Chapter Text
You try your hand at stopping petty crime.
It doesn’t go very well, and the worst of it is once you arrive in New York city.
Amity Park’s big, but it’s got nothing on this, on the towering steel and glass and cloudy sky. Not to mention the petty crime either. Which apparently includes trying to rope up horses running wild and free in Central Park. Which is weird enough, but. Well, it is New York City — that’s supposed to explain it; horses in Central Park are probably normal.
You’re not really sure, honestly.
Which is how you’ve now ended up snared in the brush though, dragged out onto the dewy grass when intangibility refuses to slide you between and free of the fine cord’s entanglement. Unlike regular rope, it glimmers between your fingers, and humans in high horned masks over dark form glare down from the other side of it.
“You cost us some fine unicorn horns!” growls one woman, brown eyes narrowed. “We’ll just have to find a use for whatever you are instead then, won’t we?”
Oh. Unicorns. Those… aren’t real though. But those horses did shine pure white under the moonlight. And had singular horns on their heads kinda, sorta, like rhinoceros. Hm.
“You shouldn’t hunt unicorns; rare creatures deserve preservation!" you reply confidently.
A sharp jab from her hooked staff follows, but all it does is slip through instead of catching flesh, tangling uselessly in a loose part of the net. It flares with a faint burst of green, which doesn’t hurt either — isn’t ectoplasm, then. But yet this net.
“Let’s head out, the dragon’s surely aware by now we’re on the hunt and on his way,” another chimes in lowly, glancing around as the woman gets the staff free. Frayed thread is left behind. “Huntsmaster will be displeased —”
He doesn’t get to finish. Someone shouts, and a harsh gust fans out, a dark shadow flashing across the silver grass. The two duck, staffs aimed high, and blasts fill the air as you pick at the cut cord, worrying it. Then everything washes over with red and orange heat — claws hook in the snare over your head and lift.
More yelling follows over a cackled And another win for the AM Drag!
Tree and shrub disappear quickly, replaced by building and wire. Cool spring air eels sharply through your hair as you’re yanked through the puzzle of cityscape. You twist over just enough to spy yellow belly past blue talons and red scale.
But flight doesn’t last long — heavy wing beats see you brought high above the closest and tallest skyscraper before you're dragged down into a dive at a piercing whistle. Then there’s one more curve, and flared webbing.
“Sorry about the bumpy ride, dude, but we had to get outta there fast, ya feel?” says that same voice as you’re dropped gently on gritty rooftop. “Hold on, let me just —”
Claws flash, and then the net falls off of you.
It also really turns out to be a dragon. Red, yellow, green frilled and crested, he towers over you — but bears no necklace, and is most definitely not a ghost; you’d be able to tell. No, no this is something else.
“There, you’re not hurt anywhere, are you?” he asks, snout wrinkling with a frown, and offers one taloned hand up.
You don’t take it, floating up from the ground and upright. “I am unharmed,” you say, straightening out your cape. “Thank you dear citizen for the assist, however!”
Blinking, the dragon takes a step back, the tip of his tail twitching as he scans you from head to toe. “Citizen? Nah, man, I’m the American Dragon.”
The edge of your smile threatens to falter at his words. “A rare species just like those unicorns?”
“Y… Yeah, the hunstclan always tries my patience one full moon every few months,” he says, and then shakes his head. “Okay, well, look, semantics aside, lemme help you get home tonight, yeah? And next time, leave the unicorn saving to the professionals.”
“I am a superhero!” you correct immediately. “I help those in need, whoever they may be!”
A long beat of silence follows your proclamation — the dragon doesn’t seem very impressed. “... Dawg, just let me help you get home, ight?” he says, crossing his arms. You blink, thrown off. “Tell me where you’re from and what you are, it’s already stupid late.”
Too many scratching thoughts bubble up at the insistence. It’s hard to press them back, the handle on your expression wavering because. He cannot help you get home because that no longer exists. Or, rather it didn’t even exist in the first place, not for you. Which isn’t something you’re ever going to admit out loud. It can stay in your head with all the other leftover echoes of what it meant to be —
Something clicks, and then a voice calls Hey kid, heard you land as your gaze falls upon what looks like a ridiculously wrinkled gray dog. One that stands on two legs.
“Whoa! What the hell is that, Jake?” it exclaims.
“Man, and here I thought you’d be able to tell me, Fu,” says the dragon with a groan, dropping his face into a hand.
Perfect. “I am a ghost! But do not worry for I am friendly!”
‘Fu’ shuffles closer, nose twitching. “A ghost? At this time of year? I’ve obviously seen stranger, but…”
“A ghost?” ‘Jake’ repeats, thin red ears folding back. “Like, you’re dead, kinda ghost?”
Again, you’re just off. “No, not like that,” you deny, waving your hands a little, and. That’s the truth, though it doesn’t feel so great to say. “But just know, I mean no harm.”
“You hungry?” the dog asks, the bag of chips in its arms crinkling as it works a circle around you.
“I do not require such sustenance.” The mush and mash of food is too loud between your ears — though some part of you misses it anyway. “Thank you, though.”
The two share a look, one you cannot even begin to understand. But it sounds like… you’re not needed here. Probably best to move on to the next place then, try your luck somewhere else. No need to step on any toes.
Clearing your throat, you rise a little higher. “Thank you again for your assistance, American Dragon,” you say, very serious, “but I best be off now.”
“Wait, wait, wait, what’s your name? We don’t see many ghosts around ‘cept in July, could we pick your brain a bit in the morning?” Fu says quickly. “I’ve certainly never seen one quite like you, at least, you got legs and everything. Jake, maybe the old man knows something.”
“I mean, yeah, maybe, but…” Jake starts, trailing off. Again, he looks you over. “Is that a blanket?”
It’s. Okay. Yes, it was a blanket, but now it’s your cape, and why does he look at you like that —
“I am very sorry, but I must decline your hospitality,” you say as a breeze picks up lightly. “I didn’t mean to intrude upon your territory; I shall not do it again, I promise!”
“Aw, kid, it’s okay, we can —” Fu tries, offering a paw, but.
You shake your head, legs melding together into a wispy tail, and just — take off. One of them cries after you, but neither follow, not that they could anyway. You appreciate it though.
New York City’s a bust then. Which is too bad.
Maybe you’ll try something a bit less populated next for a change.