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SCALES AND SCARS chapter 1

As their truck rumbled through the dusty and sandy streets, Marcus peered out the window. He watched as the locals went about their daily routines, avoiding the Marine Corp convoy passing through what was marked on the map as a safe zone.

A black-painted Iraqi army humvee lead the convoy, with a Kord mounted on its pintle instead of the usual M2 browning. They are headed towards the red zone of the city, although they were still in the heart of the relatively safer green zone. Marcus allowed his body to sway with the bumps and rocks of the poorly-suspended vehicle, that lived up to its "military" grade. A shadow crossed overhead as their Delta who flew high cover passed by, and a short burst transmission crackled through the radio up front: "Alpha 1 Delta 1, all clear." The LT grabbed the radio handset and replies, "Thanks Delta 1, keep your eyes peeled. We're 3 clicks away from the red zone."

"Roger that," comes the reply from Delta 1, accompanied by faint sound of wind amidst the static. The shadow of a dragon moved ahead and its figure could be seen as it spins into a left-hand orbit above the convoy.

As they continued driving, foot traffic on the sidewalks began to decrease significantly - only occasional groups of people making their way to the markets. Their eyes followed the convoy as they passed by. all of a sudden, time seemed to slow down when Marcus looked at a man talking on his cell phone - an old flip phone, probably a Nokia. Memories flooded back to his early teenage years when he got his first flip phone. But it's not just nostalgia that made him speak up.

There was something about the man that caught Marcus' attention, and he called out to the driver. It was not just because the man was on his phone; it's his intense gaze that seemed to pierce through Marcus' soul with brown eyes. Before Marcus could finish his sentence, the lead humvee halted in sudden motion and its turret turned towards them, no longer providing cover for potential threats from rooftops or windows.

In that very moment, Marcus' earpiece crackled to life, they were the third vehicle in the convoy. The USMC humvees frantically tried to reverse in desperate gamble to create separation, both sides exchanged rounds. Green tracer rounds flew from the Russian Kord, and they struck the marine gunner and pierced through the front cab of the first humvee. Chaos erupted as gunfire rained down from surrounding buildings, bullets whizzed past and RPGs narrowly missed their own vehicle. The humvee in front of Marcus' slammed into the front of his vehicle, before it launched itself up onto the hood as heavy ammunition tore through its light armor.

Amidst the chaos, Marcus and his fellow soldiers opened their armored doors and begun to return fire, before they took cover behind their vehicles. Rounds pinged off the pavement and armored humvees, which created a chorus of warbles and whistles along with snaps. Despite the fact he wore Commtacs to dampen the noise, Marcus' ears still rang from the gunfire.

The man who had been on his cell phone charged at them with a TT-33 pistol, firing wildly. A soldier from the humvee behind Marcus managed to shoot the man in the side, which caused him to stagger. Without hesitation, Marcus swiveled and fired two rounds into the man's chest, he watched the man fall to the ground blood poured from the gunshot wounds.

The sound of heavy rounds whizzing by filled the air as the Kord gunner on the Iraqi humvee, already satisfied with having taken out the crew of the lead USMC vehicle, now aimed his weapon at the dismounts. The Marines scattered and sought cover, while a few M203 grenade launcher rounds missed their mark. Explosions erupted near the black humvee, but they did little to deter the determined Kord gunner who continued to unleash a barrage of heavy fire. The rounds tore through the ground, and stitched a line toward Marcus's humvee.

A roar of anger from above signaled, the Convoy's Delta as she appeared in the sky, in a near vertical descent the man standing in the turret tried to aim his gun upwards, but its limited range prevented him from shooting straight up. Tracer rounds missed their target as the dragon swooped down, its wings flared wide at the last minute. Before it slammed on top of the humvee, she crushed its roof in and killed the gunner instantly. The Iraqi army dismounts and scrambled away in fear, having left themselves vulnerable to the Marines' trained marksmen. The traitors were caught off guard by the winged creature of death that had suddenly appeared among them. Having destroyed the primary heavy weapon that had kept the Marines pinned down. They ran blindly into the line of fire from the Marines, trying desperately to escape the black dragoness, her body clad in a harness that held thick Kevlar and ceramic plates. Her claws lashed out at anyone stupid enough to stay near. Each Marine proved the saying "Every Marine is a rifleman first." True with precise shots, they took down all four men without hesitation.

