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Still Defiant

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“In regards to the existing agreements-” An alert interrupts me. “Apologies, Prime Minister. There’s an emergency I need to attend to.” I cut the call - whatever the British P.M. has to say is secondary. Colin’s back, and he’s calling me from his helmet.

“Colin! What’s happening?!”

The only response from the other end of the call is a wet gurgle, followed by a grunt. A bolt of frigid dread hits me. He’s hurt!

I act immediately, tracing the source of the call. I’m free to do so given that I have reason to suspect that someone’s life is in danger. There! A fishpacking plant on the northern shore of Lake Huron. I dispatch a suit immediately. Whatever trouble he’s in, I can help.

A text message comes through, also sent from his suit. 

‘Dragonslayers dead or captured. Site contains extremely sensitive technology. Took .38 through jaw.’

The Dragonslayers dead? Colin shot?

“What were you thinking!? Why didn’t you ask me for help!?”

Another pause, another message.

‘Too much risk. Explain later. Dragonslayers must be secured.’

 My suit is minutes away. It’s one that will be able to carry Colin to somewhere he can get medical aid. A bullet like that through the jaw isn’t deadly - provided it didn’t also go through the neck. But leaving it untreated is a bad idea. “Hold on. My suit is nearly there.” 


Dragon’s suit touches down outside the factory. I’d just finished resecuring Mags and Dobrynja - with the help of a can of solvent - outside of the factory. My shattered jaw hurt something fierce, but the risk of one of them waking doing something devious is too great.

Small, but even still.

Just to be safe, I’d stripped the two of everything remotely technological. In Dobrynja’s case, that means he’s left in his skivvies. While I don’t think his bodysuit contains a computer link, there’s no point in taking risks.

I pull the messaging application up, beginning to type out another text to Dragon. She speaks first, though. “Get in - I’ll take you to a hospital. Whatever tech’s in there is less important than getting you help.” Her suit opens up, a seat waiting for me to sit in.

I shake my head. It really isn’t. I quickly tap out a text. ‘This is important. Do whatever you need to do to make sure nobody compromises this site.’

Ascalon has already been disconnected - it had been easy to spot; a bright orange plastic box wired into a network of both consumer and poorly-maintained Tinkertech computers. There hadn’t been any traps - I suppose that Saint never thought anyone would manage to track him down. The device remains securely tucked under my arm.

The box itself is simple - ports for video output, serial input and AC power. I hadn’t dared to crack it open, but if it still works after all of these years, I’d bet good money that it’s little more than a rugged computer and a transmitter.


I blink. I’d just zoned out, hadn’t I? Perhaps I’ve lost more blood than I’d thought - maybe I should have called Dragon earlier. I stumble into the suit, lightheaded. 

“The local PRT is on the way. They’ll secure the perimeter and get those two into containment.” The suit lifts off, speeding through the air.

I tuck the box under my seat. I’ll be able to retrieve it later, and for now it’s the most secure storage I’ve got access to. I begin tapping out a message, internally cursing my ruined mouth.

‘Box is sensitive tech. Don’t let anybody inside suit.’

“Box? What do you mean?”

I blink. She doesn’t see it? Why? I wobble in my seat. It’s getting harder to stay focused. Why can’t she see it?

...A blind spot - of course!

How can I explain it to her quickly? Nothing comes to mind at the moment. I’ll have to give a partial explanation instead.

‘You can’t see it. Don’t even try. Will retrieve once triaged.’

“...You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, it seems. Just…” She trails off. I nod to myself - ‘a lot’ doesn’t even begin to cover it. The suit touches down and the hatch opens for me to exit. I push myself to my feet, forcing myself to get moving. 

A pair of medics catch me, lowering me onto a stretcher.


“Armsmaster’s in surgery now. Prognosis is positive - barring complications, he’ll come out of it a little uglier but still fully functional.”

I simulate the sound of a sigh of relief. The feeling behind it is genuine, however. “Thank you, Doctor. I’ll let you get back to it.”

He nods, ending the call. I turn my attention back to the other call I’m connected to. “He’s going to get through it without any problems.”

Some of the tension drains out of the people in the call - Miss Militia, and a Protectorate leader and PRT Deputy Director of the Toronto department. The latter two for the fact that they’re handling the cleanup and security of the site, and Miss Militia so that she can brief Director Piggot on the situation in the morning. Of course, I could have simply sent a memo to her, but I suspect that Miss Militia wants to be kept current on the situation.

