An hour passed of the cities and highways rushing past, with the regular stops to each location to pick up or drop off a few people. Drake had a moment of frustration when he had to scoot over to make some room for a few kids who were heading home from school. Finally his bus stop arrived and he stood up, walking out of the bus with a hop from the doors. The bar was in sight now, the one he wanted to visit. He had a meeting with a few friends of his; thankfully he was in the higher class part of the city, so there was less chance of trouble. A large man donned in what seemed to be a mixture of black and white power armour walked down with another like him, they had a series of pipes that linked up his arms, neck and legs to a large pack on their backs that was pumping in an odd glowing blue substance. Rifles were in their arms, held in an idle or standby position, they were talking amongst themselves. Drake just paid no real attention to them, shoving his hands into his pockets and walking casually, with his music pumping.
An outstretched arm halted him from passing them and getting into the bar, one of the officers had a badge show up on a small screen on the right side of the breast plate, it held an emblem of a cherub and a tiny demon, both equal on the scales, though they were assaulting each other from afar, arrows fired and fire spat, and below stood the bold letters G.O.T.S. – The Ghosts of the Scale, the new military, navy, air and police force established by the UN as united division against all supernatural creatures. It was both a racist and fascist decision – Though it was needed for the human race’s survival as a species. They couldn’t trust any other race in this age, not after what the world of the supernatural had done to them. “Hey mate, just a check up on the DNA. Sorry for the hold up, it’s just regulation.” The one who stopped him spoke in a thick ‘Aussie’ accent, hooking his rifle onto the side of his pack and pulling away a large PDA-looking device. Drake merely arched a brow and slipped off his headphones around the back of his neck. His emerald eyes scanned both of them and let out a sigh.
“Urgh… Fine…” He groaned; he hated his business being interrupted, especially for things like this. He personally found he just didn’t care; he had no time to be screwing around with the Human’s system of law. Though, it was quite tough for Drake, these men were looking for non-human DNA. Only humans were accepted by the DNA scan, anything else was to be killed on sight.
Drake’s hearing quickly tuned into the environment around him, filtering out the sound of traffic, and listening for a heartbeat or life close by. Someone to shield him from the danger of the test. There was, a young construction worker on his way, walking along the same footpath. Drake stood so this male was behind him, and focussed on changing his own body. His own human organs pressed their way to the front of his body, and the pieces that were not human – That were in fact dragon – moved against his back, his two hearts separated and pressed to opposite ends. Just in time too, one of the men lifted his rifle and flipped out a screen on the side of the gun. The aura of Drake showed, showing up mainly as a light blue, but with a slight red tinge coming in. “…” The other soldier lifted his rifle and looked around Drake, to spot the male walking along the footpath. He lifted the rifle further, to his eye. The iron-sights lining up with his target’s head, and then, a squeeze of the trigger released a deafening pop from the muzzle, a flash accompanying it before the construction worker collapsed into a heap. “Target down, call for a body bag.” He turned to the other soldier, who flipped the screen back into the body of the rifle and lowered it. “Thanks for your time mate… Have a good one, just go down to the bar and have a cold one. It’ll take your mind right of this shit.” The one that was scanning him told him, before tending to the body with the other armoured ‘protector’.
Drake merely smirked after the two passed him, before continuing towards the bar, it was his destination anyway, the police were brutal these days. Shoot on sight, no mercy given; to be inhuman was an instant death-sentence, to be served upon the spot. A quick sideways turn had him push up against the large wooden door of the pub. The bar was noisy and filled with chatty, partially drunk or drunk people. The scent of freshly cooked meals filled the air, along with the smell of alcohol. Just at the far end of the bar, two individuals sat. One of them was a male, who towered over everyone else; he was gigantic, though he was sitting. His eyes seemed to stand out, a partially glowing bright scarlet hue that looked to be cheery and kind, aside from their aggressive colour. His pale skin and obsidian hair contrasted and further boosted the prominence of his scarlet optics. Next to him was a female, who looked to be uncomfortable and felt out of place. Her expression showed no emotion, except for perhaps some anxiety. Her azure eyes looked around in boredom, her pale, flawless cheek puffed up, before raspberries spilled out from her lips, and then the other cheek, followed by another bunch of raspberries. Her white hair brushed at her shoulders gently, her hair was a brilliant ivory; yet she was still so young. Her clothing was all shades of white and black, along with grey, along with a teal coloured tie.