Unfortunately, the dragoness was not as fortunate. The Navy Ness had acted as a lookout from above, up there in the sky she had the advantage of height and speed. However, in the narrow streets, she became an easy target for the Insurgents. An enemy with exceptional luck, intelligence, or skill managed to fire an OG-7V shell at her from an unseen location. The warhead was primarily designed for attacking infantry but it still posed a significant threat to Draconian targets. As she attempted to take flight, her dark wings spread wide with vibrant blue wing fingers against her black wing membranes. Despite her efforts to escape, the explosion's lethal range of over 8 meters caught up to her and sent her tumbling back towards the ground. There was a loud boom followed, a split-second later by the sharp whistle of shrapnel flying through the air like deadly confetti. The humvee was peppered with sharp metallic shards, which would cause damage and injure anyone not behind cover, which luckily was barely anyone out of cover. The bulk of the dragon crashed down shortly after, landing about 6 feet away in a bloody heap. Her once magnificent wings now mangled by the explosion's angry force, The Ness scrapped at the ground with weak paw strokes, which pished piles of dirt beneath her as she attempted to crawl towards Marcus's parked Humvee.

Marcus stood there, stunned by what he saw. The dragon thrashed on the ground, she opened and closed her jaws in pain and shock. It felt like an eternity before he snapped out of it and took action. He quickly pressed the PTT button on his shoulder, he shouted over the sound of gunfire and explosions. "Shit! DELTA 1 is down! Delta 1 is down!" His sergeant yelled for him to stay in cover as Marcus charged forward from behind the humvee. He ignored the warning, and he ran into the open, his sergeant called him a reckless idiot.

"Jokela, you idiot!" The Sargent's frustrated voice rang out as the Finnish American soldier skidded to a halt beside the fallen dragon. He glanced down at her while simultaneously firing bursts of fire towards the buildings on the opposite street. His aim was rewarded with a satisfying explosion of red mist as one of the insurgents was hit and thrown out of sight.

"Sergeant, we are Marines! We never abandon one of our own," he begged, his voice filled with determination. "She's still alive!" he shouted back, He refused to give up on their comrade. The enemy's bullets were flew all around him, and rockets pounded into buildings and streets behind the convoy. Debris rained down on the Marine and the wounded dragon beside him. But amid the deafening gunfire, another sound emerged - that of a new M-ATV as rushed towards them. The Army MRAP was equipped with an mk19, which unleashed a barrage of 40mm explosives upon their attackers. Explosions ripped across the opposing buildings fronts which forced the Insurgents away from the windows.

A few trucks back, he heard the command to release marker smokes, and quickly three green cylinders with fluorescent purple stripes were rolled out along the convoy.

He understood the gravity of the situation and quickly shielded the vulnerable head of the ness with his body. The ground trembled as neighboring houses were hit by unrelenting blasts from cannons. Above, two Marine Corp AH-1 Cobra attack helicopters circled, scanning for targets with their guns. Any insurgents still foolish enough to resist had caught the attention of Uncle Sam's angels of death. Thunderous roars filled the air when they retaliated against any remaining threats.

"Come on, doc... You're a fucking healer, not a fighter," he muttered, as he leaned over Ness' head.

She struggled to speak, her mouth moved slightly as she met his green gaze with her blue one. "I couldn't just stand by and watch... I'm... s-sorry... He was..." Her voice was raspy, filled with pain, regret, and a myriad of emotions. Her usually vibrant scales now appeared paler than usual. "Screw you. Don't leave us, doc. We need you. Just hold on," he pleaded as he reached for the first aid kit strapped to her chest webbing, Marcus Pulled out a quick clot package tearing it open with his teeth. "This is going to sting," he warned before he poured the powder onto her worst wounds along her neck and side. He hunched over her protectively as rockets continued to pound the courtyards behind enemy buildings, chunks of stone rained down onto the street around them.

Marcus lifted his head, his body still protected her, and shouted urgently, "We need a corpsman!"

The cry echoed down the convoy as the Marines were quick to take new, and better cover. While they assessed the state of the vehicles. From the back of the convoy, a man could be seen as he sprinted towards them with a large backpack slung part way in front of his chest. Marcus felt a glimmer of hope as he opened his mouth to say, "It's going to be..."

Then a sudden, and deafening noise along with a powerful blast jolted him, followed by more. Everything around him seemed to disappear in an instant. A searing pain shot through his right side and he saw bright flashes of light. His eyes were filled with dirt, while fire and debris flew past. Amidst the chaos, he caught a glimpse of a humvee as it hurtled past him, twisted and torn apart. It moved in slow motion, as if it been tossed in water, d a trail of dirt and scattered metal shards left in its wake making it path through the air.

