5.
The old man fell face first into the steaming tar, wide eyes staring to oblivion. Jin dropped the gun, fingers numb, like his mind.
He killed a person. One look at the body and all sound and time froze. Nausea bubbled up, muscles locked.
The dragon calmed, shrinking to a fifth its size, still it blocked a third of the road. Aramas, 'hero-landed' next to him, the follow up roar triumphant.
It grunted and bowed low, revealing an abnormally regal Paige.
"Jin, what's up?"
The question so glib he'd have thought it was a boring Tuesday. Her emerald eyes brightened, resting on the old man and the gun.
She sprung off Aramas in a flip that could've been in a parkour video. Her steps were, deliberate, but slow. She chewed on some unknown, lost in thought before resting an arm on his shoulder.
Five years of that arm in the same spot was now alien. Firstly, there was less of it, cautious; secondly there was strength to it, the little there clamping.
"Jin... It had to be done." She whispered in his ear, "He'd have killed us, and judging by his charge's size, he's killed already. It takes skill and development to grow 'em dis large."
He turned to her, brow arched, eyes hard.
"Look Paige, Paula or whatever your name is. I don't know what you're talking about!" He tried not to yell but that was exactly what he was doing, "But you still go on and on. So you'll have to excuse me if I can't find relief in your words! Because right now, I'm standing over a person that I just KILLED! Everything you're saying are just words!"
He took a breath and swallowed down the beast lurking in his chest. It didn't want to go back to where it'd started to atrophy. Its teeth had been bloodless way too long. It fought tooth and nail, using tact to invade his brain and heart.
"[Sorry Jin,]" the edge in his name could slit a throat. "[gotta say I hadn't expected this. I expected this from,]" she paused as her green eyes stared into the distance "[someone else but neveh from you. You're supposed to be the one who thinks of everything. Good or bad. Even if ya ideas got us intah trouble. You're calm and decisive! But now…]"
…is it me who's not getting it? It's her, right?
He wasn't some super genius who could look and understand right away. He wasn't invincible, even the most hardcore "survivor" wasn't!
Stuck in limbo for a month… How could he be himself? Why did she expect him to just be okay?
…maybe it was him.
So what right? So what if I don't get it? That's never stopped me.
His shoulders bunched. Even Green Paige thought he'd just… be okay. That he had a plan lurking somewhere. What plan? An international plan? Street life, maybe. But this was something else, alien, mystical and bullshit. Monsters and demons, not shitty gangs and police.
"Look Jin," Paige said letting go to pat Aramas on the shoulder.
Massive fingers slowly locked onto his jacket, lifting a sullen Jin up and placed him on the dragon's back with an ease that made Jin's testicles shrink. Aramas grew level with Jin, Paige sitting on his head in a way that suggested she practised yoga in her spare time.
"It's difficult for me to explain so..." Paige waved. "I'll show ya by giving you your prize for defeating a rider through removing him from his charge."
That… was… odd.
It was as if she were 'presenting'.
A breath, a spin, a hop dropped her on the dragon's back. Jin raised a brow.
She walked to where the mist bled, waiting for something he didn't understand.
There was clearly supposed to be a moment… Instead there was a gap. The world was too loud. Aramas grunting, the dragon's guttural breathes, the wind dancing and whistling, the ocean and Paige with a face that screamed 'tada!'.
There'd be no participation from him, just a stare.
Paige grunted and stomped, grabbed his arm, all but dragging the man to the mist.
But so what?
She'd get 'dumb Jin' and like it.
The endlessly diffusing mist had no smell, no texture, just an energy that made his elbow tingle, balls too. Then his hand was shoved in.
He was hit with a rush like never before. The riders, charges, everything. The dragon's skin bubbled beneath them before turning to sand. Morning winds howled, blowing the sand away. Muscle turned to sand followed by tissue and organs, leaving bone and cartilage.
It was alive, them secure on a layered plating like dragon mail. His inner beast spoke, the dragon listened. It was impossible, it should have been a figment of his imagination, a metaphor, not acommander.
Speaking in pictures, playing the most in depth game of charades, designed to speak to him. The dragon talked of organisations, war and death, of righteous killing. It showed him a young Chinese man, one of many, he was rested and given responsibility and duty, he found love, despite the duty, the conflict leaving a quiet wife, his children collected, tested, uniforms, the national anthem. Invading India, time moving beyond guns, then his death, then noise, Jin had expected silence in death, not an ocean of sounds, every drop of water, every grain of sand, every particle of life, all lives his. He wasn't always him, but he always was, until he diffused, the water disappearing into the ocean.
The images weren't just of others, it was of him, reading him, knowing him. Jin grimaced, teeth gritted: Enough!
There was a retreat, a switch up; an encouraging rush, the burst of what the old man was, the knowledge that the danger wouldn't have ended if he'd lasted one more breath.
Something was about to happen, to change. And if he didn't accept, adopt, he'd be in that ocean, but… it'd be different, like he was a fish, one that could vanish.
He needed to be as strong as humanly possible.
No… stronger.
Why?
There wasn't enough of an answer. Only a need for a plan. Well…
Surviving was his specialty.
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