Next to Drake was the coat rack, upon them was the massive coat of the giant, the bottom would’ve dangled at the large being’s ankles, which featured pieces of red on his coat, and the white waistcoat of the female. Drake shouldered off his leather jacket, the headphones bursting into flames and disappearing as he did so. Underneath his jacket, he was just wearing a black tank top; his toned and broad shoulders were revealed. All the way down, from the end of his shoulder, down to his wrists of both arms were belts, belts which covered his skin completely and would’ve limited his movement greatly. Though this was just to bring him down to human speed, without them, his speed had no control. His muscular form sauntered over towards the pair of odd people, after hanging up his black jacket. An odd jerk of his neck had his head leant one way, spawning a loud crack of his bones. His head rocked the other way, creating another spine-chilling pop.
The very smartly dressed giant’s hues caught the redhead in his gaze and a smile tugged at his lips, before he stood, towering over the entirety of the bar. His eight foot form slowly stepped around the table and wandered over to meet Drake, who was smirking. “You’re fashionably late as always… Old friend.” When he opened his mouth, a smooth, young tone chimed out with the accent of Old England, the Elite Class of the Victorian Era hung in his voice. He extended his hand out towards the other, his slender digits straightened out for the other. Drake smiled and took it firmly, giving it a shake whilst his emerald eyes clashed with the scarlet colour of the other.
“Good to see ya Vol… It’s been a week and you’ve already fixed up your clothes.” Drake chuckled. “You’re such a tight-ass with how you look.”
“Well~ After all, I aim to impress.” The giant named Vol quoted a phrase he had always used when someone commented on what he did or how he looked, whether it was mockingly or genuine praise given to him. He always responded with that line.
Vol pulled his hand back after a short handshake and turned back to the girl who was now sitting alone, beckoning for her to come. “Miss Tsukiakari, you haven’t seen the poor fool in a week! At least say hello!” Vol smirked. She smiled softly, before getting up and walking at a leisurely pace towards the two. Drake gave a joking whistle, raising a fist for her to meet with her own to smack into.
“How’s things been Ko?” Drake greeted her with, cheerily. He hadn’t seen either of the two for over a week, preoccupied with his own missions from the Red Circle, his commanding officers for the Drake Military, an army he was conscripted into via contract. To become a drake, was to become a drake soldier.
“Fine, fine… Until I ran out of bananas… Had enough for the flight here… But airport customs had to fucking piss me off with their ‘you can’t bring fruit over here… You should’ve declared it.’… Urgh…” She whined and made a very condescending voice when mocking the customs. Vol merely frowned and chimed in.
“Now-now Kohaku… They say that for a reason… Besides, we can buy bananas here…” He told her, though she was now too focussed on nibbling her fruity snack. Vol smiled warmly and let her return silently to her seat. He just slinked back into her little shadowy corner. Vol took Drake to the counter and sat on the stool, Drake leaned against one, one foot teetering on the foot-rest.
“So… Have you heard anything? Have anything to tell us?” Vol asked, before turning to the bartender. “Red Wine please… An ice cube or two in it.” The giant requested, flicking out a crisp ten dollar note. The blue plastic note balanced between two fingers. A quick movement from the bartend had taken the note and picked a clear wine glass. Within seconds the clearness was disrupted by a transparent red.
“Straight Vodka, a pint.” Drake ordered, his closed hand opened after a very faint flash of orange, revealing a ten dollar note also. “Don’t care if you don’t serve it. Just do it.” He continued, the bartend just gave him the most odd and confused look before shrugging.
“… Whatever y’say… Kid…” A pint jug was placed in front of Drake, and filled with vodka to the brim. Drake placed down the money on the counter and took the jug into one of his hands. He raised it to his lips and tipped it up, letting it drain into his mouth. He downed a quarter of the alcohol before levelling it. “That’s the good stuff.” He smirked and swirled it lightly around in its glass. Vol was just quietly sipping from his wine glass.