Despite the searing pain in his side, he crawled towards her, he knew he had landed near the Ness. "Helena!" he shouted, as he reached out for her harness and pulled himself up next to her head. In that moment, as everything seemed to have fallen apart, he wanted to be by her side. Her voice rang in his ears, almost too close and clear to believe. "I'm sorry," she said.

Suddenly, his right shoulder was consumed by intense pain as powerful jaws clamped down on him. A strong force yanked him upwards and sent him flying through the air, weightless. As time slowed down once again, each moment painfully stretched out in his mind's eye. He saw the dragoness and the ground quak behind her the street ruptured, before she was engulfed in smoke and fire. Then, with a sudden impact, he was flipped backward as a piece of pavement struck his chest and side. With incredible speed and flipped him over, a window rushed towards him. Which caused his heart to race and a scream to catch in his throat. He closed his eyes just as glass shattered around him and the sound of an explosive roar filled his ears.

Marcus gasped as he abruptly woke up, sat upright and drenched in sweat. The phantom pain that had gripped him was now gone, a reminder that his wounds were healed. He looked around and realized he was back in his apartment in the city. He glanced at his watch as he panted, he tried to catch his breath. he saw that it was only 3:00 AM on his watch, he had barely slept a few hours.

The dream was a familiar one, which haunted him like a broken record on repeat. It always started the same way, with memories of his past injuries, and ended with him crashing through a shop window.

He rolled out of bed in clumsy heap and landed on the floor with a thud, which was met with an angry shout from the person below him. He muttered a barely audable curse under his breath, he got up slowly, while his adrenaline rush faded away. He made his way to the bathroom and turned on the shower too as hot as it would go.

"Why can't it just leave me alone... it's over...she's gone... along with my squad..." Marcus spoke to himself as he undressed and stepped into the shower to let the warm water soothe his aching body. After a few minutes, he dragged himself out and began getting ready for work.

With five hours to spare before his shift at the shop started, he debated between going in early or going for a jog. He settled on the latter and packed some clothes in an old marine corps assault pack. Emblazoned on the back was "Sergeant Martinez." He threw on a hoodie and his old silkies (silkies=short shorts) and grabbed some water bottles to take with him.

He slipped quietly out of his apartment, Marcus made sure not to slam the door and locked it behind him. He didn't want to disturb his neighbors; they had nothing to do with his sleepless nights, and he preferred not to be rude.

He descended the stairs quickly and headed in a random direction without much thought. Worst case scenario, he could just take a bus to work if he ended up going the wrong way.

Marcus ran at a steady pace of 8 minutes per mile, He let his thoughts wander as he went into autopilot mode. The sidewalk was mostly empty, aside from a few homeless people or late-night drunks. He ignored them and kept up his stride, He like a ghost as he ran, like he existed separate from the world.

Eventually, he reached a bench near a major boulevard that was filled with dragon-related structures and businesses. It was clear that this was the "dragon side" of town. The bench he sat on was one of the few human elements in the area. He checked his watch, he saw that it was almost 6 AM and pulled out his phone to see where exactly he was.

He opened the map app, and he took a deep breath as he realized he had passed the industrial park where he worked. He was about 30 minutes away from work by foot, but he decided to take a moment to enjoy the cool morning air before starting his run back. As the city started to wake up and traffic picked up, he could see the sun barely peeked over the skyscrapers in the distance. After a few minutes, he got up to stretch and was about to head back when he caught a whiff of something delicious. It smelt like a mixture of spicy stews and peppers, with a hint of soy or miso. He double checked his watch, he knew he had time before work and his boss, Lieutenant Dan as he called him. Due to the old mans missing leg, plus the guy was a former Lieutenant, and his name was Danny.

Though the guy always understood his sleeping issues and past war trauma, since Dan had his own long ago. The older man, insisted that Marcus seek help, which was why he had a monthly appointment with a psychologist. The psychologist always encouraged him to expand his social circle and learn to trust others, but Marcus often made excuses due to his busy work schedule. His boss always reminded him that recovery took time and quoted the doctor's words. Lost in thought, Marcus followed the enticing scent until he found himself standing in front of a quiet noodle shop with large doors fit for dragons. A sign next to it read "Humans and Dragons Welcome," which showcased society's relaxed attitude towards dual species establishments. Without cursory check if it was open or closed, Marcus walked in to find a traditional noodle bar and modern seating for both humans and dragons.

