Dragon's Breath

Their weapons clash in rapid succession as spearhead meets halberd shaft, each impact with echoing clangs. Soon enough, the burly supervisor’s giant halberd blade crashes down on Ray’s second-rate spear handle, splitting the weapon in half.

With nothing to lose, Ray grips the broken spearhead like a dagger. His foot skids on the spilled cerium oxide granules, throwing off his balance and forcing him to swing low. The blade slices into the supervisor’s ankle. It’s not deep, but good enough. The supervisor grunts as his face twists in pain and murderous rage.

He retaliates with a wild swing of the halberd’s handle, striking Ray in the ribs and knocking him to the ground. Ray gasps as the wind is knocked out from his lungs. The supervisor looms over him, oversized halberd raised high for a final killing blow.

But Flint carves a deep line into the supervisor’s back. The supervisor falters and lets out a guttural cry of pain. He whirls around, unleashing a wild, arching swing that forces Flint to jump back. Flint's injured leg betrays him, and he stumbles onto the ground.

“Ray!” Flint’s shout is all Ray needs to hear.

Ray spots his shortsword lying just a meter away. Now or never, he snatches it and lunges at the supervisor, swinging down at his thick, exposed neck.

Slice! The supervisor’s head separates from his shoulders, the body collapsing to the ground with a bassy thud. Silence follows, the only sound the soft hiss of the cerium oxide granules spilling out of the ruptured barrels.

Ray’s breath is ragged as he sheathes his blade. The immediate threat is defeated.

“Flint! You alright?”

Ray offers him a hand. Flint takes it, pulling himself up with a grunt.

“Yeah, but my knee’s given out.”

“Having fun on your last mission?”

“Can’t wait to transfer to my new desk job.”

“Well, don’t push papers too hard.”

“Be grateful you still have all your limbs, kid.”

BOOM.

Followed by a muffled thud echoing through the ship.

“What was that?” Ray’s voice is tense, his grip tightening on his sword.

They exchange a nod and move to investigate. Their footsteps echo as they exit the cargo hold and ascend the stairs to the crew’s quarters, blades drawn, ready to counter any surprise attack.

They make it to Yi Yang’s quarters and barge in, but the scene makes them both stop short.

Yi Yang lies on the floor in a pool of his own blood, eyes stuck wide open in shock. A gaping cavity in his chest reveals the mess of torn flesh and bone.

“Jesus.” Ray turns away, retching from the gore. Flint, usually unfazed, flinches a bit from the horror.

“In all my years, I’ve never seen death from a wound like that,” Flint mutters. He quickly refocuses to the safe on the wall—open and empty.

“It’s gone. The package is gone.”

Ray recovers and spots a smeared trail of blood leading out of the room.

“There’s still time.” Ray rushes out the room, following the only clue they have.

“Ray, wait!” Flint follows as fast as his bad leg motor will let him.

The trail leads them down the long hallways of the hull and out onto the lower deck at the ships aft. The wind howls, rain lashing sideways as Ray forces the hatch door open.

At the far end of the deck, he sees her.

Locke stands on the edge, long hair fluttering in the wind, the rain whipping at her scarf. She holds the black titanium case in her hand.

“Stop! Interpol!” Ray shouts through the storm.

The woman turns around, her eyes sharp beneath the scarf.

Flint’s footsteps catch up to Ray. The older man’s eyes widen at the sight of her. He senses her as a powerful threat.

Ray rushes towards the woman, his legs moving on their own.

“Wait, Ray!” Flint shouts, but it’s too late.

Locke’s arm raises. A flash. A sharp crack of thunder echoes through the storm.

Flint knocks Ray over and swings his shield in front of him. But the shield shatters spectacularly into shards of reinforced composite. Flint’s body jolts backward, crashing to the ground and letting out a grunt.

Ray, picking himself up, locks his eyes on Flint sprawled on the floor, bleeding profusely under his combat suit.

“Flint!” Ray’s voice cracks with panic. He scrambles to his knees, eyes flicking back to the woman.

Locke lowers her weapon, a whisper of smoke emanating from its end. She sheathes the weapon back on her hip and tosses herself and the case overboard into the water below.

Ray rushes over the edge just in time to see a hover ski’s twin blue thrusters ignite. The personal craft zips away, a faint streak of light vanishing into the darkness of the open oceans ahead.

Soon, the buzz of drones fills the air as their spotlights sweep over the ship. A dropship descends and lands on deck, releasing teams of Hong Kong Enforcement officers in tactical gear to secure the ship.

Ray returns to Flint’s side, his hands fumbling for his emergency kit. He pulls out a syringe of biofoam and dispenses its entire contents in the hole in Flint’s chest, but it’s not enough as blood still bleeds out.

“No, no, no,” Ray mutters, pulling out a roll of bandages. He presses them against Flint’s chest, his hands slippery with rain and blood.

Jade and Dell arrive at a run, with their boots clattering on the wet deck. They freeze upon seeing the state of Flint.

“Flint!” Jade is already calling it in her earpiece. “I need a medivac, ASAP, on the upper deck…”

The computerized voice of Flint’s glasses gives off multiple warnings.

“Warning: Major injury detected. Administering morphine.”

“Warning: Excessive Blood loss detected. Seek medical attention immediately.”

Flint sighs in frustration. He yanks off his combat glasses and tosses them aside. “Damn, that shit is annoying.”

“Flint,” Ray’s voice shakes, holding back tears. “Everything’s going to be okay. We’re getting you to a hospital.”

Ray’s hands press harder, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. But Flint’s hand gently brushes him away.

“Forget it.” Flint’s voice has gone soft.

Ray stops his lifesaving efforts, realizing that Flint, his leader, mentor, and friend, is going to die on his terms.

The rain lessens to a gentle sprinkle. Flint’s eyes drift upward, focusing on the clearing sky.

“I’m too old for this shit, Ray.” Flint says with a hoarse voice.

Ray gives a weak smirk despite himself. His eyes mist, but he blinks it away. “Yeah, you are.”

“Can you make sure I get home? Tell Charlotte I love her.”

“Of course. Whatever you need.”

Flint gives the faintest of smiles. His eyes close slowly, in his face. He exhales one last breath.

The rain completely stops. The hum of drones and stomping boots of Enforcement activity fill the air once more.