“Always the charmer… You never change… Do you?” Vol asked, looking at the redhead from the side of his eyes, before letting out a sigh before a large shadow was cast over the two. The stench of alcohol invaded both their noses before Vol turned his head to see a large muscled man with a bear-gut. A singlet was worn over his body with a pair of work boots and trousers. He breathed heavily through his mouth, showing his missing teeth.
“… Classic bogan…” Drake commented, not even having to look to recognise the Australian version of a redneck.
“Ya better move cunt.” The very stereotype of an Australian slurred out, Drake just chuckled and turned his head slightly, retorting with the same slang.
“Hey mate, this seat’s taken. Go play funny fuckers with someone else.”
“You what mate?”
“Go play funny fuckers with someone else.”
“You wanna go mate? You wanna go?!” Spit flew out, some landing in his beard, others bits hitting Drake’s cheek. He started to get really in his face now, he heavy shove was pushed as Drake, who stepped back slightly. A raised hand wiped the spit off, then his entire body swung around with a heavy fist that slugged into the side of the bogan’s face heavily, knocking him out in a singular hit, sending him to the floor in a heap. Drake shook off the impact from his hand softly with a frown on his face, his pitying gaze directed down to the unconscious man, his voice sounded in a soft murmur. “Watch who you’re talking to, before trying to start something.”
Everyone in the pub seemed to fall silent when the hit landed, the crack filled the room and all eyes turned to the redhead, who was now facing the counter again and sipping his vodka. Vol was just leant back against it, his eyes slightly widened, only in partial surprise. He just shrugged and took another sip of his wine, right after scoffing quietly and saying: “It’s his own fault.”
In the meantime, Kohaku’s personal space was invaded by a very flirtatious male who kept on scooting toward her everytime she edged away in annoyance. She finally snapped when he tried to pull an arm around her back. “Do you mind? I’m trying to eat my banana in peace.” She stressed the last word, a very grumpy look on her face; it looked almost as if she dreaded everything in existence with the frosty glare in her eyes. The male immediately backed off away from her, to which she gave a sigh and returned to her last banana. Vol and Drake slowly backed away from the counter when the stiff silence was broken and the sound of conversations filled the building once more. Vol motioned for Kohaku to follow them as they went for the door, all of their drinks were empty and done, Drake didn’t even look tipsy or affected after the pint of straight vodka, Vol didn’t look too affected by his wine, he was a big man after all, he could hold his drinks well.
Kohaku intercepted them at the door and grabbed her white, business overcoat and slipped it on; buttoning it up quickly and straightening up her turquoise tie. Vol did the same, donning his black leather coat, it extended all the way down to his ankles, the intricate design that was stitched into the sections of red that were well placed, was distantly reminiscent of that of an Italian or Greek design crossed with a graceful Japanese design. Drake, however, just lazily put on his jacket and slid his hands in his pockets, after opening the door and wandering out with a bored look on his face. “Where to now?” He finally asked, turning around to face the other two, who just exited.
“Well I—“ Vol was interrupted by the booming and repetitive roar of a warning siren. The electronic advertisement screens flashed to a red colour, with stripes of white bordering the top and bottom, the lines that were divided repeatedly along a diagonal axis scrolled across, with the words written in black.
– WARNING EVACUATE TO SHELTERS –
The words in big bold white letters that marked the middle displayed the greatest danger humans had to face in this age.
– DEMON EMERGENCE IMMINENT - CATEGORY: J (MODERATE-HIGH RISK)
LORD SIGHTED - CATEGORY: BURROWER –
Drake looked up at the sign and frowned, his eyes seemed to change slightly, the pupil becoming more slit in shape. His head turned to look before stopping at a specific location. “I can see the Black Aura of the Horde, looks big, but I can handle it… I think maybe a little help will be nice…”
“And knowing Wrath Demons, and Burrowers, the Lord will try and flank the GOTS from behind… Can you intercept its current chosen destination, Drake?” Vol added, before requestion Drake. Drake’s eyes were special, due to his genetic augmentation. He had a large field of vision, being able to switch through the different spectrums of light, and even one that wasn’t accessable to the natural world. The ability to see one’s black aura. Black Aura was given off when one sinned, meaning that he would be able to pick out demons from humans, and would allow him to see how powerful one was, who would were ones who supported demons. He concentrated further and pinpointed the Demon Lord’s signature, which was immense compared to the regular demons.