He at the bar, and looked up at the menu above the area that opened to the kitchen. where on could watch the 'process'. When his eyes caught movement and he saw a blue and black dragoness emerge from a side room. His heart skipped a beat at her unique coloration, almost just like Helena's until his brain snapped back into focus - she wasn't the Delta from his squad and she was smaller too. She must have sensed someone watching her because she froze and tilted her head in his direction. The two stared at each other for a few heart beats before Marcus offered a wave, “Hi" he said, his voice not very loud. He saw her eyes narrow, and then she spoke flatly.

"Can you read human?" She asked, an eyebrow raised. Marcus replied with the most eloquent answer his tired brain could come up with. "Um...yes?"

He immediately regretted how foolish he sounded. She tilted her head in confusion, "So you respond to a question…. with another question? I'll never understand humans," she said, her exasperation evident as she set a large pot of broth on the burner.

Marcus finally gathered his thoughts and admitted, "I'm sorry, I was just intrigued by the big doors and delicious smells that came from this place." He looked away in embarrassment, "I'll leave now...sorry for surprising you like that..." he said, as he tried to play it cool while he berated himself internally. As he slid off the bar stool and began to walk away, the dragoness spoke in her melodic voice behind him. It wasn't what he expected - instead of telling him to leave or insulting him, she simply said, "You could just order something; it will add to my hoard after all." She stood on her side of the counter with a smile on her face and her forelegs crossed in front of her, a painted claw tapped on the stained wood.

Taken aback by her response, Marcus blurted out without thinking, "I don't think noodle shops are typically breakfast thing." She smirked and responded sarcastically, "Oh, so you think I can't use a wok to make scrambled eggs and bacon?" Her smile showed she wasn't truly insulted. Marcus made a gesture as if to stop her argument and said, "Okay okay, all I have is a 10-dollar bill." The dragoness snorted and chuckled at his meager offering, she spoke in a teasing voice, "You're not some wealthy dragon? you break into places and this is all you have?" Marcus shrugged nonchalantly, "The cost of living for us criminals has gone up too," he joked, a small smile formed at the corner of his mouth, barely perceivable - something he hadn't done in a long time. He moved back to sit in front of her on the bar stool and asked, "So what will this 10 dollars get me?"

—

Korinthia observed as the human held up a ten-dollar bill and settled back into his seat across from her. His complexion was paler than most humans she knew, and his short blonde hair only accentuated it. She could sense something different about him - he was quieter, more reserved. He had a quick wit, but didn't boast like a drake or an overly successful man might. It was clear that he had lived a difficult life; she noticed a nasty scar that ran from under his jaw to his neck, hidden by the collar of his hoodie. Another scar trailed down from his cheekbone to the top of his lip.

Korinthia assumed these scars were from work with heavy machinery or perhaps a car accident. She plucked the bill from his fingers and inspected it in the light, as if to verify its authenticity. Her eyes flicked between him and the money.

“So, human, what's your name?" she asked, as she placed the bill on the counter between them. The man responded in a low, bassy voice, “My name is Marcus."

“Well Marcus, I'll make you three eggs, three slices of bacon, and give you a glass of orange juice. Deal?" Korinthia proposed.

Marcus nodded in silent agreement.

The Ness disappeared into the kitchen while Marcus watched her from the bar. She expertly manned the stove top, she flipped a spatula between her paws with practiced ease as sizzling food filled the air. Korinthia glanced over her shoulder at Marcus and noticed his tired appearance - he must have been hungry or lost in thought. Something seemed off about him; most people didn't go for runs at this time of day, let alone look like they hadn't slept at all at the same time.

—

As the food sizzled and simmered on the stove, Marcus was lost in his memories. Korinthia was oblivious to the tension in his hands, as they gripped and released his thighs with repeated almost painful force.

He opened his eyes, disoriented and in a hospital bed in Germany. It had been months since he last remembered anything. His arm was in a cast and his leg too, along with bandages which covered his ribs, torso, neck, and face. He tried to move his body, but his muscles were sore and weak from months of being in a medically induced coma. A kind army nurse noticed his attempt and gently held his hands still. "Corporal Jokela, please relax," she said softly. "You've been unconscious for quite some time. I'm here to check on you before we transfer you to long-term recovery."

Marcus struggled to speak, his throat and mouth felt dry and scratchy. "What... happened?" he managed to croak out.

"Ambush. Your platoon and part of an army QRF got hit," a new voice answered. An older man with gray hair walked in, He wore a full bird colonel patch on his BDU, along with military doctor patches. He scanned through papers on a clipboard as he spoke.

he struggled to remember the ambush, after a moment Marcus asked, "Did... did Helena make it?"

