into Dragonet’s chest, “Stay away from his trains and you” she turned, grabbing Whitman’s sleeve, “Get out before someone thinks we’re having an affair.”

After Whitman had driven off Lt. Mary Williams studied her visitor. “How long since a bath?”

“Months” Dragonet admitted. “Managed a rag bath couple times. Showers probably better though considering...” She opened her wings a bit. “And the tail. Car seats are murder on tails you know.”

“Agreed, and there’s parts of you I don’t think you can reach now. I’ll scrub your back, then you get some sleep.”

“You and me? In your shower? Alone? Ooohhhhhh goody!”

Mary rolled her eyes in mock dismay. “Me in a swimsuit, now get out of those filthy clothes. I’ll wash them if you want but there no more than rags. I’ve a half dozen robes of Sam’s still. He was so big they ought to work. Now get.”

An hour later, freshly scrubbed, dry and between real sheets Dragonet sighed. She’d slipped on several pairs of socks that had belonged to Mary William’s late husband, the better to protect delicate sheets from her now claw-like toenails. With a soft purr of contentment she slipped into a near dreamless sleep.

Friendly Medical Research;

Two white coated men stood in a small laboratory apparently conferring over their results. “Your certain about this then” the older man asked, for what was probably the tenth time that night.

His younger companion seemed to recheck his findings before answering. “No doubt about this one.”

“Damn... That’s five separate species now. And this sixth? I don’t recognize anything here that looks normal.”

“Neither do I, its chemical composition is like nothing I’ve heard of outside a science fiction movie. Like its acting as a glue or something.”

Running his hand through short, thinning grey-brown hair the older man sat back. “Lets look at what we have, maybe then this will make sense Thomas.” Following his lead the younger man too relaxed.

“Call it out Harry” he agreed.

“Okay” Harry answered. “Wing structures are from a bat. That explains the hairs on her wings too. Facial structure, mouth structure is more than likely a Feral cat but the rest of her face is pure human.”

“Your forgetting her eyes” Thomas broke in. “Those are pure reptile.”

“Same as her so-called skin. You said what? Goanna?’

“Right. Scales match even it they are nearly invisible to the naked eye. Put photo’s of her’s and a Goanna’s side by side... Perfect match.”

“Human, bat, lizard, cat and what? Oh yeah. Fierce snake. Where did you come up with that one?”

Thomas checked his notes. “Venom. Stuffs almost a perfect chemical match” Thomas admitted. “This stuff doesn’t kill though. Not with that combination. It’s more a narcotic. It’ll make you dreamy, not kill you.”

“Big mess” Harry sighed, rubbing his eyes. “She’s still mostly human, almost all her bodies changes are external.”

“Your forgetting the X-Rays my new found friend?”

Harry shook his head. “Nope. Wings got their bone structure from her ribs yes, and she’s got the reproductive system of an egg layer. Other than those two minor changes she’s human. Not that she, or any woman would agree with me. At least not about her reproductive system.”

“No kids?”

“Thomas... Her genetic makeup is a Hungarian Goulash of six species. One we can’t even begin to determine. Without a match how’s she going to have kids?”

“Yeah...” Thomas stood up, flipping a switch to light the full body x-rays they’d done. “Ribs replaced with cartilage plates, they seem to be building bone. Two thirds of her wing bones show evidence of healed fractures. Probably from use, there no where near fully developed. That’s why she’s guzzling milk. Needs all that calcium. Why chocolate I don’t understand unless it’s a buffer of some sort, since she can’t seem to stomach white milk. See’s in the dark better than any Terran animal, hears pretty good with those modified bat ears... No Harry. This isn’t natural. Someone did this to her but how? These changes would take a super computer years to select. And why? Makes no damn sense.”

“And all these animals are Australian. Maybe not all originally native, but all available locally. No one would take a second look at someone collecting any of these species. Heck, they’d help catch the cats. It’s a local lab. A local lab that came up with some strange DNA that holds together un-alike species just like putty holds a kids tinker-toys together.”

“Sounds like something from that American show Harry. X-Files wasn’t it?”

“Canadian show Thomas. Yeah, but where’s Cancer man in this thing.”

“Our mad scientist? I don’t know. But until we find him there’s no chance we can turn her back into a human. Hell Harry. Even if we do find him there’s probably no way she’s going to be human again.”

Harry nodded, turning away from the films. “I’ll tell her. I’m used to giving bad news.”

“A vet isn’t? I hand people their dead pets a couple times a week.”

“Yeah. But she’s alive and human enough to have hope. We, you and I, have just slaughtered that hope on the butcher block of science.”

“Pretty heavy thoughts for a Doctor” Thomas sighed. “Okay, we both tell her. Just be ready. That temper of her’s is pure animal. There’s no way she can control her reactions. Not yet.”

“We’ll try an anti-depressant for that. Umm.... Celexa first. Minimum dose.”

“That wise? I mean, what reactions with her new body. There have been no tests...”

“Damn it Thomas. We’re dealing with a totally new life form here. Of course there are no tests. If she gives the okay. If she agrees to two weeks here or at your place for observation. Then yes we try it. If not she’ll have to go it alone. And no I don’t like it any more than you do.”