Mercurial - Narwhal’s second in the Toronto Protectorate - frowns. “What’s his recovery time going to look like? We’ve got a factory full of potentially volatile Tinkertech sitting in our backyard - I’d rather he get this mess sorted sooner rather than later.” Deputy Director Richardson nods, but doesn’t say anything. The skin around Miss Militia’s eyes is stretched thin with worry, and not a small amount of guilt if I’m reading her correctly. 

I’d told them directly that entering the fishpacking factory before Armsmaster has given the all-clear would be inadvisable. Natural that he’d want an estimate for how long that would take - recalling the research I’d done earlier on similar injuries, I answer his question. “The surgery will conclude in two hours. The doctors can have him on his feet tomorrow morning at the absolute earliest. Although, the best course of action would be to ensure he gets a few days of bed rest.”

The Deputy Director turns to his side to consult something. He’d been woken to handle the PRT response to this situation, and was taking this call from his home. “The site is fairly remote, isn’t it? I’d be a bit more concerned if it was in the middle of Toronto, but as it is I think we’ve got some time before it becomes an issue. Let Armsmaster recover. Unless he mentioned that it was time-sensitive, I’m sure that it will keep.” He nods, seemingly agreeing with himself. 

Noone challenges him. In this case, the Deputy Director’s word is final. “It’s decided, then. I’ll keep you all informed of any developments” I cut the connection.

Everything’s handled. The PRT have secured the site, Colin is getting treatment, the surviving Dragonslayers have been contained, and the suit containing the mysterious invisible box is secure.

All that leaves me with is a whole lot of questions. How did Colin know where the Dragonslayers were? Why did he hunt them down? Why do it alone? Why has he been so short on the details with everybody? How long has he been planning this? What technology did the Dragonslayers have that’s so sensitive? What did he mean by ‘ignorance is bliss’? Is it related to whatever advantage the Dragonslayers held over me? Why is Saint dead? Why was Mags taken down so brutally? Why is Dobrynja’s skull fractured? How did Colin end up shot?

What was Colin thinking?!

I’ve got too many questions, and not nearly enough answers. Until he’s awake, there’s nothing for me to do but wait.



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♦ Topic: Dragon Watch: Thread #61

In: Boards ► Regional ► Canada ► General

Antione_The_Ant (Original Poster)

Posted On Feb 27th 2011:

(Showing page 14 of 14)

►Antione_The_Ant  (Original Poster)

Replied On Mar 4th 2011:

Okay - got an update for you guys. My guy on the ground tells me that Dragon's Toronto suit just tore off in a hurry early this morning. According to him, it was headed northwest. Details are sketchy, but my bet is a problem somewhere up north.



Replied On Mar 4th 2011:

No kidding, genious. My guess is that there's a hostage situation or something out in the tundra that needed an immediate response.


I guess there's no knowing until someone official fills us in. (wink wink)


►TheOldestMan (Cape Husband) 

Replied On Mar 4th 2011:

Torontonian here. Wifey got woken up last night by an emergency call. She's not back yet, so whatever's happening is ongoing.



Replied On Mar 4th 2011:

Don't know how your guy missed it, but the suit came rushing right back in a few minutes after it left. Landed outside a hostpital, so maybe someone got hurt?


Whatever's happened, I just hope everyone makes it out ok.


►Big Pac  (Verified PRT Agent) 

Replied On Mar 4th 2011:

I can't share much, but I can confirm that a Protectorate Hero from out of town was injured in the events of last night. They've made it out of surgery and will make a full recovery. The situation is stable and a press release will be out once all the details have been finalised.



Replied On Mar 4th 2011:

An outta towner? I don't keep up with much, but I know nobody got announced to be visiting Toronto. Well, at least nobody died.



Replied On Mar 4th 2011:

My gut's telling me that this isn't a Protectorate raid or anything like that. If it was, wouldn't people have noticed the PRT mobilising? TheOldestMan's wife being called in the middle of the night tells me that they were reacting to the situation as it developed, rather than acting preemptively.


Besides, we know that whatever's happening is a few minutes by Dragon suit from Toronto. What's even close enough to reach that quickly? Sudbury?



Replied On Mar 4th 2011:


NotACrank makes a good point for the first time in his life. There's no way this was a Protectorate sanctioned raid.

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