The older man let out a deep sigh and took a seat near the hospital bed. With sad look he reached out and grabbed Marcus' uninjured shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Corporal, she was badly wounded when it happened. According to reports, it's likely that her injuries were fatal. You were also in the blast zone, but she saved you. You have 82 puncture wounds on your right shoulder, each one about an inch deep. You were discovered unconscious in a building that had partially collapsed, and the wounds on your shoulder matched up with her dental records."

"Marcus, you're the only one from your convoy who survived. The attack was orchestrated by rogue members of the Iraqi army along with ISIS members. They had placed bombs along the roads, waiting for Quick Reaction Forces to arrive before they set them off. The one closest to you and Petty Officer 3rd Class Helena malfunctioned, which gave her just enough time to throw you through a nearby window to save you from the explosion's impact."

Marcus leaned back as the doctor listed off his injuries: a broken arm, cracked leg, 12 fractured ribs, punctured lung, organ damage from shock waves, lacerations from the bite, and shrapnel wounds from the explosion. He would need multiple surgeries to remove all of the foreign objects from his body. After a brief pause, the doctor pulled out a clear plastic pill bottle from his pocket and handed it to Marcus. Inside was a dragon's tooth.

“She nearly crushed your shoulder," the doctor said, “the broken tooth was embedded in the back of your shoulder blade. We had to remove it."

Marcus simply nodded, he tried to hold back his tears. He reminded himself that Marines don't cry. Men don't cry. But the pain and loss were too much. He finally broke down, he sobbed uncontrollably. His entire squad and most of his platoon were gone. They were his family, his battle brothers and sisters, and that included the dragon that had fought alongside them. All gone.

—-

"Here you go!" A cheerful voice and the clink of a plate caught Marcus' attention, and pulled him out of his thoughts. He shook his head to clear it and nodded in thanks as he pulled the plate of steaming eggs and bacon closer. "Thank you very much, ma'am," he said.

He took a bite, then another, he focused on eating and did not notice the dragoness as she watched him with curiosity. He hadn't realized how hungry he was after having been awake for several hours without food. He had been too preoccupied with his own thoughts, but the first bite of egg reminded him of his hunger.

As Marcus ate, Korinthia made her own plate and sat across from him. She mixed crispy bacon into a pile of eggs before she started to eat.

"So why are you out running this early? Are you a fitness nut or something?" she asked him.

He didn't look at her as he answered, "Couldn't sleep."

His mouth was half full as he spoke, so he covered it out of politeness. But there was no emotion in his tone and he kept his gaze averted.

"I've never seen you before, so I assume you're not a regular or one of the few humans who live on this side of town," she remarked casually, she kept a blue eye on her curious guest as he ate.

"I guess my runs just haven't taken me this far past work before," Marcus replied with a shrug.

Korinthia tilted her head and took a few bites of bacon and egg before she spoke again. "What's your job?"

Although her questions were probing, that one didn't bother him too much, so Marcus gave a polite response. "I'm a welder and machinist. I work for a job shop about 5 miles away in the industrial park." He recalled having seen the distance on his phone last time he checked.

She smiled. "So you're good with your hands?"

Marcus let out a soft affirmative hum as he finished his meal and leaned back to sip on his orange juice. "It keeps me busy, which is nice, and pays the bills."

Korinthia chuckled musically, a pleasant sound to the ear. "I can relate to that. This place keeps me busy during the week. In the future, we'll be open from 11 in the morning until 11 at night. You're always welcome to come by, Marcus." She took his plate and placed it on top of hers before she disappeared into the kitchen.

"Thank you, ma'am," Marcus said with a respectful nod, his southern twang seeped into his formal words.

As she disappeared around the corner, Korinthia saw him check his watch and mutter a curse about being a few minutes late.

"Come back again!" she called after him as he left.

After he left the restaurant, Marcus made sure to drop a pin on his phone to mark the location. He wrote "Noodle place, nice dragon" as the description. As he started to run at a steady pace to work, the city came alive with the rising sun as it cast an amber glow on the towering skyscrapers. He weaved around people on deft feet as he reached the edge of the industrial park, where their shop was located in the back. Once he entered the industrial section, he was able to pick up his pace and run freely. The wind tugged at his hoodie and his necklace slipped out, revealing a dragon's tooth that hung from a leather strand around his neck. It was a reminder of the first dragon he had befriended and what he had lost.