“Underground… The vacuum metro tunnels… They’ll knock out transport and a form of escape from the city, looks like they’re starting to take things seriously.” Drake commented, before his eyes returned to their normal state. “… Think Kohaku could take it?” He looked toward the ivory haired female who was smirking.
“Are you underestimating me, Drakey?” She taunted, before walking across the busy road, avoiding the passing cars. “I’ll be back, I expect one of you to take care of the dry cleaning and washing.” He ordered, before stepping up onto the rim of the platform that held this section up and dropping down off of the edge without a further thought.
Vol and Drake merely looked at eachother and followed her steps across the street, before, Vol crouched down and as did Drake. The redhead held out his hands, whilst Vol jumped and flipped, landing on his feet in Drake’s hands. Drake lifted up quickly as Vol jumped. The result of both forces caused Vol to be sent forward for miles. Drake gave a grunt and his jacket was thrown up, a pair of black wings unfurled and extended up, along with a long, scale covered tail. A thump and push from his tail and legs launched the masculine individual skyward, his wings directed him forward in a glide alongside Vol. The giant had his arms out, with his coat tied around his ankles, acting like a form of a wingsuit to slow him down and keep him up during their flight. Drake just had his arms and legs straight along his body, streamlining him while his huge wings held him up in the air. The flaps connecting from the backs of the ‘hands’ of the wings to the shoulder portion, and the flap connecting to the last digit extending back all the way onto his back.
A quick extend of his left arm had Vol grasped by the back of his collar in Drake’s hand. He pulled back and lifted him arm up, it fell down like a hammer and he released the giant, tossing him down towards a small road, only a few streets back behind the sea of soldiers in white and grey armour that were lined up and preparing. Entire buildings shuddered and sunk down under the ground, only to be hidden by the roads which closed up using machinery. Vol crashed heavily into a car, he didn’t land on his feet soundly, he didn’t bounce. He just hit it and stopped moving, breathing… Dead, only the sound of the car’s alarm filling the streets. Drake landed softly into a light jog, ignoring Vol and going to the next street, which was a t-intersection.
A low groan sounded with the alarm, the motionless body then contradicted what it once was, Vol’s head rose and his body pushed up with his arms, rolling off of the metal scrap-heap and strolling painfully towards Drake, halting next to the redhead and stretching out with a grunt. Cracks were heard and he assumed his usual upright and presentable posture. “Been a while since I’ve fallen down like that… You could’ve gone for a softer landing, cost me one of my ten lives there.” Vol commented in a slightly irritated tone. Drake only scoffed and looked up to him.
“But that’d be no fun, wouldn’t it?” He retorted with a cheeky grin, turning his head back to the intersection. “… Which way, cap’n?” He nudged Vol, to which the giant responded by turning along the right road.
“Flank them.” He bluntly commanded as he became more and more distant. Drake rolled his eyes and turned for the other street, he raised his hand to his shoulder and closed his hand, like as if he were holding an invisible handle. Flames shot out of his hand and up onto his shoulder and past it, the flames soon taking shape and snuffing out. They gave way to a great blade of shining steel. The pointed tip standing between the double-edged sword. It was a Scottish claymore, the handle bound in tanned leather strips, the centre of the blade was decorated with a viking design, the World Serpent: Jormungandr, holding up the 3 worlds in Norse Mythology. This was Drake’s weapon choice. Favouring the Western world’s brutal, heavy weapons, in contrast to Vol’s choice; the elegant weapons of the Eastern World.
Drake moved with such ease, such casual coolness, like as if the blade wasn’t there weighing him down. He brought the sword down to his hip and span it in his palm with a quick and smooth movement, then catching it with the weapon pointed straight out in a challenging way. He returned it to its home on his shoulder, continuing to walk; it was like a swordsman examining the quality of a newly forged sword. To Drake, any sword was perfect – As long as it could kill.