Raven

Slow Burn

Orphaned at five years old, the boy who would become the dragon known as Blitz bounced from foster home to orphanage and back again before finally being picked up by Project Draco Research the day before his tenth birthday. He was the youngest to ever be drafted into the project and became attached to John Mason on his first six month mission. The two would go on to be paired together on many missions due to Operation 40 specifically requesting Talon Squad to serve with them on their contracted missions in some of the hottest combat zones in the world.

███"Blitz" ██████

Unknown Location

Unknown Time

"Blitz."

The words reverberated in my skull like a shouted voice in an empty warehouse. Echoing over and over until they faded into obscurity.

"Blitz."

This time, my name was worded as if it were a question. As the human sat down beside me, putting his arm around my neck and stroking my head, like you might do to your dog when he comes and sits in your lap. I wasn't sure where I was...felt like I was laying in some kind of bed. I felt warm, safe...content, my tail swayed against my own control. Through the pets, the human who spoke in a voice that seemed strangely familiar, yet completely foreign, kept prompting me to open my eyes and look at him. I resisted the urge to do so, petrified that I would resume drowning within my own body as soon as I did. I didn't want to face my own death, I wasn't ready. I didn't want to watch my best friend, the closest thing I'd ever had to a father, die because I wasn't fast enough to save him. If I had acted faster, maybe I could have saved him. As if I had spoken my thoughts aloud, the Human hugged my neck stiffly.

"Blitz." The humans voiced continued to be so familiar, yet so foreign, ringing in my ears like I had known this man for years, but I had never met him. Was I dead?

"You're not dead Blitz. Come on bro, open your eyes."

I hesitated, shutting my eyes tighter. I knew now who the voice belonged to.

"John?"

John throttled my neck, chuckling lightly, "Every bit the bone headed stubborn soldier I ever was."

I couldn't stop the tears from streaking down my face, "I'm sorry John! I wasn't fast enough!"

Johnny gave me a good, tight squeeze, "Oh don't worry about it buddy, believe it or not, everything's going to be okay. Why don't you open your eyes? Let me show you huh?"

I took a deep breath in, petrified of what I would see. I cracked one eye open, and involuntarily open the second one when my brain began to process where I was.

I was in fact laying on a bed, in some kind of common area in the biggest library that I had sever seen! The room had a dark ambiance to it, constructed of some kind of dark wood that smelled as if it had been built by someone long gone, but had stood since then through thousands of years of careful observation handed down from father to son. Intricate carpentry adorned darkly stained oak book cases that rose four stories into the air lined the walls, creating aisles that spanned through several floors, rolling ladders attached to reach higher shelves. The carpet under foot was dark red, almost a burgundy color and seemed both, well taken care of, but also that it had seen perhaps a billion pairs of feet over the years it had been here. The common area where I was consisted of my bed, of course, along with a large, expensive looking leather couch flanked by two wooden end tables with old, handmade lamps on each. The lamps put off a dim, warm glow that seemed perfect to read by in the general darkness of the library. A wooden table with a glass top marked the center of the area, a few books about firearms and military tactics had been left out, some of them had book marks in them. John was sitting directly to my right. Strangely, his injuries seemed healed as if they had never happened in the first place. He was wearing his OP40 dress uniform, which, despite some of the things I'd been with him for, wasn't covered in medals or awards. Instead, it took the appearance of a wool suit, colored a dark green with a white shirt and black tie, similar to the US Army uniforms of world war two. It only had a few medals on it, John had never been the type to show off, despite a lot of the men who served with him thinking he had every right to decorate his uniform. I'd only known him for five years, but I'd seen him quietly save so many lives in that time. John gave